THE DIARY AND LETTERS OF MADAME D'ARBLAY (FRANCES BURNEY. ) WITH NOTES BY W. C. WARD, AND PREFACED BY LORD MACAULAY'S ESSAY. IN THREE VOLUMES. VOL. III. (1792-1840. ) WITH A PORTRAIT OF GENERAL D'ARBLAY. LONDON AND NEW YORK: FREDERICK WARNE AND CO. 1892. 19. (1792-3) THE FRENCH POLITICAL EMIGRANTS: MISS BURNEY MARRIESM. D'ARBLAY--11-70 Arrival of French Emigrants at juniper Hall--The Doctor's fiveDaughters--A Visit to Arthur Young--The Duke de Liancourt'sabortive Efforts at Rouen--The Duke's Escape to England: "PotPortere"--Madame de Genlis's hasty Retreat--A Nobleman of theAncien Regime--Ducal Vivacity and Sadness--Graceful offers ofHospitality--The Emigrants at juniper Hall described--Monsieurd'Arblay--M. De Jaucourt: Madame de Stael--Severe Decrees againstthe Emigrants--Monsieur Girardin--The Phillipses at juniperHall--Mystery attending M. De Narbonne's Birth--RevolutionarySocieties in Norfolk: Death of Mr. Francis--Departure of Madamede la Chatre--Arrival of M. De la Chatre--English Feeling at theRevolutionary Excesses--Louis XVI's Execution--A Gloomy ClubMeeting--Madame de Stael at juniper Hall--Miss Burney'sAdmiration of Madame de Stael--Failing Resources--The Beginningof the End--"This Enchanting Monsieur d'Arblay"--Talleyrand isfound charming--A Proposed Visit to Madame de Stael disapprovedof--M. De Lally Tolendal and his Tragedy--Contemplated Dispersionof the French Colony--Madame de Stael's Words of Farewell: M. D'Arblay--Regrets respecting Madame do Stael--M. D'Arblay's Visitto Chesington--The Matrimonial Project is Discussed--Dr. Burney'sObjections to the Match--The Marriage takes place--Announcementof the Marriage to a Friend. 20. (1793-6) LOVE IN A COTTAGE: THE D'ARBLAYS VISIT WINDSOR--71-121 The French Clergy Fund: The Toulon Expedition--Madame d'Arblay onher Marriage--Mr. Canning--Talleyrand's Letters of Adieu--M. D'Arblay's Horticultural Pursuits--Mrs. Piozzi--M. D'Arblay as aGardener--A Novel and a Tragedy-- page viHastings's Acquittal: Dr. Burney's Metastasio--Baby d'Arblay--Thewithdrawn Tragedy--"Camilla"--An Invitation to the Hermitage--Presentation of "Camilla" at Windsor--A Conversation with theQueen--With the Princess Royal and Princess Augusta--A Presentfrom the King and Queen--Curiosity regarding M. D'Arblay--TheKing approves the Dedication of "Camilla"--A delicious Chat withthe Princesses--The King notices M. D'Arblay--The King and Queenon "Camilla"--Anecdote of the Duchess of York--A Visit to Mrs. Boscawen--The Relative Success of Madame d'Arblay's Novels--AContemplated Cottage--The Princess Royal's first Interview withher Fianc`e--Opinions of the Reviews on "Camilla"--Death ofMadame d'Arblay's Stepmother--The French Emigr`es at Norbury--Dr. Burney's depressed state--Covetous of Personal Distinction--Babyd'Arblay again and other Matters. 21. (1797-8) "CAMILLA" COTTAGE: SUNDRY VISITS TO THE ROYALFAMILY--122-169 A Disagreeable journey Home--Burke's Funeral at Beaconsfield--Death of M. D'Arblay's Brother--From Crewe Hall to Chelsea--AtDr. Herschel's--Hospitality under Difficulties--War Taxes:"Camilla" Cottage--Visitors arrive inopportunely-Another Visit tothe Royal Family--Interview with the Queen--The King and hisInfant Grand-daughter--Admiral Duncan's Victory--The Prince andPrincess of Orange--Some Notable Actresses--The Duke ofClarence--Princess Sophia of Gloucester--Indignation againstTalleyrand--The d'Arblay Maisonnette--Interview with the Queenand the Princesses--Royal Contributions towards the War--Invitation to the Play--Mrs Schwellenberg's Successor--Madamed'Arblay's Little Boy at Court--His Presentation to the Queen--Mlle. Bachmeister produces a Favourable Impression. 22. (1798-1802) VISITS TO OLD FRIENDS: WEST HANIBLE: DEATH OFMRS. PHILLIPS: SOJOURN IN FRANCE--170-247 A Visit to Mrs. Chapone--Mrs. Boscawen, Lady Strange, and Mr. Seward--A Mysterious Bank-Note--The new Brother-in-law: a CordialProfessor--Precocious Master Alex--ThePage vii Barbaulds--Princess Amelia at juniper Hall--Death of Mr. Seward--Dr. Burney again visits Dr. Herschel--Dr. Burney and the King--Overwhelmed with the Royal Graciousness--War Rumours--Illness andDeath of Mrs. Phillips--A Princess's Condescension--HorticulturalMisfortunes--A Withdrawn Comedy--M. D'Arblay's French Property--Home Matters--Contemplated journey to France--M. D'Arblay's RoughSea Passage--Suggested Abandonment of Camilla Cottage--M. D'Arblay's Proposed Retirement from Military Service--M. D'Arblay's Disappointment--On the eve of Madame d'Arblay'sjourney to France--In France during the Peace and subsequently--Arrival at Calais--"God save the King!" on French Soil--A Ramblethrough the Town--Sunday on the Road to Paris--Engagements, Occupations, and Fatigues--Aristocratic Visitors--Anxiety to seethe first Consul--At the Opera-bouffe--Difficulties respectingMadame de Stael--Madame de Lafayette--Sight-seeing at theTuileries--A Good Place is Secured--M. D'Arblay's MilitaryComrades--Arrival of the Troops--An Important New Acquaintance--Madame c'est mon Mari--Advent of the first Consul--The Parade ofTroops--A Scene--With M. D'Arblay's Relatives at joigny--Somejoigny Acquaintances--The Influenza in Paris--Rumours of War--"Our little Cell at Passy"--The Prince of Wales eulogized--Dr. Burney at Bath--Affectionate Greetings to Dr. Burney--Dr. Burney's Diploma. 23. (1812-14) MADAME D'ARBLAY AND HER SON IN ENGLAND--248-291 Narrative of Madame d'Arblay's journey to London--Anxiety to seeFather and Friends--A Mild Minister of Police--EmbarkationInterdicted--A Change of Plan--A New Passport obtained--Commissions for London--Delay at Dunkirk--The MS. Of "TheWanderer"--Spanish Prisoners at Dunkirk--Surprised by an Officerof Police--Interrogated at the Police Office--The "Mary Ann"captured off Deal--joy on arriving in England--Young d'Arblaysecures a Scholarship--The Queen alarmed by a Mad Woman--WeatherComplaints: Proposed Meeting with Lord Lansdowne--A Young Girl'sentry to London Society: Madame de Sta`el--Rogers the Poet--Interview with Mr. Wilberforce--Intended Publication of "TheWanderer"--General d'Arblay's wounded ComradesPage viii --Death of Dr. Burney--Favourable News of M. D'Arblay--"TheWanderer"--Madame d'Arblay's Presentation to Louis XVIII. --AtGrillon's Hotel--Grattan the Orator--A Demonstrative Irish Lady--Inquiries after the Duchess d'Angouleme--Preparations for thePresentations--Arrival of Louis XVIII. --The Presentations to theKing--A Flattering Royal Reception--An important Letter Delayed--M. D'Arblay arrives in England--A Brilliant Assemblage--M. D'Arblay enters Louis XVIII. 's Bodyguard. 24. (1815) MADAME D'ARBLAY AGAIN IN FRANCE: BONAPARTE'S ESCAPEFROM ELBA--292-333 An Interview with the Duchess of Angouleme--Arrival at theTuileries--A Mis-apprehension--A Discovery and a Rectification--Conversation on Madame d'Arblay's Escape and M. D'Arblay'sLoyalty--The Prince Regent the Duchess's Favourite--Narrative ofMadame d'Arblay's Flight from Paris to Brussels--PrevailingInertia on Bonaparte's return from Elba--Bonaparte's Advance:Contemplated Migration from Paris--General d'Arblay's MilitaryPreparations--Preparations for Flight:Leave-takings--Aristocratic Irritability--The Countess d'Auch'sComposure--Rumours of Bonaparte's near approach--Departure fromParis at Night Time--A Halt at Le Bourget--The journey Resumed--ASupper at Amiens with the Prefect--Reception at the Prefecture atArras--A Cheerful D6jeuner somewhat ruffled--A Loyal Prefect--Emblems of Loyalty at Douay--State of Uncertainty at Orchies--AMishap on the Road--A kindly offer of Shelter--Alarmed by PolishLancers--Arrival at Tournay--Futile Efforts to Communicate withM. D'Arblay--Interviews with M. De Chateaubriand. 25. (1815) AT BRUSSELS: WATERLOO: REJOINS M. D'ARBLAY--334--383 Sojourn at Brussels--Letters from General d'Arblay--Arrival ofGeneral d'Arblay--A Mission entrusted to General d'Arblay--"RuleBritannia!" in the All`ee Verte--General d'Arblay leaves forLuxembourg--An Exchange of visits--The Fete Dieu--The EccentricLady Caroline Lamb--A Proposed Royal Corps--Painful Suspense--Inquietude at Brussels--The BlackPage ix Brunswickers--The Opening of the Campaign--News from the Field ofBattle--Project for quitting Brussels--Calmly awaiting theResult--Flight to Antwerp determined on--A Check met with--ACaptured French General--The Dearth of News--Rumours of theFrench coming--French Prisoners brought in--News of Waterloo--TheVictory declared to be complete--The Wounded and the Prisoners--Hostilities at an end: Te Deum for the Victory--Maternal Advice--About the Great Battle--An Accident befalls General d'Arblay--Madame d'Arblay's Difficulties in rejoining her Husband--AFriendly Reception at Cologne--From Cologne to Coblenz andTreves--Meeting with General d'Arblay--Waiting for Leave toreturn to France--Departure for Paris--A Chance View of theEmperor of Russia--English Troops in Occupation--Leavetaking: M. De Talleyrand. 26. (1815-8) AT BATH AND ILFRACOMBE: GENERAL D'ARBLAY'S ILLNESSAND DEATH--384--431 Arrival in England--Alexander d'Arblay: Some old Bath Friends--French Affairs: General d'Arblay's Health--The Escape ofLavalette: The Streatham Portraits--Regarding Husband and Son--Maternal Anxieties--Advantages of Bath: Young d'Arblay's Degree--Playful Reproaches and Sober Counsel--Preparations for leavingBath--Installed at Ilfracombe--A Captured Spanish Ship--TheSpanish Captain's Cook--Ships in Distress--Young d'Arblay'sTutor--General d'Arblay's Ill-health--Particulars of Ilfracombe--Young d'Arblay's Aversion to Study--A Visit from the first ChessPlayer in England--A Coast Ramble in search of Curiosities--Caught, by the Rising Tide--Efforts to reach a place of safety--ASignal of Distress--Little Diane--Increasing Danger--The LastWave of the Rising Tide--Arrival of Succour--Meeting betweenMother and Son--General d'Arblay's return to England--ThePrincess Charlotte's Death--The Queen and Princesses at Bath--News arrives of the Princess Charlotte's Death--An oldAcquaintance: Serious Illness of General d'Arblay--The General'sFirst Attack: Delusive Hopes--General d'Arblay presented to theQueen--Gloomy Forebodings--Presents from the Queen and PrincessElizabeth--The General receives the Visit of a Priest--The LastSacrament Administered--Farewell Words of Counsel--The EndArrives. Page x 27. (1818-40) YEARS OF WIDOWHOOD: DEATH OF MADAME D'ARBLAY'S SON:HER OWN DEATH--435--458 Mournful Reflections--Visits received and Letters penned--Removalfrom Bath to London--Death of the Queen: Sketch of her Character--Madame d'Arblay's Son is Ordained--With some Royal Highnesses--Queen Caroline--Gossip from an Old Friend, and the Reply--MoreGossip--Ill-health of the Rev. A. D'Arblay: Dr. Burney's MSS. --Alast Gossiping Letter--Death of Mrs. Piozzi--Mrs. Piozzi comparedwith Madame de Stael--Sister Hetty--Official Duties TemporarilyResumed--The Rev. A. D'Arblay named Lent Preacher--Madamed'Arblay's Health and Occupation--Destroyed Correspondence--ThePrincess and the Rev. A. D'Arblay--A Visit from Sir WalterScott--Memoirs of Dr. Burney--Deaths of Hester Burney and Mrs. Locke--Death of the Rev. A. D'Arblay--Death of Madame d'Arblay'ssister Charlotte--Illness and Death of Madame d'Arblay. INDEX--459-480Page 11 SECTION 19. (1792-3) THE FRENCH POLITICAL EMIGRANTS: MISS BURNEY MARRIES M. D'ARBLAY. [The following section must be pronounced, from the historicalpoint of view, one of the most valuable in the " Diary. " It givesus authentic glimpses of some of the actors in that greatRevolution, "the Death-Birth of a new order, " which was gettingitself transacted, with such terrible accompaniments, across thechannel. The refugees with whom Fanny grew acquainted, and whoformed the little colony at juniper Hall, near Dorking, were notthe men of the first emigration--princes and nobles who fledtheir country, like cowards, as soon as they found themselves indanger, and reentered it like traitors, in the van of a foreigninvasion. Not such were the inmates of Juniper Hall. These wereconstitutional monarchists, men who had taken part with thepeople in the early stage of the Revolution, who had beeninstrumental in making the Constitution, and who had soughtsafety in flight only when the Constitution was crushed and themonarchy abolished by the triumph of the extreme party. To thegrands seigneurs of the first emigration, these constitutionalroyalists, were scarcely less detestable than the jacobinsthemselves. A few leading facts and dates will perhaps assist the reader to aclearer understanding of the situation. September 1791, theFrench Assembly, having finished its work of Constitution-making, and the said [Constitution being accepted by the king, retiresgracefully, and the new Assembly, constitutionally elected, meets, October 1. But the Constitution, ushered in with suchrejoicings, proves a failure. The king has the right to veto theacts of the Assembly, and he exerts that right with a vengeance:--vetoes their most urgent decrees: decree against the emigrantnoblesse, plotting, there at Coblenz, the downfall of theircountry; decree against nonjuring priests, intriguing endlesslyagainst the Constitution. Patriot-Minister Roland remonstrateswith his majesty, and the patriotic ministry is forthwithdismissed. Meanwhile distress and Page 12 disorder are everywhere, and emigration is on the increaseAbroad, Austria and Prussia are threatening invasion, and theemigrants at Coblenz are clamorous for war. War with Austria isdeclared, April 20, 1792; war with Prussia follows three monthslater; England remaining still neutral. One of our friends ofjuniper Hall, Madame de Staél's friend, Count Louis de Narbonne, has been constitutional minister of war, but had to retire inMarch, when the popular ministry--Roland's--came into office. Itis evident that the king and the Assembly cannot act together;nay, the king himself feels the impossibility of it, and isalready setting his hopes on foreign interference, secretlycorresponding with Austria and Prussia. The people of Paris, too, feel the impossibility, and are setting their hopes onsomething very different. The monarchy must go; jacobins'club(1) and men of the Gironde, afterwards at death- grapple withone another, are now united on this point; they, and not aconstitutional government, are the true representatives of Parisand of France. A year ago, July 1791, the people of Paris, demanding thedeposition of the king, were dispersed by General Lafayette withvolleys of musketry. But Lafayette's popularity and power arenow gone. "The hero of two worlds, " as he was called, was littlemore than a boy when he fought under Washington, in the cause ofAmerican independence. Animated by the same love of libertywhich had carried him to America, Lafayette took part in theearly movements of the French Revolution. In 1789, after thefall of the Bastille, he was commander of the national guard, andone of the most popular men in France. A high-minded man, fullof sincerity, of enthusiasm: "Cromwell Grandison, " Mirabeaunicknamed him. Devoted to the Constitution, Lafayette was nofriend to the extreme party, to the jacobins, with their Danton, their Robespierre. He had striven for liberty, but for libertyand monarchy combined; and the two things were fast becomingirreconcilable. And now, in July 1792, distrusted alike by theCourt and the people, Lafayette sits sad at Sedan, in the midstof his army. War has already commenced, with a desultory andunsuccessful attack by the French upon the Austrian Netherlands. But the real struggle is now approaching. Heralded by an insolentproclamation, the Duke of Brunswick is marching from Coblenz withmore than a hundred thousand Prussians, Austrians, and emigrants; and General Lafayette, alas ! appears more bent upon denouncingjacobinism than upon defending the frontier. The country is indeed in danger. With open hostility advancingfrom without, doubt and suspicion fermenting within, Paris atlast rises in good earnest, August 10, 1792. This is the answerto Brunswick's insolent proclamation. Paris attacks theTuileries, King Louis and his family taking refuge in theAssembly; captures the Tuileries, not without terrible loss, thebrave Swiss guard Page 13 standing steadfast to their posts, and getting, the greater partof them, massacred. Yielding to the demands of the people, theAssembly passes decrees suspending the king, dismissing theministers, and convoking a National Convention. This was thework of the famous 10th of August, the birthday of the FrenchRepublic. On the 13th August the royal family is sent to theprison of the Temple from whence the king and the queen, unhappyMarie Antoinette, will come forth only to trial and execution. Anew patriotic ministry is formed--Rolan again minister of theinterior, Danton, the soul of the insurrection, minister ofjustice; a tribunal is appointed) and the prisons of Paris arefilled with persons suspect. Executions follow; but the tribunalmakes not quick enough work. Austrians and Prussians areadvancing towards Paris; in Paris itself thousands ofaristocrats, enemies to their country, are lying hid, ready tojoin the foreign foes. In these desperate straits, Paris, at least sansculotte Paris, frenzied and wild for vengeance, falls upon the mad expedient ofmassacring the prisoners: more than a thousand suspectedroyalists are slaughtered, after brief improvised Trial orpretence of trial; or even without trial at all. This butcheryis known as the "September massacres" (Sept. 2-6, 1792), infamousin history, heartily approved by few, perhaps, even of the moreviolent Republicans; indignantly denounced by Rowland and theless violent, powerless, nevertheless, to interfere, Paris being"in death-panic, the enemy and gibbets at its door. "(2) Sept. 22, the Legislative Assembly havingDissolved, the National Convention holds its first meeting andproclaims the Republic: royalty for ever abolished in France. Among the feelings, with which the news of these events arereceived in England, horror predominates. Still the Governmenttakes no decisive step. The English ambassador in Paris, LordGower, is indeed recalled, in consequence of the events of August10, but the French ambassador, Chauvelin, yet remains in London, although unrecognised in an official capacity after thedeposition of Louis. War is in the wind, and, although Fox andmany members of the opposition earnestly deprecate any hostileinterference in the affairs of the Republic, a strong contingentof the Whig party, headed by Burke, is not less earnest in theirefforts to make peace with France impossible. Pitt, indeed, is infavour of neutrality, but Pitt is forced to give way at last. Meanwhile, the popular feeling in favour of the royalists isbeing heightened and extended by the constant influx of Frenchrefugees. Thousands of the recalcitrant clergy, especially, withno king's veto now to protect them, are seeking safety, inEngland. Many adherents of the Constitution, too, ex-members ofthe Assembly and others, are fleeing hither from a countryintolerant of monarchists, even constitutional; establishingthemselves at juniper Hall and elsewhere. Among them we note theDuke de Liancourt, whose escape thereader will find related in the following pages; Count de Lally- Page 14 Tollendal and M. De jaucourt, saved, both, by - good fortune, from the September massacres ; Vicomte de Montmorency, or callhim citoyen, who voted for the abolition of titles; ex-ministerof war Narbonne, concealed after August 10 by Madame de Stael, and escaping disguised as a servant; and presently, too, Madamede Stael herself; and last, but not least interesting to readersof the Diary, General Alexandre dArblay, whom Fanny will beforelong fall in love with and marry. One person, too, there is, more noteworthy, or at least moreprominent in history, than any of these, whom Fanny meets atMickleham, whom she dislikes instinctively at first sight, butwhose plausible speech and ingratiating manners soon make aconvert of her. This is citizen Talleyrand--Charles Maurice deTalleyrand-P‚rigord, Bishop of Autun. He, too, is now anemigrant, although he came to England in a far differentcharacter, as secret ambassador from the ConstitutionalGovernment of France ; citizen Chauvelin being the nominalambassador. On the whole, Talleyrand's diplomacy has not beenproductive of much good, to himself or others. Back in Parisbefore the 10th of August, he returned to London in Septemberwith a passport from Danton. A questionable man; some think him ajacobin, others a royalist in disguise. And now, while he is inLondon, there is talk of him in the Convention : citizenTalleyrand, it seems, has professed himself " disposed to servethe king ;" whereupon (December 5, 1792) citizen Talleyrand isdecreed accused, and his name is inscribed on the list ofemigrants. We must turn once again to France. At Sedan, in a white heat ofindignation on the news of that 10th of August, constitutional(sic) Lafayette emits a proclamation : the Constitution isdestroyed, the king a prisoner: let us march for Paris andrestore them! There is hope at first, that the army will followLafayette, but hope tells a flattering tale : the soldiers, itseems, care more for their country than for the Constitution. Lafayette sees that all is lost ; rides (August 18) for Hollandwith a few friends, of whom General d'Arblay is one; intends totake passage thence for America, but falls, instead, into thehands of the Austrians, and spends the next few years imprisonedin an Austrian fortress. General d'Arblay, after a few days, isallowed to proceed to England. Lafayette gone, the command of the army falls to GeneralDumouriez. Brunswick with his Prussians and emigrants, Clairfaitwith his Austrians, are now in France; advancing upon Paris. Theytake Longwy and Verdun; try to take Thonville and Lille, butcannot; and find Dumouriez and his sansculottes, there in thepasses of Argonne, the "Thermopylae of France, " an unexpectedlyhard nut to crack. In fact, the nut is not to be cracked at all:Dumouriez, " more successful than Leonidas, " flings back theinvasion; compels the invaders to evacuate France; and inNovember, assuming the offensive, conquers the whole AustrianNetherlands. Meantime, in the south-east, the war in Page 15 which the Republic is engaged with the King of Sardiniaprogresses also favourably, and Savoy and Nice are added to theFrench territory. Europe may arm, but a people fighting for anideal is not to be crushed. France has faith in her ideal ofliberty and fraternity, questionable or worse though some of themethods are by which she endeavours to realise it. But Danton isright: "il nous faut de l'audace, et encore de l'audace, ettoujours de l'audace;" and with superb audacity the Republicdefies the armed powers of Europe, decrees (November 19)assistance to every nation that will strike a blow for freedom, and cast off its tyrants. A yet more daring act of defiancefollows--tragic to all men, unspeakably horrible to Fanny Burneyand all friends of monarchy, constitutional or other. In December1792, poor King Louis is tried before the National Convention, found guilty of "conspiring against liberty;" condemned to deathby a majority of votes; in January, executed January 21. It iseven as Danton said in one of his all-too gigantic figures 'thecoalesced kings threaten us; we hurl at their feet, as gage ofbattle, the Head of a King. "' (3)Louis's kinsman, profligate Philippe Egalit‚, ci-devant Ducd'Orl‚ans, votes for death; before another year has passed hehimself will have perished by the guillotine. In England, war isresolved upon; even Pitt sees not how it can be avoided. January24, ambassador Chauvelin is ordered to quit England within eightdays; Talleyrand remaining yet another year. Spain, too, isarming, and Holland is England's ally. War being inevitable, theRepublic determines to be first in the field; declares war onEngland and Holland, February 1, 1793, and on Spain, March7. -ED. ] ARRIVAL OF FRENCH EMIGRANTS AT JUNIPER HALL. August 1792. Our ambassador is recalled from FranceRussia has declared war against that wretched kingdom. But it maydefy all outward enemies to prove in any degree destructive incomparison with its lawless and barbarous inmates. We shall soonhave no authentic accounts from Paris, as no English are expectedto remain after the ambassador, and no French will dare to write, in such times of pillage, what may carry them à la lanterne. (4) Page 16 (Mrs. Phillips to Fanny Burney. )Mickleham, September 1792. We shall shortly, I believe, have a little colony of unfortunate(or rather) fortunate, since here they are safe) French noblessein our neighbourhood. Sunday evening Ravely informed Mr. Lockethat two or three families had joined to take Jenkinson's house, juniper Hall, and that another family had taken a small house atWesthamble, which the people very reluctantly let, upon theChristian-like supposition that, being nothing but Frenchpapishes, they would never pay. Our dear Mr. Locke, while thiswas agitating, sent word to the landlord that he would beanswerable for the rent ; however, before this message arrived, the family were admitted. The man said they had pleaded very hardindeed, and said, if he did but know the distress they had beenin, he would not hesitate. This house is taken by Madame de Broglie, daughter of themareschal, who is in the army with the French princes;(5) or, rather, wife to his son, Victor Broglie, till very lately generalof one of the French armies, and at present disgraced, and flednobody knows where. This poor lady came over in an open boat, with a son younger than my Norbury, and was fourteen hours atsea. She has other ladies with her, and gentlemen, and two littlegirls, who had been sent to England some weeks ago; they are allto lodge in a sort of cottage, containing only a kitchen andparlour on the ground floor. I long to offer them my house, 'and have been much gratified byfinding Mr. Locke immediately determined to visit them; histaking this step will secure them the civilities, at least, ofthe other neighbours. At Jenkinson's are-la Marquise de la Chƒtre, whose husband iswith the emigrants; her son; M. De Narbonne, lately ministre dela guerre;(6) M. De Montmorency; Charles or Theodore Lameth;Jaucourt; and one or two more, whose names I have forgotten, areeither arrived to-day, or expected. I feel infinitely interestedfor all these persecuted persons. Pray tell me whatever you hearof M. De Liancourt, etc. Heaven bless you! Page 17 THE DOCTOR'S FIVE DAUGHTERS. (Fanny Burney to Dr. Burney. )Halstead, October 2, '92. My dearest padre, -I have just got your direction, in a letterfrom my mother, and an account that you seem to be in health andspirits; so now I think it high time to let you know a littleabout some of your daughters, lest you should forget you have anysuch incumbrances. In the first place, two of them, Esther and F. B. , had a safe andcommodious journey hither, in the midst of pattering showers andcloudy skies, making up as well as they could for thedeficiencies of the elements by the dulcet recreation of theconcord of sweet sounds ; not from tabrets and harps, but fromthe harmony of hearts with tongues. In the second place, a third of them, Charlotte F. , writes wordher caro sposo has continued very tolerably well this lastfortnight, and that she still desires to receive my visitaccording to the first appointment. In the third place, a fourth of them, Sarah, is living uponFrench politics and with French fugitives, at Bradfield, (7) whereshe seems perfectly satisfied with foreign forage. In the fourth place, Susanna, another of them, sends cheeringhistories of herself and her tribe, though she concludes themwith a sighing ejaculation of "I wish I did not know there wassuch a country as France !" A VISIT To ARTHUR YOUNG. (8) Oct. 5. -I left Halstead, and set off, alone, for Bradfield Hall, which was but one stage of nineteen miles distant. Sarah, (9) whowas staying with her aunt, Mrs. Young, expected Page 18 me, and came running out before the chaise stopped at the door, and Mr. Young following, with both hands full of Frenchnewspapers. He welcomed me with all his old spirit andimpetuosity, exclaiming his house never had been so honouredsince its foundation, nor ever could be again, unless Ire-visited it in my way back, even though all England came in themeantime! Do you not know him well, my Susan, by this opening rodomontade? "But where, " cried he, "is Hetty? O that Hetty! Why did you notbring her with you? That wonderful creature! I have half a mindto mount horse, and gallop to Halstead to claim her! What isthere there to merit her? What kind of animals have you left herwith? Anything capable of understanding her?" During this we mounted up-stairs, into the dining-room. Here alllooked cold and comfortless, and no Mrs. Young appeared. Iinquired for her, and heard that her youngest daughter, MissPatty, had just had a fall from her horse, which had bruised herface, and occasioned much alarm. The rest of the day we spoke only of French politics. Mr. Youngis a severe penitent of his democratic principles, and has losteven all pity for the constituants r‚volutionnaires, who had"taken him in" by their doctrines, but cured him by theirpractice, and who "ought better to have known what they wereabout before they presumed to enter into action. " Even the Duc de Liancourt, (11) who was then in a small house atBury, merited, he said, all the personal misfortunes that hadbefallen him. "I have real obligations to him, " he added, "andtherefore I am anxious to show him respect, and do him anyservice, in his present reverse of fortune; but he has brought itall on himself, and, what is worse; on his country. " He wrote him, however, a note to invite him to dinner the nextday. The duke wrote an answer, that lamented excessively beingengaged to meet Lord Euston, And dine with the Bury aldermen. Page 19 THE DUKE DE LIANCOURT'S ABORTIVE EFFORTS AT ROUEN. I must now tell you the history of this poor duke's arriving inEngland, for it involves a revival of loyalty-an effort to makesome amends to his unhappy sovereign for the misery into which hehad largely contributed to plunge him; which, with me, has madehis peace for ever. But first I should tell, he was the man who almost compelled theevery-way- deluded Louis to sanction the National Assembly by hispresence when first it resisted his orders. The queen and all herparty were strongly against the measure, and prophesied it wouldbe the ruin of his authority; but the duke, highly ambitious offame, as Mr. Young describes him, and willing to sacrifice everything to the new systems thenpervading all France, suddenly rushed into his closet, upon theprivilege of being one of the five or seven pairs de France(12)who have that licence, and, with a strong and forcible eloquence, declared nothing but his concession would save the nation from acivil war; while his entering, unarmed, into the NationalAssembly, would make him regarded for ever as the father andsaviour of his people, and secure him the powerful sovereignty ofthe grateful hearts of all his subjects. He succeeded, and the rest is public. This incident has set all the Coblenz(13) party utterly and forever against the duke. He had been some time in extreme anguishfor the unhappy king, whose ill-treatment on the 20th of June1792, (14) reached him while commandant at Rouen. He then firstbegan to see, that the monarch or the jacobins must inevitablyfall, and he could scarce support the prospect of ultimate dangerthreatening the former. When the news reached him of the bloody10th of August, a plan which for some time he had been forming, of gaining over his regiment to the service of the king, wasrendered abortive. Yet all his officers except One had promisedto join in any enterprise for their insulted master. He hadhoped to get the king to Page 20 Rouen under this protection, as I gather, though this matter hasnever wholly transpired, But the king could not be persuaded totrust any one. How should he?--especially a revolutionnaire? No time now was to be lost, and, in his first impetuosity of rageand despair, he instantly summoned his officers and his troops ;and, in the midst of them all, upon the parade or place ofassembling, he took off his hat, and called out aloud, "Vive leroi!" His officers echoed the sound, all but one!--yet not a soldierjoined. Again be waved his hat, and louder and louder calledout, "Vive le roi!" And then every soldier repeated it after him. Enchanted with hope, he felt one exulting moment, when thissingle dissentient officer called out aloud, as soon as the loyalcry was over, "As an officer of the nation I forbid this!--Vivela nation!" The duke instantly had the man arrested, and retired to hisapartment to compose his excess agitation, and consider how toturn this promise of loyalty to the service of his now imprisonedking; but, in a short time, an officer strongly attached to himentered the room hastily, and cried, "Sauvezvous, M. De Liancourt!(15)--be speedy! the jacobin party of Rouenhave heard of your indiscretion and a price is this moment setupon your head!" The duke knew too well with whom he had to act for a moment'shesitation. To serve the king was now impossible, as he had butto appear in order to be massacred. He could only save his ownlife by flight. THE DUKE'S ESCAPE To ENGLAND: "POT PORTERE. " In what manner he effected his escape out of Rouen he has nevermentioned. I believe he was assisted by those who, remainingbehind, could only be named to be torn in pieces for theirhumanity. M. Jamard, a French priest, tells me no human beingknows when or how he got away, and none suspected him to be gonefor two days. He went first to Abbeville there, for two days, heappeared everywhere, walking about in his regimentals, andassuming an air of having nothing to apprehend. This succeeded, as his indiscretion had not yet spread at Abbeville; but, meanwhile, a Page 21 youth whom he had brought up from a child, and on whose fondregard and respect he could rely, was employed in seeking him themeans of passing over to England. This was infinitely difficult, as he was to leave France without any passport. How he quitted Abbeville I know not; but he was in another town, near the coast, three days, still waiting for a safe conveyance;and here, finding his danger increased greatly by delay, he wentto some common house, without dress or equipage or servants thatcould betray him, and spent his whole time in bed, under pretenceof indisposition, to avoid being seen. At length his faithful young groom succeeded; and he got, atmidnight, into a small boat, with only two men. He had been takenfor the King of France by one, who had refused to convey him ;and some friend, who assisted his escape, was forced to get himoff, at last, by holding a pistol to the head of his conductor, and protesting he would shoot him through and through, if he madefurther demur, or spoke aloud. It was dark, and midnight. Both he and his groom planted themselves in the bottom of theboat, and were covered with fagots, lest any pursuit should ensue: and thus wretchedly they were suffocated till they thoughtthemselves at a safe distance from France. The poor youth then, first looking up, exclaimed, "Ah! nous sommes perdus!(16) theyare carrying us back to our own country!" The duke started up; hehad the same opinion, but thought opposition vain; he charged himto keep silent and quiet; and after about another league, theyfound this, at least, a false alarm, owing merely to a thick fogor mist. At length they landed--at Hastings, I think. The boatman had hismoney, and they walked on to the nearest public-house. The duke, to seem English, called for "pot portere. " It was brought him, and he drank it off in two draughts, his drought being extreme ;and he called for another instantly. That also, without anysuspicion or recollection of consequences, was as hastilyswallowed; and what ensued he knows not. He was intoxicated, andfell into a profound sleep. His groom helped the people of thehouse to carry him upstairs and put him to bed. How long heslept he knows not, but he woke in the middle of the nightwithout the smallest consciousness of where he was, or what hadhappened. ' Page 22 France alone was in his head-France and its horrors, whichnothing-not even English porter and intoxication and sleep -could drive away. He looked round the room with amaze at first, and soon after withconsternation. It was so unfurnished, somiserable, so lighted with only one small bit of a candle, thatit occurred to him he was in a maison de force(17) '- thitherconveyed in his sleep. The stillness ofeverything confirmed this dreadful idea. He arose, slipped on hisclothes, and listened at the door. He heard no sound. He wasscarce, yet, I suppose, quite awake, for he took the candle, anddetermined to make an attempt to escape. Down-stairs he crept, neither hearing nor making any noise and hefound himself in a kitchen ' he looked round, and the brightnessof a shelf of pewter plates struck his eye under them were potsand kettles shining and polished. "Ah! "? cried he to himself, "je suis en Angleterre. "(18) The recollection came all at onceat sight of a cleanliness which, in these articles, he says, isnever met with in France. He did not escape too soon, for his first cousin, the good Duc dela Rochefoucault, another of the firstr‚volutionnaires, was massacred the next month. (19) Thecharacter he has given of this murdered relation is the mostaffecting, in praise and virtues, that can possibly beheard. K Sarah has heard him till she could not keep the tearsfrom her eyes. They had been ‚lŠves(20) together, and loved eachother as the tenderest brothers. MADAME DE GENLIS'S HASTY RETREAT. You will all be as sorry as I was myself to hear that every illstory of la Comtesse de Genlis was confirmed by theduke. Page 23 She was resident at Bury, when he arrived, with Mlle. Egalit‚, Pamela, Henrietta Circe, and several others, whoappeared in various ways, as artists, gentlemen, domestics, andequals, on various occasions. The history of their way of lifeis extraordinary, and not very comprehensible, probably owing tothe many necessary difficulties which the new 'system of equalityproduces. (21) A lady of Bury, a sister of Sir Thomas Gage, had been very muchcaught by Madame Brulard, (22) who had almostlived at the house of Sir Thomas. Upon the arrival of the duke hewas invited to Sir Thomas Gage's immediately; and Miss G, callingupon Madame Brulard, mentioned him, andasked if she knew him?--No, she answered; but she had seen him. This was innocently repeated to the duke, who then, in atransport of rage, broke out with "Elle M'a vu!(23) and is thatall?--Does she forget that she has spoke to me? that she hasheard me too? " And then he related, that when all was wearingthe menacing aspect of anarchy, before it broke out, and beforehe was ordered to his regiment at Rouen, he had desired anaudience of Madame Brulard, for the firsttime, having been always a friend of Madame d'Orl‚ans, andconsequently her enemy. She was unwilling to see him, but hewould not be refused. He then told her that France was upon thepoint of ruin, and that the Duc d'Orl‚ans, who had been itsdestruction, and "the disgrace of the Revolution, " could alonenow prevent the impending havoc. He charged hertherefore, forcibly and peremptorily, to take in charge a changeof measures, and left her with an exhortation which he thenflattered himself would have some chance of averting the comingdangers. But quickly -after she quitted France voluntarily, andsettled in England. "And can she haveforgot all this ?" cried he. I know not if this was repeated to Madame de Brulard butcertain it is she quitted Bury with the utmost expedition, Shedid not even wait to pay her debts, and left the poor HenriettaCirce behind, as a sort of hostage, to preventalarm. The creditors, however, finding her actually gone, entered the house, and poor Henrietta was terrified intohysterics. Probably she knew not but they were jacobins, orwould act upon jacobin principles. Madame Brulard then Page 24 sent for her, and remitted money, and proclaimed herintention of returning to Suffolk no more. A NOBLEMAN OF THE ANCIEN R‚GIEM. The duke accepted the invitation for to-day, and came early, onhorseback. He had just been able to get over some two or three ofhis horses from France. He has since, I hear, been forced to sellthem. Mrs. Young was not able to appear; Mr. Young came to my room doorto beg I would waste no time; Sarah and I, therefore, proceededto the drawing-room. The duke was playing with a favouritedog-the thing probably the most dear to him inEngland; for it was just brought him over by his faithful groom, whom he had sent back upon business to his son. He is very tall, and, were his figure less, would be toofat, but all is in proportion. His face, which is veryhandsome, though not critically so, has rather a haughtyexpression when left to itself, but becomes soft andspirited in turn, according to whom he speaks, and has great playand variety. His deportment is quitenoble, and in a style to announce conscious rank even to the mostsedulous equaliser. His carriage is peculiarly upright, and hisperson uncommonly well made. His manners are such as only admitof comparison with what We have read, not what we have seen; forhe has all the air of a man who would wish to lord over men, butto cast himself at the feet of women. He was in mourning for his barbarously murdered cousin the Duc dela Rochefoucault. His first address was of thehighest style. I shall not attempt to recollect his words, butthey were most elegantly expressive of his satisfaction in ameeting he had long, he said, desired. With Sarah he then shook hands. She had been hisinterpretess here on his arrival, and he seems to haveconceived a real kindness for her; an honour of which she isextremely sensible, and with reason. A little general talk ensued, and he made a point of curing Sarahof being afraid of his dog. He made no secret ofthinking it affectation, and never rested till he hadconquered it completely. I saw here, in the midst of all that atfirst so powerfully struck me of dignity, importance, and high-breeding, a true French Polisson; for hecalled the dog round her, made it jump on her shoulder, andamused himself as, Page 25 in England, only a schoolboy or a professed fox-hunter would havedreamt of doing. This, however, recovered me to a little ease, which hiscompliment had rather overset. Mr. Young hung back, nearly quitesilent. Sarah was quiet when reconciled to the dog, or, rather, subdued by the duke; and then, when I thought it completely outof his head, he tranquilly drew a chair next mine, and began asort of separate conversation, which he suffered nothing tointerrupt till we were summoned todinner. His subject was 'Cecilia;' and he seemed not to have thesmallest idea I could object to discussing it, any more than ifit had been the work of another person. I answered all hisdemands and interrogatories with a degree of openness I havenever answered any other upon this topic; but the least hope ofbeguiling the misery of an ‚migr‚ tames me. Mr. Young listened with amaze, and all his ears, to the manyparticulars and elucidations which the duke drew from me; herepeatedly called out he had heard nothing of them before, andrejoiced he was at least present when they werecommunicated. This proved, at length, an explanation to the duke himself, that, the moment he understood, made him draw back, saying, "Peut-ˆtreque je suis indiscret?"(24) However, he soonreturned to the charge - and when Mr. Young made any moreexclamations, he heeded them not: he smiled, indeed, when Sarahalso affirmed he had procured accounts she had never heardbefore; but he has all the air of a man not new to any mark ofmore than common favour. At length we were called to dinner, during which he spoke ofgeneral things. DUCAL VIVACITY AND SADNESS. The French of Mr. Young, at table, was very comic ; he neverhesitates for a word, but puts English wherever he is at a loss, with a mock French pronunciation. "Monsieur Duc, " as he callshim, laughed once or twice, but clapped him on the back, calledhim "un brave homme, " and gave him instruction as well asencouragement in all his blunders. When the servants were gone, the duke asked me if anybody mightwrite a letter to the king? I fancy he had some per- Page 26 sonal idea of this kind. I told him yes, but through the handsof a lord of the bedchamber, or some state officer, or aminister. He seemed pensive, but said no more. He inquired, however, if I had not read to the queen and seemedto wish to understand my office; but here he was far morecircumspect than about 'Cecilia. ' He has lived so much in aCourt, that he knew exactly how far he mightinquire with the most scrupulous punctilio. I found, however, he had imbibed the jacobin notion that ourbeloved king was still disordered; for, after some talk upon hisillness, and very grave and proper expressionsconcerning the affliction and terror it produced in thekingdom, he looked at me very fixedly, , and, with an archingbrow, said, "Mais, mademoiselle--aprŠs tout--le roi--est il biengu‚ri?"