i i nO°<, ■^ .0- >^>' \'0 -0' ^ >1° ■\\'^ , ^ - n , '^> ^ « > ^'^ ,-^> '^,^' .^% .>^^^' % ,x^'^\^^M!:^-^.^% A^ %- "■fj. 4 ^^' Tf -'^' .xV <^^' -v %. " 9 1 ^-^ ^ >^ %._■' ^/- ^"^^ V^ .^■<^'%, ,^^ 0' . ^,^ ,^^ c!>^ i' ;%^<^ o • "c^^'> ,0 '^^ * s ^ , ' 3^ CO' MEMOIRS OF MADAME D'ARBLAY, AUTHOR OF " EVELINA," " CECILIA," ETC. COMPILED FTIOM HER VOLUMINOUS DIARIES AND LETTERS, AND FROM OTHER SOURCES. • BY MRS HELEN BERKELEY, AUTHOR OF " THE FORTUNE HUNTER," ETC. tni>. VOL. I. .TAMES MOWATT & CO. 174 BROADWAY, CORNER OF MAIDEN LANE. SOLD BY ALL PERIODICAL AGENTS AND BOOKSELLERS. 1844. ' fi r" ^"i *«^ ^ [Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1844, by James Mowatt & Co., in the Clerk's office of the District Court of the Southern District of the state ot New- York ] Douglas, Typographer, 34 Ann St. HoBBS, Stereotyper, 111 Fulton St. Bedford, Printer, 13S Fulton St. PREFACE. " The Diary and Lettei's of Madame D'Arblay/* edited by her Niece, have been presented to the pub- lic in so unwieldy and voluminous a form, made tedi- ous by so many details that are foreign and uninter- esting, that we cannot hesitate to believe that an at- tempt to separate the gold from the dross, the really valuable facts embodied in the naiTative from the triv- ial and dull, will be indulgently received. The contemporary and friend of Johnson, Burke, Horace Walpole, and other master-spirits of English literature, the life of the " author of Evelina" presents the most ample materials for an entertaining and deep- ly instructive biography. We have endeavoured to avail ourselves of them in a manner the most accept- able to readers of taste ; omitting no incident of im- portance, but avoiding all that seemed in-evelant and unattractive. The present work will be found to contain much that has never before been published in this country j while care has been taken to include all that seemed worthy of preservation in the " Diary and Letters" of Madame D'Arblay, the expensive character of which publication has rendered it a sealed book to the great majority of American readers. New York, March, 1844, CONTENTS. Chapter I. Birth of Frances Burney— Remarkable feature of her childhood-l- imitation of the Actors — Dr. Barney's opinion of her — The flaxen wig — Death of Mrs. Burney — Self Education — Dissimilarity of Fanny to her sisters — Dr. Burney's second marriage — Mr. Crisp — The Cabin — Fanny's secret authorship. — The Conflagration. History of Caroline Evelyn, mother of Evelina — Dr. Bmney's tour. His illness. — '' Evelina." — Secret arrangements with a bookseller. The arrival — Mr. Lowndes's offer for the manuscript of ^' Evelina" — Character of Miss Burney— The Journal. 11—25. Chapter IL Publication ot Evelina — Its Design and Objects — Secrecy — Critique on Evelina — Mr, Crisp — " Evelina" read by Dr. Burney — His dis- covery of its Author — Mr. Cholmondeley and Mrs. Thrale — In- vitation from Mrs. Thrale— Dr. Burney's delig-ht— Mr, Crisp dis- covers the Author of Evelina — Visit to Streathara — Mrs, Thrale's Reception — Introduction to Dr. Johnson — His reason for not eat- ing Mutton on the day that he became acquainted with Miss Bur- ney. 25—33. Chapter III. Miss Burney a constant Visitor at Streatham — Dr. Johnson's free- dom in condemnmg what he dislikes — His first allusion to '' Eve- lina" — Dr. Goldsmith and the " Good-natured Man" — The cha- racter of Croaker stolen from Dr. Johnson — Dr. Johnson's Opinion of the " Vicar of Wakefield" — His Repugnance to the Scotch Na- tion. — His fastidiousness about the Dress of Ladies — He pronoun- ces " Evelina" superior to Fielding's works — Miss Burney be- comes acquainted with Mrs. Montague — An Amusing Incident — Dr. Johnson and Miss Burney. 33 — 40. Chapter IV» Miss Burney's visit from Dr, Frankhn — Miss Burney and Sir Joshua Reynolds — ** Dear little Burney" — Miss Burney's annoyance at the appearance of her Name in print — Her Acquaintance with Mr. and Mrs. Sheridan — Personal Appearance of Sheridan — His men- tion of* Evelina" — " The writings" — Dr. Burney's condemnation of his Daughter's Comedy — The beautiful humility of her reply — Mr. Crisp's objection — Dr. Johnson instructs Miss Bm-ney in La-- tin — Incident at an Inn — Sir Thomas Lawrence in his childhood — - Mrs. Byron. 40 — i8 Vlll CONTENTS. Chapter V. Death of Mr. Thrale — Miss Burney's Letter to his Widow — " Ce- cilia" — Fears for its Success— 'Dr. Buraey's Opinion — Enthusias- tic reception of " Cecilia" — Complimentary Letter of the Hon- ourable Edmund Burke — Mrs. Siddons — Mrs. Garrick — Mrs. Cha- pone — Horace Walpole — xMrs. Delany — Duchess of Portland- Death of Mr. Crisp — Dr. Johnson seized with a paralytic Stroke- His Latin Prayer — Miss Burney's Visit to Him. — Presiding at his Breakfast Table. 48—55. Chapter VI. Miss Burney's friendship for Mrs. Thrale threatened with an inter- ruption — Miss Burney's defence of her Friend — Mrs. Thrale's Let- ter and Visit — Tiie last meeting — Mrs. Thrale's Marriage with-- Piozzi — Letters between her and Miss Burney — An unanswered let- ter—The friendship of six years at an end — Dr. Johnson's illness — Affecting interview with Miss Burney — Recovery — His last ill- ness — Anecdote of the Coffins— Dr. Johnson's last hours and death. 65 — 65. Chapter VII. Miss Burney's acquaintance v/ith Madame de Genlis — Madame de Genlis's note — Mrs. Delany — The Queen's loom, and the King's gold knitting-needle— Death of the Duchess Dowager of Portland, Mrs. Delauy's grief, and Miss Burney's consolatory attentions — Kindness of King George and Queen Charlotte -to Mrs. Delany — The two dried leaves — Mrs. Delany's house at Windsor — Project- ed visit of the Princesses to Mis3 Burney — The King and Queen's mention of her — Miss Burney at Windsor — Queen Charlotte rc- peruses " Cecilia" — Mrs. Delany's injunctions to Miss Burney respecting the Royal Family — Miss Burney's first interview with the King and Queen — Puss in the corner — Cross-questioning — Cha- racter of the King and Queen — Their affection for each other — Miss Burnev's second interview 65—84. Chapter VIII. A vacancy in the Royal household— The office of Keeper of the Robes is offered by the Queen to Miss Burney — Her deliberation, disinclination, but final acceptance — Arrival at Windsor— Recep- tion by the Queen— Fears and heart-aches — Account of Miss Burney's mode of life at Court— An attempt upon the life of the King— Grief and horror of the royal family — Noble conduct of King George. 84—96. Chapter IX. Miss Burney's unfortunate timidity— Reading to the Queen— Ma- dame de Genlis— Mrs. Delany's ad/ice— The Queen's opinion on the subject of an intimacy with Madame de Genlis— The '' great coat" —Miss Buraey's Stanzas— Singular mode of presenting them— The Queen's ackno wledgmenis— Condescension mingled with humility. 98—101. CONTENTS. IX Chapter X. Application from the publishers of " Cecilia " —Letter from Mrs, Leinman to the authoress of "Cecilia" — A threatened attempt at Suicide — Dr. Burney at Court— His singular non-observance of Court etiquette — The King's good-humour— Visit to Dr. Herschel — Comment of the Princess Amelia upon Dr. Burney's looks — The New Year — West's- picture of the Resurrection — The King's offer- ing — The Bishop of Worcester — Visit from Mr. West — His enthu- siasm — Dr. Burney's poem on the Queen's birthday — His daugh- ter's mode of presenting it— The Ball— An unexpected dilemma — The young Clergyman and the chairman. 101 — 118. Chnpter XI. Travelling to Windsor with Mr. Turbulent— Discussion— Religion and Morality — The Queen's opinion of Mr Turbulent — The young Clergyman again— Josephus— Mr, Turbulent and the Princess Augusta — La Coquette Corrigee — The Queen studyhig Botany — The Drama of" Seduction " — An allusion in the epilogue to the Author of "Cecilia" — The King's enjoyment of Miss Burney's Confusion — S)Tnpathy of the Princesses — Mrs. Piozzi's return to England. 118—131, Chapter XII. A visit from Dr. Beattie— Return of the Duke of York— Joy of the Royal Family — Mrs, Siddons engaged to read a play at the Pedace — Miss Burney her entertainer — Her Opinion of Mrs. Sid- dons — Visit to Dr. Herschel — His sister — Her character and ap- pearance — Their mode of working together — The Telescope. AIX HaiavH3 131—136. Chapter XIII, An eventful year— Death of Mrs. Delany — Her last words— Mrs. De- lany's niece — Trial of Hasting's — Decline of the King's health — Alarm of the Royal Family — Insanity of the King — Scene at Din- ner—Confusion and Dismay of the Household— Desolate condi- tion of the Queen, 136—143, MEMOIRS OF MADAME D'ARBLAY. CHAPTER I. Birth of Frances Bumey— Remarkable feature of her childhood — Imitation of the Actors — Dr. Burney's opinion of her — The flaxen wig — Death of Mrs. Burney — Selt Education — Dissimilarity of Fanny to her sisters — Dr. Burney's second marriage — Mr. Crisp — The Cabin — Fanny's secret authorship. — The Conflagration. History of Caroline Evelyn, mother of Evelina — Dr. Burney's tour. His illness. — '^ Evelina.'' — Secret arrangements with a bookseller. The arrival — Mr. LoAvndes's ofier for the manuscript of" EveUna" — Character of Miss Burney — The Journal. Frances Burney, the second daughter and third child of Dr. Burney, was born at Lynn Regis in Nor- folk, on the 13th of June. 1752. Her father had in the preceding year accepted the office of Organist to that royal borough, having been obliged by ill health to quit London, and to rehnquish more advantageous prospects. The most remarkable features of Frances Burney's childhood were, her extreme shyness, and her back- wardness at learning ; at eight years of age, she did not even know her letters, and her elder brother used to amuse himself by pretending to teach her to read, and presenting the book to her turned upside down, — which he declared she never found out. Her mo- ther's friends generally gave her the name of " the little dunce ;" but her mother, more discerning as well as more indulgent, always replied, that " she had no fear about Fanny. ^^ In fact, beneath an appearance so unpromi ing to 12 MEMOIRS OF cursory observers, there was an under-current, nd^ only of deep feeling and affection, but of shrewd ob- servation and lively invention; though the feelings were rarely called forth in the happy careless course of childish life, and the intellectual powers were con- cealed by shyness, except when her own individuality were forgotten in the zest with which she would enact other personages, in the little sports and gambols she invented. Her father relates, that " she used, after having seen a play in Mrs. Garrick's box, to take the actors off, and compose speeches for their characters, for she could not read them. But in company, or be- fore strangers, she was silent, backward, and timid, even to sheepishness ; and from her shyness, had such profound gravity and composure of features, that those of Dr. Burney's friends who went often to his house, and entered into the different humours of the children, never called Fanny by any other name, from the time she had reached her eleventh year, than "the old lady." Dr. Burney adds, "she had always a great affection for me ; had an excellent heart, and a natural simpli- city and probity about her that wanted no teaching. In her plays with her sisters and some neighbours' children, tliis straightforward morality operated to an uncommon degree in one so young. There lived next door to me at that time in Poland Street, and in a private house, a capital hair-merchant, who furnished perukes to the judges and gentlemen of the law. The hair-merchant's female children and mine used to play together in the little garden be- hind the house, and unfortunately, one day, the door of the wig-magazine being left open, they each of them put on one of those dignified ornaments of the head, and danced and jumped about in a thousand antics, laughing till they screamed, at their own ridi- culous figures. Unfortunately, in their vagaries, one 13 of the flaxen wigs, said by the proprietor to be worth upwards of ten guineas [in those days an enormous price], fell into a tub of water placed for shrubs in the little garden, and lost all its gorgon buckle, and was declared by the owner to be totally spoilt. He was extremely angiy, and chid very severely his own chil- dren ; w^hen my little daughter, ' the old lady,' then ten years or age, advancing to him, as I was informed, with great gravity and composure, sedately said, ' What signifies talking so much about an accident ?, The wig is wet, to be sure ; and the wig was a good wig, to be sure ; but 'tis of no use to speak of it any more, because whafs done canH be undone.' "Whether these stoical sentiments appeased the en- raged perruquier, I know not ; but the younkers were stript of their honours, and my little monkeys were obliged to retreat without beat of drum or colours fly- ing." Mrs. Burney was well qualified to instruct and train her numerous family ; but they lost her early, and her chief attention appears to have been bestowed on the education of her eldest daughter, Esther, w^ith whom she read all Pope's'w^orks, and Pitt's ^Eneid ; while the silent, observant Fanny learnt by heart passages from Pope, merely from hearing her sister recite them, and long before she cared for reading them herself. In the year 1760, Dr. Burney returned to London with his wife and children, and took a house in Poland Street, where he renewed, under happy auspices, the acquaintance which, during his former residence in London, he had made with several of the most distin- guished literary characters of his day. At this period his eldest son James, afterwards Admiral Burney, had been sent to sea as a midshipman, in the ship of Ad- miral Montagu ; his second son, Charles, afterwards the celebrated Greek scholar, was still quite a child ; and his fourth daughter, Charlotte, was an infant. B 14 MEMOIKS OF From this young family, for whom maternal care appeared so necessary, their affectionate mother was removed by death in the autumn of 1761.. During the latter period of her illness, Frances and her sister Susanna had been placed in a boarding-school in Queen Square, that they might be out of the way ; and when the sad intelligence of their loss was brought to them, the agony of Frances's grief was so great, though she was not more than nine years old, that her governess declared she had not met with a child of such intense and acute feelings. The bereaved father soon recalled his children home, and their education carried itself on, rather than owed its progress to any regular instruction. Dr. Burney was too much occupied by his professional engagements to teach them, except by his own exam- ple of industry and perseverance. These were so great that he actually studied and acquired the French and Italian languages on horseback ; having for that purpose written out a pocket-grammar and vocabu- lary of each. His son Charles was, at a proper age, sent to the Charter-House School, but his daughters remained at home ; they had no governess, and though the eldest and the third, Esther and Susanna, were subsequently taken to France, and placed for two years in a Parisian seminary, Frances shared not this advantage. Dr. Burney afterwards acknowledged that one reason which decided him against carrying her to France was her strong attachment to her maternal gi'andmother, who was a Roman Catholic. He " feared she might be induced to follow the religion of one she so much loved and honoured, if she should fall so early into the hands of any zealots who should attempt her conver- sion." She was, therefore, literally self-educated, and to use her own words, her " sole emulation for im- provement, and sole spur for exertion, w^ere her un- MADAME d'aRBLAY. 15 bounded veneration and alFection for her father, who, nevertheless, had not at the time a moment to spare for giving her any personal instruction, or even for directing her pursuits." At ten years of age she could read, and with the occasional assistance of her eldest sister she had taught herself to write ; and no sooner had she acquired the latter accomplishment than she began to scribble, al- most incessantly, little poems and works of invention, though in a character that was illegible to every one but herself. Her love of reading did not display itself till two or three years later ; thus practically reversing the axiom that mm " Authors before they write should read." But although the education of Dr, Burney's daugh- ters was not conducted according to the elaborate systems of the present day, they yet enjoyed some advantages which more than compensated for the ab- sence of regular and salaried instructors. The senti- ments and example of their father excited them to love whatever was upright, virtuous, and amiable ; while, from not being secluded in a school-room, they also shared the conversation of their father's guests ; and, in London, Dr. Burney's miscellaneous but agree- able society included some of the most eminent for literature in our own country, together with many accomplished foreigners, whose observations and criti- cisms were in themselves lessons. Perhaps the taste of Frances Burney was formed much in the same way as that of her celebrated contemporary, Madame de Stael, who relates that she used to sit with her work, on a little stool at her mother's knee, and listen to the conversation of all Monsieur Neckar's enhghtened visitors ; thus gathering notions on literature and poli- tics long ere it was suspected that she knew the mean- ing of the words. 16 MEMOIRS OF If, however, the above methods were of themselves sufficient for education, all good conversers might offer a " royal road" to learning. But the benefit here obtained was chiefly that of directing the atten- tion to intellectual pursuits, enlightening the judg- ment, and exciting a thirst for knowledge, which led the youthful Frances to diligent and laborious appli- cation. By the time she was fourteen she had care- fully studied many of the best authors in her father's library, of which she had the uncontrolled range. She began also to make extracts, keeping a catalogue rai- sonne of the books she read ; and some of her early remarks were such as would not have disgraced a maturer judgment. Thus passed, not idly nor unprofitably, nearly six years after the death of that mother who would have been her best instructress. Dr. Burney then made another journey to Paris, for the purpose of conduct- ing home his daughters, Esther and Susanna, whose allotted two years' of education in that capital had expired. Their improvement had kept pace with their father's hopes and wishes, but he gave up his original plan of carrying Frances and Charlotte abroad on the return of their sister : Susanna volunteered to instruct "Fanny in French ; and they were all so enchanted to meet again, that perhaps Dr. Burney's parental kind- ness withheld him from proposing a new separation. On the first return of the youthful travellers, Su- sanna, who was then scarcely fourteen, wrote a sort of comparison between her two elder sisters, which, as it happens to have been preserved, and may in some measure illustrate their early characters, we will give verbatim. " Hetty seems a good deal more lively than she used to appear at Paris ; whether it is that her spirits are better, or that the great liveliness of the inhabit- ants made her appear grave there by comparison, I 17 know not : but she was there remarkable for being serieuse, and is here for being gay and lively. She is a most sweet girl. My sister Fanny is unlike her in almost every thing, yet both are very amiable, and love each other as sincerely as ever sisters did. The characteristics of Hetty seem to be wit, generosity, and openness of heart : Fanny's — sense, sensibility, and bashfulness, and even a degree of prudery. Her understanding is superior, but her diffidence gives her a bashfulness before company With whom she is not intimate. Which is a disadvantage to her. My eldest sister shines in conversation, because, though very modest, she is totally free from any mauvaise honte : were Fanny equally so, I am persuaded she would shine no less. I am afraid that my eldest sister is too communicative, and that my sister Fanny is too re- served. They are both charming girls, — -des filles comrne il y ena pen." Very soon after his return from Paris, an important change took place in Dr. Burney's domestic circle, by forming a second matrimonial connection, and bringing home to his family as their mother-in-law, Mrs. Stephen Allen, the widow of a Lynn merchant, and herself the parent of several children who had been friends and playmates Of the young Burneys. Both families were pleased at this reunion ; a larger house Was taken, in Queen Square, that they might all reside under the same roof, — although this dwell- ing was afterwards exchanged for a house in St. Mar- tin's Street ; and the new Mrs. Burney, who Was her- self highly intellectual, entered with intelligent de- light into the hterary circle which formed the solace and refreshment of her husband. Among those friends who were accustomed to as- semble rouud their tea-table, or to enliven their simple early supper, were Sir Robert and Lady Strange, — • the former so well known for his admirable engrav-i 18 = MEMOIRS OF ings, and his lady for her strong sense and original humour ; Dr. Hawkesworth, the worthy and learned Editor of Byron's and Cooke's First Voyages ; Gar- rick, and his amiable wife, the friend of Hannah More ; Barry, the Painter, whose works still adorn the Adelphi ; Mr. Twining, the Translator of Aristo- tle ; Mason, the Poet ; Mr. Greville, and his Lady, the latter celebrated as the Authoress of the beautiful " Ode to Indifference ;" Dr. Armstrong ; Arthur Young, the Agriculturist, who had married a sister of Mrs. Burney's ; John Hutton, the Moravian ; the musi- cal and clever La Trobe, and Nollekens the Sculptor. To these might be added many others of equal or su- perior celebrity, who formed part of Dr. Burney's society, as time and circumstances brought them with- in his reach. But the companion and counsellor who was dearest to himself, and most loved and honoured by his youth- ful group, was Mr. Crisp. This gentleman, several years older than Dr. Burney, had been to him a " Guide, Pilosopher, and Friend," in early life ; they had then separated in consequence of Mr. Crisp's re- siding on the continent during several years, but when they again met, their intimacy was renewed with a cordiality and delight that only ended with life. At this time Mr. Crisp had given up the world, in consequence of various losses, diminished fortune, and disappointed hopes ; and he had fixed his dwelling in an old-fashioned country-house, called Chesington Hall, not far from Kingston in Surrey, and within a a few miles of Hampton. This mansion stood upon a large and nearly desolate common, and not a road or even a track led to it from Epsom, which was the nearest town. It was encircled by ploughed fields, and one-half of the building was inhabited by a far- mer ; while in the remaining portion dwelt the pro- prietor, Christopher Hamilton, Esq., with whom Mr. ARBLAY. 1& Crisp had adopted some pic-nic plan, which enabled him to consider Chesington as his decided residence. At the death of Mr. Hamilton, the house, which was then his only property, devolved to his maiden sister, Mrs. Hamilton, who, with her niece, Miss Kitty Cooke, continued to receive Mr. Crisp as an inmate, and to admit other persons as occasional boarders. This independent method of visiting his friend, and of obtaining country air and exercise for his children, exactly suited the views of Dr. Burney, and they all in turn, or in groups, enjoyed the society of their Ches* ington Daddy, as they familiarly called Mr. Crisp ; while he was indulgent to all their youthful vagaries, and amused with observing their different characters. Among those who most frequently availed them- selves of Mrs. Hamilton's arrangement, was Mrs. Gast, the sister of Mr. Crisp, who, whenever she quitted her house at Burford, in order to visit her brother, failed not to enhance the pleasure of the Chesington meetings by her good sense and kind nature, added to a considerable degree of cultivation. But whatever might offer itself of occupation or amusement, Fanny continued secretly, yet persever- ingly, her own literary attempts. When in London, she used to write in a little play-room up two pair of stairs, which contained the toys of the younger chil- dren. At Lynn, to which place the Doctor's family paid annual visits, she would shut herself up in a sum- mer-house which they called The Cabin, and there unburden her mind, by writing the tales and composi- tions with which her fancy abounded. To none but her sister Susanna was the secret of this authorship confided ; and even she could seldom hear or read those productions, for w^ant of private opportunities by which she might avoid betraying them to others. Notwithstanding all these precautions, the vigilant ^0 MEMOIRS OF eye of their mother-in-law was not long in discovering Fanny's love of seclusion, her scraps of writing, and other tokens of her favourite employment, which ex- cited no small alarm in her. Perhaps if she had desired to see the little manu- scripts she might have perceived in them traces of genius worth encouraging ; but while her delicacy prevented such investigation, her good sense, acting upon general principles, led her to inveigh very fre- quentl}- and seriously against the evil of a scribbling turn in young ladies — the loss of time, the waste or thought, in idle, crude inventions — -and the (at that time) utter discredit of being known as a female wri- ter of novels and romances. Whatever conviction these strictures may have pro- duced, they at least so wrought upon Fanny's sense of duty and obedience, that she resolved to make an auto da fe of all her manuscripts, and, if possible, to throw away her pen. Seizing, therefore, an oppor- tunity when Dr. and Mrs. Burney were from home, she made over to a bonfire in a paved play-court, her whole stock of prose compositions, while her faithful Susanna stood by, weeping at the conflagration. Among the Works thus immolated, wets one tale of considerable length, the "History of Caroline Evelyn,'^ the mother of Evelina. This sacrifice was made! in the young authoress's fifteenth year, and for some weeks she probably adher- ed to her resolution of composing no more works of fiction, and began, perhaps as a less objectional em- ployment, the Journal which she continued during so many years. But the perennial fountain could not be restrained ; her imagination was haunted by the singu- lar situations to which Caroline Evelyn's infant daughter might be exposed, from the unequal birth by which she hung suspended between the elegant con- nections of her mr^^her, and the vulgar ones of her 21 grandmother ; thus presenting contrasts and mixtures of society so unusual, yet, under the supposed circum- stances, so natural, that irresistibly, and almost uncon- sciously, the whole story of " Evelina ; or, A Young Lady's Entrance into the World," was pent up in the inventor's memory, ere a paragraph was committed to paper. Writing was to her always more difficult than com- posing, because her time and her pen found ample employment in transcribing for her father, who was occupied at every spare moment with preparations for his great work, " The General History of Music." In the summer of 1770, Fanny obtained several months of leisure for her own studies and compositions, as Dr. Burney then set out on a solitary tour through France and Italy, for the purpose of collecting mate- rials for his " History ;" but on his return in the spring of 1771, she was employed as his principal amanuen- sis, in preparing the minutes of his tour for the press. All his daughters, however, shared in this service, co- pying his numerous manuscripts, tracing over and over again the same page when his nicety of judg- ment suggested alterations; while their patient and affectionate assiduity brought its own reward, in the extension of knowledge and improvement of taste which accrued from such labours. Dr. Burney's " Italian Tour" wns no sooner pub- lished, than he set out on another journey, for the same purpose of musical research, in Germany and the Low Countries. His family resided during his absence at Lynn and at Chesington, where Fanny gradually ar- ranged and connected the disjointed scraps and frag- ments in which " Evelina" had been originally writ- ten, whenever a quarter of an hour's leisure and soli- tude had allowed her thus to preserve the creations of her fancy. She mentions with great naivete, in her ^ Lynn Diary," that she never indulged herself with 22 MEMOIRS OF writing or reading except in the afternoon ; always scrupulously devoting her time to needle-work till af- ter dinner. As, however, the hours of repast were somewhat earlier in those days than at present, this notable self-denial may only have sent her to her fa- vourite pursuits with fresh vigour. The arrival of her father from Germany turned her, thoughts into another 'channel; as along and painful illness, which Dr. Burney owed to the fatigues and difficulties of a hurried journey, " called for the inces- sant assiduity of his fondly-attached wife and daughters to nurse him through it." Even then, when confined to his bed by spasmodic rheumatism, he generally kept one of his daughters seated near him, pen in hand, that, during the intervals of suffering, he might dictate the ideas which occurred to him for his musical work ; and perhaps the example of such literary perseverance was a stimulus that amply compensated for the hin- drance it occasioned. After the Doctor's recovery, some years still elapsed before he was able to execute his plan ; and it was not till the year 1776 that he brought out the first volume of his " History of Music." During all this period of literary occupation and anxiety, it is not sur- prising that his daughter, gifted, though unconscious- Iv, with equal powers, should, even in sympathy with her father's feelings, be seized with a wish to see a work of her own also in print ; though she was far from desiring the public suffrage which he coveted ; on the contrary, she fully mtended always to remain unknown. She communicated this idea to her sisters, under promise of inviolable secrecy ; and, in furtherance of the project, she now transcribed the manuscript of " Evelina," in an upright feigned hand ; for, as she was her father's amanuensis, she feared lest her com- mon writing might accidentally be seen by some com- positor employed in printing the " History of Music," and so lead to detection. 23 Growing weary^ however, of this manual labour, after she had thus prepared the first and second vo- lumes, she wrote a letter, without signature, offering the unfinished work to Mr. Dodsley, and promising to send the sequel . in the following year. This letter was forwarded by the post, with a request that the answer might be directed to a coffee-house. Her youngest brother, Charles, though without reading a word of the manuscript, accepted a share in the frolic, and undertook to be her agent at the coffee- house and with the bookseller. But Mr. Dodsley de- clined looking at any thing anonymous ; and the young group, " after sitting in committee on this lofty reply," next fixed upon Mr. Lowndes, a bookseller in the city, — w^ho desired to see the manuscript, and, shortly after it had been conveyed to him, signified in a letter to the unknown author, that he could not pub*- lish an unfinished book, though he liked the work ; but he should be ready to purchase and print it when it should be completed. Disappointed at this stipulation, reasonable as it was, the inexperienced authoress was on the point of giving up her scheme altogether ; and yet, as she has herself observed, " to be thwarted on the score of our inclination, acts more frequently as a spur than as a bridle ;" so that, ere another year could pass away, she had almost involuntarily completed and transcribed her third volume. But, during the hesitation occasioned by the de- mand of Mr. Lowndes, another difficulty occurred, for she felt a conscientious scruple whether it would be right to allow herself such an amusement unknown to her father. She had never taken any important step without his sanction, and had now refrained from ask-, ing it through confiision at acknowledging her author- ship and dread of his desiring to see her performance. However, in this, as in every instancee durmg her life, 24 MEMOIRS OF she no sooner saw what was her duty, than she honest- ly performed it. Seizing, therefore, an opportunity when her father was bidding her a kind farewell, pre- paratory to a Chesington visit, she avowed to him with many blushes, " her secret little work, and her odd inclination to see it in print ;" adding, that her brother Charles would transact the affair with a book- seller at a distance, so that her name could never trans- pire, and only entreating that he would not l)imself ask to see the manuscript. " His amazement was even surpassed by his amusement; and his laugh was so gay, that, revived by its cheering sound, she lost all her fears and embarrassment, and heartily joined in it, though somewhat at the expense of her new author- like dignity." Dr. Burney thought her project as innocent as it was whimsical, and kindly embracing her, enjoined her to be careful in guarding her own incognita, and then dropped the subject without even asking the name of her book. With heightened spirits she now forwarded the packet to Mr. Lowndes, who, in a few days, signified his approbation, and sent an offer of twenty pounds for the manuscript : — " An offer which was accepted with alacrity, and boundless surprise at its magnifi- cence !" In the ensuing January, 1778, "Evelina" was published ; a fact which only became known to its writer from her hearing the newspaper advertisement read accidentally at breakfast-time, by her mother-in- law, Mrs. Burney. The timidity of Miss Burney was apparently con- stitutional, and continued through life ; and though she was at so early an age exalted to fame and literary distinction, yet she found her chief happiness in the discharge of domestic duties and in the friendship and attachments of private life. 26 Her journal, which was faithfully kept through the greater part of her life, and intended only for the pe- rusal of her sister and one or two dear and intimate friends, is the surest medium through which her ad- mirers can become acquainted with her merits, her attainments, and the peculiarities of her character. In her last hours she placed this journal in the hands of her niece, with full permission to pubhsh whatever might be judged desirable, avowing a hope that some instruction might be derived from this ac- curate narration of her own hfe. CHAPTER 11. Publication of Evelina — Its Desi^ and Objects — Secrecy — Critique on Evelina — Mr. Crisj) — " Evelina" read by Dr. Burney — His dis- covery of its Author — Mr. Cholmondeley and Mrs. Thrale — In- vitation from Mrs. Thrale — Dr. Burney's delight — Mr. Crisp dis- covers the Author of Evelma — Visit to Streatham — Mrs. Thrale's Reception — Introduction to Dr. Johnson — His reason for not eat- ing Mutton on the day that he became acquainted with Miss Bur* ney. The following extracts from Miss Burney's Diary give an accurate and Advacious account of her own emotions at the publication of " Evelina," as well as an interesting narration of the events consequent upon its appearance. " 1778. This year was ushered in by a grand and most important event ! At the latter end of January, the literary world was favoured with the first publica- tion of the ingenious, learned, and most profound Fan- ny Burney ! I doubt not but this memorable affair will, in future times, mark the period whence chronologers will S'^. Martin's Street, Jan. 1779. On Thursday, I had another adventure, and one that has made me grin #ver since. A gentleman, inquiring for my father, was asked into the parloar. The then inhabitants were only my mother and me. In entered a square old gen- tleman, well wigged, formal, grave, and important. He seated himself. My mother asked if he had any message for my father ? " * No, none.' " Then he regarded me with a certain dry kind of attention for some time ; after which, turning sudden- ly to my mother, he demanded, " * Pray, ma'am, is this your daughter V «' Yes, sir.' MADAME d'aRBLAY. 