(25) I gave him such assurances as he could not doubt, from theirsimplicity, which resulted from their truth. Mr. Young would hardly let Sarah and me retreat; however, wepromised to meet soon to coffee. I went away full of concern forhis injuries, and fuller of amazement at thevivacity with which he bore them. When at last we met in the drawing-room, I found the duc allaltered. Mr. Young had been forced away by business, and was butjust returned, and he had therefore been left a fewminutes by himself; the effect was visible, and extremelytouching. Recollections and sorrow had retaken possession of hismind; and his spirit, his vivacity, his power ofrallying were all at an end. He was strolling about theroom with an air the most gloomy, and a face thatlooked enveloped in clouds of sadness andmoroseness. There was a fiert‚ almost even fierce in his air andlook, as, wrapped in himself, he continued his walk. I felt nowan increasing compassion:--what must he not suffer when he ceasesto fight with his calamities! Not to disturb him we talked withone another; but he soon shook himself and joined us; though hecould not bear to sit down, orstand a moment in a place. "CETTE COQUINE DE BRULARD. " Sarah spoke of Madame Brulard, and, in a little malice, to drawhim out, said her sister knew her very well. The duc " Page 27 with eyes of fire at the sound, came up to me: "Comment, mademoiselle! vous avez connu cette coquine de Brulard?"(26) Andthen he asked me what I had thought of her. I frankly answered that I had thought her charming; gay, intelligent, well-bred, well-informed, and amiable. He instantly drew back, as if sorry he had named her soroughly, and looked at Sally for thus surprising him; but Iimmediately continued that I could now no longer think the sameof her, as I could no longer esteem her; but Iconfessed my surprise had been inexpressible at herduplicity. 'He allowed that, some years ago, she might have a better chancethan now of captivation - for the deeper she hadimmersed in politics, the more she had forfeited of feminineattraction. "Ah!" he cried, " with her talents-herknowledge-her parts-had she been modest, reserved, gentle, what ablessing might she have proved to her country! but she is devotedto intrigue and cabal, and proves its curse. "He then spoke with great asperity against all the femmes delettres now known; he said they were commonly the mostdisgusting of their sex, in France, by their arrogance, boldness, and mauvais moeurs. GRACEFUL OFFERS OF HOSPITALITY. I inquired if Mr. Young had shown him a letter from the Duke ofGrafton, which he had let me read in the morning. It was todesire Mr. Young would acquaint him if the Duc deLiancourt was still in Bury, and, if so, to wait upon him, in theDuke of Grafton's name, to solicit him to make Euston his abodewhile in England, and to tell him that he should have hisapartments wholly unmolested, and his time wholly unbroken; thathe was sensible, in such a situation of mind, he must covet muchquiet and freedom from interruption and impertinence; and hetherefore promised that, if he would honour his house with hisresidence, it should be upon the same terms as if he were in anhotel-that he would neverknow if he were at home or abroad, or even in town or in thecountry - and he hoped the Duc de Liancourt would make no morescruple of accepting such an asylum and retreat at his house thanhe would himself have done of accepting a similar Page 28 one from the duke in France, if the misfortunes of his owncountry had driven him to exile. I was quite in love with the Duke of Grafton for thiskindness. The Duc de Liancourt bowed to my question, andseemed much gratified with the invitation; but I see hecannot brook obligation; he would rather live in a garret, andcall it his own. He told me, however, with an air ofsome little pleasure, that he had received just such anotherletter from Lord Sheffield. I believe both these noblemen hadbeen entertained at Liancourt some years ago. I inquired after Madame la duchesse, and I had thesatisfaction to hear she was safe in Switzerland. The duke toldme she had purchased an estate there. He inquired very particularly after your juniper colony, and M. De Narbonne, but said he most wished to meet with M. D'Arblay, who was a friend and favourite of his eldest son. THE EMIGRANTS AT JUNIPER HALL DESCRIBED. [It is hoped that some pages from Mrs. Phillips'sjournalizing letters to her sister, written at this period, maynot be unacceptable, since they give particularsconcerning several distinguished actors and sufferers in theFrench Revolution, and also contain the earliest description ofM. D'Arblay. (27)) (Mrs. Philips to Fanny Burney. )Mickleham, November, 1792. It gratifies me very much that I have been able to interest youfor our amiable and charming neighbours. Mrs. Locke had been so kind as to pave the way for myintroduction to Madame de la Chƒtre, and carried me onFriday to juniper Hall, where we found M. De Montmorency, aci-devant duc, (28) and one who gave some of the first greatexamples of sacrificing personal interest to what was thenconsidered the public good. I know not whether you will like himthe better when I tell you that from him proceeded the motion forthe abolition of titles in France; but if you do Page 29 not, let me, in his excuse, tell you he was scarcely one-and-twenty when an enthusiastic spirit impelled him to this, Ibelieve, ill-judged and mischievous act. Mycuriosity was greatest to see M. De Jaucourt, because Iremembered many lively and spirited speeches made by himduring the time of the Assembl‚e L‚gislalive, and that hewas a warm defender of my favourite hero, M. Lafayette. Of M. De Narbonne's abilities we could have no doubt from hisspeeches and letters whilst ministre de la guerre, which post hedid not quit till last May. (29) By his own desire, he then joinedLafayette's army, and acted under him; but on the 10th of August, he was involved, with perhaps nearly all the most honourable andworthy of the French nobility, accused as a traitor by the jacobins, and obliged to flyfrom his country M. D'Argenson was already returned toFrance, and Madame de Broglie had set out the same day, November 2nd, hoping to escape the decree against theemigrants. (30) Madame de la Chƒtre received us with great politeness. She isabout thirty-three; an elegant figure, not pretty, but with ananimated and expressive countenance; very wellread, pleine d'esprit, and, I think, very lively andcharming. A gentleman was with her whom Mrs. Locke had not yet seen, M. D'Arblay. She introduced him, and when he had quitted the room, told us he was adjutant-general to M. Lafayette, mar‚chal de camp, and in short the first in military rank ofthose who had accompanied that general when he sounfortunately fell into the hands of the Prussians; but, nothaving been one of the Assembl‚e Constituante, he wasallowed, with four others, to proceed into Holland, andthere M. De Narbonne wrote to him. "Et comme il l'aimeinfiniment, " said Madame de la Chàtre, "il l'a pri‚ de venirvivre avec lui. "(31 He had arrived only two days before. He is tall, and a goodfigure, with an open and manlycountenance; about forty, I imagine. It was past twelve. However, Madame de la Chàtre owned Page 30 she had not breakfasted--ces messieurs were not yet ready. Alittle man, who looked very triste indeed, in an old-fashioned suit of clothes, with long flaps to a waistcoatembroidered in silks no longer very brilliant, sat in acorner of the room. I could not imagine who he was, but when hespoke was immediately convinced he was noFrenchman. I afterwards heard he had been engaged by M. DeNarbonne for a year, to teach him and all the party English. Hehad had a place in some college in France at the beginning of theRevolution, but was now driven out anddestitute. His name is Clarke. He speaks English with an accenttant soit Peu Scotch. Madame de la Chàtre, with great franchise entered intodetails of her situation and embarrassment, whether shemight venture, like Madame de Broglie, to go over to France, inwhich case she was dans le cas oû elle pouvoit toucher safortune(32) immediately. She said she could then settle inEngland, and settle comfortably. M. De la Chàtre, itseems, previous to his joining the king's brothers, hadsettled upon her her whole fortune. She and all her family weregreat favourers of the original Revolution and even at thismoment she declares herself unable to wish therestoration of the old r‚gime, with its tyranny andcorruptions--persecuted and ruined as she and thousands more havebeen by the unhappy consequences of the Revolution, M. De Narbonne now came in. He seems forty, rather fat, butwould be handsome were it not for a slight cast of one eye. Hewas this morning in great spirits. Poor man! It was the only timeI have ever seen him so. He came up very courteously to me, andbegged leave de me faire Sa Cour(33) at Mickleham, to which Igraciously assented. Then came M. De jaucourt, whom I instantly knew by Mr. Locke's description. He is far from handsome, but has a veryintelligent countenance, fine teeth, and expressive eyes. Iscarce heard a word from him, but liked his appearanceexceedingly, and not the less for perceiving his respectful andaffectionate manner of attending to Mr. Locke but when Mr. Lockereminded us that Madame de la Chàtre had notbreakfasted, we took leave, after spending an hour in amanners so pleasant and so interesting that it scarcelyappeared ten minutes. Page 31 MONSIEUR D'ARBLAY. NOV. 7. - --Phillips was at work in the parlour, and I had juststepped into the next room for some papers I wanted, when I hearda man's voice, and presently distinguishedthese words: "Je ne parle pas trop bien l'Anglois, monsieur. "(34) I came forth immediately to relieve Phillips, andthen found it was M. D'Arblay. I received him de bien bon coeur, as courteously as I could. Theadjutant of M. Lafayette, and one of those who proved faithful tothat excellent general, could not but beinteresting to me. I was extremely pleased at ]its coming, andmore and more pleased with himself every moment that passed. Heseems to me a true militaire, franc et loyal--open as the day;warmly affectionate to hisfriends; intelligent, ready, and amusing in conversation, with agreat share of gai‚t‚ de coeur, and, at the sametime, of naŒvet‚ and bonne foi. He was no less flattering tolittle Fanny than M. De Narbonne had been. We went up into the drawing-room with him, and met Willy on thestairs, and Norbury capered before us. "Ah, madame, " cried M. D'Arblay, "la jolie petite maison que vous avez, et les jolispetits hôtes!"(35) looking at thechildren, the drawings, etc. He took Norbury on his lap andplayed with -him. I asked him if he was not proud of being sokindly noticed by the adjutant-general of M. Lafayette? "Est-cequ'il sait le nom de M. Lafayette?"(36) said he, smiling. I said he was our hero, and that I was thankful to seeat least one of his faithful friends here. I asked if M. Lafayette was allowed to write and receive letters. He said yes, but they were always given to him open. - Norbury now (still seated on his lap) took courage towhisper him, "Were you, sir, put in prison with M. Lafayette?" "Oui, mon ami, " "And--was it quite dark?" I wasobliged, laughing, to translate this curious question. M. D'Arblay laughed too: "Non, mon ami, " said he, "on nous amisabord dans une assez jolie chambre. "(37) i lamented the hard fate of M. Lafayette, and the rapid andwonderful reverse he had met with, after having been, as he Page 32 well merited to be, the most popular man in France. This led M. D'Arblay to speak of M. De Narbonne, to whom I found himpassionately attached. Upon my mentioning the sacrifices made bythe French nobility, and by a great number of them voluntarily, he said no one had made more than M. De Narbonne; that, previousto the Revolution, he had more wealth and more power than almostany except the princes of the blood. For himself, he mentioned his fortune and his income from hisappointments as something immense, but 1 never remember thenumber of hundred thousand livres, nor can tell what their amountis without some consideration. . . . The next day Madame de la Chƒtre was so kind as to send me theFrench papers, by her son, who made a silent visit of about fiveminutes. M. DE JAUCOURT. MADAME DE STAEL. Friday morning. -I sent Norbury with the French papers, desiringhim 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 dearMr Twining, only younger, and not quite so black. He is a manlikewise of first-rate abilities--M. De Narbonne says, perhapssuperior to Vaublanc(38) and of very uncommon firmness andintegrity of character. The account Mr. Batt gave of the National Assembly last summeragrees perfectly with that of M. De Jaucourt, who had themisfortune to be one of the deputies, and who, upon some greatoccasion in support of the king and constitution, found onlytwenty-four members who had courage to support him, though a farmore considerable number gave him secretly their good wishes andprayers. It was on this that he regarded all hope of justice andorder as lost, and that he gave in sa d‚mission(39) from theAssembly. In a few days he was seized, and sans forme deproces(40) having lost his inviolability as a Page 33 member, thrown into the prison of the Abbaye, where, had it notbeen for the very extraordinary and admirable exertions of Madamede Stael (M. Necker's daughter, and the Swedish ambassador'swife), he would infallibly have been massacred. I must here tell you that this lady, who was at that time sevenmonths gone with child, was indefatigable in her efforts to saveevery one she knew from this dreadful massacre. She walked daily(for carriages were not allowed to pass in the streets) to theH6tel de Ville, and was frequently shut up for five hourstogether with the horrible wretches that composed the Comit‚ deSurveillance, by whom these murders were directed; and by hereloquence, and the consideration demanded by her rank and hertalents, she obtained the deliverance of above twenty unfortunateprisoners, some of whom she knew but slightly. . . . Madame de la Chƒtre and M. De Jaucourt have since told me that M. De Narbonne and M. D'Arblay had been treated with singularingratitude by the king, whom they nevertheless still loved aswell as forgave. They likewise say he wished to get rid of M. DeNarbonne from the ministry, because he could not trust him withhis projects of contre revolution. M. D'Arblay was the officer on guard at the Tuileries the nighton which the king, etc. , escaped to Varennes, (41) and ran greatrisk of being denounced, and perhaps massacred, though he hadbeen kept in the most perfect ignorance of the king's intention. SEVERE DECREES AGAINST THE EMIGRANTS. The next Sunday, November 18th, Augusta and Amelia came to meafter church, very much grieved at the inhuman decrees justpassed in the Convention, including as emigrants, with those whohave taken arms against their country, all who have quitted itsince last July; and adjudging their estates to confiscation, andtheir 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, andlive as they can. " Page 34 I was more shocked and affected by this account than I could veryeasily tell you. To complete the tragedy, M. De Narbonne haddetermined to write an offer--a request rather--to be allowed toappear as a witness in behalf of the king, upon his trial ; andM. D'Arblay had declared he would do the same, and share the fateof his friend, whatever it might be. MONSIEUR GIRARDIN. On Tuesday, the 20th, I called to condole with our friends onthese new misfortunes. Madame de la Chƒtre received me withpoliteness, and even cordiality: she told me she was a littlerecovered from the first shock--that she should hope to gathertogether a small d‚bris of her fortune, but never enough tosettle in England--that, in short, her parti ‚tait pris(42)--thatshe 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 deGirardin d'Ermenonville, the friend of Rousseau, whose last dayswere passed, and whose remains are deposited, in his domain. ThisM. Girardin was a pupil of Rousseau; he was a member of theLegislative Assembly, and an able opponent of the jacobins. It was to him that M. Merlin, aprŠs bien de gestes mena‡ans, (43)had held a pistol, in the midst of the Assembly. His father was amad republican, and never satisfied with the rational spirit ofpatriotism that animated M. Girardin; who, witnessing thedistress of all the friends he most esteemed and honoured, andbeing himself in personal danger from the enmity of the jacobins, had, as soon as the Assembl‚e L‚gislative broke up, quittedParis, I believe, firmly determined never to re-enter it underthe present r‚gime. I was prepossessed very much in favour of this gentleman, fromhis conduct in the late Assembly and all we had heard of him. Iconfess I had not represented him to myself as a great, fat, heavy-looking man, with the manners of a somewhat hard and moroseEnglishman: he is between thirty and forty, I imagine; he hadbeen riding as far as to the cottage Mr. Malthouse had mentionedto him--l'asile de jean Jacques(44)--and said it was very nearthis place (it is at the foot of Leith Hill, Mr. Locke has sincetold me). They then talked over the newspapers which were come Page 35 that morning. M. De St. Just, (45) who made a most fierce speechfor the trial and condemnation of the king, they said had beforeonly been known by little madrigals, romances, and heurestendres, published in the 'Almanac des Muses. ' "A cette heure, "said M. De jaucourt, laughing, "c'est un fier republicain. "(46) THE PHILLIPSES AT JUNIPER HALL. Nov. 27. -Phillips and I determined at about half-past one to walkto "junipre" together. M. D'Arblay received us at the door, andshowed the most flattering degree of pleasure at our arrival. Wefound with Madame de la Chƒtre another French gentleman, M. Sicard, who was also an officer of M. De Lafayette's. M. De Narbonne said he hoped we would be sociable, and dine withthem now and then. Madame de la Chƒtre made a speech to the sameeffect, "Et quel jour, par exemple, " said M. De Narbonne, "feroitwieux qu'aujourd'hui?"(47) Madame de la Chƒtre took my handinstantly, to press in the most pleasing and gratifying mannerimaginable this proposal; and before I had time to answer, M. D'Arblay, snatching up his hat, declared he would run and fetchthe children. I was obliged to entreat Phillips to bring him back, andentreated him to entendre raison. (48) . . . I pleaded their latehour of dinner, our having no carriage, and my disuse to thenight air at this time of the year; but M. De Narbonne said theircabriolet (they have no other carriage) should take us home, andthat there was a top to it, and Madame de la Chƒtre declared shewould cover me well with shawls, etc. . . . M. D'Arblay scamperedoff for the little ones, whom all insisted upon having, andPhillips accompanied him, as it wanted I believe almost fourhours to their dinner time. . . . Page 36 Then my dress: Oh, it was parfaite, and would give them all thecourage to remain as they were, sans toilette: in short, nothingwas omitted to render us comfortable and at our ease, and I haveseldom passed a more pleasant day--never, I may fairly say, withsuch new acquaintance. I was only sorry M. De jaucourt did notmake one of the party. MYSTERY ATTENDING M. DE NARBONNE'S BIRTH. Whilst M. D'Arblay and Phillips were gone, Madame de la Chƒtretold me they had that morning received M. Necker's "D‚fense duRoi, " and if I liked it that M. De Narbonne would read it out tous. (49) You may conceive my answer. It is a most eloquentproduction, and was read by M. De Narbonne with beaucoup d'ƒme. Towards the end it is excessively touching, and his emotion wasvery evident, and would have struck and interested me had I feltno 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 London, as Phillips heard itat Sir Joseph Banks's. Madame Victoire, daughter of Louis XV. , was in her youth known to be attached to the Comte de Narbonne, father of our M. De Narbonne. The consequence of this attachmentwas such as to oblige her to a temporary retirement, under thepretence of indisposition during which time la Comtesse deNarbonne, who was one of her attendants, not only concealed herown chagrin, but was the means of preserving her husband from adangerous situation, and the princess from disgrace. Shedeclared herself with child, and, in short, arranged all so wellas to seem the mother of her husband's son ; though the truth wasimmediately suspected, and rumoured about the Court, and Madamede la Chƒtre told me, was known and familiarly spoken of by allher friends, except in the presence of Page 37 Narbonne, to whom no one would certainly venture to hint it. Hisfather 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 likewise with her, and he himself was theperson fixed on by Mesdames to accompany them when they quittedFrance for Italy. An infant daughter was left by him at Paris, who is still there with some of his family, and whom he expressedan earnest wish to. Bring over, though the late decree mayperhaps render his doing so impossible. He has another daughter, of six years old, who is with her mother at Rome, and whom hetold me the pope had condescended to embrace. He mentioned hismother once (meaning la Comtesse de Narbonne) with great respectand affection. REVOLUTIONARY SOCIETIES IN NORFOLK. DEATH OF MR. FRANCIS. (Fanny Burney to Mrs. Philips. )Aylsham, Norfolk, November 27, '92. My dearest Susanna's details of the French colony at juniper aretruly interesting. I hope I may gather from them that M. DeNarbonne, at least, has been able to realise some property here. I wish much to hear that poor Madame de Broglie has beenpermitted to join her husband. Who is this M. Malouet(50) who has the singular courage andfeeling to offer to plead the cause of a fallen monarch in themidst of his ferocious accusers? And how ventures M. De Chauvelinto transmit such a proposal? I wish your French neighbours couldgive some account of this. I hear that the son for whom the Ducde Liancourt has been trembling, has been reduced to subscribe toall jacobin lengths, to save his life, and retain a littleproperty. What seasons are these for dissolving all delicacy ofinternal honour! I am truly amazed, and half alarmed, to find this county withlittle revolution societies, which transmit their notions ofPage 38 things to the larger committee at Norwich, which communicates thewhole to the reformists of London. I am told there is scarce avillage in Norfolk free from these meetings. . . . My good and brilliant champion in days of old, Mr. Windham, hasnever been in Norfolk since I have entered it. He had a call toBulstrode, to the installation of the Duke of Portland, just as Iarrived, and he has been engaged there and at Oxford ever since. I regret missing him at Holkham: I bad no chance of him anywhereelse, as I have been so situated, from the melancholycircumstances of poor Mr. Francis's illness, that I have beenunable to make acquaintance where he visits. (Miss Burney's second visit at Aylsham proved a very mournfulone. Soon after her arrival, Mr. Francis, her brother-in-law, was seized with an apoplectic fit, which terminated in his death;and Miss Burney remained with her widowed sister, soothing andassisting her, till the close of the year, when she accompaniedthe bereaved family to London. ] DEPARTURE OF MADAME DE LA CHATRE. (Mrs. Philips to Fanny Burney. )December 16, '92. . . . . Everything that is most shocking may, I fear, be expectedfor the unfortunate King of France, his queen, and perhaps allthat belong to him. M. D'Arblay said it would indeed scarce havebeen possible to hope that M. De Narbonne could have escaped withlife, had the sauf-conduit requested been granted him, forattending as a witness at the king's trial. . . . M. De Narbonne had heard nothing new from France, but mentioned, with great concern, the indiscretion of the king, in having keptall his letters since the Revolution; that the papers latelydiscovered in the Tuileries would bring ruin and death onhundreds of his friends ; and that almost every one in thatnumber "s'y trouvoient compliqu‚s"(51) some way or other. Adecree of accusation had been lanc‚ against M. Talleyrand, notfor anything found from himself, but because M. De Laporte, longsince executed, and from whom, of course, no renseignemens orexplanations of any kind couldPage 39 be gained, had written to the king that l'Eveque d'Autun(52) waswell disposed to serve him. Can there be injustice moreflagrant? M. Talleyrand, it seems, had proposed returning, and hoped tosettle his affairs in France in person, but now he must becontent with life ; and as for his property (save what he maychance to have in other countries), he must certainly lose all. Monday, December 17, In the morning, Mr. And Mrs. Locke called, and with them came Madame de la Chƒtre, to take leave. She now told us, perfectly in confidence, that Madame de Brogliehad found a friend in the Mayor of Boulogne, that she was lodgedat his house, and that she could answer for her (Madame de laChƒtre) being received by him as well as she could desire (allthis must be secret, as this good mayor, if accused of harbouringor befriending des ‚migr‚s, would no doubt pay for it with hislife). Madame de la Chƒtre said, all her friends who hadventured upon writing to her entreated her not to lose thepresent moment to return, as, the three months allowed for thereturn of those excepted in the decree once past, all hope wouldbe lost for ever. Madame de Broglie, who is her cousin, was mostexcessively urgent to her to lose not an instant in returning, and had declared there would be no danger. Madame de la Chƒtrewas put in spirits by this account, and the hope of becoming notdestitute of everything; and I tried to hope without fearing forher, and, indeed, most sincerely offer up my petitions for hersafety. Heaven prosper her! Her courage and spirits are wonderful. M. DeNarbonne seemed, however, full of apprehensions for her. M. DeJaucourt seemed to have better hopes ; he, even he, has nowthoughts of returning, or rather his generosity compels him tothink of it. His father has represented to him that his sister'sfortune must suffer unless he appears in France again - andalthough he had resisted every other consideration, on this hehas given way. ARRIVAL OF M. DE LA CHATRE. Friday, December 21st, we dined at Norbury Park, and met ourFrench friends: M. D'Arblay came in to coffee before the othergentlemen. We had been talking of Madame de laPage 40 Chattre, and conjecturing conjectures about her sposo: we wereall curious, and all inclined to imagine him old, ugly, proud, aristocratic, -a kind of ancient and formal courtier ; so wequestioned M. D'Arblay, acknowledging our curiosity, and that wewished to know, enfin, if M. De la Chƒtre was "digne d'etre ‚pouxd'une personne si aimable et si charmante que Madame de laChƒtre. "(53) He looked very drolly, scarce able to meet our eyes;but at last, as he is la franchise mˆme, he answered, "M. De laChƒtre est un bon homme--parfaitement bon homme: au reste, il estbrusque comme un cheval de carrosse. "(54) We were in the midst of our coffee when St. Jean came forward toM. De Narbonne, and said somebody wanted to speak to him. He wentout of the room; in two minutes he returned, followed by agentleman in a great-coat, whom we had never seen, and whom heintroduced immediately to Mrs. Locke by the name of M. De laChƒtre. The appearance of M. De la Chƒtre was something like acoup de th‚atre; for, despite our curiosity, I had no idea weshould ever see him, thinking that nothing could detach him fromthe service of the French princes. His abord and behaviour answered extremely well the idea M. D'Arblay had given us of him, who in the word brusque rathermeant unpolished in manners than harsh in character. He is quiteold enough to be father to Madame de la Chƒtre, and, had he beenpresented to us as such, all our wonder would have been to see solittle elegance in the parent of such a woman. After the first introduction was over, he turned his back to thefire, and began sans fa‡on, a most confidential discourse with M. De Narbonne. They had not met since the beginning of theRevolution, and, having been of very different parties, it wascurious and pleasant to see them now, in their mutualmisfortunes, meet en bons amis. They rallied each other sur leursdisgraces very good-humouredly and comically; and though poor M. De la Chƒtre had missed his wife by only one day, and his son bya few hours, nothing seemed to give him de phumeur. (55) He gavethe account of his disastrous journey since he had quitted. Theprinces, who are themselves reducedPage 41 to great distress, and were unable to pay him his arrears: hesaid he could not get a sou from France, nor had done for twoyears. All the money he had, with his papers and clothes, werecontained in a little box, with which he had embarked in a smallboat--I could not hear whence : but the weather was tempestuous, and he, with nearly all the passengers, landed, and walked to thenearest town, leaving his box and two faithful servants (who hadnever, he said, quitted him since he had left France) in theboat: he had scarce been an hour at the auberge (56) when newswas brought that the boat had sunk, At this, M. De Narbonne threw himself back on his seat, exclaiming against the hard fate which pursued all ses malheureuxamis!(57) "Mais attendez donc, " cried the good humoured M. De laChƒtre, "Je n'ai pas encore fini: on nous a assur‚ que personnen'a p‚ri et que mˆme tout ce qu'il y avait sur le bƒteau a ‚t‚sauv‚!'(58) He said, however, that being now in danger of fallinginto the hands of the French, he dared not stop for his box orservants; but, leaving a note of directions behind him, heproceeded incognito, and at length got on board a packet-boat forEngland, in which though he found several of his countrymen andold acquaintance, he dared not discover himself till they were enpleine mer. (59) He went on gaily enough, laughing at ses amisles constitutionnaires, (60) and M. De Narbonne, with much morewit, and not less good humour, retorting back his raillery on theparti de Brunswick. . . . M. De la Chƒtre mentioned the quinzaine(61) in which the princes'army had been paid up, as the most wretched he had ever known. Of22, 000 men who formed the army of the emigrants, 16, 000 weregentlemen, -men of family and fortune: all of whom were now, withtheir families, destitute. He mentioned two of these who hadengaged themselves lately in some orchestra, where they playedfirst and second flute. The princes, he said, had been twicearrested for debt in different places--that they were now soreduced that they dined, themselves, the Comte d'Artois, children, tutors, etc. --eight or nine persons in all--upon onesingle dish. Page 42 ENGLISH FEELING AT THE REVOLUTIONARY EXCESSES. (Fanny Burney to Mrs. Locke. )Chelsea, December 20, '92. . . . . . God keep us all safe and quiet! All now wears a fairaspect; but I am told Mr. Windham says we are not yet out of thewood though we see the path through it. There must be norelaxation. The Pretended friends of the people, pretended ormisguided, wait but the stilling of the present ferment ofloyalty to come forth. Mr. Grey has said so in the House. Mr. Foxattended the St. George's meeting, after keeping back to thelast, and was nobody there! The accounts from France are thrilling. Poor M. D'Arblay's speechshould be translated, and read to all English imitators of Frenchreformers. What a picture of the now reformed! Mr. Burke'sdescription of the martyred Duc de la Rochefoucault should beread also by all the few really pure promoters of new systems. New systems, I fear, in states, are always dangerous, if notwicked. Grievance by grievance, wrong by wrong, must only beassailed, and breathing time allowed to old prejudices, and oldhabits, between all that is done. . . . I had fancied the letters brought for the King of France's trialwere forgeries. One of them, certainly, to M. Bouill‚, had itsanswer dated before it was written. If any have been found, others will be added, to serve any evil purposes. Still, however, I hope the king and his family will be saved. I cannot butbelieve it, from all I can put together. If the worst of thejacobins hear that Fox has called him an "unfortunate monarch, "--that Sheridan has said "his execution would be an act ofinjustice, "--and Grey, "that we ought to have spared that oneblast to their glories by earlier negotiation and anambassador, "--surely the worst of these wretches will not risklosing their only abettors and palliators in this kingdom? I meanpublicly; they have privately and individually their abettors andpalliators in abundance still, wonderful as that is. I am glad M. D'Arblay has joined the set at "Junipre. " Whatmiserable work is this duelling, which I hear of among theemigrants, after such hair-breadth 'scapes for life andexistence!--to attack one another on the very spot they seek forrefuge from attacks! It seems a sort of profanation of safety. Page 43 LOUIS XVI. 'S EXECUTION. (Fanny Burney to Dr. Burney. )Norbury Park, January 28, '93. My dearest padre, -I have been wholly without spirit for writing, reading, working, or even walking or conversing, ever since thefirst day of my arrival. The dreadful tragedy(62) acted in Francehas entirely absorbed me. Except the period of the illness of ourown inestimable king, 1 have never been so overcome with griefand dismay, for any but personal and family calamities. O what atragedy! how implacable its villainy, and how severe its sorrows!You know, my dearest father, how little I had believed such acatastrophe possible: with all the guilt and all the daringalready shown, I had still thought this a height of enormityimpracticable. And, indeed, without military law throughout thewretched city, it had still not been perpetrated. Good heaven!--what must have been the sufferings of the few unhardened incrimes who inhabit that city of horrors!--if I, an Englishperson, have been so deeply afflicted, that even this sweet houseand society--even my Susan and her lovely children--have beenincapable to give me any species of pleasure, or keep me from adesponding low-spiritedness, what must be the feelings of all butthe culprits in France? M. De Narbonne and M. D'Arblay have been almost annihilated :they are for ever repining that they are French, and, though twoof the most accomplished and elegant men I ever saw, they breakour hearts with the humiliation they feel for their guiltlessbirth in that guilty country! We are all here expecting war every day. This dear family hasdeferred its town journey till next Wednesday. I have not beenat all at Mickleham, nor yet settled whether to return to townwith the Lockes, or to pay my promised visit there first, All hasbeen so dismal, so wretched, that I have scarce ceased to regretour living at such times, and not either Sooner or later. These immediate French sufferers here interest us, and thesealone have been able to interest me at all. We hear of a verybad tumult in Ireland, and near Captain Phillips's property: Mr. Brabazon writes word it is very serious. Page 44 Heaven guard us from insurrections! What must be the feelings atthe queen's house? how acute, and how indignant! A GLOOMY CLUB MEETING. (-Dr. Burney to Fanny Burney and Mrs. Phillips. )Chelsea College, January 31, 1793. . . . At the Club, (63) on Tuesday, the fullest I ever knew, consisting of fifteen members, fourteen seemed all of one mind, and full of reflections on the late transaction in France ; but, when about half the company was assembled, who should come in butCharles Fox! There were already three or four bishops arrived, hardly one of whom could look at him, I believe, without horror, After the first bow and cold salutation, the conversation stoodstill for several minutes. During dinner Mr Windham, and Burke, jun. , came in, who were obliged to sit at a side table. All wereboutonn‚s, (64) and not a word of the martyred king or politics ofany kind was mentioned; and though the company was chieflycomposed of the most eloquent and loquacious men in the kingdom, the conversation was the dullest and most uninteresting I everremember at this or any such large meeting. Mr Windham and Fox, civil-young Burke and he never spoke. The Bishop of Peterboroughas sulky as the d--l; the Bishop of Salisbury, more a man of theworld, very cheerful; the Bishop of Dromore(65) frightened asmuch as a barn-door fowl at the sight of a fox; Bishop Marlowpreserved his usual pleasant countenance. Steevens in the chair;the Duke of Leeds on his right, and Fox on his left, said not aword. Lords Ossory and Lucan, formerly much attached, seemedsilent and sulky. MADAME DE STAEL AT JUNIPER HALL. (Fanny Burney to Dr. Burney. )Norbury Park, Monday, February 4, '93. . . . Madame de Stael, daughter of M. Necker, is now at the headof the colony of French noblesse, established near Page 45 Mickleham. She is one of the first women I have ever met with forabilities and extraordinary intellect. She has just received, bya private letter, many particulars not yet made public, and whichthe Commune and Commissaries of the Temple had ordered should besuppressed. It has been exacted by those cautious men of bloodthat nothing should be printed that could attendrir lepeuple. (66) Among other circumstances, this letter relates that the poorlittle dauphin supplicated the monsters who came with the decreeof death to his unhappy father, that they would carry him to theConvention, and the forty-eight Sections of Paris, and suffer himto beg his father's life. This touching request was probablysuggested to him by his miserable mother or aunt. . . . M. De Narbonne has been quite ill with the grief of this lastenormity: and M. D'Arblay is now indisposed. This latter is oneof the most delightful characters I have ever met, for openness, probity, intellectual knowledge, and unhackneyed manners. (Madame de Stael to Fanny BUrney. (67))Written from juniper Hall, Dorking, Surrey, 1793. When I learned to read English I begun by milton, to know all orrenounce at all in once. I follow the same system in writing myfirst English letter to Miss burney; after such an enterprizenothing can affright me. I feel for her so tender a friendshipthat it melts my admiration, inspires my heart with hope of herindulgence, and impresses me with the idea that in a tongue evenunknown I could express sentiments so deeply felt. my servant will return for a french answer. I intreat missburney to correct the words but to preserve the sense of thatcard. best compliments to my dear protectress, Madame Phillipe. (Madame de Stael to Fanny Burney. )Your card in french, my dear, has already something of Your gracein writing English : it is cecilia translated. My !. ' Page 46 only correction is to fill the interruptions of some sentences, and I put in them kindnesses for me. I do not consult my masterto write to you; a fault more or less is nothing in such anoccasion. What may be the perfect grammar of Mr. Clarke, itcannot establish any sort of equality between you and I. Then Iwill trust with my heart alone to supply the deficiency. Let usspeak upon a grave subject: do I see you that morning? What newsfrom Captain phillip? when do you come spend a large week in thathouse? every question requires an exact answer; a good, also. Myhappiness depends on it, and I have for pledge your honour. good morrow and farewell. pray madame phillips, recollecting all her knowledge in french, to explain that card to you. (Madame de Stael to Fanny Burney. )January, 1793. Tell me, my dear, if this day is a charming one, if it must be asweet epoch in my life?--do you come to dine here with yourlovely sister, and do you stay night and day till our sadseparation? I rejoice me with that hope during this week do notdeceive my heart. I hope that card very clear, mais, pour plus decertitude, je vous dis en françois que votre chambre, la maison, les habitants de juniper, tout est prêt á recevoir la premièrefemme d'angleterre. (68) Janvier. MISS BURNEY'S ADMIRATION OF MADAME DE STAEL. (Fanny Burney to Dr. Burney. )Mickleham, February 29, 1793Have you not begun, dearest sir, to give me up as a lost sheep?Susanna's temporary widowhood, however, has tempted me on, andspelled me with a spell I know not how to break. It is long, longsince we have passed any time so completely together; her threelovely children only knit us the closer. The widowhood, however, we expect now quickly to expire, and I had projected my return tomy dearest father Page 47 for Wednesday next, which would complete my fortnight here butsome circumstances are intervening that incline me to postpone itanother week. Madame de Stal, daughter of M. Necker, and wife ofthe Swedish ambassador to France, is now head of the littleFrench colony in this neighbourhood. M. De Stael, her husband, isat present suspended in his embassy, but not recalled and it isyet uncertain whether the regent Duke of Sudermania will send himto Paris, during the present horrible Convention, or order himhome. He is now in Holland, waiting for commands. Madame deStal, however, was unsafe in Paris, though an ambassadress, fromthe resentment owed her by the commune, for having received andprotected in her house various destined victims of the 10thAugust and of the 2nd September. She was even once stopped in hercarriage, which they called aristocratic, because of its arms andornaments, and threatened to be murdered, and only saved by oneof the worst wretches of the Convention, Tallien, who fearedprovoking a war with Sweden, from such an offence to the wife ofits ambassador. She was obliged to have this same Tallien toaccompany her, to save her from massacre, for some miles fromParis, when compelled to quit it. She is a woman of the first abilities, I think, I have ever seen;she is more in the style of Mrs. Thrale than of any othercelebrated character, but she has infinitely more depth, andseems an even profound politician and metaphysician. She hassuffered us to hear some of her works in MS. , which are trulywonderful, for powers both of thinking and expression. She adoresher father, but is much alarmed at having had no news from himsince he has heard of the massacre of the martyred Louis; and whocan wonder it should have overpowered him? Ever since her arrival she has been pressing me to spend sometime with her before I return to town. She wanted Susan and me topass a month with her, but, finding that impossible, she bestowedall her entreaties upon me alone, and they are grown so urgent, upon my preparation for departing, and acquainting her myfurlough of absence was over, that she not only insisted upon mywriting to you, and telling why I deferred my return, butdeclares she will also write herself, to ask your permission forthe visit. She exactly resembles Mrs. Thrale in the ardour andwarmth of her temper and partialities. I find her impossible toresist, and therefore, if your answer toPage 48 her is such as I conclude it must be, I shall wait upon her for aweek. She is only a short walk from hence, at juniper Hall. FAILING RESOURCES. There can be nothing imagined more charming, more fascinating, than this colony ; between their sufferings and their argr‚mensthey occupy us almost wholly. M. De Narbonne, alas, has no thousand pounds a year! he got over only fourthousand pounds at the beginning, from a most splendid fortune;and, little foreseeing how all has turned out, he has lived, wefear, upon the principal ; for he says, if all remittance iswithdrawn, on account of the war, he shall soon be as ruined asthose companions of his misfortunes with whom as yet he hasshared his little all. He bears the highest character forgoodness, parts, sweetness of manners, and ready wit. You couldnot keep your heart from him if you saw him only for . Half anhour. He has not yet recovered from the black blow of the king'sdeath, but he is better, and less jaundiced ; and he has had aletter which, I hear, has comforted him, though at first it wasalmost heart-breaking, informing him of the unabated regard forhim of the truly saint-like Louis. This is communicated in aletter from M. De Malesherbes. (69) THE BEGINNING OF THE END. M. D'Arblay is one of the most singularly interesting charactersthat can ever have been formed. He has a sincerity, a frankness, an ingenuous openness of nature, that I had been unjust enough tothink could not belong to a Frenchman. With all this, which ishis military portion, he is passionately fond of literature, amost delicate critic in his own language, welt versed in bothItalian and German, and a very elegant Page 49 poet. He has just undertaken to become my French master forpronunciation, and he gives me long daily lessons in reading. Pray expect wonderful improvements! In return, I hear him inEnglish; and for his theme, this evening he has been writing anEnglish address "… Mr. Burney, " (ie. M. Le Docteur), joining inMadame de Stael's request. I hope your last club was more congenial? M. De Talleyrandinsists on conveying this letter for you. He has been on a visithere, and returns again on Wednesday. He is a man of admirableconversation, quick, terse, fin, and yet deep, to the extreme ofthose four words. They are a marvellous set for excess ofagreeability. "THIS ENCHANTING MONSIEUR D'ARBLAY. " (Fanny Burney to Mrs. Locke. )Mickleham. Your kind letter, my beloved Fredy, was most thankfully received, and we rejoice the house and situation promise so much localcomfort; but I quite fear with you that even the bas bleu willnot recompense the loss of the "Junipre" society. It is, indeed, of incontestable superiority. But you must burn this confession, or my poor effigy will blaze for it. I must tell you a little ofour proceedings, as they all relate to these people of athousand. M. D'Arblay came from the melancholy sight of departing Norburyto Mickleham, and with an air the most triste, and a sound ofvoice quite dejected, as I learn from Susanna for I was in myheroics, and could not appear till the last half hour. A headacheprevented my waiting upon Madame de Stal that day, and obliged meto retreat soon after nine o'clock in the evening, and my doucecompagne would not let me retreat alone. We had only robedourselves in looser drapery, when a violent ringing at the doorstartled us; we listened, and heard the voice of M. D'Arblay, andJerry answering, "They're gone to bed. " "Comment? What?" criedhe: "C'est impossible! what you say?" Jerry then, to show hisnew education in this new colony, said "All‚e couch‚e!" It rainedfuriously, and we were quite grieved, but there was no help. Heleft a book for "Mlle. Burnet, " and word that Madame de Staelcould not come on account of the bad weather. M. Ferdinand waswith him and has bewailed the disasterPage 50 and M. Sicard says he accompanied them till he was quite wetthrough his redingote; but this enchanting M. D'Arblay willmurmur at nothing. The next day they all came, just as we had dined, for a morningvisit, --Madame de Stael, M. Talleyrand, M. Sicard, and M. D'Arblay; the latter then made "insistance" upon commencing my"master of the language, " and I think he will be almost as good aone as the little don. (70) M. De Talleyrand opened, at last, with infinite wit and capacity. Madame de Stael whispered me, "How do you like him?" "Not verymuch, " I answered, "but I do not know him. " "Oh, I assure you, "cried she, "he is the best of the men. " I was happy not to agree ; but I have no time for such minutedetail till we meet. She read the noble tragedy of"TancrŠde, "(71) till she blinded us all round. She is the mostcharming person, to use her own phrase, "that never I saw. " . . We called yesterday upon Madame de Stael, and sat with her untilthree o'clock, only the little don being present. She wasdelightful; yet I see much uneasiness hanging over the wholeparty, from the terror that the war may stop all remittances. Heaven forbid! TALLEYRAND IS FOUND CHARMING. (Fanny Burney to Mrs locke. )Thursday, Mickleham. I have no heart not to write, and no time to write. I have beenscholaring all day, and mastering too : for our lessons aremutual, and more entertaining than can easily be conceived. Mymaster of the language says he dreams of how much more solemnlyhe shall write to charming Mrs. Locke after a little morepractice. Madame de Stael has written me two English notes, quitebeautiful in ideas, and not very reprehensible in idiom. ButEnglish has nothing to do with elegance such as theirs--at least, little and rarely. I am always exposing myself to the wrath ofJohn Bull, when this c“terie come in competition; It isinconceivable what a convert M. De Talleyrand has made of me; Ithink him now one of the first members, and one of the mostcharming, of this exquisite set: Susanna is as completely aproselyte, Page 51 His powers of entertainment are astonishing, both in informationand in raillery. We know nothing of how the rest of the worldgoes on. They are all coming to-night. I have yet avoided, butwith extreme difficulty, the change of abode. Madame de Stael, however, will not easily be parried, and how I may finallyarrange I know not. Certainly I will not offend or hurt her, butotherwise I had rather be a visitor than a guest Pray tell Mr. Locke that " the best of the men " grows upon us atevery meeting. We dined and stayed till midnight at "junipre" onTuesday, and I would I could recollect but the twentieth part ofthe excellent things that were said. Madame de Stael read us theopening of her work "Sur le Bonheur:" it seems to me admirable. M. De Talleyrand avowed he had met with nothing better thought ormore ably expressed; it contains the most touching allusions totheir country's calamities. A PROPOSED VISIT TO MADAME DE STAEL DISAPPROVED OF. (Doctor Burney to Fanny Burney. )Chelsea College, February 19, 1793. Why, Fanny, what are you about, and where are you? I shall writeat you, not knowing how to write to you, as Swift did to theflying and romantic Lord Peterborough. I had written the above, after a yesterday's glimmering and a feverish night as usual, when behold! a letter of requisition for a further furlough! Ihad long histories ready for narration de vive voix, but my timeis too short and my eyes and head too -weak for much writing thismorning. I am not at all surprised at your account of thecaptivating powers of Madame de Stael. It corresponds with all Ihad heard about her, and with the opinion I formed of herintellectual and literary powers, in reading her charming little"Apologie de Rousseau. " But as nothing human is allowed to beperfect, she has not escaped censure. Her house was the centreof revolutionists Previous to the 10th of August, after herfather's departure, and she has been accused of partiality to M. De N. (72) But Perhaps all may be jacobinical malignity. However, unfavourable stories of her have been brought hither, and thePage 52 Burkes and Mrs. Ord have repeated them to me. But you know thatM. Necker's administration, and the conduct of the nobles whofirst joined in the violent measures that subverted the ancientestablishments by the abolition of nobility and the ruin of thechurch, during the first National Assembly, are held in greaterhorror by aristocrats than even the members of the presentConvention. I know this will make you feel uncomfortable, but itseemed to me right to hint it to You. If you are not absolutelyin the house of Madame do Stael when this arrives, it wouldperhaps be possible for you to waive the visit to her, by acompromise, of having something to do for Susy, and so make theaddendum to your stay under her roof. . . (Fanny Burney to Dr. Burney. )Mickleham, February 22, '03, What a kind letter is my dearest father's, and how kindly speedy! yet it is too true it has given me very uncomfortable feelings. I am both hurt and astonished at the acrimony of malice; indeed, I believe all this Party to merit nothing but honour, compassion, and praise. Madame de Stael, the daughter of M. Necker--theidolising daughter--of course, and even from the best principles, those of filial reverence, entered into the opening of theRevolution just as her father entered into it; but as to herhouse having become the centre of revolutionists before the 10thof August, it was so only for the constitutionalists, who, atthat period, were not only members of the then establishedgovernment, but the decided friends of the king. The aristocratswere then already banished, or wanderers from fear, or concealedand silent from cowardice; and the jacobins --I need not, afterwhat I have already related, mention how utterly abhorrent to hermust be that fiend-like set. The aristocrats, however, as youwell observe, and as she has herself told me, hold theconstitutionalists in greater horror than the Convention itself. This, however, is a violence against justice which cannot, Ihope, be lasting ; and the malignant assertions which persecuteher, all of which she has lamented to us, she imputes equally tothe bad and virulent of both these parties. The intimationconcerning M. De N. Was, however, whollyPage 53 new to us, and I do firmly believe it a gross calumny. M. De N. Was of her society, which contained ten or twelve of the firstpeople in Paris, and, occasionally, almost all Paris ! she loveshim even tenderly, but so openly, so simply, so unaffectedly, andwith such utter freedom from all coquetry, that, if they were twomen, or two women, the affection could not, I think, be moreobviously undesi, gning. She is very plain, he is very handsome ;her intellectual endowments must be with him her sole attraction. M. De Talleyrand was another of her society, and she seemsequally attached to him. M. Le Viscomte de Montmorenci she loves, she says, as her brother: he is another of this brightconstellation, and esteemed of excellent capacity. She says, ifshe continues in England he will certainly come, for he loves hertoo well to stay away. In short, her whole coterie live togetheras brethren. Madame la Marquise de la Chƒtre, who has latelyreturned to France, to endeavour to obtain de quoi vivre enAngleterre, (73) and who had been of this colony for two or threemonths since the 10th of August, Is a bosom friend of Madame deStael and of all this circle : she is reckoned a very estimableas well as fashionable woman ; and a daughter of the unhappyMontmorin, who was killed on the 1st of September(74) is anotherof this set. Indeed, I think you could not spend a day with themand not see that their commerce is that of pure, but exalted andmost elegant, friendship. I would, nevertheless, give the world to avoid being a guestunder their roof, now I have heard even the shadow of such arumour; and I will, if it be possible without hurting orof-fending them. I have waived and waived acceptance almost fromthe moment of Madame de Stael's arrival. I prevailed with her tolet my letter go alone to you, and I have told her, with regardto your answer, that you were sensible of the honour her kindnessdid me, and could not refuse to her request the week's furlough ;and then followed reasons for the Compromise you pointed out, toodiffuse for writing. As Yet they have succeeded, though she issurprised and disappointed. She wants us to study French andEnglish together, and nothing could to me be more desirable, butfor this invidious report. M. D'Arblay as well as M. De Narbonne, sent over a declaration infavour of the poor king. M. D'A. Had been thePage 54 commandant at Longwy, and had been named to that post by the kinghimself In the accusation of the infernals, as Mr. Young justlycalls them, the king is accused of leaving Longwy undefended, anda prey to the Prussians. M. D'Arblay, who before that period hadbeen promoted into the regiment of M. De Narbonne, and thencesummoned to be adjutant-general of Lafayette, wrote therefore, onthis charge, to M. De Malesherbes, and told him that the chargewas utterly false . That the king had taken every precaution forthe proper preservation of Longwy, and that M. D'Arblay, theking's commandant, had himself received a letter of thanks andapprobation from Duniouriez, who said, nothing would have beenlost had every commandant taken equal pains, and exerted equalbravery. This original letter M. D'Arblay sent to M. Malesherbes, not as a vindication of himself, for he had been summoned fromLongwy before the Prussians assailed it, but as a vindication ofthe officer appointed by the king, while he had yet the command. M. De Malesherbes wrote an answer of thanks, and said he shouldcertainly make use of this information in the defence, However, the fear of Dumouriez, I suppose, prevented his being named. M. D'Arblay, in quitting France with Lafayette, upon the depositionof the king, had only a little ready money in his pocket, and hehas been d‚cr‚(75) I since, and all he was worth in the world issold and seized by the Convention. M. De Narbonne loves him asthe tenderest of brothers, and, while one has a guinea in theworld, the other will have half. "Ah!" cried M. D'Arblay, uponthe murder of the king, which almost annihilated him, "I know nothow those can exist who have any feelings of remorse, when Iscarce can endure my life, from the simple feeling of regret thatever I pronounced the word liberty in France!" M. DE LALLY TOLENDAL AND HIS TRAGEDY. (Mrs. Phillips to Mrs. Locke. )Mickleham, April 2, 1793. . . . . I must, however, say something of juniper, whence I had anirresistible invitation to dine, etc. , yesterday, and Page 55 M. De Lally Tolendal(76) read his "Mort de Strafford, " which hehad already recited once, and which Madame do Stael requested himto repeat for my sake. I had a great curiosity to see M. De Lally. I cannot say thatfeeling was gratified by the sight of him, though it wassatisfied, insomuch that it has left me without any great anxietyto see him again. He is the very reverse of all that myimagination had led me to expect in him: large, fat, with a greathead, small nose, immense cheeks, nothing distingu‚ in his mannerand en fait d'esprit, and of talents in conversation, so far, sovery far, distant from our juniperians, and from M. DeTalleyrand, who was there, as I could not have conceived, hisabilities as a writer and his general reputation considered. Heseems un bon gar‡on, un trŠs honnˆte gar‡on, as M. Talleyrandsays of him, et non de plus. (77) He is extremely absorbed by his tragedy, which he recites byheart, acting as well as declaiming with great energy, thoughseated, as Le Texier is. He seemed, previous to the performance, occupied completely by It, except while the dinner lasted, whichhe did not neglect; but he was continually reciting to himselftill we sat down to table, and afterwards between the courses. M. Talleyrand seemed much struck with his piece, which appears tome to have very fine lines and passages in it, but which, altogether, interested me but little. I confess, indeed, theviolence of ses gestes, and the alternate howling and thunderingof his voice in declaiming, fatigued me excessively. If our Fannyhad been present, I am afraid I should many times have beenaffected as one does not expect to be at a tragedy. We sat downat seven to dinner, and had half finished before M. D'Arblayappeared, though repeatedly sent for; he was profoundly grave andsilent, and disappeared after the dinner, which was very gay. Hewas sent for, after coffee and Norbury were gone, several times, that the tragedy might be begun; and . At last Madame de S. Impatiently proposed beginning without him. "Mais cela lui ferade la peine, "(78) said M. D'Autun (Talleyrand), good-naturedly;and, as she Page 56 persisted, he rose up and limped out of the room to fetch him hesucceeded in bringing him. M Malouet has left them. La Princesse d'Henin is a very pleasing, well-bred woman: she left juniper the next morning with M. DeLally. CONTEMPLATED DisPERSION OF THE FRENCH COLONY. (Mrs. Phillips to Fanny Burney)Mickleham, April 3. After I had sent off my letter to you on Monday I walked on tojuniper, and entered at the same moment with Mr. Jenkinson(79)and his attorney--a man whose figure strongly resembles some ofHogarth's most ill-looking, personages, and who appeared to me tobe brought as a kind of spy, or witness of all that was passing. I would have retreated, fearing to interrupt business, but I wassurrounded, and pressed to stay, by Madame de Stael with greatempressement, and with much kindness by M. D'Arblay and all therest. Mr. Clarke was the spokesman, and acquitted himself withgreat dignity and moderation; Madame de S. Now and then cameforth with a little coquetterie pour adoucir ce sauvagejenkinson. (80) "What will you, Mr. Jenkinson? tell to me, whatwill you?" M. De Narbonne, somewhat indign‚ de la mauvaise foi, and exc‚d‚ des longueurs de son adversaire, (81) was not quite sogentle with him, and I was glad to perceive that he meant toresist, in some degree at least, the exorbitant demands of hislandlord. Madame de Stael was very gay, and M. De Talleyrand very comique, this evening ; he criticised, amongst other things, her readingof prose, with great sang froid. . . . They talked over a numberof their friends and acquaintances with the utmost unreserve, andsometimes with the most comic humour imaginable, --M. De Lally, M. De Lafayette, la Princesse d'Henin, la Princesse de Poix, a M. Guibert, an author. And one who was, Madame de Stael told me, passionately in love with her before she married; and innumerableothers. M. D'Arblay had been employed almost night and day since Page 57 he came from London in Writing a m‚moire, which Mr Villiers hadwished to have, upon the 'Artillerie … Cheval, ' and he had notconcluded it till this morning. (Mrs. Philips to Fanny Burney. )Tuesday, May 14. Trusting to the kindness of chance, I begin in at the top of mypaper. Our Juniperians went to see Paine's hill yesterday, andhad the good-nature to take my little happy Norbury. In theevening came Miss F- to show me a circular letter, sent by theArchbishop of Canterbury to all the parishes in England, authorising the ministers of those parishes to raise asubscription for the unfortunate French clergy. She talked ofour neighbours, and very shortly and abruptly said, "So, Mrs. Phillips, we hear you are to have Mr. Norbone and the otherFrench company to live with you--Pray is it so?" I was, I confess, a little startled at this plain inquiry, butanswered as composedly as I could, setting out with informingthis bˆte personnage that Madame de Stael was going toSwitzerland to join her husband and family in a few days, andthat of all the French company none would remain but M. DeNarbonne and M. D'Arblay, for whom the captain and myselfentertained a real friendship and esteem, and whom he had beggedto make our house their own for a short time, as the impositionsthey had had to support from their servants, etc. , and thefailure of their remittances from abroad, had obliged them toresolve on breaking up housekeeping. I had scarcely said thus much when our party arrived from Paine'shill; the young lady, though she had drunk tea, was so obligingas to give us her company for near two hours, and made a curiousattack on M. De N. , upon the first pause, in wretched French, though we had before, all of us, talked no other language thanEnglish:--"Je vous prie, M. Gnawbone, comment se porte lareine?"(82) Her pronunciation was such that I thought his understanding hermiraculous : however, he did guess her meaning, and answered, with all his accustomed douceur and politeness, that he hopedwell, but had no means but general ones of information. "I believe, " said she afterwards, "nobody was so hurt at Page 58 the king's death as my papa! he couldn't ride on horseback nextday!" She then told M. De Narbonne some anecdotes (very new to him, nodoubt), which she had read in the newspapers, of the Convention;and then spoke of M. Egalit‚. "I hope, " said she, flinging herarms out with great violence, "he'll come to be gullytined. Heshowed the king how he liked to be gullytined, so now I hopehe'll be gullytined himself!--So shocking! to give his voteagainst his own nephew!" If the subject of her vehemence and blunders had been less justor less melancholy, I know not how I should have kept my face inorder. Our evening was very pleasant when she was gone, Madame de Staelis, with all her wildness and blemishes, a delightful companion, and M. De N. Rises upon me in esteem and affection every time Isee him: their minds in some points ought to be exchanged, for heis as delicate as a really feminine woman, and evidently sufferswhen he sees her setting les biens‚ances(83) aside, as it oftenenough befalls her to do. Poor Madame de Stael has been greatly disappointed and hurt bythe failure of the friendship and intercourse she had wished tomaintain with you, --of that I am sure; I fear, too, she is on thepoint of being offended. I am not likely to be her confidant ifshe is so, and only judge from the nature of things, and from hercharacter, and a kind of d‚pit(84) in her manner once or twice inspeaking of you. She asked me If you would accompany Mrs. Lockeback into the country? I answered that my father would not wishto lose you for so long a time at once, as you had been absentfrom him as a nurse so many days. After a little pause, "Mais est-ce qu'une femme est en tutellepour la vie dans ce pays?" she said. "Il me paroit que votresoeur est comme une demoiselle de quatorze ans. "(85) I did notoppose this idea, but enlarged rather on the constraints laidupon females, some very unnecessarily, in England, --hoping tolessen her d‚pit; it continued, however, visible in hercountenance, though she did not express it in words. Page 59 [The frequency and intimacy with which Miss Burney andM. D'Arblay now met, ripened into attachment the high esteemwhich each felt for the other; and, after many struggles andscruples, occasioned by his reduced circumstances and cloudedprospects, M. D'Arblay wrote her an offer of his hand ; candidlyacknowledging, however, the slight hope he entertained of everrecovering the fortune he had lost by the Revolution. At this time Miss Burney went to Chesington for a short period;probably hoping that the extreme quiet of that place would assisther deliberations, and tranquillise her mind during her presentperplexities. ] MADAME DE STAEL'S WORDS OF FAREWELL. M. D'ARBLAY. (Mrs. Philips to Fanny Burney at Chesington. ) Sunday, after church, I walked up to Norbury; there unexpectedlyI met all our juniperians, and listened to one of the bestconversations I ever heard : it was on literary topics, and thechief speakers Madame de Stael, M. De Talleyrand, Mr. Locke, andM. Dumont, a gentleman on a visit of two days at juniper, aGenevois, homme d'esprit et de lettres. I had not a word beyondthe first " how d'yes " with any one, being obliged to run hometo my abominable dinner in the midst of the discourse. On Monday I went, by invitation, to juniper to dine, and before Icame away at night a letter arrived express to Madame de Stael. On reading it, the change in her countenance made me guess thecontents, It was from the Swedish gentleman who had beenappointed by her husband to meet her at Ostend; he wrote fromthat place that he was awaiting her arrival. She had designedwalking home with us by moonlight, but her spirits were too muchoppressed to enable her to keep this intention. M. D'Arblaywalked home with Phillips and me. Every moment of his time hasbeen given of late to transcribing a MS. Work of Madame de Stael, on 'L'Influence des Passions. ' It is a work of considerablelength, and written in a hand the most difficult possible todecipher. On Tuesday we all met again at Norbury, where we spent the day. Madame de Stael could not rally her spirits at all, Page 60 and seemed like one torn from all that was dear to her. I wastruly concerned. After giving me a variety of charges, or ratherentreaties, to watch and attend to the health, spirits, andaffairs of the friends she was leaving, she said to me, "Et dŒtes… Mlle. Burney que je ne lui en veux pas du tout--que je quittele pays l'aimant bien sincŠrement et sans rancune. "(86) I assured her earnestly, and with more words than I have room toinsert, not only of your admiration, but affection, andsensibility of her worth and chagrin at seeing no more of her. Ihope I exceeded not your wishes; mais il n'y avoit pas moyen deresister. (87) She seemed pleased, and said, "Vous ˆtes bien bonne de me direcela, "(88) but in a low and faint voice, and dropped the subject. Before we took leave, M. D'Arblay was already gone, meaning tofinish transcribing her MS. I came home with Madame de Stael andM. De Narbonne. The former actually sobbed in saying farewell toMrs. Locke, and half way down the hill; her parting from me waslikewise very tender and flattering. I determined, however, to see her again, and met her near theschool, on Wednesday morning with a short note and a littleoffering which I was irresistibly tempted to make her. She couldnot speak to me, but kissed her hand with a very speaking andtouching expression of countenance. it was this morning, and just as I was setting out to meet her, that Skilton arrived from Chesington. I wrote a little, walkedout, and returned to finish as I could. At dinner came our Tio--(89) very bad indeed. After it we walkedtogether with the children to Norbury; but little Fanny was sowell pleased with his society that it was impossible to get aword on any particular subject. I, however, upon his venturingto question me whereabouts was the Page 61 campagne o– se trouvoit Mlle. Burney, (90) ventured de monc“t‚(91) to speak the name of Chesington, and give a littleaccount of its inhabitants, the early love we had for the spot, our excellent Mr. Crisp, and your good and kind hostesses. Helistened with much interest and pleasure, and said, "Mais, ne pourroit-on pas faire ce petit voyage-l…?"(92) I ventured to say nothing encouraging, at least, decisively, in agreat measure upon the children's account, lest they shouldrepeat; and, moreover, your little namesake seemed to mesurprisingly attentive and ‚veill‚e, as if elle se doutoit dequelque chose. (93) When we came home I gave our Tio so paper to write to you; it wasnot possible for me to add more than the address, much as Iwished it. REGRETS RESPECTING MADAME DE STAEL. (Fanny Burney to Mrs. -Locke. )Chesington, 1793. I have been quite enchanted to-day by my dear Susan'sintelligence that my three convalescents walked to the wood. Would I had been there to meet and receive them. I have regrettedexcessively the finishing so miserably an acquaintance begun withso much spirit and pleasure, and the d‚pit I fear Madame de Staelmust have experienced. I wish the world would take more care ofitself, and less of its neighbours. I should have heen verysafe, I trust, without such flights, and distances, and breaches. But there seemed an absolute resolution formed to crush thisacquaintance, and compel me to appear its wilful renouncer. All Idid also to clear the matter, and soften to Madame de Stael anypique or displeasure, unfortunately served only to increase them. Had I understood her disposition better, I should certainly haveattempted no palliation, for I rather offended her pride thanmollified her wrath. Yet I followed the golden rule, for how muchshould I prefer any acknowledgment of regret at such an apparentchange, from any one I esteemed, to a seeming Page 62 unconscious complacency in an unexplained caprice! I am vexed, however, very much vexed, at the whole business. I hope she leftNorbury Park with full satisfaction in its steady and morecomfortable connection. I fear mine will pass for only afashionable one. Miss Kitty Cooke still amuses me very much by her incomparabledialect; and by her kindness and friendliness. I am taken thebest care of imaginable. My poor brother, who will carry this toMickleham, is grievously altered by the loss of his little girl. It has affected his spirits and his health, and he is grown sothin and meagre, that he looks ten years older than when I sawhim last. I hope he will now revive, since the blow is over; butit has been a very, very hard one, after such earnest pains toescape it. . . Did the wood look very beautiful? I have figured it to myselfwith the three dear convalescents wandering in its winding paths, and inhaling its freshness and salubrity, ever since I heard ofthis walk. I wanted prodigiously to have issued forth from somelittle green recess, to have hailed your return. I hope Mr. Lockehad the pleasure of this sight. Is jenny capable of such amounting journey? Do you know anything of a certain young lady, who eludes all myinquiries, famous for having eight sisters, all of uncommontalents? I had formerly some intercourse with her, and she usedto promise she would renew it whenever I pleased but whether sheis offended that I have slighted her offers so long, or whethershe is fickle, or only whimsical, I know not all that is quiteundoubted is that she has concealed herself so effectually frommy researches, that I might as well look for justice and clemencyin the French Convention, as for this former friend in the plainsand lanes of Chesington where, erst, she met me whether I wouldor no. M. D'ARBLAY'S VISIT TO CHESINGTON. (Fanny Burney to Mrs. Locke. )Chesington, 1793. How sweet to me was my dearest Fredy's assurance that mygratification and prudence went at last hand in hand! I hadlonged for the sight of her writing, and not dared wish it. Page 63 I shall now long Impatiently till I can have the pleasure ofsaying "Ma'am, I desire no more of your letters. " I have heard to-day all I can most covet of all my dear latemalades. I take it for granted this little visit was made knownto my dearest sister confidant. I had prepared for it from thetime of my own expectation, and I have had much amusement in whatthe preparation produced. Mrs Hamilton ordered half a ham to beboiled ready; and Miss Kitty trimmed up her best cap, and triedit on, on Saturday, to get it in shape to her face. She madechocolate also, which we drank up on Monday and Tuesday, becauseit was spoiling. "I have never seen none of the French quality, "she says, "and I have a purdigious curosity; though as to dukesand dukes' sons, and these high top captains, I know they'llthink me a mere country bumpkin. Howsever, they can't call meworse than 'Fat Kit Square, ' and that's the worst name I ever gotfrom any of our English petite bears, which I suppose thesepetite French quality never heard the like of. " Unfortunately, however, when all was prepared above, the Frenchtop captain entered while poor Miss Kitty was in dishabill, andMrs. Hamilton finishing washing up her china from breakfast. Amaid who was out at the pump, and first saw the arrival, ran into give Miss Kitty time to escape, for she was in her round dressnight-cap, and without her roll and curls. However, he followedtoo quick, and Mrs. Hamilton was seen in her linen gown and mob, though she had put on a silk one in expectation for every noonthese four or five days past; and Miss Kitty was in suchconfusion, she hurried out of the room. She soon, however, returned with the roll and curls, and the forehead and throatfashionably lost, in a silk gown. And though she had not intendedto speak a word, the gentle quietness of her guest so surprisedand pleased her, that she never quitted his side while he stayed, and has sung his praises ever since. Mrs. Hamilton, good soul ! in talking and inquiring since of hishistory and conduct, shed tears at the recital. She says nowshe, has really seen one of the French gentry that has been droveout of their country by the villains she has heard Of, she shallbegin to believe there really has been a Revolution! and MissKitty says, "I purtest I did not know before but it was all asham. "Page 64 THE MATRIMONIAL PROJECT IS DISCUSSED. (Fanny Burney to Mrs. Phillips. )Friday, May 31, Chesington. My heart so smites me this morning with making no answer to all Ihave been requested to weigh and decide, that I feel I cannotwith any ease return to town without at least complying with onedemand, which first, at parting yesterday, brought me to writefully to you, my Susan, if I could not elsewhere to mysatisfaction. in the course of last night and this morning Much indeed hasoccurred to me, that now renders my longer silence as toprospects and proceedings unjustifiable to myself. I willtherefore now address myself to both my beloved confidants, andopen to them all my thoughts, and entreat their own with equalplainness in return. M. D'Arblay's last three letters convince me he is desperatelydejected when alone, and when perfectly natural. It is not thathe wants patience, but he wants rational expectation of bettertimes, expectation founded on something more than mere aerialhope, that builds one day upon what the next blasts; and then hasto build again, and again to be blasted. What affects me the most in this situation is, that his time mayas completely be lost as another's peace, by waiting for theeffects of distant events, vague, bewildering, and remote, andquite as likely to lead to ill as to good. The very waiting, indeed, with the mind in such a state, is in itself an evilscarce to be recompensed. . . . My dearest Fredy, in the beginning of her knowledge of thistransaction, told me that Mr. Locke was of opinion that onehundred pounds per annum(94) might do, as it does for many acurate. M. D'A. Also most solemnly and affectingly declares thatle simple n‚cessaire is all he requires and here, In yourvicinity, would unhesitatingly be preferred by him to the mostbrilliant fortune in another s‚jour. If he can say that, whatmust I be not to echo it? I, who in the bosom of my own mostchosen, most darling friends--- I need not enter more upon this; you all must knowto me a crust of bread, with a little roof for shelter, and afirePage 65 for warmth, near you, would bring me to peace, to happiness, toall that My heart holds dear, or even in any situation couldprize. I cannot picture such a fate with dry eyes ; all else butkindness and society has to me so always been nothing. With regard to my dear father, he has always left me to myself; Iwill not therefore speak to him while thus uncertain what todecide. it is certain, however, that, with peace of mind and retirement, I have resources that I could bring forward to amend the littlesituation ; as well as that, once thus undoubtedly establishedand naturalised, M. D'A. Would have claims for employment. These reflections, with a mutual freedom from ambition might leadto a quiet road, unbroken by the tortures of applications, expectations, attendance, disappointment, and time-wasting hopesand fears; if there were not apprehensions the one hundred poundsmight be withdrawn. I do not think it likely, but it is a risktoo serious in its consequences to be run. M. D'A. Protests hecould not answer to himself the hazard. How to ascertain this, to clear the doubt, or to know the fatalcertainty before it should be too late, exceeds my powers ofsuggestion. His own idea, to write to the queen, much as it hasstartled me, and wild as it seemed to me, is certainly less wildthan to take the chance of such a blow in the dark. Yet such aletter could not even reach her. His very name isprobably only known to her through myself. In short, my dearestfriends, you will think for me, and let me know what occurs toyou, and I will defer any answer till I hear your opinions. Heaven ever bless you! And pray for me at this moment. DR. BURNEY'S OBJECTIONS TO THE MATCH. (Dr. Burney to Fanny Burney. )May, 1793, Dear Fanny, -I have for some time seen very plainly that you are‚prise, and have been extremely uneasy at the discovery. YOU musthave observed my silent gravity, surpassing that of mere illnessand its consequent low spirits. I had some thoughts of writingto Susan about it, and intended begging her to do what I must nowdo for myself--that is, beg and admonish you not to entangleyourself in a wild andPage 66 romantic attachment, which offers nothing in prospect but povertyand distress, with future inconvenience and unhappiness. M. D'Arblay is certainly a very amiable and accomplished man, and ofgreat military abilities I take for granted ; but what employmenthas he for them of which the success is not extremely hazardous?His property, whatever it was, has been confiscated--d‚cr‚--bythe Convention - and if a counter-revolution takes place, unlessit be exactly such a one as suits the particular political sectin which he enlisted, it does not seem likely to secure to him anestablishment in France. And as to an establishment in England, Iknow the difficulty which very deserving natives find inprocuring one, with every appearance of interest, friends, andprobability; and, to a foreigner, I fear the difficulty will bemore than doubled. As M. D'Arblay is at present circumstanced, an alliance withanything but a fortune sufficient for the support of himself andpartner would be very imprudent. He is a mere soldier of fortune, under great disadvantages. Your income, if it was as certain as afreehold estate, is insufficient for the purpose ; and if thequeen should be displeased and withdraw her allowance, what couldyou do? I own that, if M. D'Arblay had an establishment in Francesufficient for him to marry a wife with little or no fortune, much as I am inclined to honour and esteem him, I should wish toprevent you from fixing your residence there; not merely fromselfishness, but for your own sake, I know your love for yourfamily, and know that it is reciprocal; I therefore cannot helpthinking that you would mutually be lost to each other. Thefriends, too, which you have here, are of the highest and mostdesirable class. To quit them, in order to make new friendshipsin a strange land, in which the generality of its inhabitants atpresent seem incapable of such virtues as friendship is builtupon, seems wild and visionary. If M. D'Arblay had a sufficient establishment here for thepurposes of credit and comfort, and determined to settle here forlife, I should certainly think ourselves honoured by his alliance; but his situation is at present so very remote from all thatcan satisfy prudence, or reconcile to an affectionate father theidea of a serious attachment, that I tremble for your heart andfuture happiness. M. D'Arblay must have lived too long in thegreat world to accommodate himselfPage 67 contentedly to the little. His fate seems so intimately connectedwith that of his miserable country, and that country seems at agreater distance from peace, order, and tranquillity now than ithas done at any time since the Revolution. These considerations, and the uncertainty Of what party willfinally prevail, make me tremble for you both. You see, by what Ihave said, that my objections are not personal, but whollyprudential. For heaven's sake, my dear Fanny, do not part withyour heart too rapidly, or involve yourself in deep engagementswhich it will be difficult to dissolve; and to the last degreeimprudent, as things are at present circumstanced, to fulfil. As far as character, merit, and misfortune demand esteem andregard, you may be sure that M. D'Arblay will be always receivedby me with the utmost attention and respect - but, in the presentsituation of things, I can by no means think I ought to encourage(blind and ignorant as I am of all but his misfortunes) a seriousand solemn union with one whose unhappiness would be a reproachto the facility and inconsiderateness of a most affectionatefather. THE MARRIAGE TAKES PLACE. Memorandum, this 7th May, 1825. In answer to these apparently most just, and, undoubtedly, mostparental and tender apprehensions, Susanna, the darling child ofDr. Burney, as well as first chosen friend of M, d'Arblay, wrotea statement of the plans, and means, and purposes of M. D'A. AndF. B. --so clearly demonstrating their power of happiness, withwilling economy, congenial tastes, and mutual love of thecountry, that Dr. B. Gave way, and sent, though reluctantly, aconsent - by which the union took place the 31st Of July, 1793, in Mickleham church, In presence of Mr. And Mrs. Locke, Captainand Mrs. Phillips, M. De Narbonne, and Captain Burney, who wasfather to his sister, as Mr. Locke was to M. D'A. ; and on the1st of August the ceremony was re-performed in the Sardinianchapel, according to the rites of the Romish Church; and never, never was union more blessed and felicitous; though after thefirst eight years of unmingled happiness, it was assailed by manycalamities, chiefly of separation or illness, yet still mentallyunbroken. F. D'ARBLAY. Page 68 ANNOUNCEMENT OF THE MARRIAGE TO A FRIEND. (Madame d'Arblay to Mrs. ----. )August 2, 1793. How in the world shall I begin this letter to my dearest M--! howsave her from a surprise almost too strong for her weak nervesand tender heart! After such an opening, perhaps any communication may be a reliefbut it is surprise only I would guard against; my presentcommunication has nothing else to fear; it has nothing in it sad, melancholy, unhappy, but it has everything that is marvellous andunexpected. Do you recollect at all, when you were last in town, my warminterest for the loyal part of the French exiles?-=do youremember my ‚loge of a French officer, in particular, a certainM. D'Arblay? Ah, my dear M--, you are quick as lightning; your sensitiveapprehension will tell my tale for me now, without more aid thansome details of circumstance. The ‚loge I then made, was with design to prepare you for anevent I had reason to expect: such, however, was the uncertaintyof my situation, from prudential obstacles, that I dared ventureat no confidence, though my heart prompted it strongly, to afriend so sweetly sympathising in all my feelings and all myaffairs--so constantly affectionate- so tenderly alive to allthat interests and concerns me. My dearest M-, you will give me, I am sure, your heart-feltwishes--your most fervent prayers. The choice I have made appearsto me all you could yourself wish to fall to my lot--all youcould yourself have formed to have accorded best with your kindpartiality. I had some hope you would have seen him that evening when we wenttogether from Mrs. M. Montagu to Mrs. Locke's, for he was then aguest in Portland Place; but some miserable circumstances, ofwhich I knew nothing till after had just fallen out, and he hadshut himself up in his room. He did not know we were there. Many, indeed, have been the miserable circumstances that have, from time to time, alarmed and afflicted in turn, and seemed torender a renunciation indispensable. The difficulties, however, have been conquered; and last SundayPage 69 Mr. And Mrs. Locke, my sister and Captain Phillips, and mybrother Captain Burney, accompanied us to the altar, in Micklehamchurch ; since which the ceremony has been repeated in the chapelof the Sardinian ambassador, that if, by a counter-revolution inFrance, M. D'Arblay recovers any f his rights, his wife may notbe excluded from their participation. You may be amazed not to see the name of my dear father upon thissolemn occasion - but his apprehensions from the smallness of ourincome have made him cold and averse and though he granted hisconsent, I could not even solicit his presence. I feelsatisfied, however, that time will convince him I have not beenso imprudent as he now thinks me. Happiness is the great end ofall our worldly views and proceedings, and no one can judge foranother in what will produce it, To me, wealth and ambition wouldalways be unavailing ; I have lived in their most centricalpossessions, and I have always seen that the happiness of therichest and the greatest has been the moment of retiring fromriches and from power. Domestic comfort and social affectionhave invariably been the sole as well as ultimate objects of mychoice, and I have always been a stranger to any other species offelicity. M. D'Arblay has a taste for literature, and a passion for readingand writing, as marked as my own ; this is a sympathy to robretirement of all superfluous leisure, and insure to us bothoccupation constantly edifying or entertaining. He has seen somuch of life, and has suffered so severely from itsdisappointments, that retreat, with a chosen companion, is becomehis final desire. Mr. Locke has given M. D'Arblay a piece of ground in hisbeautiful park-, upon which we shall build a little neat andplain habitation. We shall continue, meanwhile, in hisneighbourhood, to superintend the little edifice, and enjoy theSociety of his exquisite house, and that of my beloved sisterPhillips. We are now within two miles of both, at a farm-house, where we have what apartments we require, and no more, in a mostbeautiful and healthy situation, a mile and a half from any town. The nearest is Bookham; but I beg that MY letters may be directedto me at Captain Phillips's, Mickleham, as the post does not comethis way, and I may else miss them for a week. AS I do notcorrespond with Mrs Montagu, and it wouldPage 70 be awkward to begin upon such a theme, I beg that when you writeyou will say something for me. One of my first pleasures, in our little intended home, will be, finding a place of honour for the legacy of Mrs. Delany. Whatevermay be the general wonder, and perhaps blame, of general people, at this connexion, equally indiscreet in pecuniary points for usboth, I feel sure that the truly liberal and truly intellectualjudgment of that most venerated character would have accorded itssanction, when acquainted with the worthiness of the object whowould wish it. Adieu, my sweet friend. Give my best compliments to Mr. ---, andgive me your kind wishes, your kind prayers, my ever dear M--. (1) So called from the convent where their meetings were held. (2) Carlyle. (3) Carlyle. (4 "To the lamp;" the street lamp-irons being found, by the -French sansculottes, a handy substitute for the gallows. -ED. (5) The old Marshal Duke de Broglie was one of the earlyemigrants. He quitted France in July 1789, after the fall of theBastille. -ED. (6) "Minister of War. " (7) Bradfield Hall, near Bury St. Edmund's, Suffolk, the house ofArthur Young, See infra. -ED. (8) " Arthur Young, the well-known writer of works onagriculture, still in high repute. He was a very old friend ofthe Burneys ; connected with them also, by marriage, Mrs. Youngbeing a sister of Dr. Burney's second wife. His " Travels inFrance " (from 1769 to 1790), published in 1794, gives a mostvaluable and interesting account of the state of that countryjust before the Revolution. Arthur Young was appointed Secretaryto the Board of Agriculture, established by Act of Parliament in1793. He died in 1820, in his seventy-ninth year, having beenblind for some years previous to his death. -ED. (9) Fanny's half-sister, Sarah Harriet Burney, -ED. (10) " Minister of war. " (11) One memorable saying is recorded of the Duke de Liancourt. He brought the news to the king of the capture of the Bastille bythe people of Paris, July 14, 1789. "Late at night, the Duke deLiancourt, having official right of entrance, gains access to theroyal apartments unfolds, with earnest clearness, in hisconstitutional way, the Job's- news. 