41 ««0! this is Evelina, is it?' " * No, sir,' cried I, staring at him, and glad none of you were in the way to say Yes. " ' No V repeated he, incredulous ; ^ is not your name Evelina, ma'am V " ^ Dear, no, sir,' again quoth I, staring harder. *•' ' Ma'am,' cried he, drily, ' I beg your pardon ! I had understood your name was Evelina.' " And soon he went away. " When he put down his card, who should it prove but Dr. Franklin ! " Was it not queer ?" About this period. Miss Burney was exceedingly annoyed by the mention of her name in a pamphlet addressed to Sir Joshua Reynolds. It seemed impos- sible for her to .overcome her repugnance to appear- ing in print other than incog. The passage which so much annoyed her was the following. Speaking of some aim of Sir Joshua Reynolds's, the writer asks "will it gain approbation from ' dear little Burney ?' " The phrase " dear little Burney" was Dr. Johnson's favourite mode of speaking of Miss Burney. Insigni- ficant as this allusion appears, it occasioned Miss Bur- ney much uneasiness, and was even the cause of a transient indisposition. Her friends, ancf Mrs. Thrale in particular, used their utmost endeavours to persuade her to overcome this fastidiousness, but they were not very successful. Dr. Johnson paid her a visit on pur- pose to reason with her, and at his desire she made a great effort to banish her dissatisfaction. The circle of her acquaintance in the literary world, as well as amongst the nobility, daily increased. Her journal contains descriptions of numerous interesting individuals. We extract the account of her first in- terview with Mr. Sheridan. She became acquainted with him during a visit at Mr. Cholmondeley's. " Just then the door opened and Mr. Sheridan en- 42 MEMOIRS OF tercd. Was I not in luck ? Not that I believe the meeting was accidental ; but I had more wished to meet him and his wife than any people I know not. " Mr. Sheridan has a very fine figure, and a good though I don't think a handsome face. He is tall, and very upright, and his appearance and address are at once manly and fashionable, without the smallest tincture of foppery or modish gi:-aces. In short, I like him vastly, and think him every way worthy his beau- tiful companion. " And let me tell ycii what I know will give you as much pleasure as it gave me, — that, by all I could observe in the course of the evening, and we stayed very late, they are extremely happy in each other ; he evidently adores her, and she as evidently idolizes him. The world has by no means done him justice. " When he had paid his compliments to all his ac- quaintance, he went behind the sofa on which Mrs. Sheridan and Miss Cholmondeley were seated, and entered into earnest conversation with them. " And now I must tell you a little conversation which I did not hear myself till I came home ; it was between Mr. Sheridan and my father. " ' Dr. Burney,' cried the former, ' have you no old- er daughters? Can this possibly be the authoress of « Evelina V " And then he said abundance of fine things, and begged my father to introduce him to me. " ' Why, it will be a very formidable thing to her,' answered he, * to be introduced to you.' " ' Well then, by and by,' returned he. " Some time after this, my eyes happening to meet his, he waived the ceremony of introduction, and in a low voice said, " ' I have been telling Dr. Burney that I have long expected to see in Miss Burney a lady of the gravest appearance, with the quickest parts.' MADAME d'aRBLAY. 43 " I was never much more astonished than at this imexpected address, as among all my numerous puf- fers the name of Sheridan has never reached me, and I did really imagine he had never designed to look at my trash. " Of course I could make no verbal answer, and he proceeded then to speak of * Evelina' in terms of the highest praise ; but I was in such a ferment from sur- prise (not to say pleasure), that I have no recollec- tion of his expressions. I only remember teUing him that I was much amazed he had spared time to read it, and that he repeatedly called it a most sur- prising book ; and some time after he added, * But I hope, Miss Burney, you don't intend to throw away your pen V " ^ You should take care, sir,' said I, ' what you say : for you know not what weight it may have.' " He wished it might have any, he said, and soon after turned again to my father." In July, 1779, Miss Burney completed a Comedy entitled " The Witlings," and submitted it to her fath- er, Mr. Crisp, Mrs. Thrale, and one or two other friends. It met the warm approbation of Mrs. Thrale and her friends, but was condemned by Dr. Burney and Mr. Crisp, who were more chary of the young authoress's reputation. The objection of Mr. Crisp to the MS. play of " The Witlings" was its resemblance to Mo- liere's Femmes Scavajifes, and its inferiority to that drama. Miss Burney asserts, however, that she had never read Moliere's Femmes Scavantes when she composed the " The Witlings." She received her father's decision w^ith excellent grace, and in a spirit which showed that her humility was not affected. The following is the answer to his letter. " The fatal knell is knolled, and down among the dead men sink the poor ' Witlings' — for ever, and for ever, and for ever ! 44 MEMOIRS OF " I give a sigh, whether I will or not, to their mem- ory ! for, however worthless, they were mes enfans, and one must do one's nature, as Mr. Crisp will tell you of the dog. " You, my dearest sir, who enjoyed, I really think, even more than myself, the astonishing success of my first attempt, would, I believe, even more than my- self, be hurt at the failure of my second ; and I am sure I speak from the bottom of a very honest heart, when I most solemnly declare, that upon your account any disgrace would mortify and afflict me more than upon my own ; for whatever appears with your knowledge, will be naturally supposed to have met with your approbation, and, perhaps, your as- sistance ; therefore, though all particular censure would fall where it ought — upon me — yet any gene- ral censure of the whole, and the plan, would cruelly but certainly involve you in its severity. * # " * * * # * " You bid me open my heart to you, — and so, my dearest sir, I will, for it is the greatest happiness of my life that I dare be sincere to you. I expected many objections to be raised — a thousand errors to be pointed ont — and a million of alterations to be pro- posed ; but the suppression of the piece were words I did not expect ; indeed, after the warm approbation of Mrs. Thrale, and the repeated commendations and flattery of Mr. Murphy, how could I ? " I do not, therefore, pretend to wish you should think a decision, for which I was so little prepared, has given me no disturbance ; for I must be a far more egregious witling than any of those I tried to draw, to imagine you could ever credit that I wrote without some remote hope of success now — though 1 literally did when I composed ' Evelina !' " But my mortification is not at throwing away the characters, or the contrivance : — it is all at throwing MADAME D*ARBLAY. 45 away the time, — which I with difficulty stole, and which I have buried in the mere trouble of writing. " What my daddy Crisp says, ' that it would be the best policy, but ibr pecuniary advantages, for me to write no more,' is exactly what I have always thought since ' Evelina' was published. But I will not now talk of putting it into practice ; for the best way 1 can take of shewing that I have a true and just sense of the spirit of your condemnation, is not to sink sulky and dejected under it, but to exert myself to the ut- most of my power in endeavours to produce something less reprehensible. And this shall be the way I will pursue as soon as my mind is more at eas^e about Het- ty and Mrs. Thrale, and as soon as I have read my- self into a forgetfulness of my old dramatis fersonce, lest I should produce something else as witless as the last." Miss Burney soon forgot " The Witlings," and re- turned to her usual occupations, amongst which was the study of Latin. Her instructor was no other than Dr. Johnson himself, who took great delight in two such pupils as Miss Burney and Miss Thrale. " Do you know," says Miss Burney in a journal addressed to her sister, " I have been writing to Dr. Johnson ! I tremble to mention it ; but he sent a mes- sage in a letter to Mrs. Thrale, to wonder why his pupils did not write to him, and to hope they did not forget him : Miss Thrale, therefore, wrote a letter im- mediately, and I added only this little postscript : " ' P. S. Dr. Johnson's other pupil a httle longs to add a few lines to this letter,— but knows too well that all she has to say might be comprised in signing herself his obliged and most obedient servant, F. B. : so that's better than a long rigmarole about nothing." In travelHng to Bath, Mr. and Mrs. Thrale and Miss Burney made an accidental acquaintance at an inn, the remembrance of which must many years af- 46 MEMOIRS OF terwards have afforded them much pleasure. We give Miss Burney's own description. " The second day we slept at Speen Hill, and the third day we reached Devizes. " And here, Mrs. Thrale and I were much pleased with our hostess, Mrs. Lawrence, who seemed some- thing above her station in her inn. While we were at cards before supper, we were much surprised by the sound of a piano-forte. I jumped up, and ran to list- en whence it proceeded. I found it came from the next room, where the overture to the * Buona Fig- liuola' was performing. The playing was very de- cent, but as the music was not quite new to me, my curiosity was not whole ages in satisfying, and there- fore I returned to finish the rubber. " Don't I begin to talk in an old-cattish manner of cards ? " Well, another deal was hardly played, ere we heard the sound of a voice, and out I ran again. — The singing, however, detained me not long, and so back I whksked ; but the performance, however in- different in itself, yet surprised us at the Bear at De- vizes, and therefore Mrs. Thrale determined to know from whom if came. Accordingly, she tapped at the door. A very handsome girl, about thirteen years old, with fine dark hair upon a finely formed fore- head, opened it. Mrs. Thrale made an apology for her intrusion, but the poor girl blushed and retreated into the corner of the room ; another girl, however, advanced, and obligingly and gracefully invited us in, and gave us all chairs. She was just sixteen, ex- tremely pretty, and with a countenance better than her features, though those were also very good. " Mrs. Thrale made her many compliments, which she received with a mingled modesty and pleasure, both becoming and interesting. She was, indeed, a sweetly pleasing girl. MADAME d'aRBLAY. 47 " We found tuey were both daughters of our host- ess, and born and bred at Devizes. We were ex- tremely pleased with them, and made them a long- visit, which I wished to have been longer. But though those girls struck us so much, the wonder of the fam- ily was yet to be produced. This was their brother, a most lovely boy of ten years of age, who seems to be not merely the wonder of their family, but of the times, for his astonishing skill in drawing. They pro- test he has never had any instruction, yet showed us some of his productions that were really beautiful. — Those that were copies were delightful — those of his own composition amazing, though far inferior. I was equally struck with the boy and his works. " We found that he had been taken to town, and that all the painters had been very kind to him, and Sir Joshua Reynolds had pronounced him, the mother said, the most promising genius he had ever met with. Ml. Hoare has been so charmed with this sweet boy's drawings, that he intends sending him to Italy with his own son. " I'his house was full of books, as well as paintings, drawings, and music ; and all the family seem not only ingenious and industrious, but amiable ; added to which they are strikingly handsome. " I hope we shall return the same road that we may see them again." This boy was afterwards the celebrated painter Sir Thomas Lawrence, President of the Royal Aca- demy. At Bath, Miss Burney became acquainted with Mrs. Byron, grandmother to the Poet. She thus men- tions her : " In the evening we were all engaged to the Bel- videre, to visit Mrs. Byron, who arrived at Bath two days before. " The Belvidere is a most beautiful spot ; it is on a 48 MEMOIRS OF high hill, at one of the extremities of the town, of which, as of the Avon and all the adjacent country, it commands a view that is quite enchantmg. " Poor Mrs. Byron is very far from well, thou9;h already better than when I saw her in town ; but her charming spirits never fail her, and she rattled and shone away with all the fire and brilhancy of vigor- ous health. Augusta is much improved in her person, but preserves the same engaging simplicity of man- ners that distinguished her at Brighthelmstone. She was quite overjoyed at meeting me, and talked quite in raptures of renewing our acquaintance and seeing me often. I never hardly met with so artless an en- thusiasm for what she loves as in this fair Augusta, whom I must iove in return, whether I will or not." CHAPTER IV. Death of Mr. Thrale— Miss Burney's Letter to his Widow— " Ce» cilia" — Fears for its Success — Dr. Burney's Opinion — Enthusias- tic reception of " Cecilia" — Complimeatary Letter of the Hon- ourable Edmund Burke — Mrs. Siddons — Mrs. Garrick — Mrs. Cha- pone — Horace Walpoie — Mrs. Deiany^-Duchess of Portland- Death of Mr. Crisp — Dr. Johnson seized with a paralytic Stroke — His Latin Prayer — Miss Burney's Visit to Him— Presiding at his Breakfast Table. Early in the Spring of 1781, Miss Burney w^as much afflicted by the death of Mr. Thrale, who had for some time been in ill health. He died suddenly, by a stroke of apoplexy, on the morning of the day on which half the fashion of London had been invited to an intended assembly at his house in Grosvenor Square. The efforts of Miss Burney to console his sorrowing widow are truly touching. In answer to Mrs. Thrale's hurried note w^ritten a few hom'S after the death of Mr. Thrale, she says, Madame d'arblaY. 49 " You bid me write to you, and so I will , you bid me pray for you, and so, indeed, I do, for the restora- tion of your sweet peace of mind. I pray for your resignation to this hard blow, for the continued union and exertion of your virtues with your talents, and for the happiest reward their exertion can meet with, in the gratitude and prosperity of your children. These are my prayers for my beloved Mrs. Thrale; but these are not my only ones ; no, the unfailing warmth of her kindness for myself I have rarely, for a long time past, slept without first petitioning." Miss Burney soon joined Mrs. Thrale at Streathara, and the tie between them became stronger than ever. " Ceciha," Miss Barney's second novel, was complet- ed in the Spring of 1782. She thus mentions this new production to her sister : " My work is too long in all conscience for the hur- ry of my people to have it produced. I have a thou- sand million of fears for it. The mere copying, with- out revising and correcting, would take at least ten weeks, for I cannot do more than a volume in a fort- night, unless I scrawl short hand and rough hand, as badly as the original. Yet my dear father thinks it will be published in a month ! Since you went I have copied one volume and a quarter— no more ! Oh, I am sick to think of it ! Yet not a little reviving is my father's very high approbation of the first volume, which is all he has seen. I totally forgot whether, in my last, I told you I had presented it to him ; but I am sure you would never forget, for the pleasure you would have felt for me, had you seen or heard him reading any part of it. " Would you ever believe, bigoted as he was to ' Evelina,' that he now says he thinks this a superior design and superior execution ? '' You can never half imagine the delight this has given me. It is answering my first wish and first am- E 50 MEMOIRS OF bition in life. And though I am certain, and though he thinks himself, it will never be so popular as ' Ev- elina,' his so warm satisfaction will make me amends for almost any mortification that may be in store for me." " ^ Ceciha' appeared and met, if possible, a more enthusiastic reception than ' Evelina.' One of the most flattering tributes to Miss Burney's talents was paid her by the Honourable Edmund Burke in the following letter addressed to her immediately after the publication of ' Ceciha.' "'FROM THE RIGHT HON. EDMUND BURKE TO MISS F. BURNEY. " * Madam : I should feel exceedingly to blame if I could refuse to myself the natural satisfaction, and to you the just but poor return, of my best thanks for the very great instruction and entertainment I have receiv- ed from the new present you have bestowed on the public. There are few — I believe I may say fairly there are none at all — that will not find themselves better informed concerning human nature, and their stock of observation enriched, by reading your ' C'cilia.' They certainly will, let tlieir experience in hie and manners be what it may. The arrogance of age must submit to be taught by youth. You have crowded in- to a few small volumes an incredible variety of cha- racters ; most of them w^ell planned, well supported, and well contrasted with each other. If there be any fault in this respect, it is one in w^hich you are in no great danger of being imitated. Justly as your cha- racters are drawn, perhaps they are too numerous. — But I beg pardon ; I fear it is quite in vain to preach economy to those who are come young to excessive and sudden opulence. *' ' I might trespass on your delicacy, if I should fill my letter to vou with what I fill my conversation to MADAME d'aRBLAY. 51 others. I should be troublesome to you alone if I should tell you all I feel and think on the natural vein of humour, the tender, pathetic, the comprehensive and noble moral, and the sagacious observation, that appear quite throughout that extraordinary perform- ance. " ' In an age distinguished by producing extraordi- nary women, I hardly dare to tell you where my opin- ion would place you amongst them. I respect your modesty, that will not endure the commendations which your merit forces from every body. " ' I have the honour to be, with great gratitude, respect, and esteem, madam, your most obedient and most humble servant, ' Edm. Burke.' " ' Whitehall, July 29, 1782.' " The mention which Miss Burney makes of celebra- ted persons with whom she was daily becoming ac- quainted, is particularly interesting to those who are already familiar with their names. Of Mrs. Siddons she writes : " I was extremely happy to have my dear father with me at Miss Monckton's. We found Mrs. Sid- dons, the actress, there. She is a woman of excellent character, and therefore I am very glad she is thus patronised, since Mrs. Abingdon, and so many frail fair ones, have been thus noticed by the great. She behaved with great propriety ; very calm, modest, quiet, and unaffected. She has a very fine counte- nance, and her eyes look both intelligent and soft. — She hr^ however, a steadiness in her manner and de- portment by no means engaging. Mrs. Thrale, who was there, said, — ' Why, this is a leaden goddess we are all worshipping! however, we shall soon gdd it.' " Of Mrs. Garrick : " I had a very agreeable evening 52 MEMOIRS OF last Tuesday at Mr. Pepys, where I met Mrs. Gar- rick, whom I rejoiced much to see. She had all but forgot me ; but when I was introduced to her, by her half recollecting and asking who I was, she was ex- tremely kind and obliging. She looks very well, and very elegant. She was cheerfully grave, did not speak much, but was followed and addressed by every body. I could not help being quite melancholy my- self at sight of her, from remembrance of dear Mr. Garrick." Of Mrs. Chapone : " Mrs. Chapone herself is the most superiorly unaffected creature you can conceive, and full of agremens from good sense, talents, and conversational powers, in defiance of age, infirmities, and uncommon ugliness. I really love as well as ad- mire and esteem her." To Horace Walpole she alludes in a less compli- mentary manner : " In the evening came in Mr. Walpole, gay, though sarcastic ; polite, though sneering ; and entertainingly . epigrarnmatical. I like and admire, but I could not love nor trust him." In the January of 1783, Miss Burney made one ac- quaintance — gained one admiring friend, whose in- fluence at a subsequent period changed the whole course of her life — her new admirer was Mrs. Delany, whose husband had been the intimate friend of Dean Swift. Miss Burney gives the following description of her first interview with Mrs. Delany : " SUNDA.Y, Jan. 19. — And now for Mrs. Delany. I spent one hour with Mrs. Thrale, and then called for Mrs. Chapone, and we proceeded together to St. James's Place. " Mrs. Delany was alone in her drawing-room, which is entirely hung round with pictures of her own paint- ing, and ornaments of her own designing. She came to the door to receive us. She is still tall, though some MADAME d'aUBLAY. 53 of her height may be lost : not much, however, for she is remarkably upright. She has no remains of beauty in feature, but in countenance I never but once saw more, and that was in my sweet maternal grandmother. Benevolence, softness, piety, and gentleness, are all re- sident in her face ; and the resemblance with which she struck me to my dear grandmother, in her first ap- pearance, grew so much stronger from all that came from her in mind, which seems to contain nothing but purity and native humihty, that I almost longed to embrace her ; and I am sure if I had, the recollection of that saint-hke woman would have been so strong, that I should never have refrained from crying over her. " Mrs. Chapone presented me to her, and taking my hand, she said — " ' You must pardon me if I give you an old-fashion- ed reception, for I know nothing new.' " " At about seven o'clock, the Duchess Dowager of Portland came. She is not near so old as Mrs. Dela- ny, nor, to me, is her face by any means so pleasing ; but yet there is sweetness, and dignity, and intelligence in it. Mrs. Delany received her with the same re- spectful ceremony as if it was her first visit, though she regularly goes to her every evening. But what she at first took as an honour and condescension, she has so much of true humihty of mind, that no use can make her see in any other light. She immediately presented me to her. Her Grace courtesied and smiled with the most flattering air of pleasure, and said she was particularly happy in meeting with me." In the same year Miss Burney lost her beloved friend and counselloi", Mr. Crisp. It was long before she recovered her spirits or resumed her journal — the first entry after this affliction relates to an alarming paralytic seizure of Dr. Johnson : "ThuesdaY} June 1.9th. — We heard to-day that 54 MEMOIRS OF Dr. Johnson had been taken ill, in a way that gave a dreadful shock to himself, and a most anxious alarm to his friends. Mr. Seward brought the news here, and my father and I instantly went to his house. He had earnestly desired me, when we lived so much to- gether at Streatham, to see him frequently if he should be ill. He saw my father, but he had medical peo- ple with him, and could not admit me up stairs, but he sent me down a most kind message, that he thank- ed me for calling, and when he was better should ho]ie to see me often. I had the satisfaction to hear from Mrs. Williams that the physicians had pronounced him to be in no danger, and expected a speedy recovery. " The stroke was confined to his tongue. Mrs. Wil- liams told a most striking and touching circumstance that attended the attack. It was at about four o'clock in the morning : he found himself with a paralytic af- fection ; he rose, and composed in his own mind a La- tin prayer to the Almighty, ' that whatever were the sufferings for which he must prepare himself, it would please Him, through the grace and mediation of our blessed Saviour, to spare his intellects, and let them all fall upon his body.' When he had composed this, internally, he endeavoured to speak it aloud, but found his voice w^as gone." Dr. Johnson soon recovered from this attack. His affection for Miss Barney continued unabated, if we may judge from the description she gives her sister of a visit paid to him several months afterwards. " Thursday, Oct. 29th. — This morning, at break- fast, Mr. Hoole called. I wanted to call upon Dr Johnson, and it is so disagreeable to me to go to him alone, now poor Mrs. Williams is dead, on account of the quantity of men always visiting him, that I most gladly accepted, and almost asked, his 'squireship. " We went together. The dear doctor received me with open arms. 65 " * Ah, dearest of all dear ladier V he cried, and wade me sit in his best chair. " He had not breakfasted. " ' Do you forgive my coming «o soon 1' said I. " * I cannot forgive your no<^ coming sooner,' he an- swered, '^ I asked if I should makr- his breakfast, which I have not done since we left Streatham ; he readily con- sented. " ' Butj sir,' quoth I> * I am in the wrong chair.' For I was away from the table. " * It is SQ dilficult,' said he, ' for any thing to be wrong that belongs to you, that it can only be I am m the wrong chair, to keep you from the right one.' " And then we changed. " You will see by this how good were his spirits and his health. " I stayed with him two hours, and could hardly get away ; he wanted me to dine with hhn, and said he would send home to excuse me ; but I could not pos- sibly do that. Yet I left him with real regret." CHAPTER V. Miss Burney's friendship for Mrs. Thrale threatened with an inter- ruption — Miss Burney's defence of her Friend — Mrs. Thrale's Let- ter and Visit — The last meeting — Mrs. Thrale's Marriage with Rozzi— Letters between her and Miss Burney — An unanswered let- ter — The friendship of six years at an end — Dr. Johnson's illness. — Affecting interview with Miss Burney — Recovery — His last ill- ness — Anecdote of the Coffins — Dr. Jolinson's last hours and death. Miss Burney's friendship for Mrs. Thrale was now threatened with an interruption. Injurious reports were in circulation concerning that amiable lady, but her friend still clung to her, and in a letter to Mrs. 56 MEMOIRS OF Phillips, endeavoured, as much as in her power lay, to exculpate her conduct. " Saturday, November 22d, I passed_," she writes, " in nothing but sorrow — exqui- site sorrow, for my dear unhappy friend, who sent me one letter that came early by the Bath DiUgence, and another by the Post. But of these things no more. " I am sorry not to be more explicit, but I should not give you more pleasure if I were. I can only tell you that I love — Mrs. Thrale with a never-to-cease affection, and pity her more than ever I pitied any human being ; and, if I did not blame her, I could I should, I believe, almost die for her ! " 1 am extremely sorry, my dearest Susy, that in the late distress of my mind about poor Mrs. Thrale, I mentioned any thing that has so much interested you to know more. It is too true that many knew all, — but none from me. I am bound, and should be miserable not to say, if called upon, and not to know, if not called upon, that no creature, not even you to Avhom I communicate every thing else, nor to the trusty Charlotte with whom I live, and who sees my frequent distress upon the subject, has tempted me to an explanation. General rumour I have no means to prevent spreading. * * * * " I am still as much bent as ever to go to her, if I can obtain leave ; but I will mention no more of the matter, since the difficulties under which I labour not to offend or afflict that beloved friend, and yet to do nothing wrong, are by no means new, though of late they have grown doubly painful. I will only say further, that though her failings are unaccount- able and most unhappy, her virtues and good quali- ties, the generosity and feelings of her heart, the liberality and sweetness of her disposition, w^ould counterbalance a thousand more." Mrs. Thrale and Miss Burney met and parted as dear friends meet and part, but onco more. Previous MADAME d'aRBLAY. 57 to that meeting, Miss Burney received the following enthusiastically affectionate letter from Mrs. Thrale : " Mortimer Street, Cavendish Square, Tuesday Night, May, 1784. " I am come, dearest Burney. It is neither dream nor fiction ; though I love you dearly, or I would not have come. Absence and distance do nothing to- wards wearing out real affection ; so you shall always find it in your true and tender H. L. T. " I am somewhat shaken bodily, but 'tis the men- tal shocks that have made me unable to bear the cor- poral ones. 'Tis past ten o'clock, however, and I must lay myself down with the sweet expectation of seeing my charming friend in the morning to break- fast. I love Dr. Burney too well to fear him, and he loves me too well to say a word which should make me love him less." Miss Burney, in alluding to Mrs. Thrale's visit, says, " The best of the week I devoted almost en- tirely to Mrs. Thrale, whose society was truly the most delightful of cordials to me ; however, at times, mixed with bitters the least palatable. * * * * # " Were I not sensible of her goodness, and full of incurable affection for her, should I not be a monster ? * * * * # "I parted most reluctantly with my dear Mrs. Thrale, whom, when or how I shall see again. Hea- ven only knows ! but in sorrow we parted — on my side in real affection." A few months afterwards, Mrs. Thrale's second marriage took place with Mr. Piozzi, and Miss Bur- ney went about the same time to Norbury Park, where she spent some weeks with Mr. and Mrs. Locke. The two following letters then passed be- tween Miss Burney and Mrs. Piozzi : — 5S MEMOIRS OF MISS F. BURNEY TO MRS. PIOZZI. " Norbury Park, Aug. 10, 1784. " When my wondering eyes first looked over the letter I received last night, my mind instantly dic- tated a high-spirited vindication of the consistency, integrity, and faithfulness of the friendship thus ab- ruptly reproached and cast away. But a sleepless night gave me leisure to recollect that you were ever as generous as precipitate, and that your own heart would do justice to mine, in the cooler judgment of future reflection. Committing myself, therefore, to that period, I determined to simply assure you, that if my last letter hurt either you or Mr. Piozzi, I am no less sorry than surprised ; and that if it offended you, I sincerely beg your pardon. " Not to that time, however, can I wait to acknow- ledge the pain an accusation so unexpected has caused me, nor the heartfelt satisfaction with which I shall receive, when you are able to write it, a softer renewal of regard. " May Heaven direct and bless you ! F. B. " N. B. This is the sketch of ^he answer which F. B. most painfully wrote to the unmerited reproach of not sending cordial congratulations upon a mar- riage which she had uniformly, openly, and with deep and avowed affliction, thought wrong." MRS. PIOZZI TO MISS BURNEY. " Wellbeck Street, No. 33, Cavendish Square. Friday, Aug. 13, 1784. " Give youself no serious concern, sweetest Burney. All is well, and I am too happy myself to make a friend otherwise ; quiet your kind heart immediately, and love my husband if you love his and your " H. L. Piozzi." To this affectionate note. Miss Burney wrote a warm answer, to which she never received a reply ! MADAME D^ARBLAY. 69 And here and thus stopped a correspondence of six years of almost unequalled partiality and fondness, on the side of Mrs. Thrale, and affection, gratitude, admiration and sincerity, on that of Miss Burney, who could only conjecture the cessation to be caused by the resentment of Pioz^i, when informed of her con- stant opposition to the union. In December 1783 Dr. Johnson was again taken ill. Miss Burney gives an affecting account of her interview with him. " Tuesday, Dec. 30.-^1 went to Dr. Johnson and sp^nt the evening with him. He was very indifferent indeed. There were some very disagreeable people with him ; and he once affected me very much, by turning suddenly to me, and grasping my hand, and saying,— " ' The blister I have tried for my breath has be- trayed some very bad tokens ; but I will not terrify myself by talking of ihem; ah, priez Dieu pour moil' *' You may believe I promised that I would ! Good and excellent as he is, how can he so fear death ? — Alas, my dear Susy, how awful is that idea ! He was quite touchingly affectionate to me. How ear- nestly I hope for his recovery !" Dr. Johnson once more recovered, and appears to have enjoyed very tolerable health for nearly a year. His next serious illness, and his last, occurred in No- vember, 1784. Miss Burney had many interesting interviev/s with him which she mentions in her diary We have extracted them, as they cannot fail to be interesting to all classes of readers. " Last Thursday, Nov. 25th, my father set me down at Bolt Court, wl '^le he went on upon business. I was anxious to again see poor Dr. Johnson, who has had terrible health since his return from Litchfield. He let me in, though very ill. He was alone, which I much rejoiced at -, for I had a longer and more satis- 60 MEMOIRS OF factory conversation with him than I have had for many months. He was in rather better spirits, too, than I have lately seen him ; but he told me he was going to try what sleeping out of town might do for him. " ' I remember,' said he, ' that my wife when she was near her end, poor woman, was also advised to sleep out of town ; and when she was carried to the lodgings that had been prepared for her, she com- plained that the staircase was in very bad condition ; for the plaster was beaten off the walls in many pla- ces. * Oh,' said the man of the house, ^ that's no- thing but by the knocks against it of the coffins of the poor souis that have died in the lodgings I' " " He laughed, though not without apparent secret anguish, in telling me this. I felt extremely shocked, but willing to confine my words at least to the literal story, I only exclaimed against the unfeehng absurdi- ty of such a confession." ******* " Thursday mor?w"n^.