'Mais, ' said poor Louis, 'c'est une r‚volte, Why, that is a revolt!'—'Sire, ' answeredLiancourt, 'it is not a revolt, --it is arevolution. '"-(Carlyle. )-ED. (12) "Peers of France. " (13) Coblenz was the rallying-place of the emigrant noblesse. -ED. (14) On the 20th of June 1792, sansculotte Paris, assembling inits thousands, broke into the Tuileries, and called upon the kingto remove his veto upon the decree against the priests, and torecall the ministry--Roland's--which he had just dismissed. Forthree hours the king stood face to face with the angry crowd, refusing to comply. In the evening, the Mayor of Paris, P‚tion, arrived, with other popular leaders from the Assembly, andpersuaded the people to disperse. -ED. (15) "Save Yourself, M. De Liancourt!" (16) "Ah! we are lost!" (17) "prison. " (18) " I am in England. (19) The Duke de la Rochefoucault, "journeying, by quick stages, with his mother and wife, towards the Waters ofForges, or some quieter country, was arrested at Gisors;conducted along the streets, amid effervescing multitudes, andkilled dead ' by the stroke of a paving-stone hurledthrough the coach-window. ' Killed as a once Liberal, nowAristocrat; Protector of Priests, Suspender of virtuous P‚tions, and most unfortunate Hot-grown-cold, detestable to Patriotism. He dies lamented of Europe; his bloodspattering the cheeks of his old mother, ninety-three years old. "-(Carlyle, Erench Aevolulion, Part III. , Book I. , ch. Vi. )- ED. (20) School-boys. (21) See note 361 ante, vol. Ii. P. 449. -ED. (22) The name under which Madame de Genlis was now passing. (23) " She has seen me!" (24) "Perhaps I am indiscreet?" (25) "But, mademoiselle--after all--the king--is he quite cured?"(26) "What, mademoiselle! you knew that infamous woman?" (27) These "journalizing letters " of Mrs. Phillipscontinue without interruption from the present page to page37. -ED. (28) Not yet duke, but viscount. He was created duke by LouisXVIII. , in 1822. -ED. (29) It should be March. "The portfolio of war waswithdrawn from him, by a very laconic letter from the king, March10, 1792; he had held it three months and threedays. " (Nouvelle Biographie G‚n‚rale: art. Narbonne. )-ED. (30) Severe decrees against the emigrants were passed in theConvention shortly afterwards. See infra, P. 33. -ED. (31) "And as he is extremely attached to him, he has begged himto come and live with him. " (32) In a position to realise her fortune. " (33) "To pay his respects to me. " (34) "I do not speak English very well. " (35) "*What a pretty little house you have, and what prettylittle hosts. " (36) "Does he know the name of M. Lafayette ?" (37) "They put us at first into a pretty enough room. " (38) A constitutionalist and member of the Legislative Assembly, who narrowly escaped with his life on the 10th of August. Helived thenceforward in retirement until after the fall ofRobespierre and the jacobins, and came again to the fore underNapoleon. -ED. (39) "His resignation. " (40) "Without form of law. " (41) The night of June 20-21, 1791, King Louis fled disguisedfrom Paris, with his family; got safely as far as Varennes, butwas there discovered, and obliged to return. -ED. (42) "Resolution was taken. " (43) "After many threatening gestures. " (44) The asylum of Jean jacques (Rousseau). (45) St. Just was one of the most notable members of the NationalConvention. "Young Saint-just is coming, deputed by Aisne in theNorth; more like a Student than a Senator; not four-and-twentyyet (Sept. 1792); who has written Books; a youth of slightstature, with mild mellow voice, enthusiast olive-complexion andlong black hair. " (Carlyle. )He held with Robespierre, and was guillotined with him, July 28, 1794. -ED. (46) ' "And now he is a proud republican. " (47) "What day better than the present?" (48) "Listen to reason. " (49) M. De Necker was father of Madame de Stael, and at one timethe most popular minister of France. Controller-general offinances from 1776 to 1781, and again in 1788. In July 1789, hewas dismissed, to the anger of indignant Paris; had to herecalled before many days, and returned in triumph, to be, it washoped, "Saviour of France. " But his popularity graduallydeclined, and at last "'Adored Minister' Necker sees good on the3rd of September, 1790, to withdraw softly, almost privily--withan eye to the 'recovery of his health. ' Home to nativeSwitzerland; not as he last came; lucky to reach it alive!"(Carlyle)-ED. (50) Malouet was a member of the Assembly, and one of theconstitutional royalists who took refuge in England in September, 1792. Hearing of the intended trial of the king, 'Malouet wroteto the Convention, requesting a passport, that he might go toParis to defend him. He got no passport, however ; only his nameput on the list of emigrants for an answer. ED. (51) "Were mixed up in it. " (52) The Bishop of Autun:--Talleyrand. -ED. (53) "Worthy to be the husband of so amiable and charming aperson as Madame de la Chƒtre. " (54) "M. De la Chƒtre is a capital fellow; but as rough as acart-horse. " (55) The spleen. (56) Inn. (57) "His unfortunate friends. " (58) "But wait a bit ; I have not yet finished : we were assuredthat no one was lost, and even that everything on the vessel wassaved. " (59) "Out at sea. " (60) "His friends the constitutionalists. " (61) Fortnight. (62) The execution of Louis XVI. (63) The Literary Club. (64) Guarded: circumspect. (65) Dr. Percy, editor of the "Reliques of Ancient EnglishPoetry. "-ED. (66) "Move the people to compassion. " (67) As literary curiosities, the subjoined notes from Madame deStael, have been printed verbatim et literatim: they areprobably her earliest attempts at English writing. (68) "But, to make more sure, I tell you in French that yourroom, the house, the inmates of Juniper, everything is ready toreceive the first woman in England. " (69) Malesherbes was one of the counsel who defended Louis athis trial. The Convention, after debate, has granted him LegalCounsel, of his own choosing. Advocate Target feels himself 'tooold, ' being turned of fifty-four - and declines. . . . AdvocateTronchet, some ten years older, does not decline. Nay behold, good old Malesherbes steps forward voluntarily; to the last ofhis fields, the good old hero! He is gray with seventy years; hesays, 'I was twice called to the Council of him who was myMaster, When all the world coveted that honour; and I owe him thesame service now, when it has become one which many reckondangerous!"--(Carlyle). Malesherbes was guillotined in 1794, during "the Reign of Terror. "-ED. (70) Mr. Clarke. (71) Voltaire's. --ED. (72) Narbonne. -ED. (73) "Something to live on in England. " (74) September 2, it should be. -ED. (75) i. E. , D‚cr‚t‚ d'accusation, accused. -ED. (76) Lally Tolendal was the son of the brave Lally, Governor ofPondicherry, whose great services in India were rewarded by theFrench government with four years' imprisonment, repeatedtorture, and finally ignominious death, in 1760. The inflictionof torture on criminals was not put a stop to in France until theRevolution. -ED. (77) "A very good fellow, and nothing more. " (78) "But he will be hurt at that. "(79) The owner of Juniper Hall. -ED. (80) "Coquetry to soften that barbarous jenkinson. " (81) "Indignant at the bad faith, and tired with the tediousnessof his opponent. " (82) "Pray, Mr. Gnawbone, how is the queen?"(83) Punctiliousness: propriety. (84) Pet: Vexation. (85) "Is a woman in leading strings all her life in this country?It seems to me that your sister is like a child of fourteen. "(86) "And tell Miss Burney that I don't desire it of her-that Ileave the Country loving her sincerely, and bearing her nogrudge. " (87) "There was no way out of it. " (88) "You are very good to say SO. " (89) M. D'Arblay. "When Lieutenant [James] Burney accompaniedcaptain Cook to otaheite, each of the English sailors was adoptedas a brother by some one of the natives. The ceremony consistedin rubbing noses together, and exchanging the appellation Tyo orToio, which signified 'chosen friend. ' This title was sometimesplayfully given to Miss Burney by Mrs. Thrale. " note to theoriginal edition of the "Diary", vol. Ii. Page 38. -ED. (90) "Country place where Miss Burney was. " (91) "On my part. " (92) "Could not one make that little journey?" (93) "Wide awake, as if she suspected something. " (94) The amount of Fanny's pension from the queen. -ED. SECTION 20. (1793-6) LOVE IN A COTTAGE: THE D'ARBLAYS VISIT WINDSOR. [Never, probably, did Fanny enjoy greater happiness than duringthe first few years of her married life, "Love in a cottage" onan income Of One hundred pounds a year, was exactly suited to herretiring and affectionate nature. The cottage, too, was withineasy walking distance of Mickleham, where resided her favouritesister, Susanna, and of Norbury Park, the home of her dearestfriends, the Lockes. Here, then, in this beautiful part ofSurrey, with a devoted husband by her side, and, in due time, alittle son (her only child) to share with him her tenderness andcare ' did Fanny lead, for some. Time, a tranquil and, inthe main, a happy life. Her chief excursions were occasionalvisits to the queen and princesses-delightful visits now that shewas out of harness. Towards the end, however, of the period ofwhich the following 'Section contains the history, two melancholyevents, happening in quick succession, brought sorrow to thelittle household at Book'ham. The departure for Ireland of SusanPhillips left a grievous gap in the circle of Fanny's best-lovedfriends. We gather from the "Diary" that Captain (now Major)Phillips had gone to Ireland, with his little son, Norbury, tosuperintend the management of his estate at Belcotton, somemonths before his wife left Mickleham. In the autumn of 1796 hereturned to fetch his wife and the rest of his family. An absenceof three years was intended, The parting was rendered doublydistressing by the evidently declining state of Susan's health. Shortly afterwards, in October 1796, died Fanny's step-mother, who had been, for many years, more Or less an invalid. Fannyhastened to Chelsea on receiving the news, and spent some timethere with her father and his Youngest daughter. Thefollowing extract from a memorandum of Dr. Burney's will be read, we think, not without Interest. "On the 26th of October, she [his second wife) was interred inthe burying-ground of Chelsea College. On the 27th, I returned tomy melancholy home, disconsolate and stupified, Though longPage 72 expected, this calamity was very severely felt; I missed hercounsel, converse, and family regulations; and a companion ofthirty years, whose mind was cultivated, whose intellects wereabove the general level of her sex, and whose curiosity afterknowledge was insatiable to the last. These were losses thatcaused a vacuum in my habitation and in my mind, that has neverbeen filled up. "My four eldest daughters, all dutiful, intelligent, andaffectionate, were married, and had families of their own tosuperintend, or they might have administered comfort. My youngestdaughter ' Sarah Harriet, by my second marriage, had quickintellects, and distinguished talents ; but she had no experiencein household affairs. However, though she had native spirits ofthe highest gaiety, she became a steady and prudent character, and a kind and good girl. There is, I think, considerable meritin her novel, 'Geraldine, ' particularly in the conversations; andI think the scene at the emigrant cottage really touching. Atleast it drew tears from me, when I was not so prone to shed themas I am at present. "(95) During these years Fanny did not suffer her pen to lie idle. Hertragedy, "Edwy and Elgiva, " was produced, though without success, at Drury Lane. On the other hand, the success of her third novel, "Camilla, or a Picture of Youth, " published by subscription in1796, was, at least from a financial point of view, conspicuousand immediate. Out of an edition of four thousand, three thousandfive hundred copies were sold within three months. Were we to attempt to rank Madame d'Arblay's novels in order ofmerit, we should perhaps feel compelled to place "Camilla" at thebottom of the list, yet without intending to imply anyconsiderable inferiority. But it is full of charm and animationthe characters--the female characters especially-are drawn with asure hand, the humour is as diverting, the satire as spirited asever. Fanny"s fops and men of the ton are always excellent intheir kind, and "Camilla" contains, perhaps, her greatest triumphin this direction, in the character of Sir Sedley Clarendal. Lovel. In "Evelina, " and Meadows, in "Cecilia, " are mereblockheads, whose distinction is wholly due to the ludicrousnessof their affectations; but in Sir Sedley she has attempted, andsucceeded in the much more difficult task of portraying a man ofnaturally good parts and feelings, who, through idleness andvanity, has allowed himself to sink into the position of a mereleader of the ton, whose better nature rises at times, in spiteof himself, above the flood of affectation and folly beneathwhich he endeavours to drown it. Camilla herself, thelight-hearted, unsuspicious Camilla, however she may differ, insome points of character, from Fanny's other heroines, possessesone quality which is common to them all, the power of fascinatingthe reader. Perhaps the least satisfactory character in the bookis that of the hero, Edgar Mandlebert, whose extreme caution inthe choice of a wife betrays him into ungenerous suspicions, asirritating to the impatient reader as they are dis-Page 73 tressing to pool- Camilla. In fine, whatever faults, asoccasionally of style, the book may have the interest never forOne moment flags from the first page to the last of the entirefive volumes. The subscriPtion-price of " Camilla " was fixed at one guinea. Fanny's friends, Mrs. Crewe, Mrs. Boscawen, and Mrs. Locke, exerted themselves with the utmost zeal and success in procuringsubscribers, and the printed lists prefixed to the first volumecontains nearly eleven hundred names. Among wthem we notice thename of Edmund Burke, whose great career was closing in a cloudof domestic trouble'. Early in 1794 he lost his brother, Richard, and in August of the same year a far heavier blow fell upon himin the death, at the age of thirty-six, of his only and promisingson, "the pride and ornament of my existence, " as he called himin a touching letter to Mrs. Crewe. The desolate father, alreadyworn with the thankless toils of statesmanship, in which his veryerrors had been the outcome of a noble and enthusiastictemperament, never recovered from this blow. But when Mrs. Crewesent him, in 1795, the proposals for publishing "Camilla, " Burkeroused himself to do a new kindness to an old friend. Heforwarded to Mrs. Crewe a note for twenty pounds, desiring inreturn one copy of the book, and justified his generous donationin a letter of the most delicate Courtesy. "As to Miss Burney, "he wrote, "the subscription ought to be, for certain persons, five guineas; and to take but a single copy each. The rest asit is. I am sure that it is a disgrace to the age and nation, ifthis be not a great thing for her. If every person in Englandwho has received pleasure'and instruction from 'Cecilia, ' were torate its value at the hundredth part of their satisfaction, Madame d'Arblay would be one of the richest women in the kingdom. "Her scheme was known before she lost two of her most respectfuladmirers from this house; and this, with Mrs. BUrke's'subscription and mine, make the paper I send you. One book is asgood as a thousand: one of hers is certainly as good as athousand others. " The book, on its Publication 'was sent to Bath, where Burkewas lying ill-too ill to read it. To Mrs. Crewe, who visited himat the time, he said : "How ill I am you will easily believe, when a new work of Madame d'Arblay's lies on my table, unread!"(96) Meanwhile the retirement of the "hermits" at Bookham was now andagain disturbed by echoes of the tumult without. The war wasprogressing, and the Republic was holding its own against thecombined powers of Europe. Dr. Burney refers to the "sad news"from Dunkirk. In August, 1793, an English army, commanded by theDuke of York, had invested that important stronghold: on thenight of September 8, thanks to the exertions of the garrison andthe advance of General Houchard to its relief, the siege wasurriedly abandoned and his royal highness had to beat a retreat, leaving behind him' his siege-artillery and a large quantity ofaggage and ammunition. Another siege--that ofPage 74 Toulon-seemed likely to prove a matter of nearer concern toFanny. The inhabitants of Toulon, having royalist, or at leastanti-jacobin, sympathies, and stirred by the fate of Marseilles, had determined, in an unhappy hour, to defy the Convention and toproclaim the dauphin by the title of Louis XVII. They invoked theprotection of the English fleet under Admiral Hood, whoaccordingly took possession of the harbour and of the Frenchships of war stationed therein, while a force of English andSpanish soldiers was sent on shore to garrison the forts. In thecourse of these proceedings the admiral issued to the townspeopletwo proclamations, by the second of which, dated August 28, 1793, after noticing the declaration of the inhabitants in favour ofmonarchy, and Their desire to re-establish the constitution as itwas accepted by the late king, he explicitly declared that hetook possession of Toulon and should keep it solely as a depositfor Louis XXIII. , and that only until the restoration of peace. This hopeful intelligence did not escape General d'Arblay, busiedamong his cabbages at Bookham. A blow to be struck for LouisXVII. And the constitution! The general straightway flung asidethe "Gardener's Dictionary, " and wrote an offer to Mr. Pitt ofhis services as volunteer at Toulon, in the sacred cause of theBourbons. Happily for Fanny, his offer was not accepted, for somereason unexplained. (97) In the meantime, General Dugommier andthe republicans, a young artillery-officer named NapoleonBuonaparte among them, were using their best endeavours to reduceToulon, with what result we shall presently see. -ED. ] THE FRENCH CLERGY FUND. THE TOULON ExPEDITION. (Dr. Burney to Madame d'Arblay. )September 12, 1793. Dear Fanny--In this season of leisure I am as fully occupied asever your friend Mr. DelVile(98) was. So many people toattend, so many complaints to hear, and so many grievances toredress, that it has been impossible for me to write toyou sooner. I have been out of town but one Single day, Ibelieve, since you were here: that was spent at Richmond with mysisters. But every dayPage 75 produces business for other people, which occupies me as much asever I found myself in days of hurry about my own affairs. I have had a negotiation and correspondence to carry onfor and with Charlotte Smith, (99) of which I believe I told youthe beginning, and I do not see the end myself. Her secondson had his foot shot off before Dunkirk, and has undergone avery dangerous amputation, which, it is much feared, will befatal. Mrs. Crewe, having seen at Eastbourne a great number of venerableand amiable French clergy suffering all the evils of banishmentand beggary with silent resignation, has for some time had inmeditation a plan for procuring some addition to the smallallowance the committee at Freemasons' hall is able to allow, from the residue of the subscriptions and briefs in their favour. Susan will show you the plan. . . . You say that M. D'Arblay is not only his own architect, butintends being his own gardener. I suppose the ground allotted tothe garden of your maisonnette is marked out, and probably willbe enclosed and broken up before the foundation of your mansionis laid ; therefore, to encourage M. D'Arblay in the study ofhorticulture, I have the honour to send him Miller's 'Gardeners'Dictionary, '--an excellent book, at least for the rudiments ofthe art. I send you, my dear Fanny, an edition of Milton, whichI can well spare, and which you ought not to live without ; and Isend you both our dear friend Dr. Johnson's 'Rasselas. ' This is sad news from Dunkirk, at which our own jacobins willinsolently triumph. Everything in France seems to move in aregular progression from bad to worse. After near five years'struggle and anarchy, no man alive, with a grain of modesty, would venture to predict how or when the evils of that countrywill be terminated. In the meantime the peace and comfort ofevery civilised part of the globe is threatened with similarcalamities. (Madame dArblay to Dr. Burney)Bookham, September 29, 1793. When I received the last letter of my dearest father, and forsome hours after, I was the happiest of all human beings. I makeno exception, for I think none possible : not a wish remained tome; not a thought of forming one. Page 76 This was just the period--is it not always so?--for a blow ofsorrow to reverse the whole scene : accordingly, that evening M. D'Arblay communicated to me his desire of going to Toulon. He hadintended retiring from public life; his services and hissufferings in his severe and long career, repaid by exile andconfiscation, and for ever embittered to his memory by the murderof his sovereign, had justly satisfied the claims of hisconscience and honour; and led him, without a singleself-reproach, to seek a quiet retreat in domestic society : butthe second declaration of Lord Hood no sooner reached this littleobscure dwelling, -no sooner had he read the words Louis XVII. Andthe constitution to which he had sworn united, than his militaryardour rekindled, his loyalty was all up in arms, and every senseof duty carried him back to wars and dangers. I dare not speak of myself, except to say that I have forborne tooppose him with a single solicitation; all the felicity of thisour chosen and loved retirement would effectually be annulled bythe smallest suspicion that it was enjoyed at the expense of anyduty - and therefore, since he is persuaded it is right to go, Iacquiesce. He is now writing an offer of his services, which I amto convey to Windsor, and which he means to convey himself to Mr. Pitt. As I am sure it will interest my dear father, I will copyit for him. . . . My dearest father, before this tremendous project broke into ourdomestic economy, M, d'Arblay had been employed in a littlecomposition, which, being all in his power, he destined to lay atyour feet, as a mark of his pleasure in your attention to hishorticultural pursuit. He has just finished copying it for you, and to-morrow it goes by the stage. Your hint of a book from time to time enchanted him: it seems tome the only present he accepts entirely without pain. He has justrequested me to return to Mrs. Locke herself a cadeau she hadbrought us. If it had been an old Courtcalendar, or an almanac, or anything in the shape of a brochure, he would have received itwith his best bow and smile. This Toulon business finally determines our deferring themaisonnette till the spring. Heaven grant it may be deferred nolonger!(100) Mr Locke says it will be nearly as soon ready as ifbegun in the autumn, for it will be better to have itPage 77 aired and inhabited before the winter seizes it, If the memoire which M. D'Arblay is now writing is finished intime, it shall accompany the little packet; if not, we will sendit by the first opportunity. Meanwhile, M. D'Arblay makes a point of our indulging ourselveswith the gratification of subscribing one guinea to yourfund, (101) and Mrs. Locke begs you will trust her and insert hersubscription in your list, and Miss Locke and Miss Amelia Locke. Mr. Locke is charmed with your plan. M. D'Arblay means to obtainyou Lady Burrel and Mrs. Berm. If you think I can write to anypurpose, tell me a little hint how and of what, dearest sir; forI am in the dark as to what may remain yet unsaid. Otherwise, heavy as is my heart just now, I could work for them and Yourplan. (102) (Dr. Burney to Madame d'Arblay. )October 4, 1793. Dear Fanny, --This is a terrible coup, so soon after your union;but I honour M, d'Arblay for offering his service on so great anoccasion, and you for giving way to what seems an indispensableduty. Common-place reflections on the vicissitudes of humanaffairs would afford you little consolation. The stroke is new toyour situation, and so will be the fortitude necessary on theoccasion. However, to military men, who, like M. D'Arblay, havebeen but just united to the object of their choice, and begun todomesticate, it is no uncommon tbing for their tranquillity to bedisturbed by " the trumpet's loud clangor. " Whether the offer isaccepted or not, the having made it will endear him to thoseembarked in the same cause among his countrymen, and elevate himin the general opinion of the English public. This considerationI am sure will afford you a satisfaction the most likely toenable you to support the anxiety and pain of absence. I have no doubt of the offer being taken well at Windsor, and ofits conciliating effects. If his majesty and the ministryPage 78 have any settled plan for accepting or rejecting similar offers Iknow not; but it seems very likely that Toulon will be regardedas the rallying point for French royalists of all sects anddenominations. . . . I shall be very anxious to know how the proposition of M. D'Arblay has been received; and, if accepted, on what conditions, and when and how the voyage is to be performed, I should hope ina stout man of war ; and that M. De Narbonne will be of theparty, being so united in friendship and political principles. Has M. D'Arblay ever been at Toulon ? It is supposed to be sowell fortified, both by art and nature, on the land side, that;if not impregnable, the taking it by the regicides will requireso much time that it is hoped an army of counterrevolutionistswill be assembled from the side of Savoy, sufficient to raise thesiege, if unity of measures and action prevail between theToulonnais and their external friends. But even if the assailantsshould make such approaches as to render it necessary to retreat, with such a powerful fleet as that of England and Spain united, it will not only be easy to carry off the garrison andinhabitants in time, but to destroy such ships as cannot bebrought away, and ruin the harbour and arsenal for many years tocome. ' I have written to Mrs. Crewe all you have said on the subject ofwriting something to stimulate benevolence and commiseration infavour of the poor French ecclesiastics, amounting to sixthousand now in England, besides four hundred laity here andeight hundred at Jersey, in utter want. The fund for the laitywas totally exhausted the 27th of last month, and the beginningof the next that raised by former subscriptions and briefs willbe wholly expended! The expense, in only allowing the clergy 8 shillings a-week, amountsPage 79 to about 7500 pounds a-month, which cannot be supported long byprivate subscriptions, and must at last be taken up byParliament; but to save the national disgrace of suffering theseexcellent people to die of hunger, before the Parliament meetsand agrees to do something for them, the ladies must work hard. You and M. D'Arblay are very good in wishing to contribute yourmite ; but I did not intend leading you into this scrape. If yousubscribe your pen, and he his sword, it will best answer Mr. Burke's idea, who says, "There are two ways by which people maybe charitable-the one by their money, the other by theirexertions. " (Madame d'Arblay to Dr. Burney. )Sunday noon, October 21, 1793. My dearest father will think I have been very long in doingthe little I have done; but my mind is so anxiously discom-fitedby the continued suspense with regard to M. D'Arblay'sproposition and wish, that it has not been easy to me to weighcompletely all I could say, and the fear of repeating what hadalready been offered upon the subject has much restrained me, forI have seen none of the tracts that may have appeared. However, it is a matter truly near my heart ; and though I have not doneit rapidly, I have done it with my whole mind, and, to own thetruth, with a species of emotion that has greatly affected me, for I could not deeply consider the situation of these venerablemen without feeling for them to the quick. If what I have writtenshould have power to procure them one more guinea, I shall bepaid. If you think what I have drawn up worth printing, I shouldsuppose it might make a little sixpenny paper, and be sold forthe same purpose it is written. Or will it only do to be printedat the expense of the acting ladies, and given gratis? You mustjudge of this. (Madame d'Arblay to Dr. Burney. )Bookham, October 27, 1793. My most dear father, --The terrible confirmation of this last actof savage hardness of heart(104) has wholly overset us again. M. D'Arblay had entirely discredited its probability, Page 80 and, to the last moment, disbelieved the report not from milderthoughts of the barbarous rulers of his unhappy country, but fromseeing that the death of the queen could answer no purpose, helpless as she was to injure them, while her life might answersome as a hostage with the emperor. Cruelty, however, such astheirs, seems to require no incitement whatever; its own horribleexercise appears sufficient both to prompt and to repay it. Goodheaven! that that wretched princess should so finish sufferingsso unexampled! With difficulties almost incredible, Madame de Stael hascontrived, a second time, to save the lives of M. De Jaucourt andM, de Montmorenci, who are just arrived in Switzerland. We knowas yet none of the particulars; simply that they are saved isall: but they write in a style the most melancholy to M. DeNarbonne, of the dreadful fanaticism of licence, which they darecall liberty, that still reigns unsubdued in France, And theyhave preserved nothing but their persons ! of their vastproperties they could secure no more than pocket-money, fortravelling in the most penurious manner. They are therefore in astate the most deplorable. Switzerland is filled with gentlemenand ladies of the very first families and rank, who are allstarving, but those who have had the good fortune to procure, bydisguising their quality, some menial office! No answer comes from Mr. Pitt ; and we now expect none till SirGilbert Elliot makes his report of the state of Toulon and of theToulonnese till which, probably, no decision will be formedwhether the constitutionals in England will be employed or not. [M. D'Arblay's offer of serving in the expedition to Toulon wasnot accepted, and the reasons for which it was declined do notappear. ] MADAME D'ARBLAY ON HER MARRIAGE. (Madame d'Arblay to mrs. ----. ) The account of your surprise, my sweet friend, was the last thingto create mine: I was well aware of the general astonishment, andof yours in particular. My own, however, at my very extraordinaryfate, is singly greater than that of all my friends united. I hadnever made any vow against marriage, but I had long, long beenfirmly persuaded it was for me a state of too much hazard and toolittle promise to draw me from my Page 81 individual plans and purposes. I remember, in playing -atquestions and commands, when I was thirteen, being asked when Iintended to marry? and surprising my playmates by solemnlyreplying) "When I think I shall be happier than I am in beingsingle. " It is true, I imagined that time would never arrive -and I have pertinaciously adhered to trying no experiment uponany other hope - for, many and mixed as are the ingredients whichform what is generally considered as happiness, I was alwaysfully convinced [hat social sympathy of character and taste couldalone have any chance with me; all else I always thought, and nowknow, to be immaterial. I have only this peculiar, --that whatmany contentedly assert or adopt in theory, I have had thecourage to be guided by in practice. We are now removed to a very small house in the suburbs of a verysmall village called Bookham. We found it rather inconvenient toreside in another person's dwelling, though our own apartmentswere to ourselves. Our views are not so beautiful as fromPhenice farm, but our situation is totally free from neighboursand intrusion. We are about a mile and a half from Norbury Park, and two miles from Mickleham. I am become already so stout awalker, by use, and with the help of a very able supporter, thatI go to those places and return home on foot without fatigue, when the weather is kind. At other times I condescend to accepta carriage from Mr. Locke ; but it is always reluctantly, I somuch prefer walking where, as here, the country and prospects areinviting. I thank you for your caution about building: we shall certainlyundertake nothing but by contract - however, it would be trulymortifying to give up a house in Norbury Park we defer thestructure till the spring, as it is to be so very slight, thatMr. Locke says it will be best to have it hardened in its firststage by the summer's sun. It will be very small, merely an habitation for three people, but in a situation trulybeautiful, and within five minutes of either Mr. Locke or mysister Phillips: it is to be placed just between those two lovedhouses. My dearest father, whose fears and drawbacks have been my Solesubject of regret, begins now to see I have not judged rashly, orwith romance, in seeing my own road to my own felicity. And hisrestored cheerful concurrence in my constant principles, thoughnew station, leaves me, for myself, Page 82 without a wish. L'ennui, which could alone infest our retreat, Ihave ever been a stranger to, except in tiresome company, and mycompanion has every possible resource against either feeling orinspiring it. As my partner is a Frenchman, I conclude the wonder raised by theconnexion may spread beyond my own private circle; but no wonderupon earth can ever arrive near my own in having found such acharacter from that nation. This is a prejudice certainly, impertinent and very John Bullish, and very arrogant but I onlyshare it with all my countrymen, and therefore must needs forgiveboth them and myself. I am convinced, however, from your tendersolicitude for me in all ways, that you will be glad to hear thatthe queen and all the royal family have deigned to send me wishesfor my happiness through Mrs. Schwellenberg, who has written mewhat you call a very kind congratulation. [In the year 1794, the happiness of the "Hermitage" was increasedby the birth of a son, (105) who was christened Alexander CharlesLouis Piochard d'Arblay; receiving the names of his father, withthose of his two godfathers, the Comte de Narbonne and Dr. Charles Burney. ] MR. CANNING. (Madame d'Arblay to Doctor Burney)Bookham, February 8, 1794. The times are indeed, as my dearest father says, tremendous, andreconcile this retirement daily more and more to my chevalier--chevalier every way, by birth, by his order, and by hischaracter; for to-day he has been making his first use of arestoration to his garden in gathering snowdrops for his fairDulcinea--you know I must say fair to finish the phrase with anyeffect. I am very sorry for the sorrow I am sure Mr. Burke will feel forthe loss of his brother, announced in Mr. Coolie's paperyesterday. Besides, he was a comic, good-humoured, entertainingman, though not bashful. (106) Page 83 What an excellent opening Mr. Canning has made at last!Entre nous soit dit, I remember, when at Windsor, that I Was toldMr. Fox came to Eton purposely to engage to himself that youngman, from the already great promise of his rising abilities - andhe made dinners for him and his nephew, Lord Holland, to teachthem political lessons. It must have had an odd effect upon him, I think, to hear such a speech from his disciple. (107) Mr. Locke now sends us the papers for the debates every two orthree days ; he cannot quicker, as his own household readers areso numerous. I see almost nothing of Mr. Windham in them ; whichvexes me: but I see Mr. Windham in Mr. Canning. TALLEYRAND's LETTERS OF ADIEU. (108) (M. De Talleyrand to Mrs. Philips. )Londres, 1794. Madame, --Il faut qu'il y ait eu de l'impossibilit‚ pour que cematin je n'aie pas eu l'honneur de vous voir; mais l'im- Page 84 possibilit‚ la plus forte m'a priv‚ du dernier plaisir que jepouvois avoir en Europe. Permettez moi, madame, de vous remercierencore une fois do toutes vos bont‚s, de vous demander un peu depart dans votre souvenir, et laissez moi vous dire que mes voeuxse porteront dans tous les terns de ma vie vers vous, vers lecapitaine, vers vos enfans. Vous allez avoir en Am‚rique unserviteur bien zˆl‚; je ne reviendrai pas en Europe sans arriverdans le Surrey: tout ce qui, pour mon esprit et pour mon coeur, aquelque valeur, est l…. Voulez-vous bien pr‚senter tous mes complimens au capitaine?(109) (M. De Talleyrand to M. And Madame d'Arblay. )Londres, 2 Mars, 1794. Adieu, mon cher D'Arblay: je quitte votre pays jusqu'au moment o–il n'appartiendra plus aux petites passions des hommes. Alors j'yreviendrai; non, en v‚rit‚, pour m'occuper d'affaires, car il y along tems que je les ai abandonn‚es pour jamais; mais pour voirles excellens habitans du Surrey, J'espŠre savoir assez d'Anglaispour entendre Madame d'Arblay; d'ici … quatre mois je ne vaisfaire autre chose que l'‚tudier: et pour apprendre le beau et bonlangage, c'est "Evelina" et "Cecilia" qui sont mes livres d'‚tudeet de plaisir. Je vous souhaite, mon cher ami, toute espŠce debonheur, et vous ˆtes on position de remplir tous mes souhaits. je ne sais combien de tems je resterai en Am‚rique: s'il ser‚f‚roit quelque chose de raisonnable et de stable pour notremalheureux pays, je reviendrois; si l'Europe s'abŒme dans lacampagne prochaine, je pr‚parerai en Am‚rique des asyles … tousnos amis. Page 85 Adieu: mes hommages … Madame d'Arblay et … Madamephillips, je vous en prie: je vous demande et vous promets amiti‚pour la vie. (110) M. D'ARBLAY's HORTICULTURAL PURSUITS. (Madame d'Arblay to Doctor Burney. )Bookham, March 22, 1794. My dear father. --I am this Moment returned from reading your mostwelcome and kind letter at our Susanna's. The account of yourbetter health gives me a pleasure beyond all words; and it is themore essential to my perfect contentment on account of youropinion of our retreat. I doubt not, my dearest father, but youjudge completely right, and I may nearly say we are both equallydisposed to pay the most implicit respect to your counsel. Wegive up, therefore, all thoughts of our London excursion for thepresent, and I shall write to that effect to our good intendedhostess very speedily. I can easily conceive far more than youenlarge upon in this counsel: and, indeed, I have not myself beenwholly free from apprehension of possible embarras, should we, atthis period, visit London; for though M. D'Arblay not only couldstand, but would court, all personal scrutiny, whetherretrospective or actual, I see daily the extreme susceptibilitywhich attends his very nice notions of honour, and how quicklyand deeply his spirit is wounded by whatever he regards asinjustice. Incapable, too, of the least trimming or Page 86 disguise, he could not, at a time such as this, be in Londonwithout suffering or risking perhaps hourly, somethingunpleasant. Here we are tranquil, undisturbed and undisturbing. Can life, he often says, he more innocent than ours, or happinessmore inoffensive? He works in his garden, or studies English andmathematics, while I write. When I work at my needle, he readsto me; and we enjoy the beautiful country around us in long andromantic strolls, during which he carries under his arm aportable garden chair, lent us by Mrs. Locke, that I may rest asI proceed. He is extremely fond, too, of writing, and makes, fromtime to time, memorandums of such memoirs, poems, and anecdotesas he recollects, and I wish to have preserved. These resourcesfor sedentary life are certainly the first blessings that can begiven to man, for they enable him to be happy in the extremestobscurity, even after tasting the dangerous draughts of glory andambition. The business of M. De Lafayette(111) has been indeed extremelybitter to him. It required the utmost force he could put uponhimself not to take some public part in it. He drew up a shortbut most energetic defence of that unfortunate general, in aletter, which he meant to print and send to the editors of anewspaper which had traduced him, with his name at full length. But after two nights' sleepless deliberation, the hopelessness ofserving his friend, with a horror and disdain of being mistakenas one who would lend any arms to weaken government at thiscrisis, made him consent to repress it. I was dreadfully uneasyduring the conflict, knowing, far better than I can make himconceive, the mischiefs that might follow any interference atthis moment, in matters brought before the nation, from aforeigner. But, conscious of his own integrity, I plainly see hemust either wholly retire, or come forward to encounter whateverhe thinks wrong. Ah--better let him accept your motto, andcultiver son jardin! He is now in it, notwithstanding our longwalk to Mickleham, and working hard and fast to finish someselfset task that to-morrow, Sunday, must else impede. Page 87 M. D'Arblay, to my infinite satisfaction, gives up all thoughtsof building, in the present awful state of public affairs. Toshow you, however, how much he is " of your advice " as to sonjardin, he has been drawing a plan for it, which I intend to beg, borrow, or steal (all one), to give you some idea how seriouslyhe studies to make his manual labours of some real utility. This sort of work, however, is so totally new to him, that hereceives every now and then some of poor Merlin's "disagreeablecompliments;" for, when Mr. Locke's or the captain's gardenersfavour our grounds with a visit, they commonly make known thatall has been done wrong. Seeds are sowing in some parts whenplants ought to be reaping, and plants are running to seed whilethey are thought not yet at maturity. Our garden, therefore, isnot yet quite the most profitable thing in the world; but M. D'A. Assures me it is to be the staff of our table and existence. A little, too, he has been unfortunate ; for, after immense toilin planting and transplanting strawberries round our hedge, hereat Bookham, he has just been informed they will bear no fruit thefirst year, and the second we may be "over the hills and faraway!" Another time, too, with great labour, he cleared aconsiderable compartment of weeds, and, when it looked clean andwell, and he showed his work to the gardener, the man said he haddemolished an asparagus-bed! M. D'A. Protested, however, nothingcould look more like des mauvaises herbes. His greatest passion is for transplanting. Everything we possesshe moves from one end of the garden to another, to produce bettereffects. Roses take place of jessamines, jessamines ofhoneysuckles, and honeysuckles of lilacs, till they have alldanced round as far as the space allows; but whether the effectmay not be a general mortality, summer only can determine. Such is our horticultural history. But I must not omit that wehave had for one week cabbages from our own cultivation everyday! O, you have no idea how sweet they tasted! We agreed theyhad a freshness and a go–t we had never met with before. We hadthem for too short a time to grow tired of them, because, as Ihave already hinted, they were beginning to run to seed before weknew they were eatable. . . April. Think of our horticultural shock last week, when Mrs. Bailey, our landlady, "entreated M. D'Arblay not to SpoilPage 88 her fruit-trees!"--trees he had been pruning with his utmostskill and strength. However, he has consulted your "Millar"thereupon, and finds out she is very ignorant, which he hasgently intimated to her. MRS. PIOZZI. (Madame d'Arblay to Dr. Burney. )Bookham, April, 1794. What a charming letter was your last, my dearest father How fullof interesting anecdote and enlivening detail! The meeting withMrs. Thrale, so surrounded by her family, made me breathless; andwhile you were conversing with the Signor, and left me in doubtwhether you advanced to her or not, I almost gasped withimpatience and revived old feelings, which, presently, youreanimated to almost all their original energy How like mydearest father to find all his kindness rekindled when her readyhand once more invited it! I heard her voice in, "Why here's Dr. Burney, as young as ever!" and my dear father in his parryinganswers. (112) No scene could have been related to me moreinteresting or more welcome. My heart and hand, I am sure, wouldhave met her in the same manner. The friendship was too pleasantin its first stage, and too strong in its texture, to be everobliterated, though it has been tarnished and clouded. I wish fewthings more earnestly than again to meet her. M. D'ARDLAY AS A GARDENER. (Madame d'Arblay to Dr. Burney. )(113)Bookham, August, '94. It is just a week since I had the greatest gratification of itskind I ever, I think, experienced :---so kind a thought, so Page 89 sweet a surprise as was my dearest father's visit! How softlyand soothingly it has rested upon my mind ever since! "Abdolomine"(114) has no regret but that his garden was not inbetter order; he was a little piqu‚, he confesses, that you saidit was not very neat--and, to be shor!-0-but his passion isto do great works: he undertakes with pleasure, pursues withenergy, and finishes with spirit; but, then, all is over! Hethinks the business once done always done; and to repair, andamend, and weed, and cleanse--O, these are drudgeriesinsupportable to him! However, you should have seen the place before he began hisoperations, to do him justice ; there was then nothing else butmauvaises herbes; now, you must at least allow there is a mixtureof flowers and grain! I wish you had seen him yesterday, mowingdown our hedge--with his sabre, and with an air and attitudes somilitary, that, if he had been hewing down other legions thanthose he encountered--ie. , of spiders--he could scarcely have hada mien more tremendous, or have demanded an arm more mighty. Heaven knows, I am "the most contente personne in the world" tosee his sabre so employed! A NOVEL AND A TRAGEDY. You spirited me on in all ways; for this week past I have takentightly to the grand ouvrage. (115) If I go on so a little longer, I doubt not but M. D'Arblay will begin settling where to have anew shelf for arranging it! which is already in his ruminationfor Metastasio;(116) I imagine you now . , Seriously resuming thatwork; I hope to see further sample ere long. We think with very great pleasure of accepting my mother's andyour kind invitation for a few days. I hope and mean, ifpossible, to bring with me also a little sample of something lessin the dolorous style than what always causes your poor shouldersa little Shrug. (117) . . . How truly grieved was I to hear from Mr. Locke of the death ofyoung Mr. Burke!(118) What a dreadful blow upon hisPage 90 father and mother ! to come at the instant of the son's highestand most honourable advancement, and of the father's retreat tothe bosom of his family from public life ! His brother, too, gone so lately! I am most sincerely sorry, indeed, and quiteshocked, as there seemed so little suspicion of such an event'sapproach, by your account of the joy caused by Lord Fitzwilliam'skindness. Pray tell me if you hear how poor Mr. Burke and hismost amiable wife endure this calamity, and how they are. . . . (Madame d'Arblay to Mrs. ----. )Bookham, April 15, 1795. So dry a reproof from so dear a friend! And do you, then, measuremy regard of heart by my remissness of hand? Let me give you theshort history of my tragedy, (119) fairly and frankly. I wrote itnot, as your acquaintance imagined, for the stage, nor yet forthe press. I began it at Kew palace, and, at odd moments, Ifinished it at Windsor; without the least idea of any species ofpublication. Since I left the royal household, I ventured to let it be read bymy father, Mr. And Mrs. Locke, my sister Phillips, and, ofcourse, M. D'Arblay, and not another human being. Their opinionsled to what followed, and my brother, Dr. Charles, showed it toMr. Kemble while I was on my visit to my father last October. Heinstantly and warmly pronounced for its acceptance, but I knewnot when Mr. Sheridan would see it, and had not the smallestexpectation of its appearing this year. However, just three daysbefore my beloved little infant came into the world, an expressarrived from my brother, that Mr. Kemble wanted the tragedyimmediately, in order to show it to Mr. Sheridan, who had justheard of it, and had spoken in the most flattering terms of hisgood will for its reception. Still, however, I was in doubt of its actual acceptance tillthree weeks after my confinement, when I had a visit from mybrother, who told me he was, the next morning, to read the piecein the green-room. This was a precipitance for which I was everyway unprepared, as I had never made but one copy of the play, andhad intended divers corrections and alterations. Absorbed, however, by my new charge and then Page 91 growing ill, I had a sort of indifference about the matter, which, in fact, has lasted ever since. The moment I was then able to hold a pen I wrote two shortletters, to acknowledge the state of the affair to my sisters -and to one of these epistles I had an immediate laughing answer, informing me my confidence was somewhat of the latest, as thesubject of it was already in all the newspapers! I was extremelychagrined at this intelligence; but, from that time, thought itall too late to be the herald of my own designs. And this, addedto my natural and incurable dislike to enter upon theseegotistical details unasked, has caused my silence to my dear M--, and to every friend I possess. Indeed, speedily after, I hadan illness so severe and so dangerous, that for full seven weeksthe tragedy was neither named nor thought of by M. D'Arblay ormyself. The piece was represented to the utmost disadvantage, save onlyMrs. Siddons and Mr. Kemble - for it was not written with anyidea of the stage, and my illness and weakness, and constantabsorbment, at the time of its preparation, occasioned it toappear with so many undramatic effects, from my inexperience oftheatrical requisites and demands, that, when I saw it, I myselfperceived a thousand things I wished to change. The performers, too, were cruelly imperfect, and made blunders I blush to havepass for mine, -added to what belong to me. The most importantcharacter after the hero and heroine had but two lines of hispart by heart ! He made all the rest at random, and suchnonsense as put all the other actors out as much as himself; sothat a more wretched Performance, except Mrs. Siddons, Mr. Kemble, and Mr. Bensley, could not be exhibited in a barn. Allthis concurred to make it very desirable to withdraw the piecefor alterations, which I have done. (Dr. Burney to Madame d'Arblay. )May 7, 1795. One of my dinners, since my going out, was at Charlotte's, withthe good Hooles. After dinner Mr. Cumberland came in, and wasextremely courteous, and seemingly friendly, about you and yourpiece. He took me aside from Mrs. Paradise, who had fastened onme and held me tight by an account of her own and Mr. Paradise'scomplaints, so Page 92 circumstantially narrated, that not a stop so short as a commaoccurred in more than an hour, while I was civilly waiting for afull period. Mr. Cumberland expressed his sorrow at what hadhappened at Drury-lane, and said that, if he had had the honourof knowing you sufficiently, he would have told you d'avance whatwould happen, by what he had heard behind the scenes. The playersseem to have given the play an ill name. But, he says, if youwould go to work again, by reforming this, or work with your bestpowers at a new plan, and would submit it to his inspection, hewould, from the experience he has had, risk his life on itssuccess. This conversation I thought too curious not to bementioned. . . . HASTINGs' ACQUITTAL. DR. BURNEY'S METASTASIO. Well, but how does your Petit and pretty monsieur do? 'Tis pityyou and M. D'Arblay don't like him, poor thing! And how doeshorticulture thrive ? This is a delightful time of the year foryour Floras and your Linnaei: I envy the life of a gardener inspring, particularly in fine weather. And so dear Mr. Hastings is honourably acquitted!(120) and Ivisited him the next morning, and we cordially shook hands. I hadluckily left my name at his door as soon as I was able to go out, and before it was generally expected that he would be acquitted. . . . The young Lady Spencer and I are become very thick, I have dinedwith her at Lady Lucan's, and met her at the blue parties there. She has invited me to her box at the opera, to her house in StJames's Place, and at the Admiralty, whither the family removedlast Saturday, and she says I must come to her the 15th, 22nd, and 29th of this month, when I shall see a huge assembly. Mrs. Crewe says all London will be there. She is a pleasant, lively, and comical creature, with more talents and discernment than areexpected from a character si folƒtre. My lord is not only thehandsomest and the best intentioned man in the kingdom, but atpresent the most useful and truly patriotic. And then, he haswritten to Vienna for Metastasio's three inedited volumes, whichI so much want ere I advance too far in the press for them to beof any use. I am halooed on prodigiously in my Metastasio mania. All thecritics--Warton, Twining, Nares, and Dr. Charles--say that his"Estratto dell' Arte Poetica d'Aristotile, " which I am Page 93 now translating, is the best piece of dramatic criticism that hasever been written. "Bless my heart!" says Warton, "I, that havebeen all my life defending the three unities, am overset. " "Ay, "quoth I, "has not he made you all ashamed of 'em? You learnedfolks are only theorists in theatrical matters, but Metastasiohad sixty years' successful practice. There!--Go to. " My dearFanny, before you write another play, you must read Aristotle andHorace, as expounded by my dear Metastasio. But, basta. You knowwhen I take up a favourite author, as a Johnson, a Haydn, or aMetastasio, I do not soon lay him down or let him be run down. . . . Here it strikes three o'clock: the post knell, not bell, tollshere, and I must send off my scrib: but I will tell you, though Ineed not, that, now I have taken up Metastasio again, I work athim in every uninterrupted moment. I have this morning attemptedhis charming pastoral, in "il Re Pastore. " I'll give you thetranslation, because the last stanza is a portrait:-- To meadows, woods, and fountainsOur tender flocks I'll lead;In meads beneath the mountainsMy love shall see them feed. Our simple narrow mansionWill suit our station well;There's room for heart expansionAnd peace and joy to dwell. BABY D'ARBLAY. THE WITHDRAWN TRAGEDY. (From Madame d'Arblay to Dr. Burney)Hermitage, Bookham, May 13, 1795. As you say, 'tis pity M. D'A. And his rib should have conceivedsuch an antipathy to the petit monsieur! O if you could see himnow! My mother would be satisfied, for his little cheeks arebeginning to favour of the trumpeter's, and Esther would besatisfied, for he eats like an embryo alderman. He enters intoall we think, say, mean, and wish ! His eyes are sure tosympathise in all our affairs and all our feelings. We find somekind reason for every smile he bestows upon us, and some generousand disinterested Motive for every grave look. Page 94 If he wants to be danced, we see he has discovered that hisgaiety is exhilarating to us ; if he refuses to be moved, we takenotice that he fears to fatigue us. If he will not be quietedwithout singing, we delight in his early go–t for les beaux arts. If he is immovable to all we can devise to divert him, we areedified by the grand sirieux of his dignity and philosophy: if hemakes the house ring with loud acclaim because his food, at firstcall, does not come ready warm into his mouth, we hold up ourhands with admiration at his vivacity. Your conversation with Mr. Cumberland astonished me. I certainlythink his experience of stage effect, and his interest withplayers, so important, as almost instantly to wish putting hissincerity to the proof. How has he got these two characters--one, of Sir Fretful Plagiary, detesting all works but those heowns, and all authors but himself--the other, of a man tooperfect even to know or conceive the vices of the world, such ashe is painted by Goldsmith in "Retaliation?" And which of thesecharacters is true?(121) I am not at all without thoughts of a future revise of "Edwy andElgiva, " for which I formed a plan on the first night, from whatoccurred by the representation. And let me own to you, when youcommend my "bearing so well a theatrical drubbing, " I am by nomeans enabled to boast I bear it with conviction of my utterfailure. The piece was certainly not Page 95 heard, and therefore not really judged. The audience finishedwith an unmixed applause on hearing it was withdrawn foralterations, and I have considered myself in the publiclyaccepted situation of having at my own option to let the piecedie, or attempt its resuscitation, -its reform, as Mr. Cumberlandcalls it. However, I have not given one moment to the mattersince my return to the Hermitage. F. D'A. PS-I should he very glad to hear good news of the revival of Mr. Burke. Have you ever seen him since this fatality in his family?I am glad, nevertheless with all my heart, of Mr. Hastings'shonourable acquittal. "CAMILLA. " (Madame d'Arblay to Mrs. --. )Bookham, June 15, '95, Let me hasten to tell you something of myself that I shall bevery sorry you should hear from any other, as your toosusceptible mind would be hurt again, and that would grieve mequite to the heart. I have a long work, which a long time has been in hand, that Imean to publish soon--in about a year. Should it succeed, like'Evelina' and 'Cecilia, ' it may be a little portion to ourBambino. We wish, therefore, to print it for ourselves in thishope; but the expenses of the press are so enormous, so raised bythese late Acts, that it is out of all question for us to affordit. We have, therefore, been led by degrees to listen to counselof some friends, and to print it by subscription. This is inmany--many ways unpleasant and unpalatable to us both; but thereal chance of real use and benefit to Our little darlingovercomes all scruples, and therefore, to work we go! You will feel, I dare believe, all I could write on this Subject;I once rejected such a plan, formed for me by Mr. Burke, wherebooks were to be kept by ladies, not booksellers, --the Duchess ofDevonshire, Mrs. Boscawen, and Mrs. Crewe; but I was anindividual then, and had no cares of times to come: now, thankheaven! this is not the case;--and when I look at my little boy'sdear, innocent, yet intelligent face, I defy any pursuit to bepainful that may lead to his good. Page 96 (Madame d'Arblay to Dr. Burney. )Bookham, June 18, '95. All our deliberations made, even after your discouragingcalculations, we still mean to hazard the publishing bysubscription. And, indeed, I had previously determined, when I. Changed my state, to set aside all my innate and originalabhorrences, and to regard and use as resources, myself, what hadalways been considered as such by others. Without this idea, andthis resolution, our hermitage must have been madness. . . . I like well the idea of giving no name at all, -why should not Ihave my mystery as well as "Udolpho?"(122)--but, " now, don'tfly, Dr. Burney! I own I do not like calling it a novel; it givesso simply the notion of a mere love-story, that I recoil a littlefrom it. I mean this work to be sketches of characters andmorals put in action, -not a romance. I remember the word " novel" was long in the way of 'Cecilia, ' as I was told at the queen'shouse; and it was not permitted to be read by the princesses tillsanctioned by a bishop's recommendation, --the late Dr. Ross ofExeter. Will you then suffer mon amour Propre to be saved by theproposals running thus?--Proposals for printing by subscription, in six volumes duodecimo, a new work by the author of "Evelina"and "Cecilia. " How grieved I am you do not like my heroine's name!(123) theprettiest in nature! I remember how many people did not like thatof "Evelina, " and called it "affected" and "missish, " till theyread the book, and then they got accustomed in a few pages, andafterwards it was much approved. I must leave this for thepresent untouched ; for the force of the name attached by theidea of the character, in the author's mind, is such, that Ishould not know how to sustain it by any other for a long while. In "Cecilia" and "Evelina" 'twas the same: the names of all thepersonages annexed, with me, all the ideas I put in motion withthem. The work is so far advanced, that the personages are all, to me, as so many actual acquaintances, whose memoirs and Page 97 opinions I am committing to paper. I will make it the best Ican, my dearest father. I will neither be indolent, nornegligent, nor avaricious. I can never half answer theexpectations that seem excited. I must try to forget them, or Ishall be in a continual quivering. Mrs. Cooke, my excellent neighbour, came in Just now to read me aparagraph of a letter from Mrs. Leigh, of Oxfordshire, hersister. . . . After much of civility about the new work and itsauthor, it finishes thus:--"Mr. Hastings I saw just now: I toldhim what was going forward; he gave a great jump, and exclaimed, 'Well, then, now I can serve her, thank Heaven, and I will! Iwill write to Anderson to engage Scotland, and I will attack theEast Indies myself!'" F. D'A. P. S. -The Bambino is half a year old this day. N. B. -I have not heard the Park or Tower guns. I imagine thewind did not set right. AN INVITATION TO THE HERMITAGE. (Madame d"Arblay to the Comte de Narbonne. (124)]Bookham, 26th December, 1795. What a letter, to terminate so long and painful a silence! It haspenetrated us with sorrowing and indignant feelings. Unknown toM. D'Arblay whose grief and horror are upon point of making himquite ill, I venture this address to his most beloved friend; andbefore I seal it I will give him the option to burn or underwriteit. I shall be brief in what I have to propose: sincerity neednot be loquacious, and M. De Narbonne is too kind to demandphrases for ceremony. Should your present laudable but melancholy plan fail, and shouldnothing better offer, or till something can be arranged, will youdear Sir, condescend to share the poverty of our hermitage? Willyou take a little cell under our rustic roof, and fare as wefare? What to us two hermits is cheerful and happy, will to you, indeed, be miserable but it will be some solace to the goodnessof your heart to witness our contentment;--to dig with M. D'A. Inthe garden will be of service to Page 98your health; to muse sometimes with me in the parlour will be arelaxation to your mind. You will not blush to own your littlegodson. Come, then, and give him your blessing; relieve thewounded feelings of his father--oblige his mother--and turnhermit at Bookham, till brighter suns invite you elsewhere. F. D'ARPLAY. You will have terrible dinners, alas !--but your godson comes infor the dessert. (125) PRESENTATION OF "CAMILLA" AT WINDSOR. [During the years 1794 and 1795, Madame d'Arblay finished andprepared for the press her third novel, "Camilla, " which waspublished partly by subscription in 1796 the dowager Duchess ofLeinster, the Hon. Mrs. Boscawen, Mrs. Crewe, and Mrs. Locke, kindly keeping lists, and receiving the names of subscribers. This work having been dedicated by permission to the queen, theauthoress was desirous of presenting the first copy to hermajesty, and made a journey to Windsor for that honour. ) (Madame d'Arblay to Dr. Burney. )Bookham, July 10, 1796. If I had as much of time as of matter, my dear father, what animmense letter should I write you ! But I have still so manybook oddments of accounts, examinations, directions, and littlehousehold affairs to arrange, that, with baby-kissing, included, I expect I can give you to-day only part the first of anexcursion which I mean to comprise in four parts: so here begins. The books were ready at eleven or twelve, but not so the tailor!The three Miss Thrales came to a short but cordial hand-shakingat the last minute, by appointment; and at about half-past threewe set forward. I had written the day before to my worthy oldfriend Mrs. Agnew, the housekeeper, erst, of my revered Mrs. Delany, to secure us rooms for one page 99, day and night, and to Miss Planta to make known I could not set out till late. When we came into Windsor at seven o'clock, the way to Mrs. Agnew's was so intricate that we could not find it, till one ofthe king's footmen recollecting me, I imagined, came forward, avolunteer, and walked by the side of the chaise to show thepostilion the house. --N. B. No bad omen to worldly augurers. Arrived, Mrs. Agnew came forth with faithful attachment, toconduct us to our destined lodgings. I wrote hastily to MissPlanta, to announce to the queen that I was waiting the honour ofher majesty's commands ; and then began preparing for myappearance the next morning, when I expected a summons - but MissPlanta came instantly herself from the queen, with orders ofimmediate attendance, as her majesty would see me directly! Theking was just gone upon the Terrace, but her majesty did not walkthat evening. Mrs. Agnew was my maid, Miss Planta my arranger; mylandlord, who was a hairdresser, came to my head, and M. D'Arblaywas general superintendent. The haste and the joy went hand inhand, and I was soon equipped, though shocked at my ownprecipitance in sending before I was already visible. Who, however, could have expected such prompt admission? and in anevening? M. D'Arblay helped to carry the books as far as to the gates. Mylodgings were as near to them as possible. At our first entrytowards the Queen's lodge we encountered Dr. Fisher and his lady:the sight of me there, in a dress announcing indisputably whitherI was hieing, was such an Astonishment, that they looked at merather as a recollected spectre than a renewed acquaintance. Whenwe came to the iron rails poor Miss Planta, in much fidget, begged to take the books from M. D'Arblay, terrified, I imagine, lest French feet should contaminate the gravel within!--while he, innocent of her fears, was insisting upon carrying them as far asto the house, till he saw I took part with Miss Planta, and hewas then compelled to let us lug in ten volumes as we could. The king was already returned from the Terrace, the page toldus. " O, then, " said Miss Planta, "you are too late!" However, Iwent into my old dining-parlour; while she said she would see ifany one could obtain the queen'scommands for another time. I did not stay five minutesPage 100 ruminating upon the dinners, "gone where the chickens, " etc. , when Miss Planta return and told me the queen would see meinstantly. The queen was In her dressing-room, and with only the PrincessElizabeth. Her reception was the Most gracious. Yet, when shesaw my emotion in thus meeting her again; she herself was by nomeans quite unmoved. I presented my little--yet not small--offering, upon one knee placing them, as she directed, upon atable by her side, and expressing, as well as I could, my devotedgratitude for her invariable goodness to me. She then began aconversation, in her old style, upon various things and people, with all her former graciousness of manner, which soon, as sheperceived my strong sense of her indulgence, grew into even allits former kindness. Particulars I have now no room for ; butwhen in about half an hour, she said, "How long do you intend tostay here, Madame d'Arblay?" and I answered, "We have nointentions, ma'am, " she repeated, laughing, "You have nointentions!--Well, then, if you can come again to-morrow Morning, you shall see the princesses. " She then said she would not detain me at present; encouraged byall that had passed, I asked if I might presume to put at thedoor of the king's apartment a copy of MY little work. Shehesitated, but with smiles the most propitious;. Then told me tofetch the books - and whispered something to the PrincessElizabeth, who left the room by another door at the same momentthat I retired for the other set. Almost immediately upon myreturn to the queen and the Princess Elizabeth, the king enteredthe apartment, and entered it to receive himself my littleoffering. "Madame d'Arblay, " said her majesty, "tells me that Mrs. Boscawenis to have the third set; but the first--Your majesty will excuseme--is mine. " This was not, you will believe, thrown away upon me. The king, smiling, said, "Mrs Boscawen, I hear, has been very zealous. " I confirmed this. And the Princess Elizabeth eagerly called out, "Yes, sir! and while Mrs. Boscawen kept a copy for Madamed'Arblay, the Duchess of Beaufort kept one for Mrs. Boscawen. " This led to a little discourse upon the business, in which theking's countenance seemed to speak a benign interest; and thequeen then said, Page 101 "This book was begun here, sir. " Which already I had mentioned. "And what did you write Of it here?" cried he. "How far did Yougo?--Did You finish any part? or only form the skeleton?" "Just that, sir, " I answered; "the skeletonwas formed here, but nothing was completed. I worked it up in mylittle cottage. " "And about what time did You give to it?" "All my time, sir; from the Period I planned publishing it, Idevoted myself to it wholly. I had no episode but a little baby. My subject grew Upon me, and increased my materials to a bulkthat I am afraid will be more laborious to wade through for thereader than for the writer. " "Are you much frightened cried he, smiling, "as much frightened as you were before?" "I have hardly had time to know yet, sir. I received the fairsheets Of the last volume only last night. I have, therefore, hadno leisure for fear. And sure I am, happen what May to the bookfrom the critics, it can never cause me pain in any proportionwith the pleasure and happiness I owe to it. " I /am sure I spokemost sincerely and he looked kindly to believe me. He asked if Mr. Locke had seen it; and when I said no, he seemedcomically pleased, as if desirous to have it in its first state. He asked next if Dr. Burney had overlooked it; and, upon the sameanswer, looked with the same satisfaction. He did not imagine howit would have passed Current with my dearest father: he appearedOnly to be glad it would be a genuine work: but, laughingly, said, "So you kept it quite snug?" "Not intentionally, sir, but from my situation and my haste; Ishould else have been very happy to have consulted my father andMr. Locke; but I had so much, to the last moment, to write, thatI literally had not a moment to hear what could be said. The workis longer by the whole fifth Volume than I had first planned; andI am almost ashamed to look at its size, and afraid my readerswould have been more obliged to me if I had left so much out thanfor putting So much in. " He laughed and inquired who corrected my proofs? 'Only myself, " Ianswered. "Why, some authors have told me, " cried he, "that they Page 102 are the last to do that work for themselves. They know so wellby heart what ought to be, that they run on without seeing whatis. They have told me, besides, that a mere plodding head isbest and surest for that work ; and that the livelier theimagination, the less it should be trusted to. " I must not go on thus minutely, or my four parts will be forty. But a full half-hour of graciousness, I could almost callkindness, was accorded me, though the king came from the concertto grant it ; and it broke up by the queen saying, "I have toldMadame d'Arblay that, if she can come again to-morrow, she shallsee the princesses. " The king bowed gently to my grateful obeisance for this offer, and told me I should not know the Princess Amelia, she was somuch grown, adding, "She is taller than you!" I expressed warmly my delight in the permission of Seeing theirroyal highnesses, and their majesties returned to theconcert-room. The Princess Elizabeth stayed, -and flew up to me, crying, "How glad I am to see you here again, my dear MissBurney!--I beg your pardon, --Madame d'Arblay I mean -but I alwayscall all my friends by their maiden names when I first see themafter they are married. " I warmly now opened upon my happiness in this return to all theirsights, and the condescension and sweetness with which it wasgranted me - and confessed I could hardly behave prettily andproperly at my first entrance after so long an absence. "O, Iassure you I felt for you!" cried she; "I thought you must beagitated ; it was so natural to you to come here-to mamma!" You will believe, my dearest father, how light-hearted and fullof glee I went back to my expecting companion: Miss Plantaaccompanied me, and stayed the greatest part of the littleremaining evening, promising to let me know at what hour I shouldwait upon their royal highnesses. A CONVERSATION WITH THE QUEEN. The next morning, at eight or nine o'clock, my old footman, Moss, came with Mlle, Jacobi's compliments to M. And Madame d'Arblay, and an invitation to dine at the Queen's lodge. Miss Planta arrived at ten, with her majesty's commands that Ishould be at the Queen's lodge at twelve. I stayed meanwhile, with good Mrs. Agnew, and M. D'Arblay made Page 103 acquaintance with her worthy husband, who is a skilful and famousbotanist, and lately made gardener to the queen for Frogmore - soM. D'Arblay consulted him about our cabbages! and so, if theyhave not now a high flavour, we are hopeless. At eleven M. D'Arblay again ventured to esquire me to the railsround the lodge, whence I showed him my ci-devant apartment, which he languished to view nearer. I made a visit to Mlle. Jacobi, who is a very good creature, and with whom I remainedvery comfortably till her majesty and the princesses returnedfrom Frogmore, where they had passed two or three hours. Almostimmediately I was summoned to the queen by one of the pages. She was just seated to her hair-dresser. She conversed uponvarious public and general topics till the friseur was dismissed, and then I was honoured with an audience, quite alone, for a fullhour and a half. During this, nothing could be more graciousthan her whole manner, and The particulars, as there was nopause, would fill a duodecimo volume at least. Among them was Mr. Windham, whom she named with great favour; and gave me theopportunity of expressing my delight upon his belonging to thegovernment. We had so often conversed about him during theaccounts I had related of Mr. Hastings's trial, that there wasmuch to say upon the acquisition to the administration, and myformer round assertions of his goodness of heart and honour. Sheinquired how you did, my dearest father, with an air of greatkindness and, when I said well, looked pleased, as she answered, "I was afraid he was ill, for I saw him but twice last year atour music. " She then gave me an account of the removal of the concert to theHaymarket since the time I was admitted to it. She then talked ofsome books and authors, but found me wholly in the Clouds as toall that is new. She then said, "What a very pretty book Dr. Burney has brought out upon Metastasio! I am very much pleasedwith it. Pray (smiling) what will he bring out next?" "As yet, madam, I don't know of any new plan. " "But he will bring out something else?" "Most probably, but he will rest a little first, I fancy. " "Has he nothing in hand?" "Not that I now know of, madam. " "O but he soon will!" cried she, again smiling. Page 104 "He has so active a mind, ma'am, that I believe it quiteimpossible to him to be utterly idle, but, indeed, I know of nopresent design being positively formed. " We had then some discourse upon the new connexion at Norburypark--the Fitzgeralds, etc. ; and from this she led to varioustopics of our former conferences, both in persons and things, andgave me a full description of her new house at Frogmore, itsfitting up, and the share of each princess in its decoration. She spoke with delight of its quiet and ease, and her enjoymentof its complete retirement. "I spend, " she cried, "there almostconstantly all my mornings. I rarely come home but just beforedinner, merely to dress, but to-day I came sooner. " This was said in a manner so flattering, I could scarce forbearthe air of thanking her, however, I checked the expression, though I could not the inference which urged it. WITH THE PRINCESs ROYAL AND PRINCESS AUGUSTA. At two o'clock the Princess Elizabeth appeared. "Is the princessroyal ready?" said the queen. She answered, "Yes:" and hermajesty then told me I might go to her, adding, "Youknow the way, Madame d'Arblay. " And, thus licensed, I went to theapartment of her royal highness up stairs. She was just quittingit, She received me most graciously, and told me she was going tosit for her picture, if I would come and stay with her while shesat. Miss Bab Planta was in attendance, to read during thisperiod. The princess royal ordered me a chair facing her; andanother for Miss Bab and her book, which, however, was neveropened. The painter was Mr. Dupont. (1266) She was very gay andvery charming, full of lively discourse and amiablecondescension. In about an hour the Princess Augusta came in : she addressed mewith her usual sweetness, and, when she had looked at hersister's portrait, said, "Madame d'Arblay, when the princessroyal can spare you, I hope you will come to me, " as she left theroom. I did not flout her; and when I had been an hour with theprincess royal, she told me she would Page 105 keep me no longer from Augusta, and Miss Planta came to conductme to the latter. This lovely princess received me quite alone ;Miss Planta only shut me in - and she then made me sit by her, and kept me in most bewitching discourse more than an hour. Shehas a gaiety, a charm about her, that is quite resistless: andmuch of true, genuine, and very original humour. She related tome the history of all the feats, and exploits, and dangers, andescapes of her brothers during last year; rejoicing in theirsafety, yet softly adding, "Though these trials and difficultiesdid them a great deal of good. " We talked a little of France, and she inquired of me what I knewof the late unhappy queen, through M. D'Arblay ; and spoke of herwith the most virtuous discrimination between her foibles and herreally great qualities, with her most barbarous end. . She thendwelt upon Madame Royale, saying, in her unaffected manner, "It's very odd one never hears what sort of girl she is. " I toldher all I had gathered from M. D'Arblay. She next spoke of myBambino, indulging me in recounting his faits et gestes; andnever moved till the princess royal came to summon her. They wereall to return to Frogmore to dinner. "We have detained Madamed'Arblay between us the whole morning, " said the princess royal, with a gracious smile. "Yes, " cried Princess Augusta, "and I amafraid I have bored her to death; but when once I begin upon mypoor brothers, I can never stop without telling all my littlebits of glory. " She then outstayed the princess royal to tell methat, when she was at Plymouth, at church, she saw so manyofficers' wives, and sisters, and mothers, helping their maimedhusbands, or brothers, or sons, that she could not forbearwhispering to the queen, "Mamma, how lucky it is Ernest is justcome so seasonably with that wound in his face! I should havebeen quite shocked, else, not to have had one little bit of gloryamong ourselves!" When forced away from this sweet creature, I went to Mlle. Jacobi, who said, "But where is M. D'Arblay?" Finding it too latefor me to go to my lodging to dress before dinner I wrote him aword, which immediately brought him to the Queen's lodge : andthere I shall leave my dear father the pleasure of seeing us, mentally, at dinner, at my ancient table, -both invited by thequeen's commands. Miss Gomme was asked to meet me, and the repastwas extremely pleasant. page 106 A PRESENT FROM THE KING AND QUEEN. just before we assembled to dinner Mlle. Jacobi desired to speakwith me alone, and, taking me to another room, presented me witha folded little packet, saying, "The queen ordered me to put thisinto your hands, and said, 'Tell Madame d'Arblay it is from usboth. "' It was a hundred guineas. I was confounded, and nearlysorry, so little was such a mark of their goodness in mythoughts. She added that the king, as soon as he came from thechapel in the morning, went to the queen's dressing-room justbefore he set out for the levee, and put into her hands fiftyguineas, saying, "This is for my set!" The queen answered, "Ishall do exactly the same for mine, " and made up the packetherself. "'Tis only, ' she said, 'for the paper, tell Madamed'Arblay, nothing for the trouble!'" meaning she accepted that. The manner of this was so more than gracious, so kind, in thewords us both, that indeed the money at the time was quitenothing in the scale of my gratification ; it was even less, forit almost pained me. However, a delightful thought that in a fewminutes occurred made all light and blithesome. "We will come, then, " I cried, "once a year to Windsor, to walk the Terrace, andsee the king, queen, and sweet princesses. This will enable us, and I shall never again look forward to so long a deprivation oftheir sight. " This, with my gratitude for their great goodness, was what I could not refrain commissioning her to report. CURIOSITY REGARDING M. D'ARBLAY. Our dinner was extremely cheerful; all my old friends were highlycurious to see M. D'Arblay, who was in spirits, and, as he couldaddress them in French, and at his ease, did not seem muchdisapproved of by them. I went to my lodging afterwards to dress, where I told my monsieur this last and unexpected stroke, whichgave him exactly my sensations, and we returned to tea. We hadhopes of the Terrace, as my monsieur was quite eager to see allthis beloved royal House. The weather, however, was veryunpromising. The king came from the lodge during our absence; butsoon after we were in the levee three royal coaches arrived fromFrogmore: in the first was the queen, the Princesses Royal andAugusta, and some lady in waiting. M. D'Arblay stood beside mePage 107 at a window to see them; her majesty looked up and bowed to me, and, upon her alighting, she looked up again. This, I am sure, was to see M. D'Arblay, who could not be doubted, as he wore hiscroix the whole time he was at Windsor. The princesses bowedalso, and the four younger, who followed, all severally kissedtheir hands to me, and fixed their eyes on my companion with anequal expression of kindness and curiosity ; he therefore sawthem perfectly. THE KING APPROVES THE DEDICATION OF "CAMILLA. " In a few minutes a page came to say, "The princesses desire tosee Madame d'Arblay, " and he conducted me to the apartment of thePrincess Elizabeth, which is the most elegantly and fancifullyornamented of any in the lodge, as she has most delight and mosttaste in producing good effects. Here the fair owner of the chamber received me, encircled withthe Princesses Mary and Amelia, and no attendant. They wereexactly as I had left them--kind, condescending, open, and delightful; and the goodness of the queen, in sparing themall to me thus, without any allay of ceremony, or gˆne oflistening Mutes, I felt most deeply. They were all very gay, and I not very sad, so we enjoyed Aperfectly easy and even merry half-hour in divers discourses, inwhich they recounted to me who had been most anxious about "thebook, " and doubted not its great success, as everybody was soeager about it. "And I must tell you one thing, " Cried thePrincess Elizabeth; "the king is very much pleased with thededication. " This was, you will be sure, a very touching hearing to me; AndPrincess Mary exclaimed, "And he is very difficult!" "O, yes, he's hardly ever pleased with a dedication, " cried oneof the princesses. "He almost always thinks them so fulsome. " "I was resolved I would tell it you, " cried Princess Elizabeth. Can you imagine anything more amiable than this pleasure ingiving pleasure? A DELICIOUS CHAT WITH THE PRINCESSES. Soon after the Princess Augusta came in, smiling and lovely. Princess royal next appeared Princess Augusta sat down, andcharged me to take a chair next her. PrincessPage 108 royal did not stay long, and soon returned to summon her sisterAugusta downstairs, as the concert was begun : but she repliedshe could not come yet : and the princess royal went alone. Wehad really a most delicious chat then. They made a thousand inquiries about my book, and when and whereit was written, etc. , and how I stood as to fright and fidget. Ianswered all with openness, and frankly related my motives forthe publication. Everything of housekeeping, I told them, wasnearly doubled in price at the end of the first year and half ofour marriage, and we found it impossible to continue so near ourfriends and the capital with our limited income, though M. D'A. Had accommodated himself completely, and even happily, to everyspecies of economy, and though my dearest father had capitallyassisted us ; I then, therefore, determined upon adopting a planI had formerly rejected, of publishing by subscription. I toldthem the former history of that plan, as Mr. Burke's, and manyparticulars that seemed extremely to interest them. My garden, our way of life, our house, our Bambino, -all were inquired afterand related. I repeatedly told them the strong desire M. D'Arblay had to be regaled with a sight of all their House -aHouse to which I stood so every way indebted, -, and they lookedkindly concerned that the weather admitted no prospect of theTerrace. I mentioned to the Princess Augusta my recent new obligation totheir majesties, and my amaze and even shame at their goodness. "O, I am sure, " cried she, "they were very happy to have it intheir power. " "Yes, and we were so glad!" "So glad!" echoed each of the others. "How enchanted should I have been, " cried I, "to have presentedmy little book to each of your royal highnesses if I had dared!or if, after her majesty has looked it over, I might hope forsuch a permission, how proud and how happy it would make me!" "O, I daresay you may, " cried the Princess Augusta, eagerly. Ithen intimated how deeply I should feel such an honour, if itmight be asked, after her majesty had read it - and the PrincessElizabeth gracefully undertook the office. She related to me, ina most pleasant manner, the whole of her own recent transaction, its rise and cause and progress, in "ThePage 109 Birth of Love:"(127) but I must here abridge, or never have done. I told them all my scheme for coming again next July, which theysweetly seconded. Princess Amelia assured me she had notforgotten me ; and when another summons came for the concert, Princess Augusta, comically sitting still and holding me by herside, called out, "Do you little ones go!" But they loitered also, and we went on, on, on, with our chat, --they as unwilling as myself to break it up, -till staying longerwas impossible ; and then, in parting, they all expressed thekindest pleasure in our newly-adopted plan of a yearly visit. "And pray, " cried Princess Elizabeth, "write again immediately!" "O, no, " cried Princess Augusta, "wait half a year--to rest; andthen--increase your family--all ways!" "The queen, " said Princess Elizabeth, "consulted me which way sheshould read 'Camilla-' whether quick, at once, or comfortably atWeymouth: so I answered, 'Why, mamma, I think, as you will be somuch interested in the book, Madame d'Arblay would be mostpleased you should read it now at once, quick, that nobody may bementioning the events before You come to them - and then again atWeymouth, slow and comfortably. '" In going, the sweet Princess Augusta loitered last but heryoungest sister, Amelia, who came to take my hand when the restwere departed, and assure me she should never forget Me. We spent the remnant of Wednesday evening with my old friends, determining to quit Windsor the next day, if the weather did notpromise a view of the royal family upon the Terrace for M. D'Arblay. THE KING NOTICES M. D'ARBLAY. Thursday morning was lowering, and we determined upon departing, after only visiting some of my former acquaintances. 