*-*-I have been a second time to see poor Dr. Johnson, and both times he was too ill to admit me. I knew how very much worse he must be, for when I saw him last, which was the morning before I went to Norbury, he repeatedly and even earnestly begged me to come to him again, and to see him both as soon and as often as I could. I am told by Mr. Hoole, that he inquired of Dr. Brock* lesby if he thought it likely he might live six weeks ? and the doctor's hesitation saying No, he has been more deeply depressed than ever. Fearing death as he does, no one can wonder. Why he should fear it, all may wonder." ******** " St. Martin's Street, Wednesday, Dec. 10th. —I went in the evening to poor Dr. Johnson. Frank told me he was very ill, but let me in. He would 61 have taken me up stairs, but I would not see him without his direct permission. I desired Frank to tell him I called to pay my respects to him, but not to disturb him if he was not well enough to see me. Mr. Strahan, a clergyman, he said, was with him alone. "In a few minutes, this Mr. Strahan came to me himself. He told me Dr. Johnson was very ill, very much obliged to me for coming, but so weak and bad he hoped I would excuse his not seeing me. " Dear, dear, and much reverenced Dr. Johnson ! how ill or how low must he be, to decline seeing a creature he has so constantly, so fondly, called about him ! If I do not see him again I shall be truly af- flicted. And I fear, I almost know, I cannot ! ^ TT •9r TT "TT tt " At night my father brought us the most dismal ti- dings of dear Dr. Johnson. Dr. Warren had seen him, and told him to take what opium he pleased ! He had thanked and taken leave of all his physicians ! Alas ! I shall lose him, and he will take no leave of me ! I hear from every one he is now perfectly re- signed to his approaching fate, and no longer in ter- ror of death. I am thankfully happy in hearing that he speaks himself now of the change his mind has undergone from its dark horror, and says — ' He feels the irradiation of hope !' Good, and pious, and ex- cellent christian — who shall feel it if not he '? " Dec. 11th. — We had a party to dinner, by long appointment, for which, indeed, none of us were well disposed, the apprehension of hearing news only of death being hard upon us all. "The day could not be well ; but mark the night. " My father, in the morning, saw this first of men ! I had not his account till bedtime ; he feared over-ex- citing me. He would not, he said, but have seen him for worlds ! He happened to be better, and ad- 62 MEMOIRS OF mitted him. He was up, and very composed. He took his hand very kindly, asked after his family, and then, in particular, how Fanny did ? " ' I hope,' he said, Fanny did not take it amiss that I did not see her ? I was very bad !' " Amiss ! what a word ! Oh, that I had been pre- sent to have answered it ! My father stayed, 1 sup- pose, half an hour, and then was coming away. He again took his hand, and encouraged him to come again to him ; and when he was taking leave, said — * Tell Fanny to pray for me !' " Ah ! dear Dr. Johnson ! might I but have your prayers ! After which, still grasping his hand, he made a prayer for himself, — the most fervent, pious, humble, eloquent, and touching, my father says, that ever was composed. Oh, would I had heard it ! He ended it with Amen ! in which my father joined, and was echoed by all present. And again, when my father was leaving him, he brightened up, something of his arch look returned, and he said — * I think I shall throw the ball at Fanny yet !' " Little more passed ere my father came away, de- cided, most tenderly, not to tell me this till our party was gone. " This most earnestly increased my desire to see him ; this kind and frequent mention of me melted me into double sorrow and regret. I would give the world I had but gone to him that day ! It was, how- ever, impossible, and the day was over before I knew he had said what I look upon as a call to me. 1 his morning, after church time, I went. Frank said he was very ill, and saw nobody ; 1 told him I had un- derstood by my father the day before that he meant to see me. He then let me in. I went into his room, up stairs ; he was in his bedroom. I saw it crowded, and ran hastily down. Frank told me his master had i refused seeing even Mr. Langton. I told him merely 63 to say I had called, but by no means to press my ad- mission. His own feelings were all that should be consulted ; his tenderness, I knew, w^ould be equal, whether he was able to see me or not. " I went into the parlour, preferring being alone in the cold, to any company with a fire. Here I waited long, here and upon the stairs, which I ascen- ded and descended to meet again with Frank, and make inquiries ; but I met him not. At last, upon Dr. Johnson's ringing his bell, I saw Frank enter his room, and Mr. Langton follow. ' Who's that V I heard him say ; they answered, ' Mr. Langton,' and I found he did not return. " Soon after, all the rest went away but a Mrs. Davis, a good sort of woman, whom this truly charit- able soul had sent for to take a dinner at his house. I then went and waited with her by the fire : it was, however, between three and four o'clock before I got any answer. Mr. Langton then came himself. He could not look at me, and I turned away from him. Mrs. Davis asked how the Doctor was ? * Going on to death very fast !' was his mournful answer. * Has he taken,' said she, * any thing V Nothing at all ! "We carried him some bread and milk — he refused it, and said, ' The less the better.' She asked more ques- tions, by which I found his faculties w^ei e perfect, his mind composed, and his dissolution was quick draw- ing on." ***** " I could not immediately go on, and it is now long since I have WTitten at all ; but I will go back to this afflicting theme, which I can now better bear. " Mr. Langton was, I beheve, a quarter of an hour in the room before I suspected he meant to speak to me, never looking near me. At last he said — " ' This poor man, I understand, ma'am, desired yesterday to see you.' 64 MEMOIRS OF *' ' My understanding that, sir, brought me to-day.* " ^ Poor man ! it is a pity he did not know himself better, and that you should have had this trouble.' " * Trouble !' cried I ; ' I would come a hundred times to see him the hundredth and first !' " VHe hopes, now, you will excuse him ; he is ve- ry sorry not to see you ; but he desired me to come and speak to you myself, and tell you he hopes you will excuse him, for he feels himself too weak for such an interview.' " I hastily got up, left him my most affectionate re- spects, and every good wish I could half utter, and ran back to the coach. Ah, my Susy ! I have never been to Bolt Court since ! I then drove to poor Miss Strange, to make inquiries of the maid ; but Andrew ran out to the coach door, and told me all hope was at an end. In short, the next day was fatal to both ! the same day !" ***** "Dec. 20th. — This day was the ever-honoured, ever-lamented Dr. Johnson committed to the earth. Oh, how sad a day to me ! My father attended, and so did Charles. I could not keep my eyes dry all day ; nor can I now, in the recollecting it ; but let me pass over what to mourn is now so vain !' MADAME d'arBLAY. 65 CHAPTER VI. Miss Buraey's acquaintance with Madame de Genlis — Madame de Geulis's note — M^s. Delany — The Queen's loom, and the King's gold knitting-needle — Death of the Duchess Dowager of Portland Mrs. Dslany's grief, and Miss Biirney's consolatory attentions — Kindness of King George and Queen Charlotte to Mrs. Delaiiy — The two dried leaves — Mrs. Delany's house at Windsor — Project- ed visit of the Princesses to Miss Burney — The King and Queen's mention of her — Miss Burney at Windsor — Queen Charlotte re- peruses " Cecilia"— Mrs. Delany's injunctions to Miss Burney respecting the Royal Family — Miss Burney's first interviev/ with the King and Queen — Puss in the corner — Cross-questioning — Cha- racter of the King and Queen — Their affection for each other — Miss Burney's second interview. During the spring of 1785, Dr. Burney and his daughter became acquainted with the celebrated Ma- dame de Genlis, who was then visiting England, and who eagerly sought for the friendship of Miss Burney. In a letter to Mrs. Phillips. Miss Burney mentions her new friend, but very briefly. '' St. Martin's-street. " I have been this whole morning with Madame de Genlis, the sweetest as well as most accomplished French woman I ever met. Were my time and mind more disengaged, I would send you an account of her, highly interesting both for you and Mr. and Mrs. Locke ; but I have neither leisure nor spirits for jour- nalising." A noce from Madame de Genlis Was carefully pre- served by Miss Burney as a memorial of so attractive a person. MADAME DE GENLIS TO MISS BURNEY. "CeVendredi, 15 Juillet, 1785. " Combien j*ai ete fachee, ma chere amie, de n'a- voir pu jouir du plaisir de vous recevoir ; mais je dinois avec des personnes qu'il m'etoit impossible de quitter. Ptecevez vous mes rem.ercimens clu precieux present que vous m'avez fait, et chargez vous d'ex- primer a monsieur votre pere toute la reconnoissance 66 MEMOIRS OF que je lui dois. Je sais combien son ouvrage est esti* mable ; il sera pour moi doublement interessent, et je me flatte que vons en devinerez facilcinent la raison. Je pars dans I'instant pour Oxford ; adieu, ma chere amie ; n- oubliez pas que vous avez pris I'engagement de m'aimer. Pour moi, je vous aime depuis i'instant ou j'ai ]u Evelina et Cecilia, et le bonheur de vous entendre et de vous connoitre personneliement, a ren- du ce sentiment aussi tendre qu' il est bien fonde." The acquaintance, however, was not kept up. They were not at this time thrown in each other's way, and afterwards, such tales, whether true or false, were forced into the unwilling ears of Miss Burney, that, to use her own words, " notwithstanding the most ardent admiration of Madame de Genlis's talents, and a zest yet greater for her engaging society and elegantly lively and winning manners, yet she dared no longer come within the precincts of her fascinating allure- ments." — " In France, equally, she felt compelled to keep aloof, though most reluctantly." Miss Burney's attachment to the kind and delight- ful Mrs. Delany daily increased. In the early part of their acquaintance, she makes the following allusion to her : " Thursday, Jan. 18th. — I dined with Mrs. Delany. The venerable and excellent old lady received me with open arms, and we kissed one another as if she had been my sweet grandmother, whom she always reminds me of. She looks as well as ever, only rather thinner ; but she is as lively, gay, pleasant, good- humored, and animated, as at eighteen. She sees, she says, much worse ; * but I am thankful,' she ad- ded, cheerfully, ' I can see at all at my age. My greatest loss is the countenance of my friends ; howe- rer, to see even the light is a great blessing. " She showed me a most excellent and ingenioas Madame iJ'arbLay* 6^ loom, which the Queen made her a present of last summer, at Winilsor, for making fringe ; and a gold knitting-needle given her by the King. And she told me the whole history of their manner of presenting them, with a sort of g':-ateful simplicity that was quite affecting. Did I ever tell you of the letter the Queen wrote her, when she gave her a beautiful case of instruments for her curious works ? She signed it her ' atfectionate Queen.' I quite reverence the Queen for her sense of Mrs. Delany's merit. In 1785, Mrs. Delany lost her almost worshipped friend, the Duchess Dowager of Portland. Miss Bur- ney took the place of a child to the kind old lady, and became both her consoler and attendant. In a letter from Miss Burney to her father, she gives a vivid description of the delicate consideration and kindness which Mrs. Delany received from King George III. and Queen Charlotte. MISS F, BURNEY TO DR. BURNEY. " St. James' Place, August 24th, 1785. '' I have been very much alarmed, dearest sir, these last four days, by a feverish attack which dear Mrs. Delany has suffered. Unfortunately none of her physical assistants were in town ; however she is now, thank Heaven ! recovering, and if there is no relapse, will soon, I hope, be well. " I must tell you, dearest sir, a tale concerning het which I am sure you will hear with true pleasure. Among the many inferior losses which have been in- cluded in her great and irreparable calamity, has been that of a country-house for summer, which she had in Bulstrode, and which for the half of every year was her constant home. The Duke of Portland behaved with the utmost propriety and feeling upon this occa- sion, and was most anxious to accommodate her to the best of his power, with every comfort to which she had been ace jstomed ; but this noblest of women 68 MEMOIRS? Of declared she loved the memory of her friend beyond all other things, and would not suffer it to be tainted in the misjudging world by an action that would be construed into a reflection upon her will, as if deficient in consideration to her. ' And I will not,' said she to me, ' suffer the children of my dearest friend to sup- pose that their mother left undone any thing she ought to have done. She did not ; 1 knew her best, and I knew she did what she was sure I should most ap- prove.' She steadily, therefore, refused all offers, though made to her with even painful earnestness, and though solicited till her refusal became a distress to herself. "This transa n was related, I beheve to their majesties ; and Lady Weymouth, the Duchess's eldest daughter, was commissioned to wait upon Mrs. Delany with this message :— That the Queen was extremely anxious about her her 1th, and very apprehensive lest continuing in London Juring the summer should be prejudicial to it : she entreated her, therefore, to accept a house belonging to the king at Windsor, which she should order to be fitted up for her immediately j and she desired Lady Weymouth to give her time to consider this proposal, and by no means to hurry her ; as well as to assure her, that happy as it would make her to have one she so sincerely esteemed for a neigh- bour, she should remember her situation, and promise not to be troublesome to her. The King, at the same time, desired to be allowed to stand to the additional expenses incurred by the maintenance of tv/o houses, and that Mrs. Delany would accept from him <£300 a-year. " It would be needless to tell you how Mrs. Delany was touched by this benevolence : for no creature has heard it without emotion, and I am sure my dear fa- ther will not be the first. Yet she dreaded acceptmg what she feared would involve her in a new course of 69 life, and force her into notice or connexions she wished to drop or avoid. She took the time the Queen so considerately gave her for deUberation, and she con- sulted with some of her old friends. They all agreed there must be no refusal, and after many circumstan- ces too long for writing, though otherwise well worth knowing, Lady Weymouth was made the messenger of her Majesty's ofter being accepted. " The house, therefore, is now fitting up, and the King sees after the workmen himself." The followmg extract is from a letter of a little later date. " My dear Mrs. Delany has gone on mending gradually ever since I wrote last. She is employing me, when able, to look over her papers : 'tis to me a sacred task, for she cannot read what she is trusting me with. Sometimes, with a magnifying glass she examines, first, if what she is giving me is some man- uscript of secrecy, with respect to the affairs or char- acter of her friends ; and as a word suffices to inform her, she destroys unread, whatever is of that sort. But this, though a business she wishes to have done, produces letters and memorandums too affecting for her spirits. Yet she never, but by persuasion, leaves off; she seems bent upon subduing all emotions but those that might give pain to others by their suppres- sion. I frequently court her to sadness, for her exer- tions make me tremble more than her tears ; yet those, when they do fall, I can hardly, indeed, with all her example before my eyes, bear to look at. " Just now we have both of us been quite overset. In examining some papers in a pocket-book, she opened one with two leaves dried in it ; she held them a little while in silence, but very calmly, in her hand, yet as something 1 saw she highly prized : she then bade me read what was written on the envelope ; — it was, I think, these words — ' Two leaves picked at 70 MEMOIRS OF Balsover, by the Duch-^ss of Portland and myself, in September, 1756, the 20th year of our ixiost intimate and dear friendship.' I could hardly read to her the last words, and, upon hearing them, for a little while she sunk. But I hastened, the moment I could, to other less interesting papers, and she forced her atten- tion to them with a strength of resolution that makes me honour as much as I love her. " To me alone, she kindly says, she gives way to any indulgence of sorrow ; she fears being misunder- stood and thought repining by most others ; and, in- deed, the rest of her friends spending with her but a short time^ she thinks it her duty to study their com- fort, by appearing composed to them. Mine, she justly and sweetly sees, can only be studied by what is most relief to herself. The nobleness of her mind can never have had such opportunity of displaying itself as dur- ing this last month ; and in the numberless instances in which it now appears, she seems already raised to that height I am still selfishly trying to keep her from yet reaching. " All our movements are at present uncertain ; her Windsor house is still unfinished, but I suppose it will be fit for her reception by the beginning of next week, and I have the happiest reasons for hoping she will then be fit for it herself. Her maid has been to see what forwardness it is in, and this was her report : — She was ordered to wait upon Miss Golds worthy, by the King's direction, who heard of her being sent to inspect the house ; and there she received commands, in the name of both King and Queen, to see that Mrs, Delany brought with her nothing but herself and dotheSy as they insisted upon fitting up her habitation with every thing themselves, including not only plate, china, glass, and linen, but even all sorts of stores — wine, sweetmeats, pickles, &c. &c. Their earnest- ness to save her every care, and give her every grati- MADAME d'aRBLAY. 71 fication in their power, is truly benevolent and amia- ble. They seem to know and feel her worth as if they had never worn crowns, or, wearing, annexed no value to them." Miss Burney soon joined Mrs. Delany at Windsor, and the first information she received, on her arrival, from Miss P , the niece of iJrs. Delany, was that "all the Princesses intended to come and see her," At this information, her timidity rendered her more alarmed than her vanity could make her delighted. Mrs. Delany also acquainted her that the Queen in their first interview said to her, " why did not you bring your friend Miss Burney with you V Mrs. Delany was very much gratified by this question, but replied, that in coming to a house of her Majesty's she could not presume to ask anybody without imme- diate and especial permission. When she saw the King, he made the same inquiry. As soon as Mrs. Delany arrived at Windsor, Queen Charlotte, (who had already perused Miss Burney 's works,) ordered " Cecilia" to be read to her again. Miss Burney was several days at Windsor without encountering any of the royal family, and indeed, she had an unaffected dread of being presented to their Majesties. Mrs. Delany, however, soon informed her that the Queen made such frequent mention of her, and seemed to take cuch interest in her works, that it \vas very probable that she would shortly be summon- ed to the royal presence. " 'I do beg of you,' said Mrs. Delany,' when the Queen or the King speak to you, not to answer with monosyllables. The Queen often complains to me of the difficulty w^ith which she can get any conversa- tion, as she not only has to start the subjects, but commonly entirely to support them ; and she says there is nothing she so much loves as conversation, and nothing she finds so hard to get She is always TZ MEMOIRS OF best pleased to have the answers that are made lead on to further discourse. Now, as I know she wishes to be further acquainted with you, and converse with you, I do really entreat you do not draw back from her, nor stop conversation with only answering * yes ' or 'no.'" Upon these directions Miss Burney comments, by saying : " This was a most tremendous injunction ; however, I could not but promise her I would do the best I could. " To this, nevertheless, she readily agreed, that if, upon entering the room, they should take no notice of me, I might retire. And that, believe me, will not be very slowly ! They can not find me in this house without knowing who I am, and therefore they can be at no loss whether to speak to me or not, from incertitude. " In the midst of all this, the Queen came ! " I heard the thunder at the door, and, panic-struckj away fell all my resolutions and agreements, and away after them flew I ! " Don't be angry, my dear father — I would have stayed if I could, and I meant to stay ; but, when the moment came, neither my preparations nor inten- tions availed, and I arrived at my own room, ere I well knew I had left the drawing-room, and quite breathless between the race I ran with Miss Port and the joy of escaping. " Mrs. Delany, though a little vexed at the time, was not afterwartls, when she found the Queen very much dispirited by a relapse of the poor Princess Elizabeth. She inquired if I was returned, and hoped I now came to make a longer stay." The following is Miss Burney's own description of her first interview with the King and Queen : " Friday, Dec. 16th. — Yesterday morning we had a much better account of the Princess Elizabeth ; and Mrs. Delany said to me. 73 *^ * Now you will escape no longer, for if their uneasiness ceases, I am sure they will send for you, when they come next.' " To be sent for, I confessed to her, would really be more formidable than to be surprised ; but to pre- tend to be surprised would answer no purpose in making the meeting easy to mc, and therefore I pre- ferred letting the matter take its chance. " After dinner, while Mrs. Delany was left alone, as usual, to take a little rest, — for sleep it but seldom proves, — Mr. B. Dewes, liis little daughter. Miss Port, and myself, went into the drawing-room. And here, while, to pass the time, I was amusing the little girl with teaching her some Christmas games, in which her father and cousin joined, Mrs. Delany came in. We were all in the middle of the room, and in some confusion ; — but she had but just come up to us to inquire what was going forwards, and I was disentangling myself from Miss Dewes, to be ready to fly off if any one knocked at the street-door, when the door of the drawing-room was again opened, and a large man, in deep mourning, appeared at it, entering and shutting it himself without speaking. " A ghost could not more have scared me, when I discovered, by its glitter on the " ck, a star! The general disorder had prevented his being seen, except by myself, who was always on the watch, till Miss P , turning round, exclaimed, ^ the King ! — Aunt, the King !' " O mercy ! thought I, that I were but out of the room I which way shall I escape ? and hov>r pass him unnoticed ? There is but the single door at which he entered in the room ! Every one scampered out of the way : Miss P , to stand next the door ; Mr. Bernard Dewes to a corner opposite it ; his little girl clung to me ; and Mrs. Delany advanced to meet his Majesty, who, after quietly looking on till she saw him, approached, and inquired how she did. (g) 74 MEMOIRS OF " He then spoke to Mr. Bernard, whom he had akeady met two or three times here. " I had now retreated to the wall, and purposed gliding softly, though speedily, out of the room ; but before I had taken a single step, the King, in a loud whisper to Mrs. Delany, said, ' Is that Miss Burney V — and on her answering, ' Yes, sir,' he bowed, and with a countenance of the most perfect good-humour, came close up to me. " A most profound reverence on my part arrested the progress of my intended retreat. " ' How long have you been come back. Miss Burney V " ' Two days, sir.' "Llnluckily he did not hear me, and repeated his question ; and whether the second time he heard me or not, I don't know, but he made a little civil incli- nation of his head, and went back to Mrs. Delany. * * * * * * * " The Christmas games we had been showing Miss Dewes, it seemed as if we were still performing, as none of us thought it proper to move, though our man- ner of standing reminded one of puss in the corner. Close to the door was posted Miss P ; opposite her, close to the wainscot, stood Mr. Dewes , at just an equal distance from him, close to a window, stood myself; Mrs. Delany, though seated, was at the oppo- site side to Miss ', and his Majesty kept pretty much in the middle oi" the room. The little girl, who kept close to me, did not break the order, and I could hardly help expecting to be beckoned with a puss ! puss ! puss ! to change places with one of my neigh- L ours. " This idea afterwards gave way to another more pompous. It seemed to me we were acting a play There is something so little like common and real life in everybody's standing, while talking, in a room full 75 of chairs, and standing, too, aloof from each other, that I ahnost thought myself upon a stage, assisting in the representation of a tragedy, — in which the King played his own part of the king ; Mrs. Delany that of a venerable confidante ; Mr. Dewes, his respectful attendant ; Miss P , a suppliant virgin, waiting encouragement to bring forward some petition ; Miss Dewes, a young orphan, intended to move the royal compassion ; and myself — a very solemn, sober, and decent mute. " These fancies, however, only regaled me while I continued a quiet spectator, and without expectation of being called into play. But the King, I have rea- son to think, meant only to give me time to recover from my first embarrassment ; and I feel myself infi- nitely obligjed to his good breeding and consideration, which perfectly answered, for before he returned to me I was entirely recruited. " To go back to my narration. " When the discourse upon health and strength was over, the King went up to the table, and looked at a book of prints, from Claude Lorraine, which had been brought down for Miss Dewes ; but Mrs. Delany, by mistake, told him they were for me. He turned over a leaf or two, and then said — " ' Pray, does Miss Burney draAV, too V " The too was pronounced rather civilly. " ' I believe not, sir,' answ^ered Mrs. Delany ; ' at least, she does not tell.' " ' Oh ! ' cried he, laughing, ' that's nothing ! she is not apt to tell ; she never does tell, you know ! — Her father told me that himself. He told me the whole history of her Evelina. And I shall never forget his face w^hen he spoke of his feelings at first taking up the book ! — he looked quite frightened, just as if he was doing it that moment ! I never can forget his face while I live ! ' 76 MEMOIRS OF " Tben coming up quite close to me, he said — " ' Lut what ?— what ? — how was it V " ' Sir ' — cried I, not well understanding him. " ^ How came you — how happened it — what? —what V " * I — I only wrote, sir, for my own amusement, — only in some odd, idle hours.' " * But your publishing — ^your printing, — how was that?' " * That was only, sir,— only because ' " I hesitated most abominably, not knowing how to tell him a long story, and growing terribly confused at these questions ; besides — to say the truth, his own * what 1 what V so r; minded me of those vile Proba- tionary Odes, that, in the midst of all my flutter, I was really hardly able to keep my countenance. " The W licit ! was then repeated, with so earnest a look, that, forced to say something, I stammeringly answered— " ^ I thought — sir — it would look very well in print !' " I do really flatter myself this is the silliest speech I ever made ! I am qaite provoked with myself for it ; but a fear of laughing made me eager to utter anything, and by no means conscious, till I had spo- ken, of what I was saying. " He laughed very heartily himself, — well he might — and walked away to enjoy it, crying out, " < Very fair, indeed ! that's being very fair and honest 1 ' " Then, returnin t; to me again, he said, "* But your fa; . — how came you not to show him what you wrote V " * I was too much ashamed of it, sir, seriously.' " Literal truth that, I am sure. " ' And how came h ^ to find it out V " ' I don't know myself, sir. He never v/ould tell me.' " Literal truth again, my dear father, as you can testify. MADAME d'aRBLAY. , 77 " ' But how did you get it printed V " ' I sent it, sir, to a bookseller my father never employed, and that I never had seen myself, Mr. Lowndes, in full hope by that means he never would hear of it.' " ' But how could you manage that V ' " By means of a brother, sir.' " * Oh !— you confided in a brother, then V '^' Yes, sir — that is, for the publication.' " ' What entertainment you must have had from hearing people's conjectures, before you were known I Do you remember any of them V " ' Yes, sir, many.' " ' And what V " ' I heard that Mr. Baretti laid a wager it was written by a man ; for no woman, he said, could have kept her own counsel.' " This diverted him extremely. '" ' But how was it,' he continued, ' you thought most likely for your father to discover you V " ' Sometimes, sir, I have supposed I must have dropt some of the manuscript ; sometimes, that one of my sisters betrayed me.' " ' ! your sister ? — what, not your brother V *' ' No, sir ; he could not, for — ' " I was going on, but he laughed so much I could not be heard, exclaiming, " ' Vastly well I I see you are of Mr. Baretti's mind, and think your brother could keep your secret, and not your sister V " * Well, but,' cried he presently, ' how was it first known to you, you were betrayed V " ' By a letter, sir, from another sister. I was very ill, and in the country ; and she wrote me word that my father had taken up a review, in which the book was mentioned, and had put his finger upon its name, and said — ' Contrive to get that book for me.' 78 Memoirs of " ' And when he got it/ cried the King, ' he told me he was afraid of looking at it ! and never can I forget his face when he mentioned his first opening it. But you have not kept your pen unemployed all this time?' '' ' Indeed I have, sir.' "'But why? " * I-^I believe I have exhausted myself, sir.* " He laughed aloud at this, and went and told it to Mrs. Delany, civilly treating a plain fact as a mere bon mot. " Then, returning to me again, he said, more seri- ously, ' But you have not determined against writing any more'?' "*N— 0, sir— ' " * You have made no vow — no real resolution of that sort V " ' No, sir.' "'You only wait for inclination V " How admirably Mr. Cambridge's speech might have come in here ! "'No, sir.' " A very civil httle bow spoke him pleased with thi? answer, and he went again to the middle of the room, where he chiefly stood, and addressing us in general, talked upon the different motives of writing, concluding with, "' I believe there is no constraint to be put upon real genius ; nothing but inclination can set it to work. Miss Burney, howev'-r, knows best.' And then, has- tily returning to me, he cried, " What ? what V " ' I — I— believe not, certainly,' qucth I, very awk- wardly, for I seemed taking a violent compliment on- ly as my due ; but I knew not how to put him off as I would another person. " He then made some inquiries concerning the pic- tures with which the room is hung, and which are all 79 Mrs. Delany's own painting ; and a little discourse followed, upon some of the masters whose pictures she has copied. " This was all with her ; for nobody ever answers him without being immediately addressed by him. " He then came to me again, and said, ^' * Is your father about any thing at present V " ' Yes, sir, he goes on, when he has time, with his history.' " ' Does he write quick V " 'Yes, sir, when he writes from himself ; but in his history, he has so many books to consult, that sometimes he spends three days in finding authorities for a single passage., " « Very true ; that must be unavoidable.' " He pursued these inquiries some time, and then went again to his general station before the fire, and Mrs. Delany inquired if he meant to hunt the next day. 'Yes,' he answered, and a little pointed, Mrs. Delany said, " ' I would the hunted could feel as much pleasure as the hunter.' " The King understood her, and with some quick- ness, called out, ' Pray, what did you hunt V " Then looking round at us all, — " ' Did you know,' he said, * that Mrs Delany once hunted herself ? — and in a long gown, and a great hoop V " It seems she had told his Majesty an adventure of that sort which had befallen her in her youth, from some accident in \vhich her will bad no share. '• While this was talking over, a violent thunder was made at the door. I was almost certain it was the Queen. Once more I would have given anything to escape ; but in vain. I had been informed that nobody ever quitted the royal presence, after having been conversed with, till motioned to withdraw. 80 MEMOIRS OF " Miss P -, according to established etiquette on these occasions, opened the door which she stood next, by putting her hand behind her, and slid out backwards, into the hall to light the Queen in. The j door soon opened again, and the Queen entered. " ' Oh, your Majesty is here !' " ^ Yes,' he cried, ' I ran here without speaking to > any body.' " The Queen had been at the lower Lodge to see : the Princess Ehzabeth, as the King had before told ' us " She hastened up to Mrs. Delany, with both her hands held out, saying, " * My dear Mrs. Delany, how are you?' ^^ Instantly after, I felt her eye on my face. I be- lieve, too, shecourtsied to me; but though I saw the bend, I was too near-sighted to be sure it was intend- ed for me. I was hardly ever in a situation more em- barrassing ; I dared not return what I was not cer^ tain I had received, yet considered myself as appear- ing quite a monster, to stand stiff-necked, if really meant. " Almost at the same moment, she spoke to Mr. Bernard Dewes, and then nodded to my little clinging girl. " I was now really ready to sink, with horrid un- certainty of what I was doing, or what I. should do,— 'when his Majesty, who I fancy saw my distress, most good-humoured ly said to the Queen something, but I v/as too much flurried to remember what, except these words, — 'I have been telling Miss Burney ' *" Relieved from so painful a dilemma, I immedi- ately dropped a courtesy. '^ She made one to rae in the same moment, and, with a very smiling countenance, came up to me ; but she could not speak, for the King went on talking, eager- ly, and very gaily, repeating to her every word I had MADAME d'aRBLAY. 81 said during our conversation upon Evelina, its publi- cation, &c. &c. " Then he told her of Barretti's wager, saying — ' But she heard of a great many conjectures about the au- thor, before it was known, and of Baretti, an admira- ble thing ! he laid a bet it must be a man, as no w^o- man, he said, could have kept her own counsel !' " The Queen, laughing a little, exclaimed' " * Oh, that is quite too bad an affront to us ! Don't you think so V addressing herself to me, with great gentleness of voice and manner. " I assented ; and the King continued his relation, which she listened to with a look of some interest ; but when he told her some particulars of my secrecy, she again spoke to me. " ' But your sister was your confidant, was she not V " ' Yes, ma'am.' " My sisters, I might have said, but I was always glad to have done. " ' Oh, yes ! 'cried the King, laughing ; 'but I assure you she is of Baretti's opinion herself ; for 1 asked her if she thought it w^as her sister or her brother that be- trayed her to her father ? — and she says her sister, she thinks.' " Poor Esther ! — but I shall make her amends by what follows ; for the Queen again addressing me, said. " ' But to betray to a father is no crime — don't you think so V " I agreed ; and plainly thought she saw Esther, if Esther it was, had only done right. " The King then went en, and when he had finish- ed his narration the Queen took her seat. " She made Mrs. Delany sit next her, and Miss P brought her some tea, ******* " Almost instantly upon the King's leaving me, a very gentle voice called out — 82 MEMOIRS OF " ' Miss Burney !' " It was the Queen's. I walked a little nearer her, and a gracious inchnation of her head made me go quite up to her. " ^ You have been,' she said, ' at Mrs. Walsingham's V " * Yes, ma'am.' " * She has a pretty place, I believe V "'Yes, ma'am.' " ' Were you ever there before V " ' Yes, ma'am.' " ' Oh, shocking ! shocking ! thought I ; what will Mrs. Delany say to all these monosyllables 7 " ' Has not she lately made some improvements V " * Yes, ma'am ; she has built a conservatory.' * * # # * * * " The Queen indeed is a most charming woman. She appears to me full of sense and graciousness, min- gled with delicacy of mind and liveliness of temper. She speaks English almost perfectly well, with great choice and copiousness of language, though now and then with foreign idiom, and frequently with a foreign accent. Her manners have an easy dignity, with a most engaging simplicity ; and she has all that fine high breeding which the mind, not the station, gives, of carefully avoiding to distress those who converse with her, or studiously removing the embarassment she cannot prevent. " The King, however he may have power, in the cabinet, to command himself, has in private, the ap- pearance of a character the most open and sincere. He speaks his opinions without reserve, and seems to trust them intuitively to his hearers, from a belief that they will make no ill use of them. His countenance is full of enquiry, to gain information without asking it, probably from believing that to be the nearest road to truth. All I saw of them both was the most per- fect good humour, good spirits, ease, and pleasantness. 