'We met MissPlanta in our way to the lodge, and took leave; but when wearrived at Mlle. Jacobi's we found that the queen expected weshould stay for the chance of the Terrace, and had told Mlle. Jacobi to again invite us to dinner. . . . We left the friendly Miss Goldsworthy for other visits;--first togood old Mrs. Planta; next to the very respectablePage 110 Dr. Fisher and his wife. The former insisted upon doing thehonours himself of St. George's cathedral to M. D'Arblay whichoccasioned his seeing that beautiful antique building to theutmost advantage. Dr. Fisher then accompanied us to a spot toshow M. D'Arblay Eton in the best view. Dinner passed as before, but the evening lowered, and hopes ofthe Terrace were weak, when the Duke and Duchess of York arrived. This seemed to determine against us, as they told us the duchessnever went upon the Terrace but in the finest weather, and theroyal family did not choose to leave her. We were hesitatingtherefore whether to set off for Rose Dale, when Mlle. Jacobigave an intimation to me that the king, herself, and the PrincessAmelia, would walk on the Terrace. Thither instantly we hastened, and were joined by Dr. And Mrs. Fisher. The evening was so rawand cold that there was very little company, and scarce anyexpectation of the royal family - and when we had been thereabout half an hour the musicians retreated, and everybody waspreparing to follow, when a messenger suddenly came forward, helter skelter, running after the horns and clarionets, andhallooing to them to return. This brought back the stragglingparties, and the king, Duke of York, and six princesses soonappeared. I have never yet seen M. D'Arblay agitated as at this moment ; hecould scarce keep his steadiness, or even his ground. Therecollections, he has since told me, that rushed upon his mind ofhis own king and royal House were so violent and so painful asalmost to disorder him. His majesty was accompanied by the duke, and Lord Beaulieu, Lord Walsingham, and General Manners; theprincesses were attended by Lady Charlotte Bruce, some otherlady, and Miss Goldsworthy: The king stopped to speak to theBishop of Norwich and some others at the entrance, and thenwalked on towards us, who were at the further end. As heapproached, the princess royal said, loud enough to be heard byMrs. Fisher, "Madame d'Arblay, sir;" and instantly he came on astep, and then stopped and addressed me, and, after a word or twoof the weather, he said, "Is that M. D'Arblay?" and mostgraciously bowed to him and entered into a little conversation;demanding how long he had been in England, how long in thecountry, etc. , and with a sweetness, an air of wishing us well, that will never, never be erased from our hearts. Page 111 M. D'Arblay recovered himself immediately Upon this address, andanswered with as much firmness as respect. Upon the king's bowing and leaving US, the commander-in-chief(128) most courteously bowed also to M. D'Arblay, and theprincesses all came up to speak to me, and to curtsy to him ; andthe Princess Elizabeth cried, "I've got leave! and mamma says shewon't wait to read it first!" After this the king and duke never passed without taking offtheir hats, and the princesses gave me a smile and a curtsy atevery turn: Lord Walsingbam came to speak to me, and Mr. Fairly, and General Manners, who regretted that more of our old tea-partywere not there to meet me once more. THE KING AND QUEEN ON "CAMILLA. " As soon as they all re-entered the lodge we followed to takeleave of Mlle. Jacobi; but, Upon moving towards the passage, theprincess royal appeared, saying, "Madame d'Arblay, I come towaylay you!" and made me follow her to the dressing-room, whencethe voice of the queen, as the door opened, called out, in mildaccents, "Come in, Madame d'Arblay!" Her majesty was seated at the upper end of the room, with theDuchess of York (129) on her right, and the Princesses Sophia andAmelia on her left. She made me advance, and said, "I have justbeen telling the Duchess of York that I find her royal highness'sname the first Upon this list, "--producing "Camilla. " "Indeed, " said the duchess, bowing to me, "I was so veryimpatient to read it, I could not but try to get it as early aspossible. I am very eager for it, indeed!" "I have read, " said the queen, "but fifty pages yet; but I am ingreat uneasiness for that Poor little girl that I am afraid willget the small-pox! and I am sadly afraid that sweet little othergirl will not keep her fortune! but I won't Peep! I read quitefair. But I must tell Madame d'Arblay I know a country gentleman, in Mecklenburg, exactly the very character of that good old manthe Uncle!" She seemed to speak as if delighted to meet him uponpaper. The king now came in, and I could not forbear making up Page 112 to him, to pour forth some part of my full heart for hisgoodness! He tried to turn away, but it was smilingly; and I hadcourage to pursue him, for I could not help it. He then slightlybowed it off, and asked the queen to repeat what she had saidupon the book. "O, your majesty, " she cried, "I must not anticipate!" yet toldhim of her pleasure in finding an old acquaintance. "Well!" cried the king archly, " and what other characters haveyou seized?" "None, " I protested, "from life. " "O!" cried he, shaking his head, "you must have some!" "Indeed your majesty will find none!" I cried. "But they may be a little better, or a little worse, " heanswered, "but still, if they are not like somebody, how can theyplay their parts?" "O, yes, sir, " I cried, "as far as general nature goes, or ascharacters belong to classes, I have certainly tried to takethem. But no individuals!" My account must be endless if I do not now curtail. The Duke ofYork, the other princesses, General Manners, and all the rest ofthe group, made way to the room soon after, upon hearing thecheerfulness of the voice of the king, whose . Graciousness raisedme into spirits that set me quite at my ease. He talked much uponthe book, and then of Mrs. Delany, and then of various othersthat my sight brought to his recollection, and all with a freedomand goodness that enabled me to answer without difficulty orembarrassment, and that produced two or three hearty laughs fromthe Duke of York. ANECDOTE OF THE DUCHESS OF YORK. After various other topics, the queen said, "Duchess, Madamed'Arblay is aunt of the pretty little boy (130) you were so goodto. " The duchess understood her so immediately that I fancy this wasnot new to her. She bowed to me again, very smilingly, upon theacknowledgments this encouraged me to offer; and the king askedan explanation. "Sir, " said the duchess, "I was upon the road near Dorking, and Isaw a little gig overturned, and a little boy was taken out, andsat down upon the road. I told them toPage 113 stop and ask if the little boy was hurt, and they said yes . - andI asked where he was to go, and they said to a village just a fewmiles off; so I took him into my coach, Sir, and carried himhome. " "And the benedictions, madam, " cried I, "of all his family havefollowed you ever since!" "And he said your royal highness called him a very pretty boy, "cried the queen, laughing, to whom I had related it. "Indeed, what he said is very true, " answered she, nodding. "Yes; he said, " quoth I, again to the queen, "that he saw theduchess liked him. " This again the queen repeated and the duchess again nodded, andpointedly repeated, "It is very true. " "He was a very fine boy-a very fine boy indeed!" cried the king;"what is become of him?" I was a little distressed in answering, "He is in Ireland, sir. " "In Ireland ! What does he do in Ireland? what does he go therefor?" "His father took him, Sir, " I was forced to answer. "And what does his father take him to Ireland for?" "Because-he is an Irishman, Sir!" I answered, half laughing. When at length, every one deigning me a bow of leavetaking, theirmajesties, and sons and daughters, retired to the adjoining room, the Princess Amelia loitered to shake hands, and the PrincessAugusta returned for the same condescension, reminding me of mypurpose for next year. While this was passing, the princess royalhad repaired to the apartment of Mlle. Jacobi, where she had helda little Conversation with M. D'Arblay. A VISIT TO MRS. BOSCAWEN. We finished the evening very cheerfully with Mlle. Jacobi andMlle. Montmoulin, whom she invited to meet us, and the nextmorning left Windsor and visited Rose Dale. (131) Mrs. Boscawenreceived us very sweetly, and the little offering as if not atall her due, Mrs. Levison Gower was with her, and showed usThomson's temple. Mrs. Boscawen spoke of my Page 114 dearest father with her Usual true sense Of how to Speak of him. She invited us to dinner, but we were anxious to return to ourBambino, and M. D'Arblay had, all this time, only fought offbeing ill with his remnant of cold. Nevertheless, when we came toTwickenham, my good old friend Mr. Cambridge was so cordial andso earnest that we could not resist him, and were pressed in tostaying dinner. . . . At a little before eleven we arrived at our dear cottage, and toour sleeping Bambino. THE RELATIVE SUCCESS OF MADAME D'ARBLAY'S NOVELS. (Madame d'Arblay to Dr. Burney. )Bookham, Friday, October, 1796. I meant to have begun with our thanks for my dear kind father'sindulgence of our extreme curiosity and interest in the sight ofthe reviews. I am quite happy in what I have escaped of greaterseverity, though my mate cannot bear that the palm should becontested by "Evelina" and "Cecilia;" his partiality rates thelast as so much the highest; so does the newspaper I havementioned, of which I long to send you a copy. But those immensemen, whose single praise was fame and security--who established, by a word, the two elder sisters-are now silent, Johnson and SirJoshua are no more, and Mr. Burke is ill, or otherwise engrossed;yet, even without their powerful influence, to which I owe suchunspeakable obligation, the essential success of "Camilla"exceeds that of the elders. The sale is truly astonishing. Charles has just sent to me that five hundred only remain of fourthousand, and it has appeared scarcely three months. The first edition of "Evelina" was of eight hundred, the secondof five hundred, and the third of a thousand. What the followinghave been I have never heard, The sale from that period becamemore flourishing than the publisher cared to announce. Of"Cecilia" the first edition was reckoned enormous at two thousandand as a part of payment Was reserved for it, I remember our dearDaddy Crisp thought it very unfair. It was printed, like this, inJuly, and sold in October, to every one's wonder. Here, however, the sale's increased in rapidity more than a third. Charlessays, -- "Now heed no more what critics thought 'em, Since this you know, all people bought 'em. " Page 115 A CONTEMPLATED COTTAGE. We have resumed our original plan, and are going immediately tobuild a little cottage for ourselves. We shall make it as smalland as cheap as will accord with its being warm and comfortable. We have relinquished, however, the very kind offer of Mr. Locke, which he has renewed, for his park. We mean to make this aproperty saleable or letable for our Alex, and in Mr. Locke'spark we could not encroach any tenant, if the Youth'scircumstances, profession, or inclination . Should make him notchoose the spot for his own residence. M. DArblay, therefore, hasfixed upon a field of Mr. Locke's, which he will rent, and ofwhich Mr. Locke will grant him a lease of ninety years. By thismeans, we shall leave the little Alex a little property, besideswhat will be in the funds, and a property likely to rise invalue, as the situation of the field is remarkably beautiful. Itis in the valley, between Mr. Locke's park and Dorking, and whereland is so scarce, that there is not another possessor withinmany miles who would part, upon any terms, with half-an-acre. Mykindest father will come and give it, I trust, his benediction. Iam now almost jealous of Bookham for having received it. Imagine but the ecstasy of M. D'Arblay in training, all his ownway, an entire new garden. He dreams now of cabbage-walks, potato-beds, bean-perfumes, and peas-blossoms. My mother shouldsend him a little sketch to help his flower-garden, which will behis second favourite object. THE PRINCESS ROYAL'S FIRST INTERVIEW WITH HER FIANCE. (Madame d'Arblay to Mrs. Locke. )1796. A private letter from Windsor tells me the Prince of Wurtemberghas much pleased in the royal House, by his manner and addressupon his interview, but that the poor Princess royal was almostdead with terror, and agitation, and affright, at the firstmeeting. (132) She could not utter a word, The queen was obligedto speak her answers. The prince said he hoped this first wouldbe the last disturbance hispage 116 presence would ever occasion her. She then tried to recover, andso far conquered her tumult as to attempt joining In a generaldiscourse from time to time. He paid his court successfully, Iam told, to the sisters, who all determine to like him; and theprincess royal is quite revived in her spirits again, now thistremendous opening sight is over. You will be pleased, and my dearest Mr. Locke, at the style of mysummons: 'tis so openly from the queen herself, Indeed, she hasbehaved like an angel to me, from the trying time to her of mymarriage with a Frenchman. "So odd, you know, " as Lady Inchiquinsaid. OPINIONS OF THE REVIEWS ON "CAMILLA. " (Dr. Burney to Madame d'Arblay. )November, 1796. . . . The "Monthly Review" has come in to-day, and it does notsatisfy me, or raise my spirits, or anything but my indignation. James has read the remarks in it on "Camilla, " and we are alldissatisfied. Perhaps a few of the verbal criticisms may be worthyour attention in the second edition; but these have been pickedout and displayed with no friendly view, and without necessity, in a work of such length and intrinsic sterling worth. J'enrage!Morbleu! (Madame d'Arblay to Dr. Burney. )Bookham, November, 1796. I had intended writing to my dearest father by a return of goods, but I find it impossible to defer the overflowings of my heart athis most kind and generous indignation with the reviewer. Whatcensure can ever so much hurt as such compensation can heal? And, in fact, the praise is so strong that, were it neatly puttogether, the writer might challenge my best enthusiasts to findit insufficient. The truth, however, is, that the criticisms comeforward, and the panegyric is entangled, and so blended withblame as to lose almost all effect, The reviews, however, as theyhave not made, will not, I trust, mar me. "Evelina" made its wayall by itself; it was well spoken of, indeed, in all the reviews, compared with general novels, but it was undistinguished by anyquotation, and only put in the Monthly Catalogue, and onlyallowed Page 117 short single paragraph. It wascirculated only by the general public till it reached, throughthat unbiassed medium, Dr. Johnson and Mr. Burke, and thence itwanted no patron. Nov. 14. -Upon a second reading of the Monthly Review upon"Camilla, " I am in far better humour with it, and willing toconfess to the criticisms, if I may claim by that concession anyright to the eulogies. They are stronger and more important, upon re-perusal, than I had imagined, in the panic of a firstsurvey and an unprepared-for disappointment in anything likeseverity from so friendly an editor. The recommendation, at theconclusion, of the book as a warning guide to youth, wouldrecompense me, upon the least reflection, for whatever stricturesMight precede it. I hope my kind father has not suffered hisgenerous--and to me most cordial--indignation against thereviewer to interfere with his intended answer to theaffectionate letter of Dr. Griffiths. (133 DEATH OF MADAME D'ARBLAY'S STEPMOTHER. (Madame d'Arblay to Mrs. Phillips. )Bookham, November 7, 1796. Yes, -my beloved Susan safe landed at Dublin was indeedall-sufficient for some time; nor, indeed, could I even read anymore for many minutes. That, and the single sentence at the end, "My Norbury is with me"--completely overset ne, though only withjoy. After your actual safety, nothing could so much touch me asthe picture I Instantly viewed of Norbury in Your arms. Yet Ishall hope for more detail hereafter. The last letter I had from you addressed to myself shows me yourown sentiment of the fatal event(134) which so speedily followedyour departure, and which my dear father has himself announced toyou, though probably the newspapers will anticipate his letter. Iam very sorry, now, I did not write sooner; but while you werestill in England, and travelling so slowly, I had always lurkingideas that disqualified me from writing to Ireland. The minute I received, from Sally, by our dearest father's desirethe last tidings I set out for Chelsea. I was much Shocked bythe news, long as it has been but natural to look Page 118 forward to it. My better part spoke even before myself upon thepropriety of my instant journey, and promised me a faithfulnursing attendance during my absence. I went in a chaise, to lose no time - but the uncertainty how Imight find my poor father made me arrive with a nervous seizureupon my voice that rendered it as husky as Mr. Rishton's. While I settled with the postilion, Sally, James, Charlotte, andMarianne, came to me. Esther and Charles had been there thepreceding day ; they were sent to as soon as the event hadhappened. My dearest father received me with extreme kindness, but though far, far more calm and quiet than I could expect, hewas much shaken, and often very faint. However, in the course ofthe evening, he suffered me to read to him various passages fromvarious books, such as conversation introduced; and as his natureis as pure from affectation as from falsehood, encouraged inhimself, as well as permitted in us, whatever could lead tocheerfulness. Let me not forget to record one thing that was truly generous inmy poor mother's last voluntary exertions. She charged Sally andher maid both not to call my father when she appeared to bedying; and not disturb him if her death should happen in thenight, nor to let him hear it till he arose at his usual time. Ifeel sensibly the kindness of this sparing consideration. Yet not so would I be used! O never should I forgive themisjudged prudence that should rob me of one little instant ofremaining life in one who was truly dear to me'; Nevertheless, Ishall not be surprised to have his first shock succeeded by asorrow it did not excite, and I fear he will require muchwatching and vigilance to be kept as well as I have quitted him. THE FRENCH EMIGRES AT NORBURY. (Madame d'Arblay to Mrs. Phillips. )Bookham, December 25, 1796. You will have heard that the Princesse d'Henin and M. De Lallyhave spent a few days at Norbury Park. We went every eveningregularly to meet them, and they yet contrive to grow higher andhigher in our best opinions and affections; they force that lastword; none other is adequate to such regard as they excite. Page 119 M. De Lally read us a pleading for ‚migr‚s of all descriptions, to the people and government of France, for their re-instalmentin their native land, that exceeds in eloquence, argument, taste, feeling, and every power of oratory and truth united, anything Iever remember to have read. It is so affecting in many places, that I was almost ill from restraining My nearly convulsiveemotions. My dear and honoured partner gives me, perhaps, aninterest in such a subject beyond what is mere natural due andeffect, therefore I cannot be sure such will be its universalsuccess; yet I shall be nothing less than Surprised to live tosee his statue erected in his own country, at the expense of hisown restored exiles. 'Tis, indeed, a wonderful performance. Andhe was so easy, So gay, so unassuming, yet free fromcondescension, that I almost worshipped him. M. D'Arblay cut meoff a bit of the coat in which he read his pleading, and I shallpreserve it, labelled! The princess was all that was amiable and attractive, and sheloves my Susanna so tenderly, that her voice was always caressingwhen she named her. She would go to Ireland, she repeatedly said, on purpose to see you, were her fortune less miserably cramped. The journey, voyage, time, difficulties, and, sea-sickness, wouldbe nothing for obstacles. You have made, there, that rare andexquisite acquisition-an ardent friend for life. DR. BURNEY'S DEPRESSED STATE. I have not heard very lately of my dearest father; all accountsspeak of his being very much lower in spirits than When I lefthim. I sometimes am ready to return to him, for my whole heartyearns to devote itself to him - but the babe, and the babe'sfather--and there is no going en famille uninvited--and my dearfather does not feel equal to making the invitation. One of the Tichfield dear girls seems to be constantly withSally, to aid the passing hours, but Our poor father wantssomething more than cheerfulness and affection, though nothingwithout them could do; he wants some one to find out pursuits--toentice him into reading, by bringing books, or starting subjects;some one to lead him to talk of what he thinks, or to forget whathe thinks of, by adroitly talking of what may catch otherattention. Even where deep sorrow is impossible, a gloomy voidmust rest in the total breaking up such a long and such a fastconnexion. Page 120 I must always grieve at your absence at such a period. Our Estherhas SO much to do in her own family, and fears so much the coldof Chelsea, that she can be only of day and occasional use, andit is nights and mornings that call for the confidentialcompanion that might best revive him, He is more amiable, morehimself, if possible, than ever. God long preserve him to blessus all! COVETOUS OF PERSONAL DISTINCTION. Your old acquaintance, Miss --, has been passing ten days in thisneighbourhood. She is become very pleasingly formed in manners, wherever she wishes to oblige, and all her roughnesses andruggednesses are worn off. I believe the mischief done by hereducation, and its wants, not cured, if curable au fond; but muchamended to all, and apparently done away completely to many. Whatreally rests is a habit of exclusively consulting just what shelikes best, not what would be or prove best for others. Shethinks, indeed, but little of anything except with reference toherself, and what gives her an air, and will give her acharacter, for inconstancy, that is in fact the mere result ofseeking her own gratification alike in meeting or avoiding herconnexions. If she saw this, she has understanding sufficient towork it out of her; but she weighs nothing sufficiently to diveinto her own self. She knows she is a very clever girl, and sheis neither well contented with others, nor happy in herself, butwhere this is evidently acknowledged. We spent an evening together at Norbury Park ; she was shown allMr. William's pictures and drawings. I knew her expectations ofan attention she had no chance of exciting and therefore devotedmyself to looking them over with her yet, though Mr. Lockehimself led the way to see them, and explained several, andthough Amelia addressed her with the utmost sweetness, and Mrs. Locke with perfect good breeding, I could not draw from her oneword relative to the evening, or the family, except that she didnot think she had heard Mr. William's voice once. A person soyoung, and with such good parts, that can take no pleasure but inpersonal distinction, which is all her visit can have wanted, will soon cut all real improvement short, by confining herself tosuch society alone as elevates herself. There she will alwaysmake a capital figure, for her conversation is sprightly andenter-Page 121 taining, and her heart and principles are both good : she hasmany excellent qualities, and various resources in herself; butshe is good enough to make me lament that she is not modestenough to be yet better. BABY D'ARBLAY AGAIN ; AND OTHER MATTERS. (Madame d'Arblay to Dr. Burney. )Bookham, NOV. 29, 1796. My little man waits for your lessons to get on in elocution: hehas made no further advance but that of calling out, as he sawour two watches hung on two opposite hooks over the chamberchimney-piece, "Watch, papa, --watch, mamma;" so, though his firstspeech is English, the idiom is French. We agree this is to avoidany heartburning in his parents. He is at this moment soexquisitely enchanted with a little penny trumpet, and finding hecan produce such harmony his own self, that he is blowing andlaughing till he can hardly stand. If you could see his littleswelling cheeks you would not accuse yourself of a misnomer incalling him cherub. I try to impress him with an idea of pleasurein going to see grandpapa, but the short visit to Bookham isforgotten, and the permanent engraving remains, and all hisconcurrence consists in pointing up to the print over thechimney-piece, and giving it one of his concise little bows. Are not people a little revived in the political world by thisunexampled honour paid to Mr. Pitt?(135) Mr. Locke hassubscribed 3000 pounds. How you rejoiced me by what you say of poor Mr. Burke for I hadseen the paragraph of his death with most exceeding greatconcern. The Irish reports, are, I trust, exaggerated; few things comequite plainly from Hibernia: yet what a time, in all respects, totransport thither, as you too well term it, our beloved Susan!She writes serenely, and Norbury seems to Page 122 repay a world of sufferings : it is delightful to see her SOsatisfied there, at least; but they have all, she says, got thebrogue. Our building is to be resumed the 1st of March; it will then soonbe done, as it is only of lath and plaster, and the roof andwood-work are already prepared. ' My indefatigable superintendentgoes every morning for two, three, or four hours to his field, towork at a sunk fence that 'IS to protect his garden from our cow. I have sent Mrs. Boscawen, through Miss Cambridge, a history ofour plan. The dwelling is destined by M. D'Arblay to be calledthe Camilla cottage. (95) "Memoires of Dr. Burney, " vol. Iii. Pp. 224-5. (96) "Memoirs of Dr. Burney, " vol. Iii. , pp. 210-11. (97) In the "Memoirs of Dr. Burney" Madame d'Arblay writes that"Before the answer of Mr. Pitt to the memorial could be returned, the attempt upon Toulon proved abortive. " Mr, Pitt must certainlyhave been in no hurry to reply; for the memorial was sent to himabout the commencement of October, and Toulon was not evacuatedby the English until the 18th of December. -ED. (98) A character in "Cecilia. "-ED. (99) The well-known novelist. -ED. (100) The cottage which Fanny and her husband contemplatedbuilding, was not actually commenced until after the publicationof "Camilla, " in 1796. -ED. (101) The fund which Mrs. Crewe was exerting herself to raise forthe benefit of the French emigrant clergy. -ED. (102) Mrs. Crewe had been urging Dr. Burney to engage hisdaughter to contribute, by her pen, to the relief of the emigrantclergy. Fanny accordingly wrote an "Address to the Ladies ofGreat Britain, " in the form of a short pamphlet, which waspublished by Cadell, and which appears to have had the desiredeffect. -ED. (103) Alas for Dr. Burney's hopes! Toulon was successfullydefended until the middle of December, when the vigorous measuresof the besiegers, inspired by the genius Of Young Buonaparte, resulted in the complete triumph of the Republicans. On the 17thof December they carried by storm Fort Eguillette and the heightsof Faron. From these positions their artillery commanded theharbour, and, further defence of the town being thereby renderedimpracticable, its instant evacuation was resolved upon by theallies. An attempt to burn the French war-ships in the harbour, before abandoning the place, was only partially successful. Onthe 18th and 19th the troops embarked. Vast numbers of fugitiveswere taken on board the retreating fleet, but a large proportionof the unfortunate Toulonnais remained, to experience the cruelvengeance of the Republicans-ED. (104) The execution of Marie Antoinette, October 16, 1793. -ED. (105) He was born on the 18th of December 1794. -ED. (106) Goldsmith has drawn the character of Richard Burke in"Retaliation, " as follows:-- "Here lies honest Richard, whose fate I must Sigh at;Alaq, that such frolic should now be so quiet!What spirits were his! what wit and what whim!Now breaking a jest, and now breaking a limb;Now wrangling and grumbling to keep up the ball;Now teasing and vexing, yet laughing at all. In short, so provoking a devil was Dick, That we wish'd him full ten times a day at old Nick, But, missing his mirth and agreeable vein, As often we wish'd to have Dick back again. "-ED. (107) George Canning, who was not yet twenty-four years of age, had just entered Parliament as member for Newport. He hadformerly been a Whig and an associate of Fox and Sheridan, butthe excesses of the French, Revolution appear to have driven him, as they had driven Burke and Windham, over to the opposite camp. He took his seat as a Tory and a supporter of Mr. Pitt, and aTory he remained to the end of his days. Canning's maiden speech, to which Fanny refers, was delivered January 31, in a debate onthe treaty between Great Britain and the King of Sardinia. Bythis treaty, which was signed April 25, 1793, it was agreed thatthe two contracting parties should make common cause in the waragainst the French Republic; that England should pay to the Kingof Sardinia an annual subsidy of 200, 000 pounds, to enable him tomaintain the war; and that England should not conclude peacewithout providing for the restoration to Sardinia of theterritories which had been torn from it by the Republic. In thedebate of January 31, 1794, Fox vigorously attacked the treaty, while Canning, who spoke later, defended it in an able andwell-received maiden speech. -ED. (108) Talleyrand's intrigues had made him an object of suspicionto both parties. He was detested by the royalists of the firstemigration, had been d‚cr‚t‚ d'accusation by the Convention, andwas regarded by the English government as a dangerous person. InJanuary 1794, he received an order from the government to quitEngland within five days, and he embarked in consequence, for theUnited States, February 3. -ED. (109) "London, 1794. -Madame, --Had it been possible I would havehad the honour of seeing you this morning, but the utterimpossibility of doing so has deprived me of the last pleasurethat I might have had in Europe. Permit me, madame, to thank youagain for all your kindness, and to ask a little place in yourmemory, and let me tell you, I shall never cease, while I live, to offer my vows for your welfare, and for that of the captainand your children. You will have a very zealous servant inAmerica; I shall not return to Europe without coming to Surrey:everything of value to my intellect or my heart is there. "Kindly present my compliments to the captain. "(110) "London, March 2, 1794. Farewell, my dear d'Arblay: I leaveyour country till the time when it will no longer be governed bythe petty passions of men. Then I will return; not, indeed, tobusy myself with public affairs, for I have long since abandonedthem for ever; but to see the excellent inhabitants of Surrey. Ihope to know enough English to understand Madame d'Arblay; forthe next four months, I shall do nothing but study it: and, toacquaint myself with the beauties of the language, I take'Evelina' and 'Cecilia, ' both for study and pleasure. I wishYou, my dear friend, all kinds of happiness, and you are in theway to fulfil all my wishes. "I do not know how long I shall remain in America. If there werea prospect of the re-establishment of reason and stability in ourunhappy country, I should return; if Europe goes to pieces in thecoming campaign, I will prepare a refuge in America for all ourfriends. "Farewell. My respects to Madame d'Arblay and Mrs. Phillips. I ask of you and I promise you a lifelong friendship. " (The date at the head Of this letter Is evidently incorrect--probably a slip of the writer's. Talleyrand embarked February3. -ED. (111) Lafayette's brilliant services in the cause of liberty hadnot secured him from the usual fate of moderate revolutionists atthis period. In the early days of the Revolution, he was the heroof the French people; in 1792, denounced by RobespiŠrre and thejacobins, he was compelled to seek safety in flying from France. He escaped the guillotine, indeed, but fell into the hands of theAustrians, was cast into prison, and did not gain his libertytill September, 1797. -ED. (112) This was Dr. Burney's first meeting with Mrs. Piozzi sinceher marriage. It occurred at one of Salomon's celebratedconcerts, where the doctor, with surprise, perceived Piozzi amongthe audience, not knowing that he had returned from Italy. Heentered into a cordial conversation with the Signor, and inquiredafter his wife. "Piozzi, turning round, pointed to a sofa, onwhich, to his infinite joy, Dr. Burney beheld Mrs. Thrale Piozzi, seated in the midst of her daughters, the four Miss Thrales, "those young ladies (at least, the three elder, for Cecilia hadbeen abroad with Mr. And Mrs. Piozzi) having made up their mindsby this time to accept the inevitable, and to be reconciled totheir mother. " See "Memoirs of Dr. Burney, " vol. Iii. P. 198. -ED. (113) Written after the Doctor's first visit to Bookham. (114) Name of a gardener in a drama of Fontenelle's. (115) The novel of "Camilla, " then lately begun. (116) "Memoirs of the Life and Writings of Metastasio, " a workwhich Dr. Burney was then engaged upon, and which was publishedin three Volumes, 8vo in 1796. -ED. (117) "Edwy and Elgiva, " a tragedy by Madame d'Arblay. (118) Edmund Burke's only son, Richard, died August 2, 1794. -ED (119) "Edwy and Elgiva, " produced by Sheridan at Drury-lane, March 21, 1795; it was acted but once, and never printed. -ED. (120) Warren Hastings was acquitted of all the charges, April 23, 1795. (121) Both characters, to some extent, were true. Goldsmith'sportrait of Cumberland, though flattering, is not, we fancy, without a slight undercurrent of irony. Here are the lines from"Retaliation. " "Here Cumberland lies, having acted his parts, The Terence of England, the mender of hearts;A flattering painter, who made it his careTo draw men as they ought to be, not as they are. His gallants are all faultless, his women divine, And Comedy wonders at being so fine:Like a tragedy-queen he has dizen'd her out, Or rather like Tragedy giving a rout. His fools have their follies so lost in a crowdOf virtues and feelings, that Folly grows proudAnd coxcombs, alike in their failings atone:Adopting his portraits, are pleas'd with their own, Say, where has our poet this malady caught?Or wherefore his characters thus without fault?Say, was it that, mainly directing his viewTo find out men's virtues, and finding them few, Quite sick of pursuing each troublesome elf, He grew lazy at last, and drew from himself?"-ED. (122) The novels of Mrs. Radcliffe were now at the height oftheir popularity. "The Mysteries of Udolpho, " perhaps the mostpowerful of her works, had recently been published, to theintense delight of all lovers of the thrilling and romantic. -ED. (123) The name was then "Ariella, " changed afterwards to"Camilla. " (124) Written during his embarrassments from the FrenchRevolution, and answer to a letter expressing bitterdisappointment from repeated losses. (125) M. De Narbonne, in reply, expressed, in lively terms, hisgratitude for Madame d'Arblay's invitation, and his pleasure inreceiving it. But he declined the proposal. He was not, he said, wholly without resources, or without hopes for the future, andcircumstances made it desirable that he should reside at presentnear the French frontier. -ED. (126) Gainsborough Dupont, a nephew of the great Gainsborough. He was a portrait-painter of some merit, and an excellent mezzo-tint engraver. Some of his best plates were engraved afterpaintings by Gainsborough. Mr Dupont died in 1797. -ED. (127) " The Birth of Love;" a poem: with engravings, from designsby her royal highness the Princess Elizabeth. (128) i. E. , the Duke of York, second son of the king. He had beenappointed field-marshal and commander-in-chief early in 1795. -ED. (129) The Duchess of York was daughter to the King of Prussia. -ED. (130) Susan's little son, Norbury Phillips. -ED. (131) Rose Dale, Richmond, Surrey. This place was formerly theresidence of the poet Thomson, and afterwards became the propertyof the Honourable Mrs. Boscawen. (132) The princess royal was married, May 18, 1797, to FrederickWilliam, hereditary prince of Wurtemberg. -ED. (133) Editor and proprietor of the "Monthly Review. " (134) The death of Dr. Burney's second wife. (135) Fanny alludes to the so-called "loyalty loan, " proposed andcarried by Mr Pitt, to meet the expenses of the war. "Pittevinced his own Public spirit, when he relied on and appealed tothe public spirit of the People. He announced a loan of18, 000, 000 pounds, at five per cent. , to be taken at 112 pounds, 10 shillings, for every 100 pounds stock, and with an option tothe proprietors to he paid off at par within two years after atreaty of peace. "-(Stanhope's "Life of Pitt, " vol. Ii. , P. 389. )The loan was taken up by the Public with extraordinary eagerness, 5, 000, 000 pounds being subscribed on the first day of issue(December 1, 1796). -ED. . ' (136) They had commenced building the cottage in October. Fannywrites, November 29: "Our cottage building stops now, from theshortness of the days, till the beginning of March. Thefoundation is laid, and it will then be run up with great speed. The well, at length, is finished, and it is a hundred and oddfeet deep. The water is said to be excellent, but M. D'Arblayhas had it now stopped to prevent accidents from hazardous boys, who, when the field is empty of owners, will be amusingthemselves there. He has just completed his grand plantations;part of which are in evergreens, part in firewood for futuretime, and part in an orchard. "-ED. Page 123 SECTION 21. (1797-8) "CAMILLA" COTTAGE. SUNDRY VISITS TO THE ROYAL FAMILY. [Fanny's pen portraits of the princesses are as fascinating asGainsborough's paintings of them. Their truly amiable charactersand sweet dispositions are nowhere more pleasantly illustratedthan in the following section of the "Diary. " A list of theirnames, with the dates of their births and deaths, may be usefulto the reader. 1. Charlotte, princess royal. Born 1767: Queen of Wirtemburg:died 1828. 2. Augusta, Fanny's favourite, as she well deserved to be. Born1768 : never married : died 1840. 3. Elizabeth, the artist of the family. Born 1770 : married thehereditary prince (afterwards, in 1820, Landgrave) of Hesse-Homburg in 18 18, and settled in Germany: died 1840. 4. Mary. Born 1776 : married her cousin, William Frederick, Dukeof Gloucester, in 1816: died 1857. 5. Sophia, born 1777: died 1848. 6. Amelia, born 1783. Her health first gave way in 1798 (see p. 180): she died, unmarried, at Windsor, in 1810. A few days beforeher death she gave her poor blind, old father, a ring containinga scrap of her hair ; saying only, as she pressed it into hishand, "Remember me!" The poor king's anguish brought on a freshattack of insanity, from which he never recovered. -ED. ] A DISAGREEABLE JOURNEY HoME. (Madame d'Arblay to Dr. Burney. )Bookham, January 3, '97. WAS extremely vexed at missing our uncertain post yesterday, andlosing, unavoidably, another to-day, before I return my dearestfather our united thanks for the kind and sweet fortnight passedunder his roof. Our adventures in coming back were better adaptedto our departure than our Page 124 arrival, for they were rather rueful. One of the horses did notlike his business, and wanted to be off, and we were stopped byhis gambols continually, and, if I had not been a soldier'swife, I should have been terribly alarmed; but my soldier doesnot like to see himself disgraced in his other half, and so I wasfain to keep up my courage, till, at length, after we had passedFetcham, the frisky animal plunged till he fastened the shaftagainst a hedge, and then, little Betty beginning to scream, Iinquired of the postilion if we had not better alight. If itwere not, he said, for the dirt, yes. The dirt then was defied, and I prevailed, though with difficulty, upon my chieftain toconsent to a general dismounting. And he then found it was nottoo soon, for the horse became inexorable to all menace, caress, chastisement, or harangue, and was obliged to be loosened. Meanwhile, Betty, Bab, and I trudged on, vainly looking back forour vehicle, till we reached our little home--a mile and a half. Here we found good fires, though not a morselof food; this however, was soon procured, and our walking apparelchanged for drier raiment; and I sent forth our nearest cottager, and a young butcher, and a boy, towards Fetcham, to aid thevehicle, or its contents, for my chevalier had stayed on accountof our chattels: and about two hours after the chaise arrived, with one horse, and pushed by its hirer, while it was halfdragged by its driver. But all came safe; and we drank a dish oftea, and ate a mutton chop, and kissed our little darling, andforgot all else of our journey hut the pleasure we had had atChelsea with my dearest father and dear Sally. And just now I received a letter from our Susanna, which tells methe invasion(137) has been made in a part of Ireland Page 125 . where all is so loyal there can be no apprehension from any suchattempt ; but she adds, that if it had happened in the northeverything might have been feared. Heaven send the invaders farfrom all the points of the Irish compass! and that's an Irishwish for expression, though not for meaning. All the intelligenceshe gathers is encouraging, with regard to the spirit and loyaltyof all that surround her. But Mr. Brabazon is in much uneasinessfor his wife, whose situation is critical, and he hesitateswhether or not to convey her to Dublin, as a place of moresecurity than her own habitation. What a period this for theusual journey of our invaluable Susan! BURKE's FUNERAL AT BEACONSFIELD. (Dr. Burney to Madame d'Arblay. )Saturday Night, July 22, 1797. I was invited to poor Mr. Burke's funeral, (138) by Mrs. Crewe andtwo notes from Beaconsfield. Malone and I went to Bulstrodetogether in my car, this day sevennight, with two horses added tomine. Mrs. Crewe had invited me thither when she went downfirst. We found the Duke of Portland there; and the Duke ofDevonshire and Windham came to dinner. The chancellor and speakerof the House of Commons could not leave London till four o'clock, but arrived a little after seven. We all set off together forBeaconsfield, where we found the rest of the pall-bearers--LordFitzwilliam, Lord Inchiquin, and Sir Gilbert Eliot, with Drs. King and Lawrence, Lord North, Dudley North, and many of thedeceased's private friends, though by his repeated injunction thefuneral was to be very private. We had all hatbands, scarfs, andgloves; and he left a list to whom rings of remembrance are to besent, among whom my name occurred, and a jeweller has been herefor my measure. I went back to Bulstrode, by invitation, withthe two dukes, the chancellor, and speaker, Windham, Malone, andSecretary King. I, stayed there till Sunday evening, and got homejust before the dreadful storm. The duke was extremely civil andhospitable, -- Page 126 pressed me much to stay longer and go with them, the chancellor, speaker, Windham, and Mrs. Crewe, to Pinn, to see the school, founded by Mr. Burke, for the male children of French emigrantnobles; but I could not with prudence stay, having a couple ofladies waiting for me in London, and two extra horses with me. So much for poor Mr. Burke, certainly one of the greatest men ofthe present century; and I think I might say the best orator andstatesman of modern times. He had his passions and prejudices towhich I did not subscribe - but I always admired his greatabilities, friendship, and urbanity - and it would be ungratefulin you and me, to whom he was certainly partial, not to feel andlament his loss. (Madame d'Arblay to Dr. Burney. )Bookham, July 27, '97. I was surprised, and almost frightened, though at the same timegratified, to find you assisted in paying the last honours to Mr. Burke. How sincerely I sympathise in all you say of that trulygreat man! That his enemies say he was not perfect is nothingcompared with his immense superiority over almost all those whoare merely exempted from his peculiar defects. That he wasupright in heart, even where he acted wrong, I do truly believe;and that he asserted nothing he had not persuaded himself to betrue, from Mr. Hastings's being the most rapacious of villains, to the king's being incurably insane. He was as generous as kind, and as liberal in his sentiments as he was luminous in intellectand extraordinary in abilities and eloquence. Though free fromall little vanity, high above envy, and glowing with zeal toexalt talents and merit in others, he had, I believe aconsciousness of his own greatness, that shut out thoseoccasional and useful self-doubts which keep our judgment inorder, by calling our motives and our passions to account. DEATH OF M. D'ARBLAY'S BROTHER. (Madame d'Arblay to Dr. Burney. )Bookham, August 10, '97. You know, I believe, with what cruel impatience and uncertaintymy dear companion has waited for some news Of his family ; notidings, however, could be procure, nor hasPage 127 ever heard from any part of it till last Saturday morning, whentwo letters arrived by the same post, with information of thedeath of his only brother. impossible as it has long been to look back to France withoutfears amounting even to expectation of horrors, he had neverceased cherishing hopes some favourable turn would, in the end, unite him with this last branch of his house; the shock, therefore, has been terribly severe, and has cast a gloom uponhis mind and spirits which nothing but his kind anxiety to avoidinvolving mine can at present suppress. He is now the last of afamily of seventeen, and not one relation of his own name nowremains but his own little English son. His father was the onlyson of an only son, which drives all affinity on the paternalside into fourth and fifth kinsmen. On the maternal side, however, he has the happiness to hear thatan uncle, who is inexpressibly dear to him, who was his guardianand best friend through life, still lives, and has been permittedto remain unmolested in his own house, at Joigny, where he is nowin perfect health, save from rheumatic . Attacks, which thoughpainful are not dangerous. A son, too, of this gentleman, whowas placed as a commissaire-de-guerre by M. D'Arblay during theperiod of his belonging to the war committee, still holds thesame situation, which is very lucrative, and which M. D'A. Hadconcluded would have been withdrawn as soon as his own flightfrom France was known. The little property of which the late Chevalier d'Arblay diedpossessed, this same letter says, has been "vendu pour lanation, "(139) because his next heir was an ‚migr‚; though thereis a little niece, Mlle. Girardin, daughter of an only sister, who is in France, and upon whom the succession was settled, ifher uncles died without immediate heirs. Some little matter, however, what we know not, has been reservedby being bought in by this respectable uncle, who sends M. D'Arblay word he has saved him what he may yet live upon, if hecan find means to return without personal risk, and who solicitsto again see him with urgent fondness, in which he is joined byhis aunt with as much warmth as if she, also, was his relation byblood, not alliance. The late chevalier, my M. D'A. Says, was a man of the softestmanners and most exalted honour ; and he was so tall and so thin, he was often nicknamed Don Quixote, but he was so completelyaristocratic with regard to the Revolution, Page 128 at its very commencement, that M. D'A. Has heard nothing yet withsuch unspeakable astonishment as the news that he died, nearSpain, of his wounds from a battle in which he had fought for theRepublic. "How strange, " says M. D'A. , "is our destiny! that thatRepublic which I quitted, determined to be rather an hewer ofwood and drawer of water all my life than serve, he should diefor. " The secret history of this may some day come out, but it isnow inexplicable, for the mere fact, without the smallestcomment, is all that has reached us, In the period, indeed, inwhich M. D'A. Left France, there were but three steps possiblefor those who had been bred to arms-flight, the guillotine, orfighting for the Republic, "The former this brother, " M. D'A. Says, "had not energy of character to undertake in the desperatemanner in which he risked it himself, friendless and fortuneless, to live in exile as he could. The guillotine no one could elect;and the continuing in the service, though in a cause he detested, was, probably, his hard compulsion. " . . . Our new habitation will very considerably indeed exceed our firstintentions and expectations. I suppose it has ever been so, andso ever must be ; for we sought as well as determined to keepwithin bounds, and M. D'A. Still thinks he has done it - however, I am more aware of our tricks upon travellers than to enter intothe same delusion. The pleasure, however, he has taken in this edifice is my firstjoy, for it has constantly shown me his heart has invariably heldto those first feelings which, before our union, determined himupon settling in England. O! if you knew how he has beenassailed, by temptations of every sort that either ambition, orinterest, or friendship could dictate, to change his plan, -andhow his heart sometimes yearns towards those he yet can love inhis native soil, while his firmness still remains unshaken, -- youwould not wonder I make light of even extravagance in a pointthat shows him thus fixed to make this object a part of the wholesystem of his future life. FROM CREWE HALL TO CHELSEA. (Dr. Burney to Madame d'Arblay. )Friday Night, September 13, 1797. My dear Fanny, -Where did I leave off?