83 " Their behaviour to each other speaks the most cor- dial confidence and happiness. The King seems to admire as much as he enjoys her coriversation, and to covet her participation in every thini^ he either sees or hears. The Queen appears to feel the most grate- ful regard for him, and to make it her chief study to raise his consequence with others, by always marking that she considers herself, though Queen to the nation, only, to him, the first and most obedient of subjects. Indeed, in their different ways, and allowing for the diflference of their characters, they left me equally charmed both with their behaviour to each other and to myself." Miss Burney's second interview with the King was somewhat more satisfactory to herself. It took place three days after the first. " In the evening, says she, " while Mrs. Delany," Miss P — and I were sitting and working together in the drawing-room, the door was opened, and the King entered. " We all started up ; Miss P ~ flew to her modest post by the door, and I to my more comfortable one opposite the fire, which caused me but a slight and gentle retreat, and Mrs. Delany he immediately com- manded to take her own place again. " He was full of joy for the Princess Elizabeth. He had been to the lower Lodge, and found her in a sweet sleep, and she was now, he said, in a course of James's Powders, from which he hoped her perfect re- storation. I fear, however, it is still but precarious. " Our party being so small, he made all that pass- ed general ; for though he principally addressed him- self to Mrs. Delany, he always looked round to see that we heard him, and frequently referred to us. " I should mention, though, the etiquette always ob- served upon his entrance, v/hich, first of ail, is to fly oif to distant quarters ; and next, Miss P goes out. 84 MEMOIRS O? walking backwards, for more candles, which she brin^^s in, two at a time, and places upon the table and pia- no-forte. Next she goes out for tea, which she then carries to his Majesty, upon a large salver, containing sugar, -^ream, and bread and butter, and cake, while she hangs a napkin over her arm for his fingers. " When he has taken his tea, she returns to his sta- tion, where she waits till he has done, and then takes away his cup and fetches more. " This, it seems, is a ceremony performed, in other places, always by the mistress of the house ; but here, neither of their Majesties will permit Mrs. Delany to attempt it. CHAPTER VII. A vacancy in the Royal house-hold — The office of Keeper of the Robes is offered by the Queen to Miss Burney — Her deliberation, disinclination, but final acceptance — Arrival at Windsor— Recep- tion by the Queen — Fears and heart-aches — Account of Miss Burney's mode of life at Court — An attempt upon the life of the King— Grief and horror of the royal family — Noble conduct of King George. About six monies after the events related i .ne above chapter, a vacancy occurred in the royal house- hold, from the resignation of Madame Haggedorn, one of the Queen's German attendants who, together with Madame Schwellenberg, held the office of keep- er of the robes. The place was instantly sought af- ter by persons of the highest distinction, but Queen Charlotte had been so much pleased with Miss Bur- ney that the situation v^^as offered to her. Miss Burney could not but be gratified by the Queen's avowed preference, yet she was in no haste to accept the offer. She could not endure the thought Madame d'arblay. 85 of a separation from her family, and she foresaw that her timidity was one great barrier to her discharging with grace the duties of a situation which would bring her continually in the presence of thf' Queen. Dr. Burney and Mrs. Delany earnestly en^icated her not to decline so honourable and advantageous an of- fer, and after much deliberation she yielded to their wishes and accepted the situation. Of her emotions on arriving at Windsor, and the reception of the Queen, she has given an account (which we extract) in her journal. DIARY RESUMED. " Queen's Lodge, Windsor, Monday, July 17th, 1786. — With what hurry of mind and body did I rise this morning ! Every thing had already been arrang- ed for Mrs. Ord's carrying us to Windsor, and my father's carriage was merely to go as baggage-wagon for my clothes. But I wept not then. I left no one behind me to regret ; my dear father accompanied me, and all my dear sisters had already taken their flight, never more to return. Even poor little Sarah, whom I love very dearly, was at Chesington. " Between nine and ten o'cl">ck v;e set off. We cir^liViged carriage in Queen Ann street, and Mrs. Ord conveyed us thence to Windsor. With a struggling heartj I kept myself tolerably tranquil during the lit- tle journey. My dear father was quite happy, and Mrs. Ord felt the joy of a mother in relinquishing me to the protection of a Queen so universally reverenced. Had I been in better spirits, their ecstacy would have been unbounded ; but alas ! — what I was approach- ing was not in my mind ; what I was leaving had taken possession of it solely. " Miss P flew out to us as the carriage stop- ped — the youthful blush of pleasure heightening her 86 MEMOIRS OF complexion, and every feature showing her kind hap- piness. Mrs. Delany, she said, was gone out with the Queen. I took leave of my good Mrs. Ord, whose eyes overflowed with maternal feelings — chiefly of contentment. Mrs. Delany came home in about an hour. A chastened .- atisfaction was hers ; she rejoiced in the prospect before me -, she was happy we should now be so much united, but she felt for my depriva- tions, she saw the hard conflict v/ithin me, and the tenderest pity checked her delight. " It was now debated whether I was immediately to go to the Lodge, or wait for orders. The accus- tomed method for those who have their Majesties' commands to come to them is, to present themselves to the people in waiting, and by them to be announc- ed. My heart, however, was already sinking, and my spirits every moment were growing more agitated, and my sweet Mrs. Delany determined to spare me the additional task of passing through such aw^e- striking formalities. She therefore employed my dear father — delighted with the employment — to write a note, in her name. " ' Mrs. Delany presents her most humble duty to the Queen ; she found Dr. Burney and his daughter at her house ; Miss Burney waits the honour of Her Majesty's commands.' " This, though unceremonious and unusual, she was sure the Queen would pardon. A verbal answer came that I was to go to the Lodge immediately. " 0, my dear Susan ! in what an agony of mind did I obey the summons ! I was still in my travelling dress, but could not stay to change it. My father accompanied me. Mrs. Delany, anxiously and full of mixed sensations, gave me her blessing. We walked ; the Queen's Lodge is not fifty yards from Mrs. Delany 's door. My dear father's own courage all failed him in this little step ; for as I was now on MADAME d'aKBLAY. 87 the point of entering — probably for ever — into an entire new way of life, and of foregoing by it all my most favourite schemes, and every dear expectation my fancy had ever indulged of happiness adapted to its taste — as now all v/as to be given up, I could dis- guise my trepidation no longer — indeed I never had disguised, I had only forborne proclaiming it. But my father now, sweet soul ! felt it all, as I held by his arm, without power to say one word, but that if he did not hurry along I should drop by the way. I heard in his kind voice that he was now really alarm- ed ; he would have slackened his pace, or have made me stop to breathe : but I could not ; my breath seem- ed gone, and I could only hasten with all my might, lest my strength should go too. " A page was in waiting at the gate, who showed us into Mrs. Haggerdorn's room, which was empty. My dear father endeavoured here to compose my spirits ; I could have no other command over them than to forbear letting him know the afflicted state of all within, and to suffer him to keep to his own con- clusions, that my emotion was all from fear of the ap- proaching audience. Imleed was it not ! — I could hardly even think of it. All that I was resigning — there, and there only went every fear, and and all re- luctance. " The page came in a minute or two to summon me to the Queen. The Queen was in her dressing- room. Mrs. Schwellenberg was standing behind her : nobody else present. " She received me w^ith a most gracious bow of the h'^ad, and a smile that was all sweetness. She saw me much agitated, and attributed it, no doubt, to the awe of her presence. O, she little knew my mind had no room in it for feelings of that sort ! She talk- ed to me of my journey, my father, my sisters, and my brothers ; the weather, the roads, and Mrs. Delany 88 MEMOIRS OF — any, every thing she could suggest, that could best tend to compose and to make me easy ; and when I had been with her about a quarter of an hour, she desired Mrs. Schwellenberg to show me my apart- ment, and, with another graceful bow, motioned my retiring. " Not only to the swest Queen, but to myself let me here do justice, in declaring that though I entered her presence with a heart filled with every thing but herself, I quitted it with sensations much softened. The condescension of her efforts to quiet me, and the elegance of her receiving me, thus, as a visiter, with- out naming to me a single direction, without even the niost distant hint of business, struck me to show so much delicacy, as well as gcaciousness, that I quitted her with a very deep sense of her goodness, and a strong conviction that she merited every exertion on my part to deserve it. " Mrs. Schwellenberg left me at the room door, where my dear father was still waiting for me, too anxious to depart till he again saw me." After having passed a week in her new situation, she gives the following account of her manner of spending the day. " Monday, July 24. — I rise at six o'clock, dress in a morning gown and cap, and wait my first sum- mons, which is at all times from seven to near eight, but commonly in the exact half hour between them. " The Queen never sends for me till her hair is dres- sed. This, in a morning, is always done by her ward- robe-woman, Mrs. Thielky, a German, but who speaks English perfectly well. " Mrs. Schwellenberg, since the first week, has never come down in the morning at all. The Queen's dress is finished by Mrs. Thielky and myself. No maid ever enters the room while the Queen is in it. Mrs. Thielky hands the things to me, and I put them MADAME p'aRBLAY. 89 on. *Tis fortunate for me I have not the handing them ! I should never know which to take first, em- barrassed as I am, and should run a prodigious risk of giving the gown before the hoop, and the fan before the neckerchief. " By eight o'clock, or a little after, for she is ex- tremely expeditious, she is dressed. She then goes out to j in the King, and be joined by the Princesses, and they all proceed to the King's chapel in the Cas- tle, to prayers, attended by the governesses of the Princesses, and the King's equerry. Various others at times attend ; but only these indispensably. " I then return to my own room to breakfast. I make this meal the most pleasant part of the day ; I have a book for my companion, and I allow myself an hour for it. My present book is Gilpin's descrip- tion of the Lakes of Cumberland and Westmoreland. Mrs. Dei any has lent it me. It is the most picturesque reading 1 ever met with : it shows me landscapes of every sort, with tints so bright and lively, I forget I am but reading, and fancy I see them before me, co- loured by the hand of Nature. " At nine oxlock I send off my breakfast things, and relinquish my book, to make a serious and steady ex- amination of every thing I have upon my hands in the way of business ; in which preparations for dress are always included, not for the present day alone, but for the court-days, which require a particular dress ; for the next arriving birthday of any of the Royal Family, every one of which requires new" ap- parel ; for Kew, v/here the dress is plainest ; and for going on here, where the dress is very pleasant to me, requiring no show nor finery, but merely to be neat, not inelegant, and moderately fashionable. " That over, I have my time at my own disposal till a quarter before twelve, except on Wednesdays and Saturdays, when I have it only to a quarter be- 90 MEMOraS OF " My rummages and business sometimes occupy me uninterruptedly to those hours. When they do not, I give till ten to necessary letters '^f duty, ceremony, or long arrears ; and now, from ten to the times I have mentioned, I devote to walking. " These times mentioned call me to the irksome and quick-returning labours of the toilette. The hour advanced on the Wednesdays and Saturdays is for curling and craping the hair, which it now requires twice a week. " A quarter before one is the usual time for the Queen to begin dressing for the day. Mrs. Schwel- lenberg then constantly attends ; so do I ; Mrs. Thiel- ky, of course, at all times. We help her off with her gown, and on with her powdering things, and then the hair dresser is admitted. She generally reads the newspapers during that operation. " When she observes that I have run to her but half dressed, she constantly gives me leave to return and finish as soon as she is seated. If she is grave, and reads steadily on, she dismisses me, whether I am dressed or not j but at all times she never forgets to send me away while she is powdering, with a consid- eration not to spoil my clothes, that one would not expect belonged to her high station. Neither does .she ever detain me without making a point of read- ing here and there some little paragraph aloud. " When I return, I finish, if any thing is undone, my dress, and then take Baretti's Dialogues, my dear- est Fredy's Tablet of Memory, or some such disjoin- ted matter, for the few minutes that elapse ere I am again summoned. " I find her then always removed to her state dres- sing room, if any room in this private mansion can have the epithet of state. There, in a very short time, her dress is finished. She then says she won't de- taia mcj and I see and hear no more of her till bed-time. 91 '' It is commonly three o'clock when I am thus set at large. And I have then two hours quite at my own disposal : but, in the natui al course of things, not a moment after ! These dear and quiet two hours, my only quite sure and undisturbed time in the whole day, after breakfast is over, I shall hencefor- ward devote to thus talking w^ith my beloved Susan, my Fredy, my other sister, my dear father, or Miss Cambridge ; w^ith my brothers, cousins, Mrs. Ord, and other friends, in such terms as these two hours will occasionally allow me. Henceforward, I say ; for hitherto dejection of spirits, w'ith uncertainty how longm time might last, have made me waste moment after moment as sadly as un profitably. " At five we have dinner. Mrs. Schwellenberg and I meet in the eating room. We are commonly tete- a-tete : when there is any body added, it is from her invitation only. Whatever right my place might af- ford mc of also inviting my friends to the table I have now totally lost, by want of courage and spirits to claim it originally. " When we have dined, we go up stairs to her apartment, which is directly over mine. Here we have cofiee till the terracing is over : this is at about eight o'clock. Our tete-a-tete then finishes, and we come down again to the eating room. ThCxC the equerry, whoever he is, comes to tea constantly, and with him any gentleman that the King or Queen may have invited for the evening ; and when tea is over^ he conducts them, and goes himself, to the concert room. " This is commonly about nine o'clock. " From that time, if Mrs. Schwellenberg is alone, I never quit her for a minute, till I come to my little supper at near eleven. " Between eleven and twelve my last summons usually takes place, earlier and later occasionally. 92 MEMOIRS OF Twenty minutes is the customary time then spent with the Queen : half an hour, I beheve, is seldom ex- ceeded. '' I then come back, and after doing whatever I can to forward my dress for the next morning, I go to bed — and to sleep, too, believe me : the early rising, and a long day's attention to new affairs and occupations, cause a fatigue so bodily, that nothing mental stands against it, and to sleep I fall the moment I have put out my candle and laid down my head. " Such is the day to your F. B. in her new situa- tion at Windsor ; such, I mean, is its usual destina- tion, and its intended course. I make it take now and then another channel, but never stray far enough not to return to the original stream after a little me- andering about and about it. An alarmmg accident occurred to the King, of which Miss Burney gives the annexed thrilling account. " I went into my own room for my cloak, and, as usual, found Madame La Fite v/aiting for me. She was all emotion, — she seized my' hand, — ' Have you heard! — inon Bieuf le hon Rolf O Miss Burney ! ivhat an horreur / ' " I was very much startled, but soon ceased to won- der at her perturbation ; — she had been in the room with the Princess Elizabeth, and there heard, from Miss Goldsworthy, that an attempt had just been made upon the life of the King ! " I was almost petrified with horror at the intelli- gence. If this King is not safe, — good, pious, benefi- cent as he is, — if his life is in danger, from his own subjects, what is to guard the Throne ? and which way is a monarch to be secure ? " Miss Goldsworthy had taken every possible pre- caution so to tell the matter to the Princess Ehzabeth as least to alarm her, lest it might occasion a return MADAME d'aRBLAY. 93 of her spasms j but, fortunately, she cried so exceed- ingly that it was hoped the vent of her tears would save her from those terrible convulsions. ** Madame La Fite had heard of the attempt only, not the particulars ; but I was afterwards informed of them in the most interesting manner, — namely, how they were related to the Queen. "" The Queen had two elder Princesses, the Duchess of Ancaster and Lady Caroline Bertie, with her when the King came in. He hastened up to her, witli a countenance of striking vivacity, and said, ' Here am I ! safe and well, — as you see ! — but I have very nar- rowly escaped being stabbed ! ' " His own conscious safety, and the pleasure he felt in thus personally showing it to the Queen, made 1dm not aware of the effect of so abrupt a communication. The Queen was seized with a consternation that at first almost stupified her, and, after a most painful silence, the first words she could articulate were, in looking round at the Duchess and Lady Charlotte, who had both burst into tears — * 1 envy you ! — I can^t cry ! ' " The two Princesses were for a little while in the same state ; but the tears of the Duchess proved infec- tious, and they then wept even with violence. " The King, with the gayest good-humour, did his utmost to comfort them ; and then gave a relatior^of the affair, with a calmness and unconcern that, had anyone but himself been his hero, would have been regarded as totally unfeeling. " You may have heard it wrong ; I will concisely tell it right. His carriage had just stopped at the garden-door at St. James's, and he had just alighted from it, when a decently-dressed woman, who had been waiting for him some time, approached him with a petition. It was rolled up, and had the usual sub- scription — ^ For the King's most Excellent Majesty.' 94 MEMOIRS OF She presented it with her right hand ; and, at the same moment that the King bent forward to take it, she drew from it, with her left hand, a knife, with which she aimed straight at his heart ! " The fortunate awkwardness of taking the instru- ment with the left hand, made her design perceived before it eoidd be executed ; — the King started back, scarce believing the testimony of his own eyes ; and the woman made a second thrust, which just touched his waistcoat before he had time to prevent her ; — and at that moment one of the attendants, seeing her hor- rible intent, wrenched the knife from her hand. " ' Has she cut my waistcoat V cried he, in telling it, — ' Look ! for I have had no time to examine.' " Thank heaven, however, the poor wretch had not gone quite so far. " ' Though nothing,' added the King, in giving his relation, ' could have been sooner done, for there was nothing for her to go through but a thin linen, and fat.' " While the guards and his own people now sur- rounded the Kmg, the assassin was seized by the populace, who tearing her away, no doubt to fall the instant sacrifice of her murtherous purpose, when the King, the only calm and moderate person then present, called aloud to the mob, ' The poor creature is mad ! Do not hurt her ! She has not hurt me ! ' " He then came forward, and showed himself to all the people, declaring he was perfectly safe and un- hurt ; and then gave positive orders that the woman should be taken care of, and went into the palace, and had his levee. " There is something in the whole of his behaviour upon this occasion, that strikes me as proof indisputa- ble of a true and noble courage : for in a moment so extraordinary — an attack, in this country, unheal d of before — to settle so instantly that it was the effect of insanity — to feel no apprehension of private plot or MADAME d'aRBLAY. 95 latent conspiracy — to stay out, fearlessly, among his people, and so benevolently to see himself to the safety of one who had raised her arm against his life, — these little traits, all impulsive, and therefore to be trusted, have given me an impression of respect and reverence that I can never lorget, and never think of but with fresh admiration. " If that love of prerogative, so falsely assigned, were true, what an opportunity was here offered to exert it ! Had he instantly taken refuge in his palace, ordered out all his guards, stopped every avenue to St. James's, and issued his commands that every indi- vidual present at this scene should be secured and ex- amined, — who would have dared to murmur, or even blame such measures ? " The insanity of the w^oman has now fully been proved : but that noble confidence which gave that instant excuse for her was then all his own. " Nor did he rest here ; notwithstanding the excess of terror for his safety, and doubt of further mischief, with which all his family and all his household were seized, he still maintained the most cheerful compo- sure, and insisted upon walking on the terrace, with no other attendant than his single equerry. " The poor Queen went with him, pale and silent, — the Princesses followed, scarce yet commanding their tears. In the evening, just as usual, the King had his concert : but it was an evening of grief and horror to his family ; nothing was listened to, scarce a word was spoken ; the Princesses wept continually ; the Queen, still more deeply struck, could only, from time, hold out her hand to the King, and say, ' I have you yet ! ' " The affection for the King, felt by all his house- hold has been at once pleasant and affecting to me to observe : there has not been a dry eye in either of the Lodges on the recital of his danger, and not a face 96 MEMOIRS OF but his own that has not worn marks of care ever CHAPTER VIII. Miss Barney's unfortunate timidity — Reading to the Queen — Ma- dame de Geniis— Mrs. Delany's advic?- — The Queen's opinion on the subject of an intimacy with Madame de Genhs — The '' great coat" —Miss Burncy's Stanzas — Singular mode of presenting them— The Queen's acknowledgments — Condescension mingled with humility. Miss Burney's uncontrollable timidity often made her appear to great disadvantage, if we may judge from her own account of the situations in which she was sometimes placed, and of which the following anecdote will give some idea. " Wednesday, August 17th. — From the time that the Queen condescended to desire to place me in im- mediate attendance upon her own person, I had al- ways secretly concluded she meant me for her Eng- lish reader ; since the real duties of my office would have had a far greater promise of being fulfilled by thousands of others than by myself This idea had made the prospect of reading to her extremely awful to me : an exhibition, at any rate, is painful to me, but one in which 1 considered Her Majesty as a judge, interested for herself in the sentence she should pro- nounce, and gratified or disappointed according to its tenor — this was an exhibition formidable indeed, and must have been considered as such by any body in similar circumstances. " Not a book, not a pamphlet, not a newspaper, had I ever seen near the Queen, for the first week, without feeling a panic ; I always expected to be called upon. She frequently bid me give her the papers ; I felt that 97 they would be the worst reading I could have, because full of danger, in matter as well as manner : however, she always read them herself. " To-day, after she was dressed, Mrs. Schwellenberg went to her own room ; and the Queen, instead of leaving me to go to mine, desired me to follow her to her sitting dressing-room. She then employed me in helping to arrange her work, which is chair-covers done in riband ; and then told me to fetch her a vol- ume of the Spectator. 1 obeyed with perfect tran- quillity. She let me stand by her a little while with- out speaking, and then, suddenly, but very gently, said ' Will you read a paper while I work V " I was quite ' consternated !' I had not then the smallest expectation of such a request. I said nothing, and held the book unopened. " She took it from me, and pointed out the place where I should begin. She is reading them regularly through lor the hrst time. I had no choice : 1 vv^as forced to obey ; but my voice was less obedient than my will, and it became so husky, and so unmanagea- ble, that nothing more unpleasant could be heard. The paper was a curious one enough — all concerning a court I'avourite. I could hardly rejoice when my task was over, from my consciousness how ill it was per- formed. The Queen talked of the paper, but forebore saying anything of any sort about the reader. I am sorry, however, to have done so ill.'^ At this period, Madame de Genlis made several attempts, through Madame La Fite, to renew her ac- quaintance with Miss Burney. Mrs. Delany thought it advisable for Miss Burney to consult the Queen on the matter, and with much diffidence, hesitation, and continual pauses. Miss Burney at length requested her Majesty's opinion on the subject of an intimacy with the renowned French authoress. Queen Char- lotte listened with great attention, and then with 98 MEMOIRS OF much frankness a\o'.ved that, although she had her- self been tormented into granting Madame de Genlis a private audience, she was now displeased with her- self for having done so, and strongly advised Miss Burney to avoid entering into a correspondence with Madame G , or in any manner renewing the acquaintance. Miss Burney seldom wrote in verse, but she appears to have possessed a facilit}^ in versifying, which was w^orthy of cultivation. The Queen was one day remarking on the comfort of a morning-gown, or " great-coat," as it was call- ed in that day, and laughingly requested Miss Burney to bid her muse sing the praises of this invaluable article of dress. Miss Burney, on returning to her room, immediately complied with the Queen's wishes, and WTote a few stanzas, which she had not the courage to present, although she kept them in her pocket. Her mode of presenting them, when she did at last summon resolution, was particularly charac- teristic. *' In Lhe morning," says she, " I had the honour of a conversation with the Queen, the most delightful on her part, I had ever yet been indulged with. It was all upon dress, and she said so nearly what 1 had just imputed to her in my little stanzas, that I could scarce refrain producing them ; yet could not muster courage. She told me with the sweetest grace ima- ginable, how well she had liked at first her jewels and ornaments as Queen, — ' But how soon,' cried she, ' was that over ! Believe me, Miss Burney, it is a pleasure of a week, — a fortnight, at most, — and to return no more ! I thought, at first, I should al- ways choose to wear them j but the fatigue and trouble of putting them on, and the care they requi- red, and the fear of losing them, — believe me, ma'am, in a fortnight's time I longed again for my own ear- lier dress, and v^^ished never to see them more !' 99 Just as she was quitting her dressing-room, I got behind her and suddenly blurted out — " ' Your Majesty's goodness to me, ma'am, makes me venture to own that there is a command which I received some time ago,- and which I have made some attempt to execute.' " She turned round with great quickness, — ' The great coat V she cried, ' is it that V " I was glad to be so soon urderstood, and took it from my pocket book — but holding it a little back, as she otfered to take it. " ' For your Majesty alone !' I cried ; ' I must entreat that it may meet no other eyes, and I hope it will not be looked at when any one else is even in sight !' " She gave me a ready promise, and took it with alacrity, and walked off with a vivacity that assured me she would not be very long before she examined it ; though, when I added another little request, al- most a condition that it might not be read till I was far away, she put it into her pocket unopened, and, wishing me a pleasant ride, and that I might find my father well, she proceed towards the breakfast par- lour." The following is a copy of the verses, and an ac- count of the manner in which the Queen acknow- ledged them : — THE GREAT COAT. Thrice honour'd Robe ! couldst thou espy The form that deigns to show thy worth ; Hear the mild voice, view the arch eye. That call thy panegyric forth ; "Wouldst thou not swell with vain delight ? With proud expansion sail along ? And deem thyself more grand and brigh Than aught that lives in ancient song ? 100 MEMOIRS OF Than Venus' cestus, Dian's crest, Minerva's helmet, fierce and bold, Or all of emblem gay that dress'd Capricious goddesses of old ? Thee higher honours yet await : — Haste, then, thy triumphs quick prepare, Thy trophies spread in haughty state, Sweep o'er the earth, and scoff the air Ah no ! — retract ! — retreat ! — oh stay ! Learn, wiser, whence so well thou'st sped; She whose behest produced this lay By no false colours is misled. Suffice it for the buskin'd race Plaudits by pomp and show to win ; Those seek simplicity and grace Whose dignity is from within. The cares or joys she soars above That to the toilette's duties cleave ; Far other cares her bosom move, Far other joys those cares relieve. The garb of state she inly scorn'd. Glad from its trappings to be freed, She saw the humble, unadorn'd, Quick of attire,— a child of speed. Still, then, thrice honour 'd Robe ! retain Thy modest guise, thy decent ease ; Nor let thy favour prove thy bane By turning from its fostering breeze. She views thee with a mental eye. And from thee draws this moral end : — Since hours are register'd on high. The friend of Time is Virtue's friend. " You may easily believe I did not approach the Queen that night with much of a sleepy composure. She inquired very sweetly after my little excursion, and was quite disappointed for me when she heard I had not seen my father ; and all the Princesses, afterwards, as I chanced to be in their way, expres-- sed their concern for me. When Mrs. Thielky left MADAME d'aRBL AY. 101 the room, the Queen, with a smile very expressive, half arch, half ashamed, thanked me lor the little poem, adding, ' indeed, it is very pretty — only — don't deserve it.' " CHAPTER IX. Application from the publishers of " Cecilia " —Letter from Mrs. Lemman to the authoress of ''CeciJia" — A threatened attempt at Suicide — Dr. Burney at Court — Ills singular nou-observanre of Court etiquette — The King's good-humoar — Visit to Dr. Herschel — Comment of the Princess Amelia upon Dr. Burney's looks — The New Year — West's picture of the Resurrection — The King''i offer- ing — The Bishop of Worcester — Visit from Mr. West — His entlm- siasm — Dr. Burney's poem on the Queen's birthday — His daugh- ter's mode of presenting it — The Ball — An unexpected dilemma — The young Clergyman and the chairman. In December, 1786, Miss Burney was very much annoyed by an application from the publishers of " Cecilia." "I had a letter," she writes, " from Mr. Foss, the attorney, written in the name of Messrs. Ca- dell & Payne, to inform me that ' CeciUa ' was then printing in Ireland or Scotland, I forget v;hich, illegal- ly ; and that they desired me to sign a letter, which Mr. Foss enclosed, in which I threatened, jointly with these booksellers, to prosecute to the utmost extent of the law, any person or persons who should dare thus pirate my work. *' Equally astonished and dissatisfied at such a de- mand, I wrote for answer that I had wholly done with the book — that I would enter into no prosecution for any consideration — and that I wished them well through a business that was entirely their own. '^ To this refusal succeeded fresh applications. I was made so uneasy that I confided in Mr. Smelt, and begged his counsel. He happened to be present when one of the letters came to me. He advised me I* 102 MEMOIRS OF by no means to give way to a request so big with con- sequences which I could not foresee, and, since the property and the profits were now ahke made over to them, to persevere in leaving to their own sole con- duct so disagreeable a contest. *' I (lid very thankfully follow this advice ; but they next had recourse to my father, and offered to indem- nify me of all costs, if I would only give them my name and sanction. " My name and sanction were just what I most wished to keep to myself; but so importunate they continued, that my father asked the opinion of Mr. Batt. He said he conceived that they had actually a claim to my concurrence in prosecuting any false editors. A softer paper was drawn up than the first, and, little as I liked it, I was obliged to sign myself, with the utmost reluctance, their assistant in the pro- ceedings. '•' I know not when I have been more astonished than in finding myself in a situation so unlike any in which I had ever meant to place myself I have heard nothing of the matter since : I flatter myself, therefore, that this signature, fierce as it was constrain- ed, has frightened those who have received, as much as it did her who writ it. Otherwise, to be involved in a prosecution, — a lawsuit! — I know few things indeed that could more heartily have disturbed me. " A most troublesome letter, also, arrived to me from Ireland. A Mrs. Lemman wrote me her whole history, which was very lamentable, if true, but which concluded with requesting me to pay her debts, amounting to about thirty or forty pounds, and to put her and her family into some creditable way of busi- ness : otherwise, as I was now her sole resource, she mu&t inevitably put an end to her existence. *' I wrote an immediate answer, to assure her I had no power to comply with her demand, and frankly to MaBAME D^ARBLAif. 103 own that if my power were greater, my claims nearer home must first be satisfied : I was sorry for a reli- ance so misplaced, but as we were wholly strangers to each other, I could never suppose myself a resource on which she had placed much dependence. And I concluded with a severe — -I thought it right— repre- hension of her threat, assuring her that I held such an action in too much horror to suffer it to move my compassion at the expense of my prudence, and, in* deed, ability ; and I strongly advised her to take an opposite method in the next plan she formed, than that of using a menace which must rob her of pity by provoking displeasure. To this I added such counsel as her letter enabled me to draw out for her, and sent it off. *' Soon after, came another letter from the same person. She told me she had just read ' Cecilia,' and was satisfied whoever could write it must save and deliver her ; and she added that she was then compil- ing her own memoirs, and would mention it to the world, in the highest terras, all I would do for her. " Simple artifice ! to suppose flattery so grossly pro- mised could so dearly be bought ! — vexed was I, how- ever, to have written at all to a person who then was in the act of committing to the press probably what- ever she could gather. I made no further answer, — I only wish, now, I had a copy of what she has already. Doubtless her threat originated in a scheme like that she supposes in Mr. Harrel. She thought where Cecilia had been frightened, I also must give way. She forgot that she was no wife of my earliest friend, no guardian to myself, that I saw not the instrument of death in her hand, and that I possessed not three thousand pounds a year, from which to borrow her release." The following extracts from Miss Burney's Diary contain an account of many interesting events of her court life. 104 MEMOIRS OF " Friday, December 29th. — This day, by long ar- rangement, I expected to receive a visit from my fa- ther. He had engaged himself to me for three days, and was to reside at Mrs. Delany's. " I acquainted the Queen with ray hopes, which she heard with the most pleased and pleasing expression of approbation. She told them to the King, who in- quired, with an air of real satisfaction in my happi- ness, when he would come ? " Afterwards, while the Queen was at her toilette, and asking me kind questions of my father and all the family, the King entered. He inquired if my father was arrived. 1 was delighted to see, by their natu- ral behaviour, how right, as well as sweet, was this parental visit. " Before this, however, she had desired that my fa- ther should dine with me ; and then asked me to in- vite, also, Mile. Montmoulhn, because she was wanted early in the afternoon; and she condescended to add, ' I would not else have her with you to-day ; but she will not stay long, and I hope it won't be troublesome to you.' " At three o'clock our dearest Padre arrived^-well, gay, and sweet — and we spent near two hours w^hol- ly alone, and truly happy. " A^ dinner the party was enlarged by the presence of Mrs. Delany and Mr. Sm.elt ; to these were added the lovely and lively Miss P , the gentle Mile. Montmoullin, and the friendly Miss Planta. " My dear father was the principal c'^ject to all, and he seemed to enjoy himself, and to be enjoyed throughout. " We returned to my own apartment to our coffee, and the two governess ladies retired; and then came the King for Mrs. Delany ; and not for that solely, though ostensibly, for his behaviour to my father pro- ved his desire to see and converse with him. 105 *' He began immediately upon musical matters, and entered into a discourse upon them with the most an- imated wish of both hearing and communicating his sentiments ; and my dear father was perfectly ready to meet his advances. No one, at all used to the court etiquettes, could have seen him without smiling ; he was sx3 totally unacquainted with the forms usual- ly observed in the royal presence, and so regardless or thoughtless of acquiring them, that he moved, spoke, acted, and debated, precisely with the same ease and freedom that he would have used to any other gentle- man whom he had accidently met. " A certain flutter of spirits, which always accom- panies these interviews, even with those who are the least awed by them, put my dear father oiT the guard which is the customary assistant upon these occasions, of watching what is done by those already initiated in those royal ceremonies : highly gratified by the openness and good humour of the King, he was all energy and spirit, and pursued every topic that was started, till he had satisfied himself upon it, and star- ted every topic that occurred to him, whether the King was ready for another or not. " While the rest, retreating towards the wainscot, formed a distant and respectful circle, in which the King alone moves, this dear father came forward into it himself, and wholly bent upon pursuing whatever theme was begun, followed the King when he mov- ed away, and came forward to meet his steps when he moved back ; and while the rest waited his imme- diate address ere they ventured to speak a word, he began and finished, sustained or dropped, renewed or declined, every theme that he pleased, without con- sulting any thing but his feelings and understanding. " This vivacity and this nature evidently pleased the King, whose good sense instantly distinguishes what is unconscious from what is disrespectful j and 106 • MEMOmS OF his stay in the room, which I believe was an hour, and the perfect good-humour with which he received as well as returned the sprightly and informal sallies of my father, were proofs the most convincing of his ap- probation. " December 30th. — This morning my dear father carried me to Dr. Herschel. That great and extraor- dinary man received us with almost open arms. He is very fond of my father, who is one of the Council of the Royal Society this year, as well as himself, and he has much invited me when we have met at the Lodge or at Mr. De Luc's. " At this time of day there was nothing to see but his instruments : those, however, are curiosities suffi- cient. His immense new telescope, the largest ever constructed, will still, I fear, require a year or two more for finishing, but I hope it will then' reward his labour and ingenuity by the new views of the heaven- ly bodies, and their motions, which he flatters himself will be procured by it. Already, with that he has now in use, he has discovered fifteen hundred univer- ses ! How many more he can find, who can conjec- ture ? The moon, too, w^hich seems his favourite ob- ject, has already afforded him two volcanoes; and his own planet, the Georgium Sidus, has now shown two satellites. From such a man, what may not astrono- my expect, when an instrument superior in magni- tude to any ever yet made, and constructed wholly by himself or under his own eye, is the vehicle of his observation ? " I wished very much to have seen his sister, whose knowledge in his own science, is so extraordinary, and ■who herself was the first discoverer of the last comet ; but she had been up all night, and was then in bed. " Mr. Smelt joined us, by appointment ; and the Bishop of Worcester came afterwards, with Dr. Dou- glas, to whom I was then introduced. He is the fa- 107 mous editor, who has published, and revised, and cor- rected so many works : among them, the last voyage round the world. " By the invitation of Mr. Herschel, I now took a walk which will sound to you rather strange: it •v\"as through his telescope ! and it held me quite up- right, and without the least inconvenience ; so would it have done had I been dressed in feathers and a bell hoop — such is its circumferr ii e. Mr. Smelt led the way, walking also upright ; -md my father fol- lowed. After we were gone, the Bishop and Dr. Douglas were tempted, for its oddity, to make the same promenade. " Again my dear father, by the Queen's command, dined with me ; and Mr. Smelt and Miss Planta met him. Mrs. Delany ^ould not come till the afternoon. " After coffee, the sweet Princess Amelia was brought by the King himself, to fetch Mrs. Delany. The King showed her to my father, who could not but most unatfectedly admire so lovely a child. " Then sportively pointing to my father, the King whispered to her, ' Do you know who that is, Emily V " ' No.' " ' Is it Miss Burney's papa V " ' No !' " ' Why not ? is he too young," V " ' Yes.' " This mightily entertained the King, who repeated it to my father, as a great compliment to his youthful looks. " The little Princess then, taking Miss Delany by the hand, pulled her on, to go to her mamma, saying, ' Come, Mrs. Delany, come to mamma ; take care Mrs. Delany ! — Papa, come and take care of Mrs. Delany down the steps ! — Don't you come alone, Mrs. De- lany !' " The King, though I believe he had meant to stay 108 MEMOIRS OF and converse again with my father, was too much of the father himself to resist this bewitching little claimant ; and away they all went ; though he turned round first, and in answer to her ' Take care of Mrs. elany !' said, ' And who shall we leave to take care of Miss Burney V " * Why — Thatr cried she^ comically, and pointing to my father. " When Mrs. Del any came back to take my father to her hospitable house, she whispered to me that she had been requesting the Queen to allow her a copy of the verses on a Great Coat ; and the Queen had re- ferred her to me ; saying at the same time, — " ' I would give you them, and I would show and produce them often, and to many, but I cannot, be- cause of what belongs to myself in them.' " Very true, my conscious Queen ! thought con- scious F. B., for on that very reliance did 1 compose and present them. " Monday, January 1st. — I opened the new year with what composure I could acquire. I considered it the first year of my being settled in a permanent situation, and made anew the best resolutions I was equal to forming, that I would do what 1 could to curb all spirit of repining, and to content myself calm- ly — unresistingly, at least — with my destiny. *^' For this end I kept myself more than ever em- ployed, not suffering a moment to be wasted by medi- tation, save what, perforce, was borrowed from my sleep. This measure, indeed, I had pursued from my first settlement, and without it I had never, I am sure, been able to support myself. Even with it, for what a length of time must I have appeared to the Queen (all ignorant of the state of my mind) cold, shy, and inaccesible ! " Mr. Smelt and Mr. De Luc called only to make MADAME d'aRBLAY. 109 their congratulations on the new ; and then Miss P went with me to St. George's Chapei, which was this morning opened, with West's picture of the Resurrec- tion, on Jarvis's painted glass. I have already said my say upon it, and can only arid, that this solemn old chapel is extremely beautified (' a vile phrase !') by this superb window. " The King was to make an offering, as Sovereign of the Garter. He was seated in the Dean of Windsor's stallj and the Queen sat by his side. The Princesses were in the opposite seats, and all of them at the end of the church. " When the service was over, the offering ceremony began. The Dean and the Senior Canon went first to the communion table ; the Dean then read aloud, * Let your light so shine before men,' &c. The organ began a siov; and solemn movement, and the Kmg came down from his stall, and proceeded, with a grave and majestic walk, towards the communion table. When he had proceeded about the third of the way, he stopped and bowed low to the altar: then he moved on, and again, at an equal distance, stopped for the same formality, which was a third and last time re- peated as he reached the steps of the altar. Then he made the offering, which, according to the order of the original institution, was ten pounds in gold and silver, and delivered in a parse : he then knelt down, and made a silent prayer, after which, in the same mea- sured steps, he returned to hh stall, when the whole ceremony concluded by anotiier slov>^ movement of the organ. " The air of piety, and the unaffected grace and dignity, with which the King performed this rite, sur- prised and moved me ; Mr Smelt., the most affection- ate of his many loyal subjects, e^ en shed tears from emotion, in looking at him in this serious office. The King, I am told, always acquits himself with true ma- K 110 MEMOIRS OF jesty, where he is necessarily to appear in state as a monarch. " Tuesday, January 2d. The Bishop of Worces- ter made me a visit this morning whilst I was at breakfast, but damped the pleasure I received from his company, by telling me be came to take leave, as he returned to town at noon. There is no chance of his again visiting Windsor till this time twelvemonth, and I felt very sorry to lose sight of him for such a length of time. Piety and goodness are so marked on his countenance, which is truly a fine one, that he has been named, and very justly, ' the Beauty of Ho- liness.' Indeed, in face, manner, demeanour, and con- versation, he seems precisely what a bishop should be, and what would make a looker on, were he not a bishop, and a see vacant, call out. Take Mr. Hurd ! that is the man ! " He had not long left me when another visitor came to take leave also, — Mr. West. He has done for the present with Windsor, but returns to his great work in the summer. We talked over, of course, his window : and he spoke of it in the highest terms of praise and admiration. Another man would be totally ridiculous who held such language about his own per- formances ; but there is in Mr. West, a something of simplicity in manner, that makes his self-commenda- tion seem the result rather of an unaffected mind than of a vain or proud one. It may sometimes excite a smile, but can never, I think, offend or disgust. * * * * * * * ** I go back to the 16th, when I went to town, ac- companied only by Mr. De Laic. I saw my dear fa- ther the next morning, who gave me a poem on the Queen's birthday, to present. It was very pretty ; but I felt very awkward in offering it to her, as it was from so near a relation, and without any particu- lar reason or motive. Mr. Smelt came and stayed Ill 'With me almost all the morning, and soothed and solaced me by his charming converse. The rest of the day was devoted to milliners, mantua-makers, and such artificers, and you may easily conjecture how great must be my fatigue. Nevertheless, when in the midst of these wasteful toils, the Princess Augusta en- tered my room, and asked me, from the Queen, if I should wish to see the ball the next day. I preferred running the risk of that new fatigue, to declining an honour so offered : especially as the Princess Augusta was herself to open the ball. " A chance question this night from the Queen^ whom I now again attended as usual, fortunately re- lieved me from my embarrassment about the poem. She inquired of me if my father was still writing. ' A little,' I answered, and the next morning, " Thursday, January 18th, when the birthday was kept, I found her all sweetness and serenity ; mumbled out my own little compliment, which she received as graciously as if she had understood and heard it; and then, when she was dressed, I followed her through the great rooms, to get rid of the wardrobe woman, and there taking the poem from my pocket, I said, 'I told your Majesty yesterday that my father had written a little ! — and here — the little is !' *' She took it from me with a smile and courtsey, and I ran off. She never has named it since ; but she has spoken of my father with much sweetness and complacency. The modest dignity of the Queen, upon all subjects of panegyric, is truly royal and noble. I had now, a second time, the ceremony of being entirely new dressed. I then went to St. James's, where the Queen gave a very gracious approbation of my gewgaws, and called upon the King to bestow the same ; which his constant good-humour makes a matter of great ease to him. 112 MEMOIRS OF " The Queen's dress, being for her own birthday, was extremely simple, the style of dress considered. The King was quite superb, and the Princesses Au- gusta and Elizabeth were ornamented with much brilliancy. " Not only the Princess Royal was missed at this exhibition, but also the Prince of Wales. He wrote, however, his congratulations to the Queen, though the coldness then subsisting between him and his Majesty occasioned his absence from court. I fear it was severely felt by his Royal mother, though she ap- peared composed and content. " The two Princesses spoke' very kind words, also about my frippery on this festival ; and Princess Au- gusta laid her positive commands upon me that I should change my gown before I went to the Lord Chamberlain's box, where only my head could be seen. The counsel proved as useful as the consideration was amiable. " When the Qu'^'en was attired, the Duchess of An- caster was admitf ;;1 -o the dressing-room, where she stayed, in conversation with their Majesties and the Princesses, till it was time to summon the bedcham- ber women. During this, 1 had the office of holding the Queen's train. I knew, for me, it was a great honour, yet, it made ^ue feel, once more, so like a mute upon the stage, that I could scarce believe my- self only performing my own real character. " Mrs. Stainforth and I had some time to stand upon the stairs before the opening of the doors. We joined Mrs. Fielding and her daughters, and all en- tered together, but the crowd parted us ; they all ran on, and got in as they could, and I remained alone at the door. They soon found me out, and made signs to me, which I saw not, and then they sent me mes- sages that they had kept room for me just by them. I had received orders from the Queen to go out at MADAME D'ARBLAY. 113 the end of the second country dance ; I thought, there- fore, that as I now was seated by the door, I had bet- ter be content, and stay where I could make my exit in a moment, and without trouble or disturbance. A queer-looking old lady sat next me, and I spoke to her now and then, by way of seeming to belong to somebody. She did not appear to know whether it were advisable for her to answer me or not, seeing me alone, and with high head ornaments ; but as I had no plan but to save appearances to the surround- ers, I was perfectly satisfied that my very concise propositions should meet with yet more laconic re- plies. "Before we parted, however, finding me quiet and inoffensive, she became voluntarily sociable, and I felt so much at home by being still in a part of the palace, that I needed nothing further than just so much notice as not to seem an object to be avoided. " The sight which called me to that spot perfectly answered all my expectations : the air, manner, and countenance of the Queen^ as she goes round the cir- cle, are truly graceful and engaging : I thought I could understand, by the motion of her lips, and the expression of her face, even at the height and dis- tance of the Chamberlain's box, the gracious and pleasant speeches she made to all whom she approach- ed. With my glass, you know, I can see just as other people see with the naked eye. " The Princesses looked extremely lovely, and the whole court was in the utmost splendour. " At the appointed moment I slipped through the door, leaving my old lady utterly astonished at my sudden departure, and I passed, alone and quietly, to Mr. Rhamus's apartment, which was appropriated for the company to wait in. Here I desired a ser- vant I met with to call my man ; he was not to be found. I went down the stairs, and made them call K* 114 MEMOIRS OF him aloud, by my name ; all to no purpose. Then the chairmen were called, but also in vain ! " What to do I knew not ; though I was still in a part of the palace, it was separated by many courts, avenues, passages, and alleys, from the Queen's or my own apartments; and though I had so lately passed' them, 1 could not remember the way, nor at that late hour could I have walked, dressed as I then was, and the ground wet with recent rain, even if 1 had had a servant ; I had therefore ordered the chair allotted me for these days ; but chair and chairmen and footmen were alike out of the way. " My fright lest the Queen should wait for me was very serious. I believe there are state apartments through which she passes, and therefore I had no chance to know when she retired from the ball-room. Yet could I not stir, and was forced to return to the room whence I came, in order to wait for John, that I might be out of the w^ay of the cold winds which infested the hall. " [ now found a young clergyman, standing by the fire. I suppose my anxiety was visible, for he instant- ly inquired if he could assist me. I declined his oifer, but walked up and down, making frequent questions about my chair and John. " He then very civilly said, ' You seem distressed, ma'am ; would you permit me the honour to see for your chair, or, if it is not come, as you seem hurried, would you trust me to see you home V " I thanked him, but could not accept his services. He was sorry, he said, that I refused him, but could not wonder, as he was a stranger. I made some apo- logizing answer, and remained in that unpleasant si- tuation till, at length, a hackney-chair was procured me. My new acquaintance would take no denial to handing me to the chair. When I got in, I told the men to carry me to the palace. 115 " ^ We are there now ! cried they ; what part of the palace V " I was now in a distress the most extraordinary : I had always gone to my apartment in a chair, and had been carried by chairmen olHcially appointed ; and, except that it w^as in St. James's Palace, 1 knew nothing of my situation* " ' ^ear the park,' I told them, and saw my new es- quire look utterly amazed at me. " ' Ma'am,' said he, ' half the palace is in the park !' '' ' I don't know how to direct,' cried I, in the great- est embarrassment, * but it is somewhere between Pall Mall and the Park.' " ' I know where the lady hves well enough/ cried one of the chairmen, ' 'tis in St. James's Street.' " ' No, no,' cried I, ' 'tis in St. James's Palace.' " ' Up with the chair !' cried the other man, ' I know best — 'tis in South Audley Street ; 1 know the lady well enough.' " Think what a situation at the moment ! I found they had both been drinking the Queen's health till they knew not what they said, and could with diffi- culty stand. Yet they lifted me up, and though I call- ed in the most terrible fright to be let out, the} carried me down the steps. " 1 now actually screamed for help, believing they would carry me off' to South Audley Street ; and now my good genius, who had waited patiently in the crowd, forcibly stopped the chairmen, who abused him violently, and opened the door himself, and I ran back into the hall. " You may imagine how earnestly I returned my thanks for this most seasonable assistance, without which I should almost have died with terror, for where they might have taken or dropped me, or how or where left me, who could say 1 " He begged me to go again up stairs, but my ap- 116 MEMOIRS OF prehension about the Queen prevented me. I knew she was to have nobody but me, and that her jewels, though few, were to be intrusted back to the Queen's house to no other hands. I must, 1 said, go, be it in what manner it might. All I could devise was to summon Mr, Rhamus, the page. I had never seen him, but my attendance upon the Queen would be an apology for the application, and I determined to put myself under his immediate protection. " Mr. Rhamus was nowhere to be found ; he was already supposed to be gone to the Queen's house, to wait the arrival of his Majesty. This news redoubled my fear j and now my new acquaintance desired me to employ him in making inquiries for me as to the di- rection 1 wanted. " It was almost ridiculous, in the midst of my dis- tress, to be thus at a loss for an address to myself! I felt adverse to speaking my name amongst so many listeners, and only told him he would much oblige me by finding out a direction to Mrs. Haggerdorn's rooms. " He went up stairs ; and returning, said he could now direct the chairmen, if I did not fear trusting them. " 1 did fear 1 even shook with fear ; yet my hor- ror of disappointing the Queen upon such a night pre- vailed over all reluctance, and I ventured once more into the chair, thanking this excellent Samaritan, and begging him to give the direction very particularly. '" Imagine, however, my gratitude and my relief, when, instead of hearing the direction, I heard only these words, ' Follow me.' And then did this truly benevolent young man himself play the footman, in walking by the side of the chair till we came to an alley, where he bid them turn ; but they answered him with an oath, and ran out with me, till the poles ran against a wall, for they had entered a passage in which there was no outlet ! " i would have fain got out, but they would not MADAME d'aRBLAY. 117 hear me ; they would only pull the chair back, and go on another way. But my guardian angel told them to follow him, or not, at their peril ; and then walked before the chair. " We next came to a court, where we were stop- ped by the sentinels. They said they had orders not to admit any hackney chairs. The chairmen vowed they would make way ; I called out aloud to be set down ; the sentinels said they would run their bayonets through the first man that attempted to dispute their orders. I then screamed out again to be set down, and my new and good friend peremptorily forced them to stop, and opening the door with violence, offered me his arm, saying, ' You had better trust yourself with me, ma'am !' " Most thankfully I now accepted what so fruitless- ly I had dechned, and I held by his arm, and we walk- ed on together — but neither of us knew whither, nor the right way from the wrong ! It was really a terri- ble situation. " The chairmen followed us, clamorous for money, and full of abuse. They demanded half a crown ; my companion refused to listen to such an imposition ; my shaking hand could find no purse, and I begged him to pay them what they asked, that they might leave us. He did ; and when they were gone, I shook less, and was able to pay that one part of the debt I was now contracting. " We wandered about, heaven knows where, in a way the most alarming and horrible to myself imagi- nable : for I never knew where I was — It was mid- night. I concluded the Queen was waiting for me. — It was wet. My head was full dressed. I was under the care of a total stranger ; and I knew not which side to take, wherever we came. Inquiries were vain. The sentinels alone were in sight, and they are so con- tinually changed that they knew no more of Mrs. Hag- gerdorn than if she had never resided here. 118 MEMOIRS OP " At length I spied a door open, and I begged to enter it at a venture, for information. Fortunately a person stood in the passage, who instantly spoke to me by name ; I never heard that sound with more glee : to me he was a stranger, but I suppose he had seen me in some of the apartments. I begged him to direct me straight to the Queen's rooms : he did ; and T then took leave of my most humane new friend, with a thousand acknowledgments for his benevolence and services. " Was it not a strange business ? I can never say what an agony of fright it cost me at the time, nor ever be sufficiently g^rateful for the kind assistance so providentially afforded me. " I found myself just in time ; and I desired imme- diately to speak with Mr. Nicolay, the page, of whom I requested a direction to my own rooms.' CHAPTER XL Travelling to Windsor with Mr. Turbulent— Discussion— Religion and Morality — The Queen's opinion of Mr. Turbulent — The young Clergyman again — Josephus — Mr. Turbulent and the Princess Augusta — La Coquette Corrigee — The Queen studying Botany — ■ The Drama of '' Seduction " — An allusion in the epilogue to the Author of '' Cecilia" — The King's enjoyment of Miss Burney's Confusion — Sympathy of the Princesses — Mrs. Piozzi's return to England. " Saturday, Jan. 20th. — To-day began our short weekly visits for the winter to Windsor. I travelled with Mr. Turbulent, and wnth him only. " The journey was rather awkward. To be three hours and a half tete-a-t6te with a person so little known to me, and of whom I had been unable to form any precise opinion, while still in a feeble state of health, and still feebler of spirits, was by no means 119 desirable ; and yet the less, as there was something in the uncertainty of my notions that led me to fear him, though I knew not exactly why. " The conversation that ensued did not remove these difficulties : wholly brought on and supported by him- self, the subjects were such as I at least wished to dis- cuss with hiin — religion and morality. " With respect to morality, his opinions seemed upon rather too large a scale for that perfect measure- ment which suited my more circumscribed ideas. No- thing faulty fell from him, but much was thrown out that, though not positively censurable, had far better never be uttered. He again revived the subject of Madame de Genlis ; agam I defended her, and again, "while he palliated all the wrong with which he char- ged her, he chose to disbelieve the seriousness of my assertions in her favour. True, however, it is, I do believe her innocent of all crime but indiscretion, and of that I know not how to clear her, since to nothing softer can I attribute the grounds upon which so much calumny has been raised. I imagine her, and so I told him, to have fallen at an early and inexperienced period into designing and depraved hands, and not to have been able, from cruel and distressed circum- stances, to give up the unworthy protection of a pro- fligate patron, though her continuing under it has stained her fame for evermore ! Perhaps her hus- band, himself worthless, would not permit her — per- haps she feared the future ruin of her two children — perhaps, in a country such as France, she did not, in that first youth, dare even to think of relinquishing the protection of a Prince of the blood. She was only fifteen w^hen she was married — she told me that her- self. How hard do I think her lot, to fall into the hands she must have ever despised, and so to be en- tangled in them as not to dare show to the world, in the only way the world would believe her, the abhor- 120 MEMOIRS OF rence of her mind to the character of her patron, by quitting a roof under which she could not hve without censure ! "The subject, however, was so nice, it was difficult to discuss, and I wished much to avoid it, sincj there was so much that I could not explain w^ithout apparent concessions against my own case, which he instantly seized, and treated as actual occurrences. He praised her as much as I praised her myself, and I found he admired her with as sincere a warmth : but though we agreed thus far, and yet farther, in thinking all that might be wrong in her was venial, we differed most essentially in our opinion of what that WTong might be. He thought her positively fallen, yet with circumstances claiming every indulgence. I thought her positively saved, yet with circumstances authoriz- ing suspicion. " I tried what was possible to fly from this disquisi- tion, but I found I had one to deal with not easy to controL He kept it up, forcibly and steadily, till I w^as compelled to be silent to his assertions, from want of proof beyond opinion for answering them. " He then proceeded to a general vindication of the victims to such sort of situations, in which I could by no means concur ; but when I resisted, he startled me by naming as individuals amongst them some charac- ters of whom I had conceived far superior notions. I heard him quite with grief, and I will not write their names. I cannot look upon him as a detractor, and I saw him by no means severe in his exactions from female virtue : I gave, therefore, and give, imphcit credit to his information, though I gave not, and give not, any to his inferences and general comments. " ' Depend upon it,' said he, ' whh whatever preju- dice, and just prejudice, you may look upon these fal- len characters at large, and considered in a class, you will generally find them, individiiallyj amongst the MADAME d'aRBLAIT. 121 most amiable of your sex : I had almost said amongst the most virtuous ; but amongst those who possess the greatest virtues, thoughnotevery virtue, undoubtedly. Their own sweetness and sensibility will generally have been the sole source of their misconduct.' " 1 could neither agree nor dispute upon such a sub- ject with such an antagonist, and I took my usual resource, of letting the argument die away for want of food with which to nourish it. " I did not fare the better, however, by the next theme, to which the death of this led us: Religion. " There is no topic in the world upon w^hich I am so careful how I speak seriously as this. By * seri- ously,' I do not mean gravely, but with earnestness ; mischief here is so easily done, so difficultly reformed. I have made it, therefore, a rule through my life ne- ver to talk in deiail upon religious opinions, but with those of whose principles I have the fullest convic- tion and highest respect. It is therefore very, very rarely I have ever entered upon the subject but with female friends or acquaintances, whose hearts I have well known, and who would be as unlikely to give as to receive any perplexity from the discourse. But with regard to men, I have known none with whom I have willingly conferred upon them, except Dr. Johnson, Mr. Locke, and Mr. Smelt, and one more. " My companion was urgent to enter into a contro- versy which I was equally urgent to avoid ; and I knew net whether most to admire or to dread the skill and capacity with which he pursued his purpose, in defiance of my constant retreat. When, in order to escape, I made only light and slight answers lo his queries and remarks, he gravely said I led him into * strange suspicions' concerning my religious tenets : and when I made to this some rally: '*g reply, he so- lemnly declared he feared I was a ' mere philosopher' on these subjects, and totally incredulous with regard to all revealed religion* l 122 MEMOIRS OF "This was an attack which even in pleasantry I liked not, as the very words gave me a secret shock. I therefore then spoke to the point, and frankly told him that subjects which I held to be so sacred, I made it an invariable rule never to discuss in casual con- versations. "' And how, ma'fim,' said he, suddenly assuming the authoritative seiiousness of his professional cha- racter and dignity, ' and how, ma'am, can you better discuss matters of this solemn nature than now, with a man to whom their consideration particularly be- longs? — with a clergyman V " True, thought I ; but I must better be apprised of your principles, ere I trust you with debating mine ! Yet ashamed to decline so serious a call, I could only make a general answer, that as I was very well satisfied at present, I did not wish to make myself un- necessary difficulties by any discussions whatsoever. " * And why unnecessary, ma'am ? Do you fear to sift your opinions V '' * No — but I want them not to be sifted by others.' " ' And upon what principle do you decline to have them examined V " * Because I see not any good in such an examina- tion to others ; and for myself, I am clear and satis- fied — and what should I aim at more V " ' Upon what grounds are you satisfied, ma'am V " ' Fairly afraid of him, and conscious that one seri- ous answer would draw on as many more as he pleased, I honestly told him I must beg to decline at once a subject in which no good could accrue to him, and none that I knew was likely to accrue to myself. " A little alTronted, he somewhat haughtily said, ' You disdain then, ma'am, to enter into this topic with me?' " * No, sir, not with you particularly ; but 1 love not to talk upon controversial points with any body.' MADAME d'aRBLAY. 