--hang me if I know!--Ibelieve I told you, or all when with YOU, Of the Chester andLiverpool journey and voyage. On SaturdayPage 129 26th August, the day month from leaving London, M. Le pr‚sidentde Frondeville and I left Crewe Hall on our way back. The dearMrs. Crewe kindly set us in our way as far as Etruria. We visitedTrentham Hall, in Staffordshire, the famous seat of the Marquisof Stafford, --a very fine place--fine piece of water--finehanging woods, --the valley of Tempe--and the river Trent runningthrough the garden. Mrs C. Introduced us to the marchioness, whodid us the honour of showing us the house herself; it has latelybeen improved and enlarged by Wyatt:--fine pictures, library, etc. After a luncheon here, we went to Etruria, which I had neverseen. Old Mr. Wedgwood is dead, and his son and successor not athome ; but we went to the pottery manufacture, and saw the wholeprocess of forming the beautiful things which are dispersed allover the universe from this place. Mrs. C. Offered to send you alittle hand churn for your breakfast butter ; but I should havebroke it to pieces, and durst not accept of it. But if it wouldbe of any use, when you have a cow, I will get you one at theWedgwood ware-house in London. Here we parted. The president and I got to Lichfield by about ten o'clock thatnight. In the morning, before my companion was up, I strolledabout the city with one of the waiters, in search of FrankBarber, ' who I had been told lived there; but on, inquiry I wastold his residence was in a village three or four miles off. Ihowever soon found the house where dear Dr. Johnson was born, andhis father's shop. The house is stuccoed, has five sash-windowsin front, and pillars before it. It is the best housethereabouts, near St. Mary's Church, in a broad street, and isnow a grocer's shop. I went next to the Garrick house, which has been lately repaired, stuccoed, enlarged, and sashed. Peter Garrick, David's eldestbrother, died about two years ago, leaving all his Possessions tothe apothecary that had attended him. But the will was disputedand set aside not long since, it having appeared at a trial thatthe testator was insane at the time the will was made; so thatMrs. Doxie, Garrick's sister, a widow with a numerous family, recovered the house and -_30, 000, She now lives in it with herfamily, and has been able to set up a carriage. The inhabitantsof Lichfield were so pleased Page 130 with the decision of the court on the trial, that theyilluminated the streets, and had public rejoicings on theoccasion. After examining this house well, I tried to find the residence ofDr. James, inventor of the admirable fever powders, which have sooften saved the life of our dear Susey, and others withoutnumber. But the ungrateful inhabitants knew nothing about him. . . . The cathedral, which has been lately thoroughly repairedinternally, is the most complete and beautiful Gothic building Iever saw. The outside was trŠs mal trait‚ by the fanatics of thelast century; but there are three beautiful spires stillstanding, and more than fifty whole-length figures of saints intheir original niches. The choir is exquisitely beautiful. A finenew organ is erected, and was well played, and I never heard thecathedral service so well performed to that instrument onlybefore. The services and anthems were middle-aged music, neithertoo old and dry, nor too modern and light ; the voices subdued, and exquisitely softened and sweetened by the building, While the lessons were reading, which I could not hear, I lookedfor monuments, and found a beautiful one to Garrick, and anotherjust by it to Johnson; the former erected by Mrs. Garrick, whohas been daily abused for not erecting one to her husband inWestminster Abbey ; but sure that was a debt due to him from thepublic, and that due from his widow best paid here. (141)Johnson's has been erected by his friends:--both are beautiful, and alike in every particular. There is a monument here to Johnson's first patron, Mr. Walmsley, whose amplitude of learning and copiousness of communication weresuch, that our revered friend said, "it might be doubted whethera day passed in which he had not some advantage from hisfriendship. " There is a monument likewise to Lady M. W. Montagu, and to the father of Mr. Addison, etc. We left Lichfield about two o'clock, and reached Daventry thatnight, stopping a little at Coventry to look at the great churchand Peeping Tom. Next day got to St. Albans time enough to look'It the church and neighbouring ruins. Next morning breakfastedat Barnet, where my car met me, and got to Chelsea by threeo'clock, leaving my agreeable compagnon de voyage, M. Lepr‚sident, at his apartments in town. . . . Page 131 AT DR. HERSCHEL'S. (Dr. Burney to Madame d'Arblay. )Chelsea College, Thursday, September 28. My dear Fanny, --I read your letter pen in hand, and shall try toanswer it by to-day's post. But first let me tell you that itwas very unlikely to find me at home, for on Tuesday I went toLord Chesterfield's at Bailie's, and arrived there in very goodtime for a four o'clock dinner - when, behold ! I was informed bythe porter that " both my lord and lady were in town, and did notreturn till Saturday ! " Lord Chesterfield had unexpectedly beenobliged to go to town by indisposition. Though I was asked toalight and take refreshment, I departed immediately, intending todine and lie at Windsor, to be near Dr. Herschel, with whom avisit had been arranged by letter. But as I was now at libertyto make that visit at any time of the day I pleased, I drovethrough Slough in my way to Windsor, in order to ask at Dr. Herschel's door when my visit would be least inconvenient tohim--that night or next morning. The good soul was at dinner, butcame to the door himself, to press me to alight immediately andpartake of his family repast - and this he did so heartily that Icould not resist. I was introduced to the family at table, fourladies, and a little boy about the age and size of Martin. (142) Iwas quite shocked at seeing so many females: I expected (notknowing Herschel was married) only to have found Miss Herschel. . . . I expressed my concern and shame at disturbing them at thistime of the day ; told my story, at which they were so cruel asto rejoice, and went so far as to say they rejoiced at theaccident which had brought me there, and hoped I would send mycarriage away, and take a bed with them. They were sorry they hadno stables for my horses. I thought it necessary, You may, besure, to faire la petite bouche, ,but in spite of my blushes Iwas obliged to submit to my trunk being taken in and the car sentto the inn just by. . . . Your health was drunk after dinner (put that int. ) your pocket);and after much social conversation and a few hearty laughs, theladies proposed to take a walk, in order, I believe, to leaveHerschel and me together. We walked and talked Page 132 round his great telescopes till it grew damp and dusk, thenretreated into his study to philosophise. I had a string ofquestions ready to ask, and astronomical difficulties to solve, which, with looking at curious books and instruments, filled upthe time charmingly till tea, which being drank withthe ladies, we two retired again to the starry. Now having pavedthe way, we began to talk of my poetical plan, and he pressed meto read what I had done. (143) Heaven help his head! my eightbooks, of from four hundred to eight hundred and twenty lines, would require two or three days to read. He made me unpack my trunk for my MS. , from which I read him thetitles of the chapters, and begged he would choose any book orcharacter of a great astronomer he pleased. "Oh, let us have thebeginning. " I read him the first eighteen or twenty lines of theexordium, and then said I rather wished to come to modern times -I was more certain of my ground in high antiquity than after thetime of Copernicus, and began my eighth chapter, entirely onNewton and his system. He gave me the greatest encouragementsaid repeatedly that I perfectly understood what I was writing'about - and only stopped me at two places: one was at a word toostrong for what I had to describe, and the other at one too weak. The doctrine he allowed to be quite orthodox, concerninggravitation, refraction, reflection, optics, comets, magnitudes, distances, revolutions, etc. , but made a discovery to me which, had I known sooner, would have overset me, and prevented myreading any part of my work: he said he had almost always had anaversion to poetry, which he regarded as the arrangement of finewords, without any useful meaning or adherence to truth; butthat, when truth and science were united to these fine words, heliked poetry very well; and next morning, after breakfast, hemade me read as much of another chapter on Descartes, etc. , asthe time would allow, as I had ordered my carriage at twelve. Iread, talked, asked questions, and looked at books andinstruments, till near one, when I set off for Chelsea. Page 133 HOSPITALITY UNDER DIFFICULTIES. (Madame d'Arblay to Mrs. Francis. )Westhamble, November 16, 1797. Your letter was most welcome to me, my dearest Charlotte, and Iam delighted Mr. Broome(144) and my dear father will so speedilymeet. If they steer clear of politics, there can be no doubt oftheir immediate exchange of regard and esteem. At all events, Idepend upon Mr. B. 's forbearance of such subjects, if theiropinions clash. Pray let me hear how the interview went off. I need not say how I shall rejoice to see you again, nor howcharmed we shall both be to make a nearer acquaintance with Mr. Broome; but, for heaven's sake, my dear girl, how are we to givehim a dinner?--unless he will bring with him his poultry, forours are not yet arrived from Bookham; and his fish, for ours arestill at the bottom of some pond we know not where, and his spit, for our jack is yet without clue; and his kitchen grate, for ourswaits for Count Rumford's(145) next pamphlet;--not to mention histable-linen;--and not to speak Page 134 of his knives and forks, some ten of our poor original twelvehaving been massacred in M. D'Arblay's first essays in the art ofcarpentering ;-and to say nothing of his large spoons, the silverof our plated ones having feloniously made off under cover of thewhitening-brush--and not to talk of his cook, ours being not yethired ;-and not to start the subject of wine, ours, by some oddaccident, still remaining at the wine-merchant's! With all theseimpediments, however, to convivial hilarity, if he will eat aquarter of a joint of meat (his share, I mean), tied up by apackthread, and roasted by a log of wood on the bricks, --anddeclare no potatoes so good as those dug by M. D'Arblay out ofour garden, --and protest our small beer gives the spirits ofchampagne, --and make no inquiries where we have deposited thehops he will conclude we have emptied out of our table-cloth, --and pronounce that bare walls are superior to tapestry, --andpromise us the first sight of his epistle upon visiting anew-built cottage, --we shall be sincerely happy to receive him inour hermitage; where I hope to learn, for my dearest Charlotte'ssake, to love him as much as, for his own I have very longadmired him. WAR TAXES. "CAMILLA" COTTAGE. (Madame d'Arblay to Mrs. Phillips. )Westhamble, December, '97. The new threefold assessment of taxes has terrified us ratherseriously ; though the necessity, and therefore justice, of them, we mutually feel. My father thinks his own share will amount toeighty pounds a year ! We have, this very morning, decided uponparting with four of our new windows, --a great abatement ofagr‚mens to ourselves, and of ornament to our appearance; and astill greater sacrifice to the amour Propre of my architect, who, indeed, --his fondness for his edifice considered, --does not illdeserve praise that the scheme had not his mere consent, but hisown free proposition. . . . We quitted Bookham with one single regret--that of leaving ourexcellent neighbours the Cookes. . . . We languished for themoment of removal with almost infantine fretfulness at everydelay that distanced it; and when at last the grand day came, ourfinal packings, with all their toilPage 135 and difficulties and labour and expense, were mere acts ofpleasantry; so bewitched were we with the impending change, that, though from six o'clock to three we were hard at work, without akettle to boil the breakfast, or a knife to cut bread for aluncheon, we missed nothing, wanted nothing, and were asinsensible to fatigue as to hunger. M. D'Arblay set out on foot, loaded with remaining relics ofthings, to us precious, and Betty afterwards with a remnant ofglass or two; the other maid had been sent two days before. I wasforced to have a chaise for my Alex and me, and a fewlooking-glasses, a few folios, and not a few other oddments andthen, with dearest Mr. Locke, our founder's portrait, and mylittle boy, off I set, and I would my dearest Susan could relateto me as delicious a journey. My mate, striding over hedge and ditch, arrived first, though heset out after' to welcome me to our new dwelling; and we enteredour new best room, in which I found a glorious fire of wood, anda little bench, borrowed of one of the departing carpenters :nothing else. We contrived to make room for each other, and Alexdisdained all rest. His spirits were so high upon finding two orthree rooms totally free for his horse (alias any stick he canpick up) and himself, unencumbered by chairs and tables andsuch-like lumber, that he was as merry as a little Andrew and aswild as twenty colts. Here we unpacked a small basket containingthree or four loaves, and, with a garden-knife, fell to work;some eggs had been procured from a neighbouring farm, and onesaucepan had been brought. We dined, therefore, exquisitely, anddrank to our new possession from a glass of clear water out ofour new well. At about eight o'clock our goods arrived. We had our bed put upin the middle of our room, to avoid risk of damp walls, and ourAlex had his dear Willy's crib at our feet. We none of us caught cold. We had fire night and day in themaids' room, as well as Our own -or rather in my Susan's room;for we lent them that, their own having a little inconvenienceagainst a fire, because it is built without a chimney. WeContinued making fires all around us the first fortnight, andthen found wood would be as bad as an apothecary's bill, sodesisted; but we did not stop short so soon as to want the latterto succeed the former, or put our calculation to the proof. Our first week was devoted to unpacking, and exulting in Ourcompleted plan. To have no one thing at hand, nothingPage 136 to eat, nowhere to sit--all were trifles, rather, I think, amusing than incommodious. The house looked so clean, thedistribution of the rooms and closets is so convenient, theprospect everywhere around is so gay and so lovely, and the parkof dear Norbury is so close at hand, that we hardly knew how torequire anything else for existence than the enjoyment of our ownsituation. At this period I received my summons. I believe I have alreadyexplained that I had applied to Miss Planta for advice whether mybest chance of admission would be at Windsor, Kew, or London. Ihad a most kind letter of answer, importing my letter had beenseen, and that her majesty would herself fix the time when shecould admit me. This was a great happiness to me, and the fixturewas for the Queen's house in town. VISITORS ARRIVE INOPPORTUNELY. The only drawback to the extreme satisfaction of suchgraciousness as allowing an appointment to secure me from afruitless journey, as well as from impropriety and all fear ofintrusion, was, that exactly at this period the Princess d'Heninand M. De Lally were expected at Norbury. I hardly could haveregretted anything else, I was so delighted by my summons; butthis I indeed lamented. They arrived to dinner on Thursday: I wasinvolved in preparations, and unable to meet them, and my matewould not be persuaded to relinquish aiding me. The next morning, through mud, through mire, they came to ourcottage. The poor princess was forced to change shoes andstockings. M. De Lally is more accustomed to such expeditions. Nothing could be more sweet than they both were, nor indeed, moregrateful than I felt for my share in their kind exertion. Thehouse was re-viewed all over, even the little pot au feu wasopened by the princess, excessively curious to see our manner ofliving in its minute detail. I have not heard if your letter has been received by M. De Lally;but I knew not then you had written, and therefore did notinquire. The princess talked of nothing so much as you, and witha softness of regard that quite melted me. I always tell herwarmly how you feel about her. M. De Lally was most melancholyabout France; the last new and most alas! barbarousrevolution(146) has disheartened all his hopes--alas!Page 137 whose can withstand it? They made a long and kind visit, and inthe afternoon we went to Norbury Park, where we remained tillnear eleven o'clock, and thought the time very short. Madame d'Henin related some of her adventures in this secondflight from her terrible country, and told them with a spirit anda power of observation that would have made them interesting if atale of old times ; but now, all that gives account of thoseevents awakens the whole mind to attention. M. De Lally after tea read us a beginning of a new tragedy, composed upon an Irish story, but bearing allusion so palpable tothe virtues and misfortunes of Louis XVI. That it had almost asstrong an effect upon our passions and faculties as if it hadborne the name of that good and unhappy prince. It is writtenwith great pathos, noble sentiment, and most eloquent language. I parted from them with extreme reluctance-nay, vexation. ANOTHER VISIT TO THE ROYAL FAMILY. I set off for town early the next day, Saturday. My time was not yet fixed for my royal interview, but I hadvarious preparations impossible to make in this dear, quiet, obscure cottage. Mon ami could not accompany me, as we had stilltwo men constantly at work, the house without being quiteunfinished but I could not bear to leave his littlerepresentative, who, with Betty, was my companion to Chelsea. There I was expected, and Our dearest father came forth with openarms to welcome us. He was in delightful spirits, the sweetesthumour, and perfectly good looks and good health. My littlerogue soon engaged him in a romp, which conquered his rusticshyness, and they became the best friends in the world. Thursday morning I had a letter from Miss Planta, written withextreme warmth of kindness, and fixing the next day at eleveno'clock for my royal admission. Page 138 I went up-stairs to Miss Planta's room, where, while I waited forher to be called, the charming Princess Mary passed by, attendedby Mrs. Cheveley. She recollected me and turned back, and came upto me with a fair hand graciously held out to me. "How do youdo, Madame d'Arblay?" she cried: "I am vastly glad to see youagain and how does your little boy do?" I gave her a little account of the rogue, and she proceeded toinquire about my new cottage, and its actual state. I enteredinto a long detail of its bare walls, and unfurnished sides, andthe gambols of the little man unencumbered by cares of fracturesfrom useless ornaments, that amused her good-humoured interest inmy affairs very much, and she did not leave me till Miss Plantacame to usher me to Princess Augusta. That kind princess received me with a smile so gay, and a look sopleased at my pleasure in again seeing her, that I quiteregretted the etiquette which prevented a chaste embrace. Shewas sitting at her toilette having her hair dressed. The royalfamily were all going at night to the play. She turned instantlyfrom the glass to face me, and insisted upon my being seatedimmediately. She then wholly forgot her attire and ornaments andappearance, and consigned herself wholly to conversation, withthat intelligent animation which marks her character. Sheinquired immediately how my little boy did, and then with greatsweetness after his father, and after my father. My first subject was the princess royal, and I accounted for nothaving left my hermitage in the hope of once more seeing herroyal highness before her departure. It would have been, I toldher, so melancholy a pleasure to have come merely for a lastview, that I could not bear to take my annual indulgence at aperiod which would make it leave a mournful impression upon mymind for a twelvemonth to come. The princess said she could enterinto that, but said it as if she had been surprised I had notappeared. She then gave ne some account of the ceremony ;(147)and when I told her I had heard that her royal highness the bridehad never looked so lovely, she confirmed the praise warmly, butlaughingly added, "'Twas the queen dressed her! You know what afigure she used to make of herself, with her odd manner Of Page 139 dressing herself; but mamma said, 'Now really, princess royal, this one time is the last, and I cannot suffer you to make such aquiz of yourself; so I will really have you dressed such a quizof yourself, properly. ' And indeed the queen was quite in theright, for everybody said she had never looked so well in herlife. " The word "quiz, " you may depend, was never the queen's. I hadgreat comfort, however, in gathering, from all that passed onthat subject, that the royal family is persuaded this estimableprincess is happy. From what I know of her disposition I am ledto believe the situation may make her so. She is born to preside, and that with equal softness and dignity; but she was here inutter subjection, for which she had neither spirits norinclination. She adored the king, honoured the queen, and lovedher sisters, and had much kindness for her brothers ; but herstyle of life was not adapted to the royalty of her nature, anymore than of her birth; and though she only wished for power todo good and to confer favours, she thought herself out of herplace in not possessing it. I was particularly happy to learn from the Princess Augusta thatshe has already a favourite friend in her new Court, in one ofthe princesses of Wurtemberg, wife of a younger brother of thehereditary prince, and who is almost as a widow, from the prince, her husband, being constantly with the army. This is adelightful circumstance, as her turn of mind, and taste, and, employments, accord singularly with those of our princess. I have no recollection of the order of our conversation, but willgive you what morsels occur to me as they arise in my memory. The terrible mutiny occupied us some time. (148) She told mePage 140 many anecdotes that she had learnt in favour Of various sailors, declaring, with great animation, her security In their goodhearts, however drawn aside by harder and more cunning heads, Thesweetness with which she delights to get out of all that isforbidding in her rank is truly adorable. In speaking of a sailoron board the St. Fiorenzo, when the royal family made theirexcursion by sea from Weymouth, she said, "You must know this manwas a great favourite of mine, for he had the most honestcountenance you can conceive, and I have often talked with him, every time we have been at Weymouth, so that we were goodfriends; but I wanted now in particular to ask him concerning themutiny, but I knew I should not get him to speak out while theking and queen and my sisters were by ; so I told Lady CharlotteBellasyse to watch an opportunity when he was upon deck, and therest were in the cabin, and then we went up to him and questionedhim; and he quite answered my expectations, for, instead oftaking any merit to himself from belonging to the St. Fiorenso, which was never in the mutiny, the good creature said he was surethere was not a sailor in the navy that was not sorry to havebelonged to it, and would not have got out of it as readily ashimself, if he had known but how. " The Princess Elizabeth now entered, but she did not stay. Shecame to ask something of her sister relative to a little fˆte shewas preparing, by way of a collation, in honour of the PrincessSophia, who was twenty this day. She made kind inquiries after myhealth, etc. , and, being mistress of the birthday fˆte, hurriedoff, and I had not the pleasure to see her any more. I must be less minute, or I shall never have done. My charming Princess Augusta renewed the conversation. Admiral Duncan's noble victory(149) became the theme, but it wasinterrupted by the appearance of the lovely Princess Amelia, nowbecome a model of grace, beauty and sweetness, Page 141 in their bud. She gave me her hand with the softest expressionof kindness, and almost immediately began questioning meconcerning my little boy and with an air of interest the mostcaptivating. But again Princess Augusta declined anyinterruptors: "You shall have Madame d'Arblay all to yourself, mydear, soon, " she cried, laughingly; and, with a smile a littleserious, the sweet Princess Amelia retreated. It would have been truly edifying to young ladies living in thegreat and public world to have assisted in my place at thetoilette of this exquisite Princess Augusta. Her ease, amountingeven to indifference, as to her ornaments and decoration, showeda mind so disengaged from vanity, so superior to personalappearance, that I could with difficulty forbear manifesting myadmiration. She let the hair-dresser proceed upon her headwithout comment and without examination, just as if it was solelyhis affair ; and when the man, Robinson, humbly begged to knowwhat ornaments he was to prepare the hair for, she said, "O, there are my feathers, and my gown is blue, so take what youthink right. " And when he begged she would say whether she wouldhave any ribbons or other things mixed with the feathers andjewels, she said, "You understand all that best, Mr. Robinson, I'm sure; there are the things, so take just what you please. "And after this she left him wholly to himself, never a momentinterrupting her discourse or her attention with a singledirection. INTERVIEW WITH THE QUEEN. Princess Augusta had just begun a very interesting account of anofficer that had conducted himself singularly well in the mutiny, when Miss Planta came to summon me to the queen. I beggedpermission to return afterwards for my unfinished narrative, andthen proceeded to the white closet. The queen was alone, seated at a table, and working. Miss Plantaopened the door and retired without entering. I felt a good dealaffected by the sight of her Majesty again, so graciouslyaccorded to my request ; but my first and instinctive feeling wasnothing to what I experienced when, after my profoundlyrespectful reverence, I raised my eyes, and saw in hers a look ofsensibility so expressive of regard, and so examining, sopenetrating into mine, as to seem to convey, involuntarily, aregret I had quitted her. This, at least, was the idea thatstruck me, from the species of look which met Page 142 me; and it touched me to the heart, and brought instantly, indefiance of all struggle, a flood of tears into my eyes. I wassome minutes recovering; and when I then entreated herforgiveness, and cleared up, the voice with which she Spoke, inhoping I was well, told me she had caught a little of mysensation, for it was by no means steady. Indeed, at thatmoment, I longed to kneel and beseech her pardon for thedispleasure I had felt in her long resistance of my resignation, for I think, now, it was from a real and truly honourable wish toattach me to her for ever. But I then suffered too much from asituation so ill adapted to my choice and disposition, to dojustice to her opposition, or to enjoy its honour to myself. Nowthat I am so singularly, alas! nearly singularly happy, thoughwholly from my perseverance in that resignation, I feel all I oweher, and I feel more and more grateful for every mark of hercondescension, either recollected or renewed. She looked ill, pale, and harassed. The king was but justreturned from his abortive visit to the Nore, and the inquietudeshe had sustained during that short separation, circumstancedmany ways alarmingly, had evidently shaken her: I saw with much, with deep concern, her sunk eyes and spirits. I believe the sightof me raised not the latter. Mrs. Schwellenberg had not longbeen dead, and I have some reason to think she would not havebeen sorry to have had me supply the vacancy; for I had immediatenotice sent me of her death by Miss Planta, so written as topersuade me it was a letter by command. But not all my duty, allmy gratitude, could urge me, even one short fleeting moment, toweigh any interest against the soothing serenity, the unfadingfelicity, of a hermitage such as mine. We spoke of poor Mrs. Schwelly, --and of her successor, Mlle. Backmeister, --and of mine, Mrs. Bremyere; and I could not butexpress my concern that her majesty had again been sounfortunate, for Mlle. Jacobi had just retired to Germany, illand dissatisfied with everything in England. The Princess Augustahad recounted to me the whole narrative of her retirement, andits circumstances. The queen told me that the king had veryhandsomely taken care of her. But such frequent retirements areheavy weights upon the royal bounty. I felt almost guilty when the subject was started; but not fromany reproach, any allusion, -not a word was dropped that had notkindness and goodness for its basis and its superstructure atonce. Page 143 "How is your little boy?" was one of the earliest questions. "ishe here?" she added. "O yes, " I answered, misunderstanding her, "he is my shadow; I gonowhere without him. " "But here, I mean?" "O no! ma'am, I did not dare presume--" I stopped, for her look said it would be no presumption. And MissPlanta had already desired me to bring him to her next time;which I suspect was by higher order than her own suggestion. She then inquired after my dear father, and so graciously, that Itold her not only of his good health, but his occupations, hisnew work, a "Poetical History of Astronomy, " and hisconsultations with Herschel. She permitted me to speak a good deal of the Princess ofWurtemberg, whom they still all call princess royal. She told meshe had worked her wedding garment, and entirely, and the reallabour it had proved, from her steadiness to have no help, wellknowing that three stitches done by any other would make itimmediately said it was none of it by herself. "As the bride of awidower, " she continued, "I know she ought to be in white andgold ; but as the king's eldest daughter she had a right to whiteand silver, which she preferred. " A little then we talked of the late great naval victory, and shesaid it was singularly encouraging to us that the three greatvictories at sea had been "against our three great enemies, successively : Lord Howe against the French, Lord St. Vincentagainst the Spaniards, and Lord Duncan against the Dutch. "(150) She spoke very feelingly of the difficult situation of the Orangefamily, now in England, upon this battle; and she repeated me thecontents of' a letter from the Princess of Orange, whosecharacter she much extolled, upon the occasion, page 144 to the Princess Elizabeth, saying she could not bear to be theonly person in England to withhold her congratulations to theking upon such an occasion, when no one owed him suchobligations; but all she had to regret was that the Dutch had notfought with, not against, the English, and that the defeat hadnot fallen upon those who ought to be their joint enemies. Sheadmired and pitied, inexpressibly, this poor fugitive princess. I told her of a note my father had received from Lady MaryDuncan, in answer to his wishing her joy of her relation'sprowess and success, in which he says, "Lady Mary has been, forsome days past, like the rest of the nation drunk for joy. " Thisled to more talk of this singular lady: and reciprocal stories ofher oddities. She then deigned to inquire very particularly about our newcottage, -its size, its number of rooms, and its grounds. I toldher, honestly, it was excessively comfortable, though unfinishedand unfitted up, for that it had innumerable little contrivancesand conveniences, just adapted to our particular use and taste, as M. D'Arblay had been its sole architect and surveyor. "Then Idare say, " she answered, "it is very commodious, for there are nopeople understand enjoyable accommodations more than Frenchgentleman, when they have the arranging them themselves. " This was very kind, and encouraged me to talk a good deal of mypartner, in his various works and employments ; and her manner ofattention was even touchingly condescending, all circumstancesconsidered. And she then related to me the works of two Frenchpriests, to whom she has herself been so good as to commit thefitting up of one of her apartments at Frogmore. And afterwardsshe gave me a description of what another French gentleman--elegantly and feelingly avoiding to say emigrant--had done in aroom belonging to Mrs. Harcourt, at Sophia farm, where he had thesole superintendence of it, and has made it beautiful. When she asked about our field, I told her we hoped in time tobuy it, as Mr. Locke had the extreme kindness to consent to partwith it to us, when it should suit our convenience to purchaseinstead of renting it. I thought I saw a look of peculiarsatisfaction at this, that seemed to convey pleasure in theimplication thence to be drawn, that England was our decided, notforced or eventual residence. And she led me on to many minuteparticulars of our situation and way of living, with a sweetnessof interest I can never forget. Page 145 Nor even here stopped the sensations of gratitude and pleasureshe thus awoke. She spoke then of my beloved Susan ; asked ifshe were still in Ireland, and how the " pretty Norbury " did. She then a little embarrassed me by an inquiry "why MajorPhillips went to Ireland?" for my answer, that he was persuadedhe should improve his estate by superintending the agriculture ofit himself, seemed dissatisfactory; however, she pressed it nofurther. But I cannot judge by what passed whether she concludeshe is employed in a military way there, or whether she has heardthat he has retired. She seemed kindly pleased at all I had torelate of my dear Norbury, and I delighted to call him back toher remembrance. She talked a good deal of the Duchess of York, who continues thefirst favourite of the whole royal family. She told me of herbeautiful works, lamented her indifferent health, and expatiatedupon her admirable distribution of her time and plan of life, andcharming qualities and character. But what chiefly dwells upon me with pleasure is, that she spoketo me upon some subjects and persons that I know she would notfor the world should be repeated, with just the same confidence, the same reliance upon my grateful discretion for her openness, that she honoured me with while she thought me established in herservice for life. I need not tell my Susan how this binds memore than ever to her. Very short to me seemed the time, though the whole conversationwas serious, and her air thoughtful almost to sadness, when apage touched the door, and said something in German. The queen, who was then standing by the window, turned round to answer him, and then, with a sort of Congratulatory smile to me, said, "Nowyou will see what you don't expect--the king!" I could indeed not expect it, for he was at Blackheath at areview, and he was returned only to dress for the levee. . . THE KING AND HIS INFANT GRAND-DAUGHTER. The king related very pleasantly- a little anecdote of Lady --. "She brought the little Princess Charlotte, "(151) he said "to mejust before the review. 'She hoped, ' she said, 'I should nottake it ill, for, having mentioned it to the child, Page 146 she built so upon it that she had thought of nothing else. ' Nowthis, " cried he, laughing heartily, "was pretty strong! How canshe know what a child is thinking of before it can speak?" I was very happy at the fondness they both expressed for thelittle princess, "A sweet little creature, " the king called her;"A most lovely child, " the queen turned to me to add and the kingsaid he had taken her upon his horse, and given her a littleride, before the regiment rode up to him. "'TIS very odd, " headded, "but she always knows me on horseback, and never else. ""Yes, " said the queen, "when his majesty comes to her onhorseback, she claps her little bands, and endeavours to say'Gampa!' immediately. " I was much pleased that she is brought upto such simple and affectionate acknowledgment of relationship. The king then inquired about my father, and with a look ofinterest and kindness that regularly accompanies his mention ofthat most dear person. He asked after his health, his spirits, and his occupations, waiting for long answers to each inquiry, The queen anticipated my relation of his astronomic work, and heseemed much pleased with the design, as well as at hearing thathis prot‚g‚ Dr. Herschel, had been consulted. I was then a little surprised by finding he had heard of"Clarentine. "(152) He asked me, smilingly, some questions aboutit, and if it were true, what he suspected, that my young sisterhad a mind to do as I had done, and bring out a work in secret? Iwas very much pleased then when the queen said, "I have seen it, sir, and it is very pretty. " . . . ADMIRAL DUNCAN'S VICTORY. THE PRINCE AND PRINCESS OFORANGE. I then, by her majesty's kind appointment, returned to my lovelyand loved Princess Augusta. Her hairdresser was just gone, andshe was proceeding in equipping herself "If you can bear to seeall this work, " cried she, "pray come and sit with me, my dearMadame d'Arblay. " Nothing could be more expeditious than her attiring herself, nothing more careless than her examination how it succeeded. Butjudge my confusion and embarrassment, when, upon my saying I cameto petition for the rest of the Story, Page 147 she had just begun, and her answering by inquiring what it wasabout, I could not tell! It had entirely escaped my memory; andthough I sought every way I could suggest to recall it, I soentirely failed, that after her repeated demands, I was compelledhonestly to own that the commotion I had been put in by myinterview with their majesties had really driven it from my mind. She bore this with the true good humour of good sense but I wasmost excessively ashamed. She then resumed the reigning subject of the day, AdmiralDuncan's victory and this led to speak again of the Orangefamily; but she checked what seemed occurring to her about them, till her wardrobe-woman had done and was -dismissed ; then, hurrying her away, while she sat down by me, putting on her longand superb diamond earrings herself, and without even turningtowards a glass, she said, "I don't like much to talk of thatfamily before the servants, for I am told they already think theking too good to them. " The Princess of Orange is, I find, a great favourite with themall ; the Prince Frederick also, I believe, they like very much;but the prince himself, she said, " has never, in fact, had hiseducation finished. He was married quite a ', -, 'boy - but, beingmarried, concluded himself a man, and not only turned off all hisinstructors, but thought it unnecessary to ask, or hear, counselor advice of any one. He is like a fallow field, -that is, not ofa soil that can't be improved ;:but one that has been left quiteto itself, and therefore has no materials put in it forimprovement. " She then told me that she had hindered him, with great faculty, from going to a great dinner, given at the Mansion House. Uponthe victory of Admiral Duncan. It was not, she said, that he didnot feel for his country in that defeat, but that he neverweighed the impropriety of his public appearance upon an occasionof rejoicing at it, nor the Ill effect the history of his sodoing would produce in Holland. She had the kindness of heart totake upon herself preventing him "for no one, " says she, "that isabout him dares ever speak to him, to give him any hint ofadvice; which is a great "Misfortune: to him, poor man, for itmakes him never know what is said or thought of him. " She relatedwith a great deal of humour her arguments to dissuade him, andhis naŒve manner of combating them. But though she conquered atlast, she did not convince, Page 148 The Princess of Orange, she told me, had a most superiorunderstanding and might guide him sensibly and honourably, but hewas so jealous of being thought led by her counsel' that he neverlistened to it at all. She gave me to understand that thisunhappy princess had had a life of uninterrupted indulgence andprosperity till the late revolution - and that the suddenness ofsuch adversity had rather soured her mind, which, had it metsorrow and evil by any gradations, would have been equal tobearing them even nobly - but so quick a transition fromaffluence, and power, and wealth, and grandeur, to a fugitive anddependent state, had almost overpowered her. A door was now opened from an inner apartment, where, I believe, was the grand collation for the Princess Sophia's birthday, and atall thin young man appeared at it, peeping and staring, but notentering. "O! How do you do, Ernest?" cried the princess; "I hope you arewell; only pray do shut the door. " He did not obey, nor move, either forwards or backwards, but keptpeering and peeping. She called to him again, beseeching him toshut the door- but he was determined to first gratify hiscuriosity, and, when he had looked as long as he thoughtpleasant, he entered the apartment; but Princess Augusta, insteadof receiving and welcoming him, only said, "Good-bye, my dearErnest; I shall see you again at the play. " He then marched on, finding himself so little desired, and onlysaying, "No, you won't; I hate the play. " I had risen when I found it one of the princes, and with a motionof readiness to depart - but my dear princess would not let me. When we were alone again, "Ernest, " she said, "has a very goodheart; only he speaks without taking time to think. " She thengave me an instance. The Orange family by some chance were allassembled with our royal family when the news of the greatvictory at sea arrived; or at least upon the same day. "We wereall, " said she, " distressed for them upon SO trying an occasionand at supper we talked, of' course, Of every other subject; butErnest, quite uneasy at the forbearance, said to me, 'You don'tthink I won't drink Duncan's health to-night?' 