123 " * Are you a Catholic, ma'am V «« No, indeed!' "^ If you take your religion upon faich, and without venturing at any investigation, what else can you call yourself?' "Again I made "what slight answers I could sug- gest, struggling with all my might to fiy from the theme entirely ; and when at last I fairly assumed courage to declare I would say no more upon it, he raised his hands and eyes, and wiih an air of being greatly consternated, protested — " ' By all, then, that I can gather, I see and can in- fer but one of these two things — either that you are a Roman Catholic, or an esprit Jhi't /' " Even this, however, would not provoke me to the controversy — though it provoked me with the logician, I frankly confess ; and nothing but predeter- mined steadiness upon this point could have guarded me, in such an attack, from any intricacy or labyrinth into which he might have amused himself by leading me. " These were the principal features of our tete-a- tete, whi»h left me as unsettled as ever in my notions of my companions. " When, afterwards, I attended the Queen, she in- quired of me particularly how the journey had passed, and if it was not very pleasant 7 I made some short and general answer ; and she cried ' Did you read 1 Did Mr. Turbulent read to you V " ' No, ma'am, we had no provision of that sort ; I heartily wish I had thought of it ; I should have liked it exceedingly.' " ' But surely you do not like reading better than conversation !' " ' No, ma'am. — not better than some conversation.'" " ' Surely not better than Mr. Turbulent's ? Nobody converses better than Mr. Turbulent j nobody has more 124 MEMOIRS OF general knowledge, nor a more pleasing and easy way of communicating it. " Fearing to do mischief, I assented — but faintly, however, for indeed he had perplexed far more than he had pleased me. The Queen again made his panegyric, and in very warm terms, and seemed quite disappointed at the coldness of my concurrence. *■' Good there must be, I was sure, in a man so hon- oured, who for many years has been tried in his pre- sent trying situation, of teacher to the elder Princesses, and occasionally to her Majesty herself. I resolved, therefore, to suspend the judgment which was inclin- ing on the evil side, and to wait undecided till further opportunity gave me fairer reason for fixing my opinions. " January 23d. A singular circumstance happened this evening, and ono which I am sure will please you both to hear. While I was in Mrs. Schwellenberg's room, with only Mrs. Planta and herself, Mr. Griffith was announced, and who should I see enter but the very clergyman to whom I had been so much obliged on the birfhnight ! *• I started, and so did he, and he could not make his bow to Mrs. Schwellenberg, till he received my compliments of thanks for his good offices, and of pleasure in this opportunity to make them to him. The accident that brought him here will, I hope, turn out to his advantage. He has a sister in the household, as laundress to the Princesses ; and she is a great favourite with Mrs. Schwellenberg. This brother has some small living, but greatly requires something more ; and he came to-night to reikd to Mrs. Schwellenberg, that she might make some report of him, — to whom or how I know not, but surely my best wishes must accompany him. He had not at all, he said, known me, till he went up stairs to inquire Mrs. Haggerdorn's direction, and then he heard my own name, which had much surprised him. 125 " Mrs. Schwellenberg speedily desired him to read ; and had a standing desk procured him, such as is used by the readers to the Queen, who are not, of course, allowed to sit down. " ' What book is it to be, ma'am,' cried he, ^ some- thing interesting, I hope !' '' ' No/ cried she, ' I won't have nothing what you call novels, what you call romances, what you call histories — I might not read such what you call stuff, —not I !' " The good Mrs. Planta, who is an excellent old woman, a Swiss or Italian by birth, and cheerful, gay, social, and good humoured, evidently feared I should look upon this speech as a personal reflection ; and therefore, to soften it, said ' O Miss Burney ! what a pretty book you write ! I cry it ! I cry just like littel baby ! — and then I laugh so ! — you would think me rnad, for an old woman to laugh so !' " I tried to stop her, but Mr. Griffith seized the moment to exJaim, ' How little did I think, the other night, that the lady I had the honour to attend to her chair was the Miss Burney from whom I had received such pleasure !' " I begged him to read, and the book was brought: it was Josephus, which is the only book in favour at present, and serves for all occasions, and is quoted to solve all difficulties. * * * * * " March 1st. — With all the various humours in which I had seen Mr. Turbulent, he gave me this evening a surprise, by his conduct to one of the Prin- cesses, nearly the same that I had experienced from him myself The Princess Augusta came, during coffee, for a knotting shuttle of the Queen's. ^ While speaking to me, he stood behind and exclaimed, d demi voix, as if to himself, ' Comme elk est jolie ce soir, son Altesse Royale P And then, seeing her blush L* 126 MEMOffiS OF extremely, he clasped his hands in high pretended confusion, and hiding his head, called out ' Queferai je ? The Princess has heard me !' "'Pray, Mr. Turbulent,' cried she, hastily, ' what play are you to read to-night V " * You shall choose, ma'am ; either La Coquette Corrigee or — [he named another I have forgotten.] " ' no !' cried she, ' that last is shocking ! don't let me hear that !' " ' I understand you, ma'am. You fix, then, upon La Coquette ? La Coquette is your Royal Highncss's taste V " ' No, I am sure I did not say that.' " * Yes, ma'am, by implication. And certainly, therefore,! will read it to please your Royal Highness !' " ' No, pray don't ; for I like none of them !' " ' None of them, ma'am V " * No, none ; — no French jylays at all !' " And away she was running, with a droll air, that acknowledged she had said something to provoke him. " ' This is a declaration, ma'am, I must beg you to explain !' cried he, gliding adroitly between the Prin- cess and the door, and shutting it with his back. '' * No, no, I can't explain it ; so pray, Mr. Turbu- lent, do open the door.' " ' Not for the world, ma'am, with such a stain un- cleared upon your Royal Highness's taste and feeling !' " She told him she positlvel}^ could not stay, and begged him to let her pass instantly. " But he would hear her no more than he has heard me, protesting he was too much shocked for her to suffer her to depart without clearing her own credit ! " He conquered at last, and thus forced to speak, she turned round to us and said, ' Well — if I must, then, I will appeal to these ladies, w^ho understand such things far better than I do, and ask them if it is not true about these French plays, that they are all so like 127 one to another, that to hear them in this manner every night is enough to tire one V " ' Pray, then, madam,' cried he, ^ if French plays have the misfortune to displease you, what JYational plays have the honour of your preference V " I saw he meant something that she understood better than me, for she blushed again, and called out ' Pray open the door at once ! I can stay no longer ; do let me go, Mr. Turbulent. " ' Not till you have answered that question ma'am ! what Country has plays to your Royal Highness's taste V "' MissBurney,' cried she impatiently, yet laughing, * pray do you take him away ! — Pull him !' '- He bowed to me very politely for the office ; but I frankly answered her, ' Indeed, ma'am, I dare not undertake him ! I cannot manage him at all.' " ' The Country ! the Country! Princess Augusta ! name the happy Country .'' was all that she could gain. " ' Order him away. Miss Burney,' cried she : ' 'tis your room : order him away from the door.' " ' Name it, ma'am, name it !' exclaimed he ; * name but the chosen nation V " And then, fixing her with the most provoking eyes, ' Ed-ce la Danemarc V he cried. " She coloured violently, and quite angry with him, called out, 'Mr. Turbulent, how can you be such a fool V " And now I found ... the Prince Royal of Den- mark was in his meaning and in her understanding ! " He bowed to the ground in gratitude for the term fool^ but added, with pretended submission to her will, * Very wel!, ma'am, s'il ne faut lire que les comedies Vaiioises.^ " ' Do let me go !' cried she seriously ; and then he made way, with a profound bow as she passed, saying, 128 " MEMOIRS OF ' Very well, ma'am, La Coquette, then ? your Royal Highness chooses La Coquette Corrigee V " ' Corrigee ? That never was done !' cried she, with all her sweet good humour, the moment she got out and off she ran, like lightning, to the Queen's apartments. " What say you to Mr. Turbulent now ? " For my part I was greatly surprised. I had not imagined any man, but the King or Prince of Wales, had ever ventured at a badinage of this sort with any of the Princesses ; nor do I suppose any other man ever did. Mr. Turbulent is so great a favorite with all the Royal Family, that he safely ventures upon whatever he pleases, and doubtless they find, in his courage and his rhodomontading, a novelty extreme- ly amusing to them, or they would not fail to bring about a change. " For myself, I own, when I perceived in him this mode of conduct with the Princesses, I saw his flights, and his rattling, aad his heroics, in a light of mere innocent play, from exuberance of high spirits ; and I looked upon them, and upon him, in a fairer light. " Tuesday, March 6th. — I spent almost all this morning with Her Majesty, hearing her botanical les- son, and afterwards looking over some prints of Her- culaneurn, till the Princess Augusta brought a paper, and a message from Mr. Turbulent, with his humble request to explain it himself to Her Majesty : it was something he had been ordered to translate. " yes !' cried the Queen readily, ' let him come ; I am always glad to see him.' " He came immediately ; and most glad was I when dismissed to make way for him : for he prac- tices a thousand mischievous tricks, to confuse me, in the Royal presence ; most particularly by certain signs which he knows I comprehend, made by his eye- brows; for he is continually assuring me he always 129 discovers my thoughts and opinions by the motion of mine, v/hich it is his most favom ite gambol to pre- tend constantly to examine, as well as his first theme of gallantry to compliment, though in a style too highflown and rhodomontading to be really embarras- sing, or seriously offensive. Nevertheless, in the Royal presence, my terror lest he should be observed, and any questions should be asked of the meaning of his signs and tokens, makes it seriously disagreeable to me to continue there a moment when he is in the " And now for a few general anecdotes that belong to this month. " I had the pleasure of two or three visits from Mr. Bryant, whose loyal regard for the King and Queen makes him eagerly accept every invitation, from the hope of seeing them in my room ; and one of the days they both came in to speak to him, and were accompanied by the two eldest Princesses, who stood chatting with me by the door the whole time, and saying comical things upon royal personages in tragedies, particularly Princess Augusta, who has a great deal of sport in her disposition. She very gravely asserted she thought some of those princes on the stage looked really quite as well as some she knew off it. " Once about this time I went to a play myself, which surely I may live long enough and never for- get. It was ^ Seduction,' a very clever piece, but containing a dreadful picture of vice and dissipation in high life, written by Mr. Miles Andrews, with an epilogue — 0, such an epilogue ; I was listening to it with uncommon attention, from a compliment paid in it to Mrs. Montague, among other female writers ; but imagine what became of my attention when 1 sudden- ly was struck with these lines, or something like them : — 130 MEMOIRS OF ' Let sweet Cecilia gain your just applause, Whose every passion yields to Reason's laws.* "To hear, wholly unprepared and unsuspicious, such Lines in a Theatre — seated in a Royal Box — and with the Royal Family and their suite immedi- ately opposite me — was it not a singular circumstance 1 To describe my embarrassment would be impossible. My whole head was leaning forward, with my opera- glass in my hand, examining Miss Farren, who spoke the epilogue. Instantly I shrunk back, so astonished and so ashamed of my public situation, that I was almost ready to take to my heels and run, for it seem- ed as if I were there purposely in that conspicuous place — ' To list attentive to my own applause,' " The King innmediately raised his opera-glass to look at me, laughing heartily— the Queen's presently took the same direction — all the Princesses looked up, and all the attendants, and all the maids of honour ! " I protest I was never more at a loss what to do with myself : nobody was in the front row with me but Miss Goldsworthy, who instantly seeing how I was disconcerted, prudently and good-naturedly for- bore taking any notice of me. I sat as far back as I could, and kept my fan against the exposed profile for the rest of the night, never once leaning forward, nor using my glass. " None of the Royal Family spoke to me upon this matter till a few days after ; but I heard from Mrs. Delany they had all declared themselves sorry for the confusion it had caused me. And some time after, the Queen could not forbear saying, ' I hope, Miss Burney, you minded the epilogue the other night V " And the King, very comically, said, ' I took a peep at you !— I could not help that. I wanted to see MADAME d'aRBLAY. 131 how yon looked when your father first discovered your writing — and now I think I know ! ' " The Princesses all said something, and the kind Princess Elizabeth, in particular, declared she had pitied me with all her heart, in being so situated when such a compliment was made. "But what was most interesting, and, alas! most melancholy to me in this month, was news of the return of Mrs. Piozzi to England ! I heard it first from Mr. Stanhope, but my dear Fredy will have told all that also, since she spent with me the same even- ing.- CHAPTER XII. A visit from Dr. Beattie— Return of the Duke of York— Joy of the Royal Family — Mrs. Siddon- engaged to read a play at the Peilace — Miss Burney her entertainer — Her Opinion of Mrs. Sid- dons— Visit to Dr. Herschel — His sister — Her character and ap- pearance — Their mode of working together — The Telescope. Miss Burney gives the following description of Dr. Beattie, w^ho had requested Mrs. Delany to procure him an interview with her. " I kept my appointment with Dr. Beattie, and was much gratified by so doing. I found him plea- sant, unaffected, unassuming, and full of conversable intelligence ; with a round, thick, clunch figure, that promises nothing either of his works or his discourse ; yet his eye, at intervals, and when something breaks from him pointed and sudden, shoots forth a ray of genius that instantly lights up his whole countenance. His voice and his manners are particularly and pleas- mgly mild, and seem to announce an urbanity of char- acter both inviting and edifying. 132 MEMOIRS OF " My very high admiration of his two principal productions, ' The Minstrel' and the ' Immutability of Truth,' made it a real satisfaction to me to see their author ; and finding him such as I have described, I felt a desire to be acquainted with him that made me regret my little likelihood of meeting with him again." The next day they again met, and the learned Doc- tor, made, if possible, even a more agreeable mipres- sion on Miss Burney than he had done before. In the course of the evening Mrs. Delany chanced to be called out of the room, and Dr. Beattie in a low voice but looking another way, very gently said — " I must now, madam, seize an opportunity for which I have long wished, to tell you of the equal amazement and pleasure I have received from you." This remark was followed by warm eulogiums upon Miss Burney's productions and many flattering acknowledgements of the pleasure he had derived from their perusal. The ensuing extracts from Miss Burney's Diary of this year are not without interest. " Thursday, August 2nd.— To-day, after a seven years' absence, arrived the Duke of York. I saw him alight from his carriage, with an eagerness, a vivacity, that assured me of the affectionate joy with which he returned tO his country and family. But the joy of his excellent father? — that there is no de- scribing ! It was the glee of the first youth — nay, of ardent and innocent infancy, — so pure it seemed, so warm, so open, so unmixed ! " Softer joy was the Queen's — mild, equal, and touching ; while all the Princesses wore in one uni- versal rapture. " It was a happy day throughout : no one could forbear the strongest hopes that the long-earned, long- due recompense of paternal kindness and goodness was now to be amply paid. MADAME d'aRBLAY. 133" " To have the pleasure of seeing the Royal Family in this happy assemblage, I accompanied Miss P on the Terrace. It was indeed an affecting sight to view the general content ; but that of the King went to my very heart, so delighted he looked-— so proud of his son — so benevolently pleased that every one should witness his satisfaction. " The Terrace was very full ; all Windsor and its neighbourhood poured in upon it, to see the Prince, whose w^hole demeanour seemed promising to merit his flattering reception ; gay, yet grateful — modest, yet unembarrassed. " Wednesday, 15th. — I shall now have an adven- ture to relate that will much — and not disagreeably surprise both my dear readers. " Mrs. Schwellenberg's illness occasioned my at- tending the Queen alone ; and when my official busi- ness was ended, she giaciously detained me, to read to me a new paper, called ^ ODa Podrlda,' which is now publishing periodically. Nothing very bright — nothing very deficient. " In the afternoon, while I was drinking coffee with Mrs. Schwellenberg, — or, rather, looking a1 it, since I rarely swallow any, — her Majesty came into the room, and soon after a little German discourse with Mrs. Schwellenberg told me Mrs. Siddons had been ordered to the Lodge, to read a play, and desired I w^ould receive her in my room. " I felt a little queer in the office ; I had only seen her twice or thrice, in large assemblies, at Miss Monckton's, and at Sir Joshua Reynolds's, and never had been introduced to her, nor spoken with her. However, in this dead and tame life I now lead, such an interview was by no means undesirable. " I had just got to the bottom of the stairs, when she entered the passage gallery. I took her into the tea-room, and endeavoured to make amends for for- 134 MEMOIRS OF mer distance and taciturnity, by an open and cheerful rt^ception. I had heard from sundry people (in old days) that she wished to make the acquaintance ; but I thought it, then, one of too conspicuous a sort for the quietness I had so much difficidty to preserve in my ever-increasing connexions. Here all was chang- ed ; I received her by the Queen's comm.ands, and was perfectly well inclined to reap some pleasure from the meeting. " But, now that we came so near, I was much dis- appointed in my expectations. I know not if my dear Fredy has met with her in private, but I fancy approximation is not highly in her favour. I found her the heroine of a tragedy, sublime, elevated, and solemn. In face and person, truly noble and com- manding ; in manners, quiet and stiff; in voice, deep and dragging ; and in conversation, formal, sententi- ous, calm, and dry. I expected her to have been all that is interesting ; the delicacy and sweetness with which she seizes every opportunity to strike and to captivate upon the stage had persuaded me that her mind was formed with that peculiar susceptibility which, in different modes, must give equal powers to attract and to delight in common life. But I was very much mistaken. As a stranger, I must have ad- mired her noble appearance and beautiful counte- nance, and have regretted that nothing in her conver- sation kept pace w^ith their promise ; and, as a cele- brated actress, I had still only to do the same. " Whether fame and success have spoiled her, or whether she only possesses the skill of representing and embellishing materials with which she is furnished by others, I know not ; but still I remain disappointed. " She was scarcely seated, and a little general dis- course begun, before she told me — all at once — that * There was no part she had ever so much wished to act as that of Cecilia.' MADA.ME d'aRBLAY. 135 '* I made some little acknowledgment, and hm-ried to ask when she had seen Sir Joshua Reynolds, Miss Palmer, and others with whom I knew her acquaint- ed. " The play she was to read was ' The Provoked Husband.'i* She appeared neither alarmed nor elated by her summons, but calmly to look upon it as a thing of course, from her celebrity." ****** " September. — My memorandums of this month are so scanty, that I shall not give them in their regu- lar dates. " To me the month must needs be sweet that brought to me friends dearest to my heart j and here again let me thank them for the reviving week be- stowed upon me from the 10th to the 17th. " On the evciiing they left me, my kind Mrs. Dela- ny carried me to Dr. Herschel's. Madame la Fite said, afterwards, that, nothing remaining upon earth good enough to console me for les Lockes and Mrs. Phillips, I was fain to travel to the moon, for comfort. I think it was very well said. " And, indeed, I really found myself much pleased with the little excursion. Dr. Herschel is a delight- ful man ; so unassuming, with his great knowledge, so willing to dispense it to the ignorant, and so cheer- ful and easy in his general manners, that were he no genius it would be impossible not to remark him as a pleasing and sensible man. " I was equally pleased with his sister, whom I had wished to see very much, for her great celebrity in her brother's science. She is very little, very gentle, very modest, and very ingenuous ; and her manners are those of a person unhackneyed and unawed by the world, yet desirous to meet and to return its smiles. I love not the philosophy that braves it. This brother and sister seem gratified with its favour, at the same time that their own pursuit is all-sufficient to them without it. 136 MEMOIRS OF " I inquired of Miss Herschel if she was still comet* hunting, or content now with the moon ? The brother answered that he had the charge of the moon, but he left to his sister to sweep the heavens for com- ets. "Their manner of working together is most in- genious and curious. While he makes his observa- tions without-doors, he has a method of communica- ting them to his sister so immediately, that she can instantly commit them to paper, with the precise mo- ment in which they are made. By this means he lo- ses not a minute, when there is any thing particularly worth observing, by writing it down, but can still pro- ceed, yet still have his accounts and calculations ex- act. The methods he has contrived to facilitate this commerce I have not the terms to explain, though his simple manner of showing them made me fully, at the time, comprehend them. " The night, unfortunately, was dark, and I could not see the moon with the famous new telescope. I mean not the great telescope through which I had taken a walk, for that is still incomplete, but another of uncommon powers. I saw Saturn, however, and his satelites, very distinctly, and their appearance was very beautiful. CHAPTER XIII. An eventful year — Death of Mrs. Delany — Her last words — Mrs De- lany's niece — Trial of Hasting's — Decline of the King's health — Alarm of the Royal Family— Insanity of the King— Scene at Din- ner — Confusion and Dismay of the Household — Desolate condi- tion of the Queen. The year 1778 was an eventful one for Miss Bur- ney. " I began it," she writes, " as I ended the old one, by seizing the first moment it presented to my MADAME d'aRBLAY. 137 own disposal, for flying to Mrs. Delany, and begging her annual benediction. She bestowed it with the sweetest affection, and I spent, as usual, all the time with her which I had to spare." Four months afterwards Miss Burney had the mis- fortune t»lose this revered friend, w^hom she styles " the most perfect of women." Miss Burney stood be- side her couch a few moments before her death and heard the last words she uttered. She was resigned and cheerful to the last. She placed one hand in Miss Burney's and the other in that of her niece, after she could no longer see them, and in a holy voice blessed them both. They kissed her, and she smiled and said, " JYoio 1 will go to sleep.'^ These were her last w^ords. Shortly before her death, she cold one of her friends that it was the presence, care, and affection of Miss Burney that had soothed her latter days. Miss Burney looked upon her death as one of the most grievous afflictions with which she had ever been visited. She thus mentions Miss P the niece of her old friend, whose sorrow w^as even greater than her own. — " Poor, sweet, unfortunate girl ! What deluges of tears did she shed over me ! I promised her in that solemn moment my eternal regard, and she accepted this, my first protestation of any kind made to her, as some solace to her sufferings. Sacred shall I hold it! — sacred to my last hour. I believe, indeed, that an- gelic being had no other wish equally fervent." ****** " I saw my poor lovely Miss P twice in every day, when in town, till after the last holy rites had been performed. I had no peace away from her. I thought myself fulfilling a wish of that sweet departed saint, in consigning all the time I had at my own dis- posal to solacing and advising with her beloved niece, who received this little offering with a sweetness that once again entwined her around my heart." IM Memoirs of Shortly before Mrs. Del any 's death, Miss Burney was informed that Mrs. Piozzi was publishing a memoir of Dr. Johnson, containing his letters to herself. In these letters Miss Barney was well aware that her own name was frequently mentioned, and this new publici- ty gave her great uneasiness. As soon as the work ap- peared, it was read by her Majesty, and lent to Miss Burney, whose fears were quieted as soon as she found that her name was not mentioned in an unpleasant manner. Daring the spring of this year, all London was thrown into a state of excitement by the trial of Hastings. Miss Burney regularly attended court da- ring the trial, but not merely from her interest in the prisoner, or to hear the eloquent speeches of Pitt and Fox, but because the Queen preferred her accounts of the trial to those of any other person. In the month of September and October, the King's health gradually declined, and the Royal family and court were alternately alarmed and rejoiced by ac- counts of his Majesty's illnesss and convalescence* In November, the dreadful nature of his illness became apparent. Miss Burney's journal becomes more thrill- ingly interesting at this time than during any previ- ous period. From the extracts which we give, the reader can form a more correct idea of her excellence, loveliness, and strength of character, as well as her de- votion to the Royal family, than by any other descrip- tion however faithful and graphic. " Wednesday, November 5th. dreadful day ! My very heart has so sickened in looking over my memorandums, that I was forced to go to other em- ployments. . I will not however omit its narration. — It is too interesting ever to escape my memory, and my dear friends have never yet had the beginning of the thread which led to all the terrible scenes of which they have variously heard. " I found my poar royal mistress in the morning sad Madame d^arblay. 139 and sadder still ; something horrible seemed impend- ing, and I saw her whole resource was in religion. We had talked lately much upon solemn subjects, and she appeared already preparing herself to be resigned to whatever might happen. " I was still wholly unsuspicious of ihe greatness of the cause she had for dread. Illness, a breaking up of the constitution, the payment of sudden infirmity and premature old age, for the waste of unguarded health and strength — these seemed to me the threats await- ing her ; and great and grievous enough, yet how short of the fact. " I had given up my walks some days ; I was too uneasy to quit the house while the Queen remained at home, and she now never left it. " At noon the King went in his chaise with the Princess Royal for an airing. I looked from my win- dow to see him ; he was all smihng benignity ; but gave so many orders to the postillions, and got in and out of the carriage twice with such agitation, that again my fear of a great fever hanging over him grew more and more powerful. Alas ! how little did I ima- gine I should see him no more, for so long — so black a period! " When 1 w^ent to my Queen, still worse and worse I found her spirits. " The Princess Royal soon returned. She came in cheerfully, and gave in German a history of the air- ing, and one that seemed comforting. " Soon after, suddenly arrived the Prince of Wales. He came into the room. He had just quitted Bright- helmstone 1 Something passing within seemed to ren- der this meeting awfully distant on both sides. She asked if he should not return to Brighthelmstone ? He answered yes, the next day. He desired to speak with her, they retired together. * * # 140 MEMoms OP " Meanwhile, a stillness the most uncommon reigned over the whole house. Nobody stirred ; not a voice ^'as heard ; not a step, not a motion. I could do no- thing but watch, without knowing for what : there seemed a strangeness in the house most extraordinary. " At seven o'clock Columb came to tell me that the music was all forbid, and the musicians ordered away! " This was the last step to be expected, so f^md as his Majesty is of his conceit, and I thought it might have rather soothed him : I could not understand the prohibition ; all seemed stranger and stranger. "At eight o'clock, Madame la Fite came. She had just left the Princess Elizabeth, and left her very miserable, but knew not why. The Queen, too, she said, was ill. She was herself in the dark, or thought it necessary to seem so. " Very late came General Bude. He looked ex- tremely uncomfortable. I could have made enquiries of him with ease, as to the order about the court ; but he loves not to open before poor Madame la Fite. " Later still came Colonel Goldsworthy. Last of all Mr. Fairly. Various small speeches now dropped, by which I found the house was all in disturbance, and the Kino- in some strange way worse, and the Queen taken ill ! " At length General Bude said he would go and see if any one was in the music room. Mr. Fairly said he thought he had better not accompany him, for as he had not yet been seen, his appearance might excite fresh emotion. The General agreed and went. " We were now alone. But I could not speak : neither did Mr. Fairly ; I worked — I had begun a hassock for my Fr xly. A long and serious pause made me almost turn sick with anxious wonder and fear ; an inward trembling totally disabled me from asking the actual situation of things j if I had not had MADAME d'aRBLAY. 141 my work, to employ my eyes and hands, I must have left the room to quiet myself. " I fancy he penetrated into all this, though at first, he had concluded me informed of everything; but he now, finding me silent, began an inquiry whether I was yet acquainted how bad all was become, and how ill the King 1 " I really had no utterance for very alarm, but my look was probably sufficient : he kindly saved me any questions, and related to me the whole of the mysteri- ous horror ! " my dear friends, what a history ! The King at dinner had broken forth with positive delirium, vvhich long had been menacing all who saw him most closely ; and the Queen w^as so overpowered as to fall into violent hysterics. All the Princesses were in misery, and the Prince of Wales had burst into tears. No one knew what was to follow — no" one could conjecture the event. " He spoke of the poor Queen in terms of the most tender compassion ; he pitied her, he said, from the bottom of his soul ; and all her sweet daughters — the lovely Princesses — there was no knowing to what we might look forward for them all ! " I was an almost silent listener ; but having ex- pressed himself very warmly for all the principal suf- ferers, he kindly and with interest examined me. ^How,' he cried, ' are you?' Are you strong ? Are you stout? Can you go through such scenes as these ? you do not look much fitted for them V " * I shall do very well ;' I replied, ' for, at such a time as this I shall surely forget myself utterly. The Queen will be all to me, I shall hardly, 1 think, feel myself at liberty to be unhappy.' " He stayed with me all the evening, during which we heard no voice, no sound ! all was deadly still. At ten o'clock I said, ' I must go to my own room to be in waiting ? 142 MEMOIRS OF " If this beginning of the night was affecting, what did it not grow afterwards ! Two long hours I wait- ed alone — in silence — in ignorance — in dread ! " I thought they would never be over ; at twelve o'clock I seemed to have spent two whole days in waiting. I then opened my door to listen in the pas- sage, if anything seemed stirring. Not a sound could I hear. My apartment seemed wholly separated from life and motion. Whoever was in the house kept at the other end, and not even a servant crossed the stairs or passage by my rooms. " I would fain have crept on myself, anywhere in the world, for some inquiry ; or to see but a face, or hear a voice, but did not dare risk losing a sudden summons. *' I re-entered my room and there passed another endless hour in conjectures too horrible to relate, " A little after on.^, I heard a step — my door open- ed, and a page said i must come to the Queen. " I could hardly get along— hardly force myself into the room ; dizzy I felt, almost to falling. But, the first shock passed, I became more collected. Useful, indeed, proved the previous lesson of the evening; it had stilled if not fortified my mind,' which had else, in a scene like this, been all tumult and emotion. " My poor Royal Mistress ! never can I forget her countenance — pale, ghastly pale she looked ; she was seated to be undressed, and attended by Lady Elizabeth Waldegrave and Miss Goldworthy; her whole ' rame was disordered, yet she was still and quiet. " These two ladies assisted me to undress her, or rather I assisted *hem, for they were firmer, from being longer pre.' ! • ; my shaking hands and blinded eyes could scarce be of any use. " I gave her some camphor julep, which had been MADAME d'aRBLAY. 143 ordered her by Sir George Baker. ^How cold I am !' she cried, and put her hand on mine — marble it felt ! and went to my heart's core ! " The Kin|2^, at the instance of Sir George Baker, had consented to sleep in the next apartment, as the Queen was ill. For himself, he would listen to nothing. Accordingly a bed was put up for him, by his own order, in the Queen's second dressing room, immediately adjoining to the bed-room. He would not be further removed. Miss Goldsworthy was to sit up with her by the King's direction. " I would fain have remained in the little dressing room, on the other s'de of the bed-room, but she would not permit it. She ordeied Sandys, her ward- robe-woman, in the place of Mrs. Thlelky, to sit up there." END OF VOL. I. MEMOIRS MADAME D'ARBLAY, AUTHOR OF " EVELINA," " CECILIA," ETC. COMPILED FROM HER VOLUMINOUS DIARIES AND LETTERS, AND FROM OTHER SOURCES., * BY MRS. HELEN BERKELEY, AUTHOR OF " THE FORTUNE HUNTER," ETC. VOL. 11. JAMES MOWATT & CO. 174 BROADWAY, CORNER OF MAIDEN LANE. SOLD BY ALL PERIODICAL AGENTS AND BOOKSELLEES. 1844. [Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1S44, by James Mowatt & Co., in the Clerk's oflice of the District Court of the Southern District of the state of New- York ] Douglas, Typographer, 34 Ann St. HoBBs, Stereotyper, 111 Fulton St. Bedford, Printer, 138 Fulton St. CONTENTS. Chapter I. Conduct of the Queen — Scene with the King in the Queen's Apart- ment — Piety of the Queen — Dr. Warren sent for — Arrival of the Prince of Wales — New mode of life at Windsor, conseciueut on the King's illness — A melancholy Birthday — The Prince assumes the government of the Palace. 9 — 20 Chapter II. Sir Lucas Pepys — Excitement of the People during the King's Ill- ness — Threatning Letters to the Physicians — Sir George Baker stopped by the Mob — The King's di-ead of beiag removed to Kew — The Physicians before the Privy Council — The Queen's de- parture for Kew — Dreadlul Suspense — Removal of the King to Kew — His Conduct — Prospect of a Regency — The New Year — A Gleam of Hope — A Singular Present sent to Miss Burney from Germany — Extraordinary scene between the King and Miss Bur- ney in Kew Gardens — Miss Burney relates her adventure to the Queen — Court Curiosity — Improvement of the King. 21 — 35 Chapter III. Recovery of the King — The Queen's " Prayer of Thanksgiving " — Demonstrations of Joy on the King's Recovery — Poem presented by the Princess Amelia — Miss Burney's interview with Mrs. Pi- ozzi — Miss Burney's Tragedy — Mr, Boswell's solicitation — Grave Sam and Gay Sam— Decline of Miss Burney's health— She purpo- ses to resign her situation — The Memorial— The King's grief at Miss Burney's determination— The Queen delays Miss Burney's departure — Mademoiselle Jacob! — Munificence of the Queen — Atfecting partmg with the Royal Family. 35 — 40 Chapter IV. Miss Burney's retmn home — Congratulations — Travelling — Health partially restored— New mode of Life— The Library— A third Tragedy commenced — Interview with Sir Joshua Reynolds — His Loss of Sight — Miss Burney's meeting with Mrs. Garrick — A sum- mons from the Queen — The Royal Family — Miss Biirney becomes a temporary attendant upon her Majesty — Disappointment — A second visit to the Queen— Flattering reception. 41—51 Vi CONTENTS. Chapter V. Madame de Genlis's strange establishment at Bury — Pamela- Birthday of the King — Miss Burney again pays her devoirs to the Royal Family— The Queen's Graciousness-Recall of the Eaglish Ambassador from France— Arrival of French Emigrant Noblesse —The Reign of Terror— A meeting with old friends— Early Inci- dent of the French Revolution— Anecdotes of the Due de Lian- court — His perils and Escape from France— The Due de la Rochefoucault. 51—73 CHAPtER VI. Mrs. Phillips to Miss Burney, describing the French Colony at Mickleham — The Chevalier d'Arblay — His anecdotes of Lafay- ette — Madame de Stael — Her conduct during the Reign of Terror — A Romance of Real Life — Treatment of Lafayette in Prison — Movement of the Emigrants — M. Talleyrand — Progress of the Revolution — M. de la Chatre — His adventures and escapes. 73-94 Chapter VII. Miss Burne;7's opinion of M. d'Arblay- s spciech—- Execution of the French King^Despair of M. de N;^rbonne and M. d'Arblay — Saint-like end of Louis— Madame de Stael at Mickleham— the last moments of the French King — His last words on the Scaffold — Three English letters from Madame de Stael to Miss Burney — Account of Madame de Stael — Her escape from Massacre — Con- versation of Talleyrand. 94 — 107 Chaptjer VIII Miss Bumey's account of the Emigrants written to her Father — Her mention of M. d'Arblay — French letLer from Madame de Stael to Miss Burney — Juniper — M. de Lally and his tragedy —Talleyrand— Gloominess of M. d'Arblay— The society at Ju- niper Hall> 107—119 Chapter IX. Offer of marriage from General d'Arblay to Miss Burney— Miss Burney retires to Chesington to reflect upon the course she should take— Madame de Staef's work on " The Influence of the Pase sioas" — Madame de Stael's parting with Mrs^ Lock— A slight mis* CONTENTS. VII tlnderstandinr — Miss Burney's letter to Mrs. Phillips concerning M. d'Arblay and his offer — Dr. Burney to Miss Burney — Dr. Bur- ney, after m..ay objections, consents to Miss Burney's union with M. d'Arblay. — Miss Burney's memorandum of her imion — Cor- respond ;nce— Character of M. d' Arblay. ] 1 9—137 Chapter X. Madame d'Arblay's residence at Bookham — Domestic felicity — Birth of a Son — The French Clergy — Madame d'Arblay's Ad- dress — Tragedy of ''Edwy and EJgiva" — Publication of'Camil. la"—' The Camilla Cottage"— '' The Breakfast TabJe"— Death of Mrs. Burney — Sudden death of Mrs. Phillips — Madame d'Ar- blay's yearly commemoration of the day of hor sister's Death — General d'Arblay's proposed departure for St, Domingo — His in- discreet letter to Napoleon — Commission annulled — Madair.e d'- Arblay joins her husband in France — War — Return to England af- ter ten years' absence — Death of Dr. Burney — Publication of " The Wanderer" — Death of General d'Arblay — ]N>adame d'Ai-blay's in- terview with Sir Walter Scott — Anecdote — Death of Madame d'- Arblay's only son— Death of Madame d'Arblay in her 88th year, .137—144 MEMOIRS OF MADAME D^ARBLAY. CHAPTER I. Conduct of the Queen — Scene with the King in the Queen's Apart- ment — Piety of the Queen — Dr. Warren sent for — Arrival of the Prince of VVales — New mode of life at Windsor, consequent on the King's illness— A melancholy Birthday— The Prince'assumes the government of the Palace. " Thursday, Nov. 6th. — I rose at six, dressed in haste by candle-light, and unable to wait for my summons in a suspense so awful, I stole along the passage in the dark, a thick fog intercepting all faint light, to see if I could meet with Sandys, or any one, to tell me how the night had passed. " When I came to the little dressing-room, I stop- ped, irresolute what to do. " I heard men's voices : I was seized with the most cruel alaim at such a sound in her Majesty's dressing- room. I waited some time, and then the door open- ed, and I saw Colonel Goldsworthy and Mr. Batters- comb. I was relieved from my first apprehension, yet shocked enough to see them there at this early hour. They had bo^^^h sat up there all night, as v/ell as Sandys. Every page, both of the King and Queen^ had also sat up, dispersed in the passages and ante- rooms 1 and what horror in every face I met 1 10 MEMOIRS OP " I waited here amongst them till Sandys was or- dered by the Queen to carry her a pair of gloves. I could not resist the opportunity to venture myself before her. I glided into the room, but stopped at the door : she was in bed, sitting up ; Miss Golds- worthy was on a stool by her side ! "I feared approaching without permission, yet could not prevail with myself to retreat. She was looking down, and did not see me. Miss Goldswor- thy, turning round, said, ' 'Tis Miss Burney, ma'am.' " She leaned her head forward, and in a most soft manner, said, ' Miss Burney, how are you V " Deeply affected, I hastened up to her, but, in try- ing to speak, burst into an irresistible torrent of tears. " My dearest friends, I do it at this moment again, and can hardly write for them : yet I wish you all to know this piercing history right. " She looked like death — colourless and wan ; but nature is infectious ; the tears gushed from her own eyes, and a perfect agony of weeping ensued, which, once begun, she could not stop ; she did not, indeed, try ; for when it subsided, and she wiped her eyes, she said, ' I thank you. Miss Burney — you have made me cry — it is a great relief to me — I had not been able to cry before, all this night long.' " O what a scene followed ! what a scene was related ! The King, in the middle of the night, had insisted upon seeing if his Queen was not removed from the house ; and he had come into her room, with a candle in his hand, opened the bed-curtains, and satisfied himself she was there, and Miss Goldsworthy by her side. This observance of his directions had much soothed him ; but he stayed a full half hour, and the depth of terror during that time no words can paint. The fear of such another entrance was now so strongly upon the nerves of the poor Queen, that she could hardly support herself. MADAME D'ARBLAY. 11 " The King — the Royal sufferer — was still in the next room, attended by Sir George Baker and Dr. Heberden, and his pages, with Colonel Goldsworthy occasionally, and as he called for him. He kept talk- ing unceasingly ; his voice was so lost in hoarseness and weakness, it was rendered almost inarticulate ; but its tone was still all benevolence — all kindness — all touching graciousness. " It was thought advisable the Queen should not rise, lest the King should be offended that she did not go to him ; at present he was content, because he conceived her to be nursing for her illness. " But what a situation for her ! She would not let me leave her now ; she made me remain in the room, and ordered me to sit down. I was too trembling to refuse. Lady Elizabeth soon joined us. We all three stayed with her ; she frequently bade me listen, to hear what the King was saying or doing. I did, and carried the best accounts I could manage, without deviating from truth, except by some omissions. No- thing could be so afflicting as this task'; even now, it brings fresh to my ear his poor exhausted voice. ' I am nervous/ he cried ; * I am not ill, but I am ner- vous : if you would know what is the matter with me, I am nervous. But I love you both very well, if you would telJ me truth : I love Dr. Heberden best, for he has not told me a lie : Sir George has told me a lie — a white lie, he says, but I hate a white lie ! It you w^ill tell me a lie, let it be a black lie ! ' " This was what he kept saying almost constantly, mixed in with other matter, but always returning, and in a voice that truly will never cease vibrating in my recollection. " The Queen permitted me to make her breakfast, and attend her, and was so affectingly kind and gentle in her distress, that I felt a tenderness of sorrow for her that almost devoted my whole mind to her alone ! 12 Memoirs of " Miss Goldsworthy was a fixture at her side ; I therefore provided her breakfast also. " Lady Elizabeth was sent out on inquiries of Colo- nel Goldsworthy, and Mr. Batterscomb, and the pa- ges, every ten minutes : while I, at the same intervals, was ordered to listen to what passed in the room, and give warning if anything seemed to threaten another entrance. " The behaviour of Lady Elizabeth was a pattern of propriety for her situation. She was quiet, gentle, serene, full of respect and attention, and kind concern. " She got some breakfast, standing, in the httle dressing-room, while waitinrv- for an answer to one of her messages ; she wished me to do the same, but I could not eat. She afterwards told the Queen I bad had nothing, and I was then ordered to go and make reparation in my room. " The Queen bid me bring the Prayer Book and read the morning service to her. I could hardly do it, the poor voice from the next room was so perpetually in my ears. • " You may suppose a thousand things to be said and to pass that I never could write ; all I have put down was known to other witnesses." ******** " Dr. Warren had been sent for express, in the mid- dle of the night, at the desire of Sir George Baker, because he had been taken ill himself, and fell imequal to the whole toil. " I returned speedily to the room of wo. The arri- val of the physicians was there grievously awaited, for Dr. Heberden and Sir George would now decide upon nothing till Dr. Warren came. The poor Queen wanted something very positive to pass, relative to her keeping away, which seemed thought essential at this time, though the courage to assert it was wanting in every body. MADAME d'aRBLAY. 13 " The Princesses sent to ask leave to come to their mother. She burst into tears, and declared she could neither see them, nor pray, while in this dreadful situ- ation, expecting every moment to be broken in upon, yet quite uncertain in what manner, yet determined not to desert her apartment, except by express direc- tion from the physicians. Who could tell to w^hat height the delirium might rise 1 There was no con- straint, no power: all feared the worst, yet none da- red take any measures for security. " The Princes also sent word they were at her Ma- jesty's command, but she shrunk still more from this interview : it filled her with a thousand dreadful sen- sations, too obvious to be wholly hid. " At length news was brought that Dr. Warren was arrived. I never felt so rejoiced ; I could have run out to welcome him wath rapture. " With what cruel impatience did we then wait to hear his sentence ! An impatience how fruitless ! It ended in information that he had not seen the King, who refused him admittance. " This was terrible. But the King was never so despotic ; no one dared oppose him. He would not listen to a word, though, when unopposed, he was still all gentleness and benignity to every one around liim. " Dr. Warren was then planted where he could hear his voice, and all that passed, and receive intelli- gence concerning his pulse, Sac, from Sir George Baker. " We now expected every moment Dr. Warren would bring her Majesty his opinion ; but he neither came nor sent. She waited in dread incessant. She sent for Sir George — he would not speak alone : she sent for Mr. Hawkins, the household surgeon ; but all referred to Dr. Warren. " Lady Elizabeth and Miss Goldsworthy earnestly 2 14 MEMOIRS OF pressed her to remove to a more distant apartment, where she might not hear the unceasing voice of the unhappy King ; but she would only rise and go to the httle dressing-room, there to wait in her night- clothes Dr. Warren's determination what steps she should take. " At length Lady Elizabeth learnt among the pa- ges that Dr. Warren had quitted his post of watching. " The poor Queen now, in a torrent of tears, pre- pared herself for seeing him. " He came not. " All astonished, and impatient, Lady Elizabeth was sent out on inquiries. " She returned, and said Dr. Warren was gone. " * Run ! stop him ! ' was the Queen's next order. * Let him but let me know what I am to do.' " Poor, poor Queen ! how I wept to hear those words ! "Abashed and distressed, poor Lady Elizabeth returned. She had seen Colonel Goldsworlhy, and heard Dr. Warren, with the other two physicians, had left the house too far to be recalled ; they were gone over to the Castle, to the Prince of Wales. *' I think a deeper blow I have never witnessed. Already to become but second, even for the King 1 The tears were now wiped ; indignation arose, with pain, the severest pain, of every species. " In about a quarter of an hour, Colonel Goldswor- lhy sent in to beg an audience. It was granted, a long cloak only being thrown over the Queen. "He now brought the opinion of all the physi- cians in consultation, ' That her Majesty would re- move to a more distant apartment, since the King would undoubtedly be worse from the agitation of seeing her, and there could be no possibility to pre- vent it while she remained so near.' " She instantly agreed, but with what bitter an- MADAME DA RELAY. - i5 giiish ! Lady Elizabeth, Miss Goldsworthy, and myself attended her ; she went to an apartment in the same row, but to which there was no entrance except by its own door. It consisted of only two rooms, a bed- chamber and a, dressing-room. They are appropria- ted to the lady-in-waitiiig, when she is there. " At the entrance into this new habitation, the poor wretched Queen once more gave w^ay to a perfect agony of grief and affliction ; while the words, ' What will become of me ! What will become of me ! ' ut- tered with the most piercing lamentation, struck deep and hard into all our hearts. Never can I forget their desponding sound ; they implied such complicated apprehensions. " Instantly now the Princesses were sent for. The three elder hastened down. 0, what a meeting ! They all, from a habit that has become a second nature, struggled to repress all outward grief, though the Queen herself, wholly overcome, wept even aloud- " They all went into the bed-room, and the Queen made a slight dressing, but only wore a close gauze cap, and her long dressing-gown, which is a dimity chemise. " I was then sent back to the little dressing-room, for something that was left ; as I opened the door, I almost ran against a gentleman close to it in the pas- sage. " ' Is the Queen here V he cried, and I then saw the Prince of Wales. " * Yes,' I answered, shuddering at this new scene for her ; ' should I tell her Majesty your Royal High- ness is here V " This I said lest he should surprise her. But he did not intend that : he was profoundly respectful, and consented to wait at the door while I went in, but called me back as I turned away, to say, * You will be so good to say I am come by her orders,' 16 MEMOIRS OF " She wept a deluge of tears when I delivered my commission, but i-.-^antly admitted him. " I then retreaioa. The two other ladies went to Lady Elizabeth's room, which is next the Queen's new apartments." " The Prince of Wales and Duke of York stayed here all the day, and were so often in and out of the Queen's rooms that no one could enter them but by order. The same etiquette is observed when the Prin- ces are with the Queen as when the King is there — no interruption whatever is made. I now, therefore, jost my only consolation at this calamitous time, that of attending my poor Royal Mistress. " Alone wholly, without seeing a human being, or gathering any the smallest intelligence of what was going forward, I remained till tea-time. " Impatient then for information, I planted myself in the eating^parlour ; but no one came. Every mi- nute seemed an hour. I grew as anxious for the tea- society as heretofore I had been anxious to escape it; but so late it came, and so hopeless, that Columb came to propose bringing the water. *• No ; for I could swallow nothing voluntarily. " In a few minutes he came again, and with the compliments of Mr. Fairly, who desired him to tell me he would wait upon me to tea whenever I pleased. " A little surprised at this single message, but most truly rejoiced, I returned my compliments, with an assurance that all time was the same to me. " He came directly, and indeed his very sight, at this season of still horror and silent suspense, was a repose to my poor aching eyes. " ' You will see,' he said, * nobody else. The phy- sicians being now here, Colonel Goldsworthy thought it right to order tea for the whole party in the music- room, which we have now agreed to make the general MADAME d'arSLAY. j^ ^^altlng-rOom for us all. It is near the King, and we always ought to be at hand.' " Our tea was very sad. He gave me no hope of a short seizure ; he saw it, in perspective, as long as it was dreadful : perhaps even worse than long, he thought it — but that he said not. He related to me the whole of the day's transactions, but my most dear and most honourable friends will be the first to forgive me when I promise that I shall commit nothing to pa- per on this terrible event that is told me in confidence. " He did net stay long ; he did not thing it right to leave his waiting friends for any time, nor could I wish it, valued as I know he is by them all, and much tiiey need his able counsel. " He left me plunged in a deep gloom, yet he was not gloomy himself; he sees evils as things of course, and bears them, therefore, as things expected. But he was tenderly touched for the poor Queen and the young Princesses. " Not till one in the morning did I see another face, and then I attended my poor unhappy Queen. She was now fixed in her new apartments, bed-room and dressing-room, and stirred not a step but from one to the other." # ^ ^ # # ^ ^ " FRroAY, November 7th.' — I was now arrived at a settled regularity of life, more melancholy than can possibly be described. I rose at six, dressed, and has- tened to the Queen's apartments, uncalled, and there waited in silence in the dark till I heard her move or speak with Miss Goldsworthy, and then presented myself to the sad bed-side of the unhappy Queen. She sent Miss Goldsworthy early every morning to make inquiry what sort of a night his Majesty had passed ; and in the middle of the night she commonly also sent for news by the wardrobe-woman, or Miss Macenton, whichever sat up. 2 b* 18 Memoirs of " She dismissed Miss Goldsworthy, on my arrival to dress herself. Ltsdy Elizabeth Waldegrave accom- modated her with her own room for that purpose. " I had then a long conference with this most pa- tient sufferer ; and equal forbearance and quietnes* during a period of suspensive unhappiness never have I seen-^never could I have imagined. " At noon I never saw her, which I greatly regret- ted j but she kept on her dressing-gown all day, and the Princes were continually about the passages, sc that no one unsummoned dared approach the Queen's apartments. " It was only therefore at night and morning 1 could see her ; but my heart was with her the live* long day. And how long, good Heaven ! how long that day became! Endless, I used to think it, foi nothing could I do— to wait and to watch — starting at every sound, yf;t revived by every noise. " While I was yef with my poor Royal sufferer this morning, the Prince of Wales came hastily into the room. He apologized for his intrusion, and then gave a very energetic history of ihe preceding night. It had been indeed most rffectingly dreadful ! The King had risen in the middle of the night, and would take no denial to walking into the next room. There he saw the large congress I have mentioned: amazed and in consternation, he demanded what they did there 1 Much followed that I have heard since, par- ticularly the eloge on his dear son Frederick, his fii* veurite, his friend. ' Yes,' he cried, * Frederick is my friend ! ' — -and this son was then present among tlie rest, but not seen ! " Sir George Baker was there, and was privately exhorted by the gentlemen to lead the King back to his room ; but he had not courage : he attempted only to speak, and the King penned him in a corner, told him he was a mere old woman — that he wondered be 19 liad ever followed his advice, for he knew nothing of his complaint, which was only nervous ! " The Prince of Wales, by signs and whispers, would have urged others to have drawn him away, but no one dared approach him, and he remained there a considerable time : ' Nor do I know when h'^ would have got back,' continued the Prince, * if, at last, Mr. Fairly had not undertaken him. I am extremely obliged to Mr. Fairly, indeed. He came boldly up to him, and took him by the arm, and begged him to go to bed, and then drew him along, and said he must go. Then he said he would not, and cried, ^ Who are you V ' I am Mr. Fairly, sir,' he answered, * and your Majesty has been very good to me often, and now I am going to be very good to you, for you must come to bed, sir : it is necessary to your life.' And then he was so surprised, that he let himself be drawn along, just like a child ; and so they got him to bedt I believe else he would have stayed all night ! ' " Mr. Fairly has had some melancholy experience in a case of this sort, with a very near connexion of his own. How fortunate he was present ! '^ ******** " Saturday, November 8th. — This was, if possible, the sr ddest day yet passed : it was the birthday of Princess Augusta, and Mrs. Siddons had been invited to read a play, and a large company to form the au- dience. What a contrast from such an intention was the event ! " W^hen I went, before seven o'clock in the morn- ing, to my most unhappy Royal Mistress, the Princes were both in the room. I retreated to the next apart* ment till they had finished their conference. The Prince of Wales upon these occasions has always been extremely well-bred and condescending in his manner, which, in a situation such as mine, is no immaterial circumstance. so MEMOIES OF " The poor Queen then spoke to me of the birthday present she had designed for her most amiable daiie^h- ter. She hesitated whether or not to produce it, but at length meekly said, * Yes, go to Miss Planta and bring it. Do you think there can be any harm in giving it now V " ' 0, no ! ' I said, happy to encourage whatever w^as a little less gloomy, and upstairs I flew. I was met by all the poor Princes, and the Duke of York, who inquired if he might go again to the Queen. I begged leave first to execute my commission. I did ; but so engrossed was my mind with the whole of this living tragedy, that I so little noticed what I car- ried as to be now unable to recollect it. I gave it, however, to the Queen, who then sent for the Prin- cesses, and carried her gift to her daughter, weeping, who received it with a silent courtesy, kissing and wetting with her gentle tears the hand of her afflicted mother." " From this time, as the King grew worse, general hope seemed universally to abate ; and the Prince of Wales now took the government of the house into his own hands. Nothing was done but by his orders, and he was applied to in every difficulty. The Queen interfered not in any thing ; she lived entirely in her two new rooms, and spent the day in patient sorrov/ and retirement with her daun^hters." MADAME d'aRBLAY. 21 CHAPTER 11. Sir Lucas Pepys — Excitement of the People during the King's Ill- ness — Threatning Letters to the Physicians— Sir George Baker stopped by the Mob— The King's di-ead of being removed to Kew — The Physicians before the Privy Council — The Queen's de- parture for Kew — Dreadful Suspense — Removal of the King to Kew — His Conduct — Prospect of a Regency — The New Year — A Gleam of Hope — A Singular Present sent to Miss Burney from Germany — Extraordinary scene between the King and Miss Bur- ney in Kew Gardens — Miss Burney relates her adventure to the Queen — Court Curiosity — Improvement of the King. " Friday 28th. — How woful — how bitter a day, in every part was this ! " My early account was from the King's page, Mr. Stillingfleet, and the night had been extremely bad. " I dared not sink the truth to my poor Queen, though I mixed in it whatever I could devise of cheer and hope ; and she bore it with the most wonderful calmness, and kept me with her a full half hour after breakfast was called, talking over ' Hunter's Lec- tures/ and other religious books, with some other more confidential matters. " Dr. Addington was now called in : a very old physician, but peculiarly experienced in disorders such as afflicted our poor King, though not professedly a practitioner in them. " Sir Lucas made me a visit, and informed me of all the medical proceedings ; and told me, in confi- dence, we were to go to Kew to-morrow, though the Queen herself has not yet concurred in the measure ; but the physicians joined to desire it, and they were supported by the Princes. The difficulty how to get the King away from his favourite abode was all that rested. If they even attempted force they had not a doubt but his smallest resistance would call up the whole country to his fancied rescue ! Yet how, at such a time, prevail by persuasion? 22 MEMOIRS OF " He moved me even to tears, by telling me that none of their own lives would be safe if the King did not recover, so prodigiously high ran the tide of affection and loyalty. All the physicians received threatning letters daily, to answer for the safety of their monarch with their lives ! Sir George Baker had already been stopped in his carriage by the mob, to give an accoont of the King ; and when he said it was a bad one, they had furiously exclaimed ' The more shame for you I' *^ After he left me, a privy council was held at the Castle, with the Prince of Wales; the Chancellor, Mr. Pitt, and all the officers of state were summoned, to sign a permission for the King's removal. The poor Queen gave an audience to the Chancellor — it was necessary to sanctify their proceedings. The Princess Royal and Lady Courtoun attended her. It was a tragedy the most dismal ! " The Queen's knowledge of the King's aversion to Kew made her consent to this measure with the extremest reluctance ; yet it was not to be opposed : it was stated as much the best for him, on account of the garden : as here there is none but w^hat is public to spectators from the terrace or tops of houses. I believe they were perfectly right, thoue:h the removal was so tremendous. "The physicians were summoned to the Privy Council, to give their opinions, upon oath, that this step was necessary. " Inexpressible was the alarm of every one, lest the King, if he recovered, should bear a lasting resent- ment against the authors arid promoters of this jour- ney. To g:ive it, therefore, every possible sanction, it was decreed that he should be seen, both by the Chancellor and Mr. Pitt. " The Chancellor went into his presence with a tremor such as, before, he had been only accustomed 23 to . inspire ; and when he came out, he was so ex- tremely affected by the state in which he saw his Royal Master and Patron that the tears ran down his cheeks, and his feet had difficulty to support him." ***** " Saturday Nov. 29th. — Shall I ever forget the varied emotions of this dreadful day ! "I rose with the heaviest of hearts, and found my poor Royal Mistress in the deepest dejection ; she told me now of our intended expedition to Kew. Lady Elizabeth hastened away to dress, and I was alone with her for some time. "Her mind, she said, quite misgave her about Kew : the King's dislike was terrible to think of, and she could not foresee in what it might end. She would have resisted the measure herself, but that she had determined not to have upon her own mind any opposition to the opinion of the physicians. " The account of the night was still more and more discouraging : it was related to me by one of the pages, Mr. Brawan ; and though a little I soften- ed or omitted particulars, I yet most sorrowfully con- veyed it to the Queen. " Terrible was the morning ! — uninterruptedly ter- rible ! all spent in hasty- packing up, preparing for we knew not what, nor for how long, nor v.^ith what circumstances, nor scarcely with what \iew ! We seemed preparing for captivity, without having com- mitted any offence ; and for banishment without the least conjecture when we might be recalled from it. " The poor Queen was to get off in private : the plan settled, between the Princes and physicians, was, that her Majesty and the Princesses should go away quietly, and then that the King should be told that they were gone, which was the sole method they could devise to prevail with him to follow. He was then to be allured by a promise of seeing them at 24 MEMOIRS OF Kew ; and, as they knew he would doubt their asser- tion, he was to ^o through the rooms and examine the house himself." # # # # ^ " When we arrived at Kew, we found the suspense with which the King was awaited truly terrible. Her Majesty had determined to return to Windsor at night, if he came not. We were all to forbear un- packing in the meanwhile. " The house was all now regulated by express or- der of the Prince of Wales, who rode over first, and arranged all the apartments, and writ, with chalk, the names of the destined inhabitants on each door." * # * * * " Dinner went on, and still no King. We now began to grow very anxious, when Miss Planta ex- claimed that she thought she heard a carriage. We all listened. ' I hope !' I cried. ' I see you do ! ' cried he ; ' you have a very face of hope at this moment !' — and it was not disappointed. The sound came nearer, and presently a carriage drove into the front court. I could see nothing, it was so dark; but I presently heard the much-respected voice of the dear unhappy King, speaking rapidly to the por- ter, as he alighted from frhe coach. Mr. Fairly in- stantly flew up stairs, to acquaint the Queen with the welcome tidings. " The poor King had been prevailed upon to quit Windsor with the utmost difficulty : he was accom- panied by G^^neral Harcourt, his aide-de-camp, and Colonels Goldsworthy and Welbred — no one else ! He had piij^sed all the rest with apparent composure, to come to his carriage, for they lined the passage, eager to see him once more ! and almost all Wmiisor was collected round the rails, &c. to witness the mournful spectacle of his departure, which left them in the deepest despondence, with scarce a ray of hope ever to see him again. ^6 " The bribery, however, which brought, was denied him! — he was by no means to see the Queen ! " When I went to her at night she was all gra-» ciousness, and kept me till very late. I had not sqen her alone so long, except for a few minutes in the morning, that I had a thousand things I wished to say to her. You may be sure they were all, as far as they went, consolatory." tP tF •?? tP ^ " I could not sleep all night — 1 thought I heard the poor King. He was under the same range of apart- ments, though far distant, but his indignant disap* pointment haunted me. The Queen, too, was very angry at having promises made in her name which could not be kept. What a day altogether was this ! " Sunday, November 30th. — Here, in all its dread colours, dark as its darkest prognostics, began the Kew campaign. I went to my poor Queen at seven o'clock ; the Princess Augutta arose and went away to dress, and I received her Majesty's commands to go down for inquiries. She had herself passed a wretched night, and already lamented leaving Wind- sor. " J waited very long in the cold dark passages be- low, before I could find any one of whom to ask in- telligencci The parlours were without fires, and washing. I gave directions afterwards to have a fire in one of them by seven o'clock every morning. " At length I procured the speech of one of the pages, and heard that the night had been the most violently bad of any yet passed ! — and no wonder ! " I hardly knew how to creep up stairs, frozen both within and Vv'ithout, to tell such news ; but it was not received as if unexpected, and I omitted whatever was not essential to be known." ***** " Thursday, December 11th. — To-day we have had 26 MEMOIRS OF the fairest hopes ; the King took his first walk in Kew garden ! There have been impediments to this trial hitherto, that have been thought insurmountable, though in fact, they were most frivolous. The walk seemed to do him good, and we are all in better spirits about him than for this many and many a long day past." ***** " Monday, December 15th. — This whole day was passed in great internal agitation throughout the house, as the great and important business of the Regency was to be discussed to-morrow in Parliament. All is now too painful and intricate for writing a word. I begin to confine my memorandums almost wholly to my own personal proceedings." ***** " Monday, December 22d.— With what joy did I car- ry, this morning, an exceeding good account of the King to my Royal Mistress ! It was trebly welcome, as much might depend upon it in the resolutions of the House concerning the Regency, which was of to-day's discussion." ***.** " Kew Palace, Thursday, January 1st. — ^The year opened with an account the most promising of our beloved King. I saw Dr. Willis, and he told me the night had been very tranquil ; and he sent for his son, Dr. John Willis, to give a history of the morning. Dr John's narration was in many parts very affecting : the dear and excellent King had been praying for his own restoration ! Both the doctors told me that such symptoms of true piety had scarce ever been discern- ible through so dreadful a malady. " How I hastened to my Queen ! — and with what alacrity I besought permission to run next to the Princesses ! It was so sweet, so soothing, to open a new year with the solace of anticipated good !" MADAME D'ARBLAY. 'Zl " I have not mentioned a singular present which has been sent me from Germany this month : it is an al- manac, in German, containing for its recreative part an abridgment of ' Cecilia,' in that language ; and every month opfens with a cut from some part of her history. It is sent by H. Henouvre, a gentleman in some office in the King's establishment at Hanover. I wish I could read it — but I have only written it !" * * * * * " Kew Palace, Monday, February 2d. — What an adventure had I this morning ! one that has occasion- ed me the severest personal terror I ever experienced in my hfe. " Sir Lucas Pepys still persisting that exercise and air were absolutely necessary to save me from illness, I have continued my walks, varying my gardens from Richmond to Kew, according to the accounts I received of the movements of the King. For this I had her Ma- jesty's permission, on the representation of Sir Lucas. " This morning, when I received my intelligence of the King from Dr. John Willis, I begged to know where I might walk in safety ? ' In Kew Gardens,' he said, ' as the King would be in Richmond.' " ' Should any unfortunate circumstance,' I cried, ' at any time, occasion my being seen by his Majesty, do not mention my name, but let me run olF without call or notice.' " This he promised. Every body, indeed, is ordered to keep out of sight. " Taking, therefore, the time I had most at command, I strolled into the gardens. I had proceeded in my quick way, nearly half the round, when I suddenly perceived, through some trees, two or three figures. Rel3ring on the instructions of Dr. John, I concluded them to be workmen and gardeners ; yet tried to look sharp, and in so doing, as they were less shaded, I thought I saw the person of his Majesty ! )i9 MEMOIRS OF " Alarmed past all expression, I waited not to know more, but turning my back, ran off with all my might. But what was my terror to hear myself pur- sued ! — to hear the voice of the King himself loudly and hoarsely calling after me, ' Miss Burney ! Miss Burney !' " I protest I was ready to die. I knew not in what state he might be at the time ; I only knew the or- ders to keep out of his way were universal ; that the Queen would highly disapprove of any unauthorized meeting, and that the very action of my running away might deeply, in his present irritable state, offend him. Nevertheless, on I ran, too terrified to stop, and in search of some short passage, for the garden is full of little labyrinths, by which 1 might escape. "The steps still pursued me, and still the poor hoarse and altered voice rang in ray ears : — more and more footsteps resounded frightfully behind me, — the at- tendants all running, to catch their eager master, and the voices of the two Dr. Willises loudly exhorting him not to heat himself so unmercifully. " Heavens, how I ran ! I do not think I should have felt the hot lava from Vesuvius — at least not the hot cinders — had I ran so during its eruption. My feet were not sensible that they even touched the ground. " Soon after, I heard other voices, shriller, though less nervous, call out ' Stop ! stop ! stop !' " I could by no means consent : I knew not what was purposed, but I recollected fully my agreement with Dr. John that very morning, that I should decamp if surprised, and not be named. " My own fears and repugnance, also, after a flight and disobedience like this, were doubled in the thought of not escaping ; I knew not to what I might be ex- posed, should the malady then be high, and take the turn of resentment. Still, therefore, on i fiew j and MADAME d'aRBLAY. 29 such was my speed, so almost incredible to relate or recollect, that I fairly believe no one of the whole party could have overtaken me, if these words, from one of the attendants, had not reached me, ' Doctor Willis begs you to stop !' " ' I cannot ! I cannot !' I answered, still flying on, when he called out ' You must, ma'am ; it hurts the King to run.' " Then, indeed, I stopped — in a state of fear really amounting to agony. I turned round, I saw the two doctors had got the King between them, and three attendants of Dr. Willis's were hovering about They all slackened their pace, as they saw me stand still ; but such was the excess of my alarm, that I was wholly insensible to the effects of a race which, at any other time would have required an hour's recruit. " As they approached, some little presence of mind happily came to my command : it occurred to me that, to appease the wrath of my flight, I must now show some confidence : I therefore faced them as un- dauntedly as I w^as able, only charging the nearest of the attendants to stand by my side. " When they were within a few yards of me, the King called out, ' Why did you run away V " Shocked at a question impossible to answer, yet a little assured by the mild tone of his voice, I instantly forced myself forward, to meet him, though the inter- nal sensation which satisfied me this was a step the most proper to appease his suspicions and displeasure, was so violently combated by the tremour of my nerves, that I fairly think I may reckon it the greatest effort of personal courage I have ever made. " The effort answ^ered : I looked up, and met all his wonted benignity of countenance, though some- thing still of wildness in his eyes. Think, however, of my surprise, to feel him put both his hands round my two shoulders, and then kiss my cheek ! 2 c* 30 MEMOIRS OF " I wonder I did not really sink, so exquisite was my affright, when I saw him spread out his arms ! In- voluntarily, I concluded he meant to crush me : but the Willises, who have never seen him till this fatal illness, not knowing how very extraordinary an action this was from him, simply smiled and looked pleased, supposing, perhaps, it was his customary salutation ! " I believe, however, it was but the joy of a heart unbridled, now, by the forms and proprieties of sober reason. To see any of his household thus by acci- dent, seemed such a near approach to liberty and re- covery, that who can wonder it should serve rather to elate than lessen what yet remains of his disorder ! " He now spoke in such terms of his pleasure in seeing me, that I soon lost the whole of my terror ; astonishment to find him so nearly well, and gratifi- cation to see him so pleased, removed every uneasy feeling, and the joy that succeeded, in my conviction of his recovery, made me ready to throw myself at his feet to express it. " What a conversation followed ! When he saw me fearless, he grew more and more alive, and even the Willises themselves, who to indulge him, retreated. I own myself not completely composed, but alarm I could not entertain no more. " Every thing that came uppermost in his mind, he mentioned ; he seemed to have just such remains of his flighliness as heated his imagination without de- ranging his reason > and robbed him of all control over his speech, though nearly in his perfect state of mind as to his opinions. " What did he not say ! — He opened his whole heart to me, expounded all his sentiments, and ac- quainted me with all his intentions. The heads of his discourse I must give you briefly, as I am sure you will be highly curious to hear them, and as no accident can render of much consequence 31 what a man says in such a state of physical intoxica- tion. " He assured me he was quite well — as well as he ever had been in his life ; and then inquired how I did, and how I went on '? and whether I was more comfort- able'? " If these questions, in their implication, surprised me, imagine how that surprise must increase when he proceeded to explain them ! He asked after the coad- jutrix, laughing and saying, * Never mind her ! — don't be oppressed, I am your friend ! don't let her cast you down ! — I know you have a hard time of it — but don't mind her !' "Almost thunderstruck with astonishment, I merely courtesied to his kind ' I am your friend,' and said nothing. " Then presently he added, ' Stick to your father — stick to your own family — let them be your objects.' " How readily I assented ! " Again he repeated all that I have just written, nearly in the same words, but ended it more seriously : he suddenly stopped, and held me to stop too, and putting his hand on his breast, in the most solemn manner, he gravely and slowly said, 'I will protect you ! — I promise you that — aad therefore depend up- on me !' " I thanked him ; and the Willises, thinking him rather too elevated, came to propose my walking on. ' No, no, no !' he cried, a hundred times in a breath ; and their good humour prevailed, and they let him again walk on with his new companion. " He then gave me a history of his pages, anima- ting almost into a rage, as he related his subjects of displeasure with them, particularly Mr. Ernst, who, he told me, had been brought up by himself. I hope his ideas upon these men are the result of the mistake? of his malady. 32 MEMOIRS OF " Then he asked me some questions that very great- ly distressed me, relating to information given him in his illness, from various motives, but vv^hich he sus- pected to be false, and which I knew he had reason to suspect : yet it w^as most dangerous to set any thing right, as I was not aware what might be the views of their having been stated wrong. I was as discreet as I knew" how to be, and I hope I did no mischief 3 but this was the worst part of the dialogue. " He next talked to me a great deal of my dear father, and made a thousand inquiries concerning his ^ History of Music' This brought him to his favour- ite theme, Handel ; and he told me innumerable anecdotes of him, and particularly that celebra- ted tale of HandePs saying of himself, when a boy, ' While that boy lives, my music will never want a protector.' And this, he said, I might relate to my father. " Then he ran over most of his oratorios, attempting to sing the subjects of several airs and chorusses, but so dreadfully hoarse that the sound was terrible. " Dr. Willis, quite alarmed at this exertion, feared he would do himself harm, and again proposed a sep- aration. ' No ! no I no !' he exclaimed, ' not yet ; 1 have something I must just mention first.' " Dr. Willis, delighted to comply, even when un- easy at compliance, again gave w^ay. " The good King then greatly affected me. He began upon my revered old friend, Mrs. Delany, and he spoke of her with such warmth — such kindness ^ * She was my friend !' he cried ! ' and I loved her as a friend ! I have made a memorandum w'hen I lost her — I will show it you.' " He pulled out a pocket-book, and rummaged some time but to no purpose. " The tears stood in his eyes — he wiped them, and Dr. Willis again became very anxious. ' Come, sir,' MADAME D'ARBLAY. 66 he cried, * now do you come in, and let the lady go on her walk, — come, now you have talked a long while, — so we'll go in, — if your Majesty pleases.' *"' ' No, no !' he cried, ' I want to ask her a few questions ; — I have lived so long out of the world I know nothing !' " This touched me to the heart. We walked on together, and he inquired after various persons, par- ticularly Mrs. Boscawen, because she was Mrs. Dela- ny's friend ! Then, for the same reason, after Mr. Frederick Montague, of whom he kindly said, ' I know he has a great regard for me, for all he joined the op- position.' Lord Grey de Wilton, Sir Watkin Wynn, the Duke of Beaufort, and various others, followed. " He then told me he was very much dissatisfied with several of his state officers, and meant to form an entire new establishment. He took a paper out of his pocket-book, and showed me his new list. " This was the wildest thing that passed ; and Dr. John Willis now seriously urged our separating ; but he would not consent ; he had only three more words to say, he declared, and again he conquered. " He now spoke of my father with still more kind- ness, and he told me he ought to have had the post of Master of the Band, and not that little poor musi- cian Parsons, who was not fit for it : * But Lord Sal- isbury,' he cried, ' used your father very ill in that business, and so he did me ! However, I have dash- ed out his name, and shall put your father's in, — as soon as I get loose again !' " This again — how affecting was this ! *' ' And what,' cried he, * has your father got at last? nothing but that poor thing at Chelsea ? O fie ! fie ! fie ! But never mind ! I will take care of him ! I will do it myself !' " Then presently he added, ' As to Lord Salisbury, he is out already, as this memorandum will show you, d4 MEMOIRS OF and so are many more. I shall be much better served ; and when I once get away, I shall rule with a rod of iron !' " This was very unlike himself, and startled the two good doctors, who could not bear to cross him, and were exulting at my seeing his great amendment, but yet grew quite uneasy at his earnestness and volubility. '' Finding we must now part, he stopped to take leave, and renewed again his charges about the coad- jutrix. ' Never mind her !' he cried, ' depend upon me ! I will be your friend as long as I live ! — I here pledge myself to be your friend !' And then he salu- ted me again just as at the meeting, and suffered me to go on. " What a scene ! how variously affected was I by it ! but, upon the whole, hov»^ inexpressibly thankful to see him so nearly himself — so little removed from recovery ! " I went very soon after to the Queen, to whom I was most eager to avow the meeting, and how little 1 could help it. Her astonishment and her earnest- ness to hear every particular were very great. I told her almost all. " Some few things relating to the distressing ques- tions, I could not repeat ; nor many things said of Mrs. Schwellenberg, which would much, and very need- lessly, have hurt her. " This interview, and the circumstances belonging to it, excited general curiosity, and all the house watched for opportunities to beg a relation of it. How delighted was I to tell them all my happy prognostics !" ***** " Tuesday, 3d. — I had the great happiness to be assured this morning, by both the Dr. Willises, that his Majesty was by no means the worse for our long conference. Those good men are inexpressibly happy MADAME d'aRBLAY. 35 themselves in the delightful conviction given me, and by me spread about, of the near recovery of their royal patient.'' CHAPTER III. Recovery of the King— The Queen's " Prayer of Thanksgiving " — Demonstrations of Joy on the King's Recovery — Poem presented by the Princess Amelia— Miss Barney's interview with Mrs. Pi- ozzi — Miss Burney's Tragedy — Mr. Boswell's solicitation — Grave Sam and Gay Sam — Decline of Miss Burney's health — She purpo- ses to resign her situation — The Memorial — The King's grief at Miss Burney's determination — The Queen AME D'arBLAY. ^7 ** We went up into the drawing-room with him, and met Willy on the stairs, and Norbury capered be- fore us ' Ah, Madame !' cried M. d'Arblay, * la jo- he petite maison que vous avez, et les jolis petits bo- tes !' looking et the children, the drawings, &c. &,c. He took Norbury on his lap and played with him. I asked him if he was he was not proud of being so kindly noticed by the adjutant-general of M. Lafay- ette ? ' Est-ce qu'il sait le nom de M. Lafayette V said he smiling. I said he was our hero. ' Ah ! nous voild done bons amis ! II n'y a pas de plus brave homme sur la terre !' ' Et comme on I'a traite !' cried L A Httle shrug and his eyes cast up was the an- swer. I said I was thankful to see at least one of his faithful friends here. I asked if M. Lafayette was al- lowed to write and receive letters. He said yes, but they were always given to him open. " Norbury now (still seated on his lap) took cour- age to whisper him, ' Were you, sir, put in prison with M. Lafayette V ' Oui, mon ami.' ^ And — was it quite dark V I was obliged, laughing, to translate this curious question. M. d'Arblay laughed too : ' Non, mon ami,' said he, * on nous a mis d'abord dans une assez joiie chambre— c'etoit a Nivelle.' ' Vous y etiez avec M. Lafayette, monsieur V ' Oui, madame, pour quelques jours, et puis on nous asepares.' " I lamented the hard fate of the former, and the rapid and wonderful revers he met with, after having been, as he well merited to be the most popular maii in France. This led M. d'Arblay to speak of M. de Narbonne, to whom I found him passionately attached. Upon my mentioning the sacrifices made by the French nobility, and by a great number of them voluntarily, he said no one had made more than M. de Narbonne; that, previous to the Revolution, he had more wealth and more power than almost any, except the Princes of the Blood. 2g* 78 Memoirs of " For himself, he mentioned his fortune and his income from his appointments as something immense, but I never remember the number of hundred thou^ sand livres, nor can tell what their amount is without some consideration. * Et me voila, madame, reduit a rien, hormis un peu d'argent comptant, et encore tres peu. Je ne sais encore ce que Narbonne pourra reti- rer des debris de sa fortune ; mais, quoique ce soit, nous le partagerons ensemble. Je ne m'en fais pas le moindre scrupule, puisque nous n'avons eu qu'un interet commun, et nous nous sommes toujours aimes comme freres.' " I wish I could paint to you the mdnily franchise with which these words were spoken ; but you will not find it difficult to believe that they raised MM. de Narbonne and d'Arblay very high in my estimation. " The next day Madame de la Chatre was so kind as to send me the French papers, by her son, who made a silent visit of about five minutes. " FRmAY Morning. — I sent Norbury with the French papers, desiring him to give them to M. d'Arblay. He stayed a prodigious while, and at last came back attended by M. de Narbonne, M. de Jaucourt, and M, d'Arblay. M. de Jaucourt is a delightful man — as comic, entertaining, unaffected, unpretending, and good-humoured as dear Mr. Twining, only younger, and not quite so black. He is a man likewise of first- rate abilities — M. de Narbonne says, perhaps superior to Vaublanc— and of very uncommon firmness and integrity of character. " The account Mr. Batt gave of the National As- sembly last summer agrees perfectly with that of M. de Jaucourt, who had the misfortune to be one of the deputies, and who, upon some great occasion in sup- port of the King and Constitution, found only twenty- four members who had courage to support him, though a far more considerable number gave him secretly their good wishes and prayers. It was on this that he regarded all hope of justice and order as lost, and that he gave in sa demission from the As- sembly. In a few days he was seized, and, sans for- me de proces, having lost his inviolability as a mem- ber, thrown into the prison of the AhhayBy where, had it not been for the very extraordinary and admirable exertions of Madame de Stael (M. Necker's daughter, and the Swedish ambassador's wife), he would infal- libly have been massacred. " I must here tell you that this lady, who was at that time seven months gone with child, was indefati- gable in her efforts to save every one she knew from this dreadful massacre. She walked daily (for car- riages were not allowed to pass in the streets) to the Hotel de Ville, and was frequently shut up for five hours together with the horrible wretches that com- posed the Comite de Surveillance^ by whom these murders were directed ; and by her eloquence, and the consideration demanded by her rank and her talentSj she obtained the deliverance of above twenty unfortu- nate prisoners, some of whom she knew but slightly." ^ * W -TT T^ ^ tF " M. de Narbonne brought me two volumes of new * Contes Moraux,' by Marmontel, who is yet living : they are printed at Liege, and in this year, 1792. He was in very depressed spirits, I saw, and entered into some details of his late situation with great open^ ness. Though honoured by the Jacobins with the title of traitor, all his friends here concur in saying he has ever been truly constitutionnaire, that is, of the same party as Lafayette. Last May il donna sa de^ mission of the place of Ministre de la Guerre, being annoyed in all his proceedings by the Jacobins, and prevented from serving his country effectually by the instability of the King, for whom he nevertheless pro- fesses a sincere personal attachment. ' Mais il m'a 80 MEMOIRS OF ete impossible de le servir — il I'a ete a tous ses meiU leurs amis, et par ses vertus et par ses defauts ; car — il le faut avouer — il ne pouvait se fier a lui-meme, el il etait en consequence defiant de tout le monde.' " Madame de la Chatre and M. de Jaucourt have since told me that M. de Narbonne and M. d'Arblay have been treated with singular ingratitude by the King, whom they nevertheless still loved as well as forgave. They likewise say he wished to get rid of M. de Narbonne from the Ministry, because he could not trust him with his projects of contre revolution. " M. d'Arblay w^as the officer on guard at the Tuileries the night on which the King, &c., escaped to Varennes, and ran great risk of being denounced, and perhaps massacred, though he had been kept in the most perfect ignorance of the King's intention." * # * * ■* * * " The next Sunday, November 18th, Augusta and Amelia came to me after church, very much grieved at the inhuman decrees just passed in the Convention, including as emigrants, with those who have taken arms against their country, all who have quitted it since last July ; and adjudging their estates to confis- cation, and their persons to death, should they return to France. " 'Ma'am,' said Mr. Clarke,' it reduces this family to nothing : all they can hope is, by the help of their parents and friends, to get together wherewithal to purchase a cottage in America, and live as they can.' " I was more shocked and affected by this account than I could very easily tell you. To complete the tragedy, M. de Narbonne had determined to write an offer — a request rather — to be allowed to appear as a witness in behalf of the King, upon his trial ; and M. d'Arblay had declared he would do the same, and share the fate of his friend whatever it might be. " On Tuesday, the 20th, I called to condole with MADAME d'aRBLAY. 81 our friends on these new misfortunes. Madame de la Chatre received me with poHteness, and even cordia- Hty : she told me she was a httle recovered from the first shock — that she should have to gather together a small debris of her fortune, but never enough to settle in England— that, in short, her paoii etait pris — that she must go to America. It went to my heart to hear her say so. Presently came in M. Girardin. He is son to the Marquis de Girardin d'Ermenonville, the friend of Rousseau, whose last days were passed, and whose remains are deposited, in his domain. This M. Girardin was a pupil of Rousseau ; he was a member of the Legislative Assembly, and an able opponent of the Jacobins. " It was to him that M. Merlin, apres bien de gestes menacans had held a pistol, in the midst of the Assem- bly. His father was a mad republican, and never satisfied with the rational spirit of patriotism that ani- mated M. Girardin ; who, witne^ing the distress of all the friends he most esteemed and honoured, and being himself in personal danger from the enmity of the Jacobins, had, as soon as the Assemblee Legislative broke up, quitted Paris, I believe^ firmly determined never to re-enter it under the present regime. " I was prepossessed very much in favour of this gentleman, from his conduct in the late Assembly and all we had heard of him. I confess I had not represent- ted him to myself as a great, fat, heavy-looking man, with the manners of a somewhat hard and morose Englishman : he is between thirty and forty, I ima- gine ; he had been riding as far as to the cottage Mr. Malthouse had mentioned to him — Pasile de Jean Jaques — and said it was very near this place (it is at the foot of Leith Hill, Mr. Lock has since told me.) " They then talked over the newspapers which were come that morning. M. de St. Just, who made a most fierce speech for the trial and condemnation 82 MEMOIRS OF of the King, they said had before only been known by little madrigals, romances, and epUres tendres, pub- lished in the ' Almanac des Muses.' ' A cette heure,' said M. de Jaucourt, laughing, * c'est un fier republi- cain. Enfin voila I'Abbe Fouche qui prend la parole. Ah, mais il ne s'en tire pas mal.' ' Oui, en verite,' said Madame de la Chatre ; ^ il montre de Pesprit ; — ses raisonnmens sont tous justes ce qu'il faut pour per- suader la Convention.' " For Condorcet, in despite of his abilities, they feel a sovereign contempt. They spoke of his ingra- titude to the Due de la Rochefoucault with great dis- gust, and of the terrible end of that most respectable man, with a mixture of concern and indignation, that left them and us for a few minutes silent and in a kind of consternation. " It appears that there is an exception in the de- testable law concerning the emigrants, in favour of such persons as are established in other countries in any trade. M. de tJaucourt said, ' II me parait que j'ai un peu vocation pour la cuisine: je me ferai cui- sinier. Savez-vous ce que m'a dit ce matin notre cuisinier ? II me consultait sur les dangers qu'il cour- rerait, lai, en retournant en France.' ' Pourtant, mon- sieur,' il m'a dit, ' il y a une exception pour les ar- tistes.' ' Moi, je serai cuisinier artiste aussi.' " Speaking of the hard-bought liberty his country had gained, ' Bah !' cried M. Girardin ; ' peut-on ap- peler cela la liberte V ' Mais ils I'auront,' said M. de Jaucourt energetically, * et ce qui me fache le plus c'est qu'ils ne veulent pas me permettre d'en dire du bien ; ils ont gate la cause.' " M. de Narbonne delighted me by his accounts of M. de Lafayette, who is, I am now certain, precisely the character I took him to be — one whom prosperity could never have corrupted, and that misfortune will never subdue. ' An excess of bonte de cceur,' M. MADAME d'aRBLAY. 83 d'Ai'Llay said, ' was almost the only fault he knew him to have.' This made him so unwilling to sus- pect of treachery some of those who called themselves his friends, that it was almost impossible to put him on his guard. ' II caressait ceux qui cherchaient a Fegorger.' " Tuesday, November 27th. — ^Philips and I deter- mined, at about half-past one, to walk to Jimipere to- gether. " M. d' Arblay received us at the door, and showed the most flattering degree of pleasure at our arrival. " We found with Madame de la Chatre another French gentleman, M. Sicar, who was also an officer of M. de Lafayette's. " M. de Narbonne said he hoped we would be so- ciable, and dine with them now and then. Madame de la Chatre made a speech to the same effect. * Et quel jour, par exemple,' said M. de Narbonne, ' feroit mieux qu'aujourd'hui V Madame de la Chtare took my hand instantly, to press in the most pleasing and gratifying manner imaginable this proposal ; and be- fore I had time to answer, M. d' Arblay, snatching up his hat, declared he would run and fetch the children. " I was obliged to entreat Phillips to bring him back, and entreated him to entendre raison. " * Mais, mais, madame,' cried M. de Narbonne, 'ne soyez pas disgracieuse.' " *Je ne suis pas disgracieuse,' answered I, assez naivemeni, which occasioned a general comical but not affronting laugh : * sur ce sujet au moins,' I had the modesty to add. I pleaded their late hour of dinner, our having no carriage, and my disuse to the night air at this time of the year ; but M. de Narbonne said their cabriolet (they have no other carriage) should take us home,' and that there was a top to it, and Madame de la Chatre declared she would cover me well with shawls, &c. b4 MEMOIRS OF " * Aliens, aliens,' cried M. d'Arblay ; ' voila qui est fait, car je parie que Monsieur Phillips n'aura pas le courage de nous refuser.' " Effedivement, Monsieur Phillips was perfectly agreeable ; so that all my efforts were vain, and I was obliged to submit, in spite of various worldly scruples, to pass a most charmingly pleasant day. M. d'Arblay scampered oif for the little ones, whom all insisted upon having, and Philips accom- panied him, as it wanted I beheve almost four hours to their dinner-time. " J'eus beau dire que ce seroit une visite comme on n'en fait jamais. * Ce sera,' said Madame de la Chatre, ' ce qu'il nous faut ; ce sera une journee.' " Then my dress : Oh, it was imrfaite, and would give them all the courage to remain as they were, sans toilette : in short, nothing was omitted to render us comfortable and at our ease, and I have seldom passed a more pleasant day — never, I may fairly say, with such new acquaintance. I was only sorry M. de Jaucourt did not make one of the party. Whilst M. d'Arblay and Phillips were gone, Ma- dame de la Chatre told me they had that morning re- ceived M. Necker's Defense du Roi, and if I liked it that M. de Narbonne would read it out to us. You may conceive my answer. It is a most eloquent pro- duction, and was read by M. de Narbonne with beau- coup d^dme. Tow^ards the end it is excessively touching, and his emotion was very evident, and would have struck and interested me had I felt no respect for his character before. I must now tell you the secret of his birth, which, however is, I conceive, no great secret even in Lon- don, as Philhps heard it at Sir Joseph Banks's. Ma- dame Victoire, daughter of Louis XV., was in her youth known to be attached to the Compte de Nar- bonne, father of our M. de Narbonne. The conse- quence of this attachment was such as to oblige her to a temporary retirement, under the pretence of in- disposition ; during which time la Comtesse de Nar- bonne, who was one of her attendants, not only con- cealed her own chagrin, but was the means of pre- serving her husband from a dangerous situation, and the Princess from disgrace. She declared herself with. child, and, in short, arranged all so well as to seem the mother of her husband's son ; though the truth was immediately suspected, and rumoured about the Court, and Madame de la Chatretold me, was known and familiarly spoken of by all her friends, except in the presence of M. de Narbonne, to whom no one would ceHainly venture to hint it. His father is dead, but la Comtesse de Narbonne, his reputed mother, lives, and is still an attendant on Madame Victoire, at Rome. M. de Narbonne's wife is like- wise with her, and he himself was the person fixed on by Mesdames to accompany them when they quitted France for Italy. An infant daughter was left by him at Paris, who is still there with some of his fami- ly, and whom he expressed an earnest wish to bring over, though the late decree may perhaps render his doing so impossible. He has another daughter, of six years old, who is with her mother at Rome, and whom he told me the Pope had condescended to era- brace. He mentioned his mother once (meaning la Comtesse de Narbonne) with great respect and af- fection. " How sorry I was to find that M. Sicard and M. d'Arblay believed the account given in the newspa- pers, of the very severe treatment of M. de Lafayette and his companions ! They added that the Prussians themselves were indignes at the treatment these gen- tlemen had received. M. Sicard, who is but just ar- rived from Holland, gave the same account. Would you believe il ? — a corporal is appointed to call to 2h 86 MEMOIRS OF them and insist on an answer every fifteen minutes, day and night, so that they can never have more than ten minutes of undisturbed sleep ! What a barbari- ty ! — added to this, depriving them of books, pen and ink, pencils, or anything whatever which might tend to while away their melancholy moments. I have been haunted by this sad account ever since. * * * * S. P. MRS. PHILLirS TO MISS BURNEY. " Deisember 16th '92. " Everything that is most shocking may, I fear, be expected for the unfortunate King of France, his Queen, and perhaps all that belong to him. M. d'Arblay said it would indeed scarce have been pos- sible to hope that M. de Narbonne could have es- caped with life, had the saiif-conduit requested been granted him, for attending as a witness at the King's trial. " ' Mais,' said M. d'Arblay, * il desiroit vivement de servir le Roi ; il y croyoit meme son honneur interes- se ; et pour lors — ma foi ! I'on ne craint pas la mort. Si j'avois espere de pouvoir etre utile au Roi, je vous jure que rien ne m'auroit retenu ; mais puisque I'on ne veut pas qu'il ait des defenseurs, et qu'enfin on a pousse Patrocite jusqu'a un tel exces, jamais je ne re- tournerai en France.' " ' Mais si fait,' said Mr. Lock, ^ si les choses vien- nent a changer V " ' Pardonnez moi, monsieur ; je ne vois point d'es» perance de tranquillite dans ma malheureuse patrie pendant mes jours : le peuple est tellement vitie par I'impunite du crime, par les desordres de tout espece, par le'habitude de voir couler le sang, qu'enlin, selon toutes les apparences, il n'y aura ni paix ni surete de MADAME U'ARBLAY. 07 trente ou quarante ans a venir en France. Heureuse- ment pour nous,' he added more cheerfully, ' vous nous avez adopte, et j'espere que nous ne vous quit- terons plus.' " Speaking of M. Lafayette, and of the diatribes that have been published against him, he expressed warmly his concern and indignation, saying, his judgment, perhaps, had not been always infallible ; ' mais pour ses vues, pour ses intentions, j'ose en re- pondre : il n'y a pas d'homme plus brave, ni plus veritablement honnete homme. H y a des personnes qui m'ont dit, et repete jusqu'a ce que j'en ai ete im- patiente, qu'il avoit perdu toutes les occasions de faire de grands coups, lorsqu'il avoit dans tout le royaume autant de pouvoir que Cromwell en avait de son tems. A la bonneheure — s'il avoit voulu etre Cromwell ; car il est tres vrai que, pour faire le mal, il en avait tout le pouvoir ; mais, pour faire le bien (et tout ce qu'il desiroit faire c'etoit le bien), c'etait, je vous jure, une toute autre difficulte. Les tems d'ailleurs sont infiniment changes depuis I'epoque de Cromwell. On ne peut plus mener des milliers d'hommes comme autant de troupeaux. Dans I'armee de M. Lafayette il y avait des volontaires innombra- bles, — auteurs distingues, hommes de lettres, artistes ; (David, par exemple, le premier de nos artistes), — tous voulant juger de toutes choses par euxmemes ; tirant de cent manieres differentes ; ayant tous leur parties a eux, et presque tous des fous absolument, criant pour la liberte et la patriotisme avec encore plus de fureur que les gueux et les Sans-culottes. Et pourtant on persiste a dire que M. Lafayette aurait pu les tourner de telle maniere qu'il I'aurait juge a, propos ! Voila comme on affirme, et comme on de- cide, dans ce monde !' "Yesterday, Saturday, December 15th, at about noon, I was very pleasantly surprised by a visit from 88 MEMOIRS OF M. de Narbonne, who was as gracious and as pleas- ant as ever he could be. We talked over Marmon- tePs new tales, which I believe I mentioned his hav- ing been so good as to lend me ; he told me the author of them was in Paris, unhappy enough in seeing the state of public affairs. ' Mais pour I'inte- rieur de sa maison, on ne peut guere voir de bonheur plus parfait : a soixante ans il a su trouver une femme amiable de trente, qui a bien voulu I'epouser. Elle lui est fort attachee; et lui — il semble toujours amant, et toujours penetre d'une reconnaissance sans bornes de ce qu'elle veut bien lui permettre de respirer Pair de la meme chambre qu'elle. C'est un homme rem- pli de sentiment et de douceur.' "He had heard nothing new from France, but mentioned, with great concern, the indiscretion of the King, in having kept all his letters since the Revolu- tion ; that the papers lately discovered in the Tuile- ries would bring ruin and death on hundreds of his friends ; and that almost every one in that number * s'y trouvoient compliques' some way or other. A decree of accusation had been lance against M. Tal- leyrand, not for anything found from himself, but be- cause M. de la Porte, long since executed, and from whom, of course, no renseignemens or explanations of any kind could be gained, had written to the King that I'Eveque d'Autun was well disposed to serve him. Can there be injustice more flagrant 1 " M. Talleyrand, it seems, had purposed returning, and hoped to settle his affairs in France in person, but now he must be content with life ; and as for his property (save what he may chance to have in other countries), he must certainly lose all. " Monday, December 17th, in the morning, Mr. and Mrs. Lock called, and with them came Madame de la Chatre, to take leave. " She now told us, perfectly in confidence, that Ma- MADAME d'aKBLAY. 89 dame de Broglie had found a friend in the Mayor of Boulogne, that she was lodged at his house, and that she could answer for her (Madame de la Chatre) being received by him as well as she could desire (all this must be secret, as this good Mayor, if accused of harbouring or befriending des emigres^ would no doubt pay for it with his life.) Madame de la Chatre said, all her friends who had ventured upon writing to her entreated her not to lose the present moment to re-, turn, as, the three months allowed for the return ot those excepted in the decree once past, all hope would be lost for ever. Madame de Broglie, who is her cousin, was most excessively urgent to her to lose not an instant in returning. ' Vous croyez done, ma- dame,' said I, rather tristement, * y aller V ' Oui, SLirement, je Pespere ; car, sans cela, tons mes projets sont aneanties. Si enfin je n'y pouvois aller, je serais reduite a presque rien !' " Madame de Broglie, she said, had declared there would be no danger. Madame de la Chatre was put in spirits by this account, and the hope of becoming not destitute of everything ; and I tried to hope with- out fearing for her, and, indeed, most sincerely offer up my petitions for her safety. " Heaven prosper her ! Her courage and spirits are wonderful. M. de Narbonne seemed, however, full of apprehensions for her. M. de Jaucourt seemed to have better hopes ; he, even he, has now thoughts of re- turning, or rather his generosity compels him to think of it. His father has represented to him that his sis- ter's fortune must suffer unless he appears in France again; and although he had resisted every other con- sideration, on this he has given way. " In France they are now printing, by order of the Convention, all the letters to the King's brothers-, which had been seized at Verdun and in other places ; •amongst them were some from * le traitre Narbonn . 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