'Hush!' cried I. 'That's very hard indeed!' said he, quite loud. I saw theprincess of Page 149 orange looking at him, and was sure she had heard him; I trodupon his foot, and made him turn to her. She looked sodisturbed, that he saw she had understood him, and he colouredvery high. The Princess of Orange then said, 'I hope my beinghere will be no restraint upon anybody: I know what must be thesubject of everybody's thoughts, and I beg I may not prevent itsbeing so of their discourse. ' Poor Ernest now was so sorry, hewas ready to die, and the tears started into his eyes; and hewould not have given his toast after this for all the world. " SOME NOTABLE ACTRESSES. The play they were going to was "The Merchant of Venice, " to seea new actress, just now much talked of--Miss Betterton; and theking, hearing she was extremely frightened at the thoughts ofappearing before him, desired she might choose her own part forthe first exhibition in his presence. She fixed upon Portia. In speaking of Miss Farren's marriage with the Earl of Derby, shedisplayed that sweet mind which her state and station has sowholly escaped sullying; for, far from expressing either horror, or resentment, or derision at an actress being elevated to therank of second countess of England, she told me, with an air ofsatisfaction, that she was informed she had behaved extremelywell since her marriage, and done many generous and charitableactions. She spoke with pleasure, too, of the high marriage made byanother actress, Miss Wallis, who has preserved a spotlesscharacter, and is now the wife of a man of fortune and family MrCampbell. In mentioning Mrs. Siddons, and her great and affecting powers, she much surprised me by intelligence that she had bought theproprietorship of Sadler's-wells. I could not hear it withoutsome amusement it seemed, I said, so extraordinary acombination--so degrading a one, indeed, -that of the first tragicactress, the living Melpomene, and something so burlesque asSadler's-wells. She laughed, and said it offered her a veryludicrous image, for Mrs. Siddons and Sadler's-wells, " said she, " seems to me as ill-fitted as the dish they call a toad in ahole which I never saw, but always think of with anger, --putting a noble sirloin of beef into . 1, 'poor, Paltrybatter-pudding!Page 150 THE DUKE OF CLARENCE. The door now again opened, and another royal personage put in hishead - and upon the princess saying, "How d'ye do, William?" Irecollected the Duke of Clarence. I rose, of course, and he made a civil bow to my curtsey Theprincess asked him about the House of Lords the precedingevening, where I found he had spoken very handsomely andgenerously in eulogium of Admiral Duncan. Finding he was inclinedto stay, the princess said to me, "Madame d'Arblay, I beg you will sit down. " "Pray, madam, " said the duke, with a formal motion of his hand, "let me beg you to be seated. " "You know--you recollect Madame d'Arblay, don't you, William ?"said the princess. He bowed civilly an affirmative, and thenbegan talking to me of Chesington. How I grieved poor dear Kittywas gone! How great would have been her gratification to haveheard that he mentioned her, and with an air of kindness, as ifhe had really entered into the solid goodness of her character. I was much Surprised and much pleased, yet not without someperplexity and some embarrassment, as his knowledge of theexcellent Kitty was from her being the dupe of the mistress ofhis aide-de-camp. The princess, however, saved me any confusion beyondapprehension, for she asked not one question. He moved ontowards the next apartment, and we were again alone. She then talked to me a great deal of him, and gave me, admirably, his character. She is very partial to him, but by nomeans blindly. He had very good parts, she said, but seldom didthem justice. "If he has something of high importance to do, "she continued, "he will exert himself to the utmost, and do itreally well; but otherwise, he is so fond of his ease, he letseverything take its course. He can just do a great deal ornothing. However, I really think, if he takes pains, he may makesomething of a speaker by and by in the House. " She related a visit he had made at Lady Mary Duncan's, at HamptonCourt, upon hearing Admiral Duncan was there and told me thewhole and most minute particulars of the battle, as they wererepeated by his royal highness from the admiral's own account. But You will dispense with the martial detail from me. "LadyMary, " cried she, "is muchPage 151 enchanted with her gallant nephew. 'I used to look, ' says she, 'for honour and glory from my other side, the T--s ; but Ireceive it only from the Duncans ! As to the T-s, what good dothey do their country?--why, they play all day at tennis, andlearn with vast skill to notch and scotch and go one! And that'swhat their country gets from them!"' I thought now I should certainly be dismissed, for a page came tothe door to announce that the Duke of York was arrived : but sheonly said, "Very well; pray shut the door, " which seemed hergentle manner of having it understood she would not be disturbed, as she used the same words when messages were brought her fromthe Princesses Elizabeth and Mary. She spoke again of the Duchess of York with the same fondness asat Windsor. "I told you before, " she said, "I loved her like oneof my own sisters, and I can tell you no more: and she knows it;for one day she was taken ill, and fainted, and we put her uponone of our beds, and got her everything we could think ofourselves, and let nobody else wait upon her ; and when sherevived she said to my brother, 'These are my sisters--I am surethey are! they must be my own!" PRINCESS SOPHIA OF GLOUCESTER. Our next and last interruption, I think, was from a very gentletap at the door, and a "May I come in?" from a soft voice, whilethe lock was turned, and a youthful and very lovely female put inher head. The princess immediately rose, and said, " "O yes, " and held outher two hands to her; turning at the same time to me, and saying, "Princess Sophia. " I found it was the Duke of Gloucester's(154) daughter. She isvery fat, with very fine eyes, a bright, even dazzling bloom, fine teeth, a beautiful skin, and a look of extreme modesty andsweetness. She curtseyed to me so distinguishingly, that I wasalmost confused by her condescension, fearing she 'Might imagine, from finding me seated with the Princess 'Augusta, and in suchclose conference, I was somebody. "You look so fine and so grand, " cried she, examining theprincess's attire, which was very superb in silver and diamonds, "that I am almost afraid to come near you!" Her own dress wasperfectly simple, though remarkably elegant. Page 152 O!--I hate myself when so fine cried Princess Augusta; "I cannotbear it but there is no help--the people at the play alwaysexpect it. " They then conversed a little while, both standing ; and thenPrincess Augusta said, "Give my love to the duke (meaning ofGloucester), "and I hope I shall see him bye and bye; and toWilliam. "(155) (meaning the duke's son). And this, which was nota positive request that she would prolong her visit, wasunderstood; and the lovely cousin made her curtsey and retired. To me, again, she made another, so gravely low and civil, that Ireally blushed to receive it, from added fear of being mistaken. I accompanied her to the door, and shut it for her; and themoment she was out of the room, and out of sight of the PrincessAugusta, she turned round to me, and with a smile of extremeCivility, and a voice very soft, said, "I am so happy to seeyou!--I have longed for it a great, great while--for I have readyou with such delight and instruction, so often. " I was very much surprised indeed; I expressed my sense of hergoodness as well as I could; and she curtseyed again, and glidedaway. "How infinitely gracious is all your royal highness'sHouse to me!" cried I, as I returned to my charming princess; whoagain made me take my seat next her own, and again renewed herdiscourse. I stayed on with this delightful princess till near four o'clock, when she descended to dinner. I then accompanied her to the headof the stairs, saying, "I feel quite low that this is over! How Iwish it might be repeated in half a year instead of a year!" "I'm sure, and so do I!" were the last kind words shecondescendingly uttered. I then made a little visit to Miss Planta, who was extremelyfriendly, and asked me why I should wait another year before Icame. I told her I had leave for an annual visit, and could notpresume to encroach beyond such a permission. However, as sheproposed my calling upon her when I happened to be in town, Ibegged her to take some opportunity to hint my wish of admission, if possible, more frequently. Very soon afterwards I had a letter from Miss Planta, saying shehad mentioned to her majesty my regret of the Page 153 long intervals of annual admissions; and that her majesty hadmost graciously answered, "She should be very glad to see mewhenever I came to town. " DIARY RESUMED: (Addressed to Mrs. Phillips. ) INDIGNATION AGAINST TALLEYRAND. Westhamble, Jan. 18, 1798-I am very impatient to knowif the invasion threat affects your part of Ireland. Our 'Oracle'is of opinion the French soldiers will not go to Ireland, thoughthere flattered with much help, because they can expect butlittle advantage, after all the accounts spread by the Oppositionof its starving condition ; but that they will come to England, though sure of contest, at least, because there they expect thevery road to be paved with gold. Nevertheless, how I wish my heart's beloved here! to share withus at least the same fears, instead of the division ofapprehension we must now mutually be tormented with. I own I amsometimes affrighted enough. These sanguine and sanguinarywretches will risk all for the smallest hope of plunder ; andBarras assures them they have only to enter England to be lordsof wealth unbounded. But Talleyrand!--how like myself must you have felt at hisconduct! indignant--amazed--ashamed! Our first prepossessionagainst him was instinct--he conquered it by pains indefatigableto win us, and he succeeded astonishingly, for we became partialto him almost to fondness. The part he now acts against Englandmay be justified, perhaps, by the spirit of revenge ; but thepart he submits to perform of coadjutor with the worst ofvillains--with Barras--Rewbel--Merlin--marks some internalatrocity of character that disgusts as much as disappoints me. And now, a last stroke, which appears in yesterday's paper, givesthe finishing hand to his portrait in my eyes. He has sent (andwritten) the letter which exhorts the King of Prussia to orderthe Duke of Brunswick to banish and drive from his dominions allthe emigrants there in asylum --and among these are theArchbishop of Rennes (his uncle) and--his own mother! Poor M. De Narbonne! how will he be shocked and let down! wherehe now is we cannot conjecture: all emigrants are exiled from theCanton of Berne, where he resided; I feel extremely disturbedabout him. If that wretch Talleyrand hasPage 154 not given him some private Intimation to escape, and where to besafe, he must be a monster. THE D'ARBLAY MAISONNETTE. This very day, I thank God ! we paid the last of our work men. Our house now is our own fairly --that it is our own madly tooyou will all think, when I tell you the small remnant of ourincome that has outlived this payment. However, if theCarmagnols do not seize our walls, we despair not of enjoying, indefiance of all straitness and strictness, our dear dwelling toour hearts' content. But we are reducing our expenses and way oflife, in order to go on, in a manner you would laugh to see, though almost cry to hear. But I never forget Dr. Johnson'swords. When somebody said that a certain person "had no turn foreconomy, " he answered, "Sir, you might as well say that he has noturn for honesty. " We know nothing yet of our taxes-nothing- of our assessments; butwe are of good courage, and so pleased with our maisonnette, wethink nothing too dear for it, provided we can but exist in it. Ishould like much to know how you stand affected about theassessment, and about the invasion. O that all these publictroubles would accelerate Your return! private blessings theywould then, at least, prove. Ah, my Susan, how do I yearn forsome little ray upon this subject! Charles and his family are at Bath, and Charlotte is gone to themfor a fortnight. All accounts that reach me of all the house andrace are well. Mr. Locke gives us very-frequent peeps indeed, and looks with such benevolent pleasure at our dear cottage andits environs! and seems to say, "I brought all this to bear, " andto feel happy in the noble trust he placed in our self-beliefthat he might venture to show that kind courage without which wecould never have been united. All this retrospection isexpressed by his penetrating eyes it every visit. He rarelyalights ; but I frequently enter the phaeton, and take aconversation in an airing. And when he comes without hisprecious Amelia, he indulges my Alex in being our third. INTERVIEW WITH THE QUEEN AND THE PRINCESSES. And now I have to prepare another Court relation for MY dearestSusanna. I received on Wednesday morn a letter from our dearestPage 155 father, telling me he feared he should be forced to quit hisChelsea apartments, from a new arrangement among the officers, and wishing me to represent his difficulties, his books, health, time of life, and other circumstances, through Miss Planta, tothe queen. M. D'Arblay and I both thought that, if I had anychance of being of the smallest use, it would be by endeavouringto obtain an audience-not by letter; and as the most remote hopeof success was sufficient to urge -every exertion, we settledthat I should set out instantly for Chelsea ; and a chaise, therefore, we sent for from Dorking, and I set off at noon. M. D'A. Would not go, as we knew not what accommodation I might find; and I could not, uninvited and unexpected, take my littledarling boy; so I went not merrily, though never more willingly. My dear father was at home, and, I could see, by no meanssurprised by my appearance, though he had not hinted at desiringit. Of course he was not very angry nor sorry, and we communedtogether upon his apprehensions, and settled our plan. I was toendeavour to represent his case to the queen, in hopes it mightreach his majesty, and procure some order in his favour. I wrote to Miss Planta, merely to say I was come to pass threedays at Chelsea, and, presuming upon the gracious permission ofher majesty, I ventured to make known my arrival, ,in the hope itmight possibly procure me the honour of admittance. The nextmorning, Thursday, I had a note from Miss Planta, to say that shehad the pleasure to acquaint ', . ", me her majesty desired I wouldbe at the Queen's house next day at ten o'clock. Miss Planta conducted me immediately, by order, to the PrincessElizabeth, who received me alone, and kept me tˆte-…-tˆte till Iwas summoned to the queen, which was near, . An hour. She was allcondescension and openness, and inquired into my way of life andplans, with a sort of kindness that I am sure belonged to a realwish to find them happy and prosperous. When I mentioned how muchof our time was mutually given to books and writing, M. D'Arblaybeing as great a scribbler as myself, she good-naturedlyexclaimed, "How fortunate he should have so much the same taste!" "It was that, in fact, " I answered, "which united us for ouracquaintance began, in intimacy, by reading French together, andwriting themes, both French and English, for each other'scorrection. "Page 156 "Pray, " cried she, " if it is not impertinent, may I ask to whatreligion you shall bring up your son?" "The Protestant, " I replied; telling her it was M. D'Arblay's ownwish, since he was an Englishman born, he should be an Englishmanbred, --with much more upon the subject that my Susan knowsuntold. She then inquired why M. D'Arblay was not naturalised. This wastruly kind, for it looked like wishing our permanently fixing inthis his adopted country. I answered that he found he could notbe naturalised as a catholic, which had made him relinquish theplan; for though he was firmly persuaded the real differencebetween the two religions was trifling, and such as even appearedto him, in the little he had had opportunity to examine, to be infavour of Protestantism, he could not bring himself to study thematter with a view of changing that seemed actuated by interest ;nor could I wish it, earnest as I was for his naturalisation. But he hoped, ere long, to be able to be naturalised as anIrishman, that clause of religion not being there insisted upon, or else to become a denizen, which was next best, and which didnot meddle with religion at all. She made me talk to her a greatdeal of my little boy, and my father, and M. D'Arblay; and whenMiss Planta came to fetch me to her majesty, she desired to seeme again before my departure. The queen was in her White closet, working at a round table, withthe four remaining princesses, Augusta, Mary, Sophia, and Amelia. She received me most sweetly, and with a look of far betterspirits than upon my last admission. She permitted me, in themost gracious manner, to inquire about the princess royal, nowDuchess of WUrtemberg, and gave me an account of her that I hopeis not flattered ; for it seemed happy, and such as reconciledthem all to the separation. When she deigned to inquire, -herself, after my dear father, you may be sure of the eagernessWith which I seized the moment for relating his embarrassment anddifficulties. She heard me with a benevolence that assured me, though she made no speech, my history would not be forgotten, norremembered vainly. I was highly satisfied with her look andmanner. The Princesses Mary and Amelia had a little openingbetween them, and when the queen was conversing with some ladywho was teaching the Princess Sophia some work, they began awhispering conversation with me about my littlePage 157 boy. How tall is he?--how old is he?--Is he fat or thin?--is helike you or M. D'Arblay? etc. --with sweet vivacity of interest, --the lovely Princess Amelia finishing her listening to my everyanswer with a "dear little thing!" that made me long to embraceher as I have done in her childhood. She is now full as tall asprincess royal, and as much formed ; she looks seventeen, thoughonly fourteen, but has an innocence, an Hebe blush, an air ofmodest candour, and a gentleness so caressingly inviting, ofvoice and eye, that I have seldom seen a more captivating youngcreature. Then they talked of my new house, and inquired about every roomit contained; and then of our grounds, and they were mightilydiverted with the mixtures of roses and cabbages, sweet briars, and potatoes, etc. The queen, catching the domestic theme, presently made inquiriesherself, both as to the building and the child, asking, withrespect to the latter, "Is he here?" as if she meant in thepalace. I told her I had come so unexpectedly myself upon myfather's difficulties, that I had not this time brought my littleshadow. I believed, however, I should fetch him, as, if Ilengthened my stay, M. D'Arblay would come also. "To be sure!"she said, as if feeling the trio's full objections to separating. She asked if I had seen a play just come out, called "He's muchto Blame;" and, on my negative, began to relate to me its plotand characters, and the representation and its effect ; and, warming herself by her own account and my attention, shepresently entered into a very minute history of each act, and acriticism upon some incidents, with a spirit and judiciousnessthat were charming. She is delightful in discourse when animatedby her subject, and speaking to auditors with whom, neither fromcircumstance nor suspicion, she has restraint. But when, asoccasionally she deigned to ask my opinion of the several actorsshe brought in review, I answered I had never seen them, --neitherMrs. Pope, Miss Betterton, Mr. Murray, etc. , --she really lookedalmost concerned. She knows my fondness for the theatre, and Idid not fear to say my inability to indulge it was almost my onlyregret in my hermit life. "I, too, " she graciously said, "preferplays to all other amusements. " By degrees all the princesses retired, except the PrincessAugusta. She then spoke more openly upon less public matters, -inparticular upon the affair, then just recent, of thePage 158 Duke of Norfolk, who, you may have heard, had drunk, at the WhigClub, "To the majesty of the people, " in consequence of which theking had erased his name from the privy council. His grace hadbeen caricatured drinking from a silver tankard with the burntbread still in flames touching his mouth, and exclaiming, "Pshaw!my toast has burnt my mouth. " This led me to speak of his great brick house, which is ourimmediate vis-…-vis. And much then ensued upon Lady ----concerning whom she opened to me very completely, allowing all Isaid of her uncommon excellence as a mother, but adding, "Thoughshe is certainly very clever, she thinks herself so a little toomuch, and instructs others at every word. I was so tired withher beginning everything with 'I think, ' that, at last, just asshe said so, I stopped her, and cried. , 'O, I know what youthink, Lady ----!' Really, one is obliged to be quite sharp withher to keep her In her place. " . . . Lady C--, she had been informed, had a considerable sum in theFrench funds, which she endeavoured from time to time to recover, but upon her last effort, she had the following query put to heragent by order of the Directory: how much she would have deductedfrom the principal, as a contribution towards the loan raisingfor the army of England? If Lady C-- were not mother-in-law to aminister who sees the king almost daily, I should think this amade story. When, after about an hour and a half's audience, *she dismissedme, she most graciously asked my stay at Chelsea, and desired Iwould inform Miss Planta before I returned home. This gave me themost gratifying feeling, and much hope for my dearest father. ROYAL CONTRIBUTIONS TOWARDS THE WAR. Returning then, according to my permission, to PrincessElizabeth, she again took up her netting, and made me sit by her. We talked a good deal of the new-married daughter of LadyTempletown, and she was happy, she said, to hear from me that theceremony was performed by her own favourite Bishop of Durham, forshe was sure a blessing would attend his joining their hands. Sheasked me much of my little man, and told me several things of thePrincess Charlotte, her niece, and our future queen; she seemsvery fond of her, and says 'tis a lovely child, and extremelylike the Prince OfPage 159 Wales. "She is just two years old, " said she, "and speaks veryprettily, though not plainly. I flatter myself Aunt Liby, as shecalls me, is a great favourite with her. " My dearest Princess Augusta soon after came in, and, afterstaying a few minutes, and giving some message to her sister, said, "And when you leave Elizabeth, my dear Madame d'Arblay, Ihope you'll come to me. " This happened almost immediately, and I found her hurrying overthe duty of her toilette, which she presently despatched, thoughshe was going to a public concert of Ancient Music, and withoutscarcely once looking in the glass, from haste to have done, andfrom a freedom from vanity I never saw quite equalled in anyyoung woman of any class. She then dismissed her hairdresser andwardrobe-woman, and made me sit by her. Almost immediately we began upon the voluntary contributions tothe support of the war; and when I mentioned the queen'smunificent donation of five thousand pounds a-year for itssupport, and my admiration of it, from my peculiar knowledge, through my long residence under the royal roof, of the manyclaims which her majesty's benevolence, as well as state, hadraised upon her powers, she seemed much gratified by the justiceI did her royal mother, and exclaimed eagerly "I do assure you, my dear Madame d'Arblay, people ought to know more how good thequeen is, for they don't know it half. " And then she told methat she only by accident had learnt almost all that she knew ofthe queen's bounties. "And the most I gathered, " she continued, laughing, "was, to tell you the real truth, by my ownimpertinence - for when we were at Cheltenham, Lady Courtown (thequeen's lady-in-waiting for the country) put her pocket-book downon the table, when I was alone with her, by some chance open at apage where mamma's name was written : so, not guessing at anysecret commission, I took it up, and read-Given by her majesty'scommands--so much, and so much, and so much. And I was quitesurprised. However, Lady Courtown made me promise never tomention it to the queen ; so I never have. But I long it shouldbe known, for all that; though I would not take such a liberty asto spread it of my own judgment. " I then mentioned my own difficulties formerly, when her Majesty, upon my ill state of health's urging my resigning the honour ofbelonging to the royal household, so graciouslyPage 160 settled upon me a pension, that I had been forbidden to name it. I had been quite distressed in not avowing what I so gratefullyfelt, and hearing questions and surmises and remarks I had nopower to answer. She seemed instantly to comprehend that mysilence might do wrong, on such an occasion, to the queen, forshe smiled, and with great quickness cried, "O, I dare say youfelt quite guilty in holding your tongue. " And she was quitepleased with the permission afterwards granted me to be explicit. When I spoke of her own and her royal sisters' contributions, onehundred pounds per annum, she blushed, bat seemed ready to enterupon the subject, even confidentially, and related its wholehistory. No one ever advised or named it to them, as they havenone of them any separate establishment, but all hang upon thequeen, from whose pin-money they are provided for till theymarry, or have an household of their own granted by Parliament. "Yet we all longed to subscribe, " cried she, "and thought itquite right, if other young ladies did, not to be left out. Butthe difficulty was, how to do what would not be improper for us, and yet not to be generous at mamma's expense, for that wouldonly have been unjust. So we consulted some of our friends, andthen fixed upon one hundred pounds a-piece; and when we asked thequeen's leave, she was so good as to approve it. So then wespoke to the king, and he said it was but little, but he wishedparticularly nobody should subscribe what would really distressthem ; and that, if that was all we could conveniently do, andregularly continue, he approved it more than to have us make agreater exertion, and either bring ourselves into difficulties ornot go on. But he was not at all angry. " She then gave me the history of the contribution of her brothers. The Prince of Wales could not give in his name without the leaveof his creditors. "But Ernest, " cried she, "gives three hundredpounds a-year, and that's a tenth of his income, for the kingallows him three thousand pounds. " All this leading to discourse upon loyalty, and then itscontrast, democracy, she narrated to me at full length a lectureof Therwall's, which had been repeated to her by M. DeGuiffardiŠre. It was very curious from her mouth. But she iscandour in its whitest purity, wherever it is possible to displayit, in discriminating between good and bad, and abstracting raysof light even from the darkest shades. So she did even fromTherwall. Page 161 She made me, as usual, talk of my little boy, and was much amusedby hearing that, imitating what he heard from me, he called hisfather "mon ami, " and tutoyed him, drinking his health at dinner, as his father does to me--"Š la sant‚. " When at length the Princess Augusta gave me the bow of cong‚ shespoke of seeing me again soon: I said I should therefore lengthenmy stay in town, and induce M. D'Arblay to come and bring my boy. "We shall see you then certainly, " said she, smiling, "and dopray, my dear Madame d'Arblay, bring your little boy with you. And don't say anything to him, " cried she, as I was departing;"let us see him quite natural. " I understood her gracious, and let me say rational, desire, thatthe child should not be impressed with any awe of the royalpresence. I assured her I must obey, for he was so young, sowild, and so unused to present himself, except as a plaything, that it would not be even in my power to make him orderly. . . . My dear father was extremely pleased with what I had to tell him, and hurried me back to Westhamble, to provide myself with baggagefor sojourning with him. My two Alexanders, you will believe, were now warmly invited to Chelsea, and we all returned thithertogether, accompanied by Betty Nurse. INVITATION TO THE PLAY. MRS SCHWELLENBERG'S SUCCESSOR. I shall Complete my next Court visit before I enter upon aughtelse. I received, very soon, a note from Madame Bremyere, who ismy successor. [I have told you poor Mlle. Jacobi is returned toGermany, I think; and that her niece, La Bettina, is to marry arich English merchant and settle in London. ] This note says MrsBremyere has received the queen's commands to invite Madamed'Arblay to the play tomorrow night "-with her own desire I woulddrink coffee in her apartment before we went to the theatre. Could anything More sweetly mark the real kindness of the queenthan this remembrance of my fondness for plays ? My dear father lent me his carriage, and I was now introduced tothe successor of Mrs. Schwellenberg, Mlle. Bachmeister, a German, brought over by M. De Luc, who travelled to Germany to accompanyher hither. I found she was the lady I had seen with the queenand princesses, Page 162 ing some work. Not having been to the so-long-known apartmentssince the death of Mrs. Schwellenberg, I knew not how they werearranged, and had concluded Madame Bremyere possessed those ofMrs. Schwellenberg. Thither, therefore, I went, and was received, to my great surprise, by this lady, who was equally surprised bymy entrance, though without any doubt who I might be, from havingseen me with the queen, and from knowing I was to join theplay-party to my ci-devant box. I inquired if I had made anymistake, but though she could not say no, she would not suffer Meto rectify it, but sent to ask Madame Bremyere to meet me in herroom. Mlle. Bachmeister is extremely genteel in her figure, thoughextremely plain in her face; her voice is gentle and penetrating;her manners are soft, yet dignified, and she appears to be both afeeling and a cultivated character. I could not but lament suchhad not been the former possessor of an apartment I had so oftenentered with the most cruel antipathy. I liked her exceedingly;she is a marked gentlewoman in her whole deportment, thoughwhether so from birth, education, or only mind, I am ignorant. Since she gave me so pleasant a prejudice in her favour, you willbe sure our acquaintance began with some spirit. We talked muchof the situation she filled; and I thought it my duty to cast thewhole of my resignation of one so similar upon ill health. Mrs. Bremyere soon joined us, and we took up Miss Barbara Planta inour way to the theatre. When the king entered, followed by the queen and his lovelydaughters, and the orchestra struck up " God save the king, " andthe people all called for the singers, who filled the stage tosing it, the emotion I was suddenly filled with so powerfullypossessed me, that I wished I could, for a minute or two, haveflown from the box, to have sobbed; I was so gratefully delightedat the sight before me, and so enraptured at the continuedenthusiasm of the no longer volatile people for their worthy, revered sovereign, that I really suffered from the restraint Ifelt of being forced to behave decorously. The play was the "Heir at Law, " by Colman the younger. I liked itextremely. It has a good deal of character, a happy plot, muchinterest in the under parts, and is combined, I think, by realgenius, though open to innumerable partial criticisms. I heard agentleman's voice from the next box call softly to Miss BarbaraPlanta, "Who is that lady?" andPage 163 heard her answer my name, and him rejoin, "I thought so. " I foundit was Lord Aylesbury, who also has resigned, and was at the playonly for the pleasure of sitting opposite his late royalmistress. . . . MADAME D'ARBLAY's LITTLE BOY AT COURT. About a week after this theatrical regale, I went to the Queen'shouse, to make known I had only a few more days to remain atChelsea. I arrived just as the royal family had set out forWindsor; but Miss Bacbmeister, fortunately, had only ascended hercoach to follow. I alighted, and went to tell my errand. Mrs. Bremyere, Mrs. Cheveley, and Miss Planta were her party. Thelatter promised to speak for me to the queen; but, gathering Ihad my little boy, in my father's carriage, she made me send forhim. They took him in, and loaded him with bonbons andadmiration, and would have loaded him with caresses to boot, butthe little wretch resisted that part of the entertainment. Upontheir return from Windsor, you will not suppose me made veryunhappy to receive the following billet:-- March 8th, 1798. My dear friend, -The queen has commanded me to acquaint you thatshe desires you will be at the Queen's house on Thursday morningat ten o'clock, with your lovely boy. You are desired to comeupstairs in Princess Elizabeth's apartments, and her majesty willsend for you as soon as she can see you. Adieu! Yours mostaffectionately, M. Planta. A little before ten, you will easily believe, we were at the, Queen's house, and were immediately ushered into the apartmentof the Princess Elizabeth, who, to show she expected my littleman, had some playthings upon one of her many tables; for herroyal highness has at least twenty in her principal room. Thechild, in a new muslin frock, sash, etc. ' did not look to muchdisadvantage, and she examined him with the most good-humouredpleasure, and, finding him too shy to be seized, had thegraciousness, as well as sense, to play round and court him bysportive wiles, instead of being offended at his insensibility toher royal notice. She ran about the room, peeped at him throughchairs, clapped her hands, half caught without touching him, andshowed a skillPage 164 and a sweetness that made one almost sigh she should have no callfor her maternal propensities. There came in presently Miss D-, a young lady about thirteen, whoseems in some measure under the protection of her royal highness, who had rescued her poor injured and amiable mother, Lady D-, from extreme distress, into which she had been involved by herunworthy husband's connexion with the infamous Lady W-, who, morehardhearted than even bailiffs, had forced certain of thosegentry, in an execution she had ordered in Sir H. D-'s house, toseize even all the children's playthings ! as well as theirclothes, and that when Lady D-- had but just lain in, and wasnearly dying! This charming princess, who had been particularlyacquainted with Lady D- during her own illness at Kew Palace, where the queen permitted the intercourse, came forward upon thisdistress, and gave her a small independent house in theneighbourhood of Kew, with every advantage she could annex to it. But she is now lately no more, and, by the sort of receptiongiven to her daughter, I fancy the princess transfers to her thatkind benevolence the mother no longer wants. just then, Miss Planta came to summon us to the Princess Augusta. She received me with her customary sweetness, and called thelittle boy to her. He went fearfully and cautiously, yet with alook of curiosity at the state of her head, and the operations ofher friseur, that seemed to draw him on more powerfully than hercommands. He would not, however, be touched, always flying to myside at the least attempt to take his hand. This would much havevexed me, if I had not seen the ready allowance she made for hisretired life, and total want of use to the sight of anybody outof our family, except the Lockes, amongst whom I told her hispeculiar preference for Amelia. "Come then, " cried she, "comehither, my dear, and tell me all about her, --is she very good toyou?--do you like her very much?" He was now examining her fine carpet, and no answer was to beprocured. I would have apologised, but she would not let me. "'Tis so natural, " she cried, '"that he should be more amusedwith those shapes and colours than with my stupid questions. " Princess Mary now came in, and, earnestly looking at him, exclaimed, "He's beautiful!--what eyes!--do look at his eyes!"Page 165 "Come hither, my dear, " again cried Princess Augusta, "come hither;" and, catching him to her for a Moment, and, holding up his hair. To lift up his face and made him look ather, she smiled very archly, and cried, "O ! horrid eyes!shocking eyes!--take them away!" Princess Elizabeth then entered, attended by a page, who wasloaded With playthings which she had been sending for. You maysuppose him caught now! He seized upon dogs, horses, chaise, acobbler, a watchman, and all he could grasp but would not givehis little person or cheeks, to my great confusion, for any ofthem. I was fain to call him a little savage, a wild deer, a creaturejust caught from the woods, and whatever could indicate hisrustic life, and apprehension of new faces, --to prevent theirbeing hurt ; and their excessive good nature helped all myexcuses, nay, made them needless, except to myself. . Princess Elizabeth now began playing upon an organ she hadbrought him, which he flew to seize. "Ay, do! that's right, mydear, " cried Princess Augusta, stopping her ears at somediscordant sounds; "take it to mon ami, to frighten the cats outof his garden. " And now, last of all, came in Princess Amelia, and, strange torelate ! the child was instantly delighted with her! She camefirst up to me, and, to my inexpressible surprise andenchantment, she gave me her sweet beautiful face to kiss!--anhonour I had thought now for ever over, though she had sofrequently gratified me with it formerly. Still more touched, however, than astonished, I would have kissed her hand, but, withdrawing it, saying, "No, no, --you know I hate that!" sheagain presented me her ruby lips, and with an expression of -suchingenuous sweetness and innocence as was truly captivating. Sheis and will be another Princess Augusta. She then turned to the child, and his eyes met hers with a lookof the same pleasure that they were sought. She stooped down totake his unresisting hands, and, exclaiming "Dear little thing!"took him in her arms, to his own as obvious content as hers. "He likes her!" cried Princess Augusta, "a little rogue! see howhe likes her!" "Dear little thing!" with double the emphasis, repeated theyoung princess, now sitting down and taking him upon her knee;"and how does M. D'Arblay do?" The child now left all his new playthings, his admiredPage 166 carpet, and his privilege of jumping from room to room, for thegentle pleasure of sitting in her lap and receiving her caresses. I could not be very angry, you will believe, yet I would havegiven the world I could have made him equally grateful to thePrincess Augusta. This last charming personage, I now found, wasgoing to Sit for her picture--I fancy to send to the Duchess ofWurtemberg. She gave me leave to attend her with my bantling. The other princesses retired to dress for Court. It was with great difficulty I could part my little love from hisgrand collection of new playthings, all of which he had draggedinto the painting-room, and wanted now to pull them down-stairsto the queen's apartment. I persuaded him, however, torelinquish the design without a quarrel, by promising we wouldreturn for them. HIS PRESENTATION TO THE QUEEN. I was not a little anxious, you will believe, in thispresentation of my unconsciously honoured rogue, who entered theWhite closet totally unimpressed with any awe, and only with asensation of disappointment in not meeting again the gay youngparty, and variety of playthings, he had left above. The queen, nevertheless, was all condescending indulgence, and had a Noah'sark ready displayed upon the table for him. But her look was serious and full of care, and, though perfectlygracious, none of her winning smiles brightened her countenance, and her voice was never cheerful. I have since known that theIrish conspiracy with France was just then discovered, andO'Connor that very morning taken. (156) No wonder she should havefelt a shock that pervaded her whole mind and manners! If we allare struck with horror at such developments of treason, danger, and guilt, what must they prove to the royal family, at whom theyarePage 167 regularly aimed ? How my heart has ached for them in thathorrible business! "And how does your papa do?" said the queen. "He's at Telsea, " answered the child. "And how does grandDapa do?" "He's in the toach, " he replied. "And what a pretty frock you've got on! who made it you, mamma, or little aunty?" The little boy now grew restless, and pulled me about, with adesire to change his situation. I was a good deal embarrassed, asI saw the queen meant to enter into conversation as usual; whichI knew to be impossible, unless he had some entertainment tooccupy him. She perceived this soon, and had the goodnessimmediately to open Noah's ark herself, which she had meant heshould take away with him to examine and possess at once. But hewas now soon in raptures : and, as the various animals wereproduced, looked with a delight that danced in all his features;and when any appeared of which he knew the name, he capered withjoy; such as, "O! a tow [cow]!" But at the dog, he clapped hislittle hands, and running close to her Majesty; leant upon herlap, exclaiming, "O, it's bow wow!" "And do you know this, little man?" said the queen, showing him acat. "Yes, " cried he, again jumping as he leant upon her, "its name istalled pussey!" And at the appearance of Noah, in a green mantle, and leaning ona stick, he said, "At's (that's] the shepherd's boy!" The queen now inquired about my dear father, and heard all I hadto say relative to his apartments, with an air of interest, yetnot as if it was new to her. I have great reason to believe theaccommodation then arranging, and since settled, as to hiscontinuance in the College, has been deeply influenced by someroyal hint. . . . I imagined she had just heard of the marriage of Charlotte, forshe inquired after my sister Frances, whom she never hadmentioned before since I quitted my post. I was obliged brieflyto relate the transaction, seeking to adorn it by stating Mr. Broome's being the author of "Simkin's Letters. " She agreed intheir uncommon wit and humour. My little rebel, meanwhile, finding his animals were not giveninto his own hands, but removed from their mischief, wasstruggling all this time to get at the Tunbridge-ware ofPage 168 the queen's work-box, and, in defiance of all my efforts toprevent him, he seized one piece, which he called a hammer, andbegan violently knocking the table with it. I would fain havetaken it away silently - but he resisted such grave authority, and so continually took it back, that the queen, to my greatconfusion, now gave it him. Soon, however, tired also of this, heran away from me into the next room, which was their majesties'bedroom, and in which were all the jewels ready to take to St. James's, for the Court attire. I was excessively ashamed, andobliged to fetch him back in my arms, and there to keep him. " "Get down, little man, " said the queen; "you are too heavy foryour mamma. " He took not the smallest notice of this admonition. The queen, accustomed to more implicit obedience, repeated it but he onlynestled his little head in my neck, and worked' about his wholeperson, so that I with difficulty held him. The queen now imagined he did not know whom she meant, and said, " What does he call you? Has he any particular name for you?" He now lifted up his head, and, before I could answer, calledout, in a fondling manner, "Mamma, mamma!" "O!" said she, smiling, "he knows who I mean!" His restlessness still interrupting all attention, in defiance ofmy earnest whispers for quietness, she now said, "Perhaps he ishungry?" and rang her bell, and ordered a page to bring somecakes. He took one with great pleasure, and was content to stand down toeat it. I asked him if he had nothing to say for it; he noddedhis little head, and composedly answered, "Sanky, queen!" Thiscould not help amusing her, nor me, neither, for I had noexpectation of quite so succinct an answer. The carriages were now come for St. James's, and the PrincessesAugusta and Elizabeth came into the apartment. The little monkey, in a fit of renewed lassitude after his cake, had flung himselfon the floor, to repose at his ease. He rose, however, upontheir appearance, and the sweet Princess Augusta said to thequeen, "He has been so good, up-stairs, mamma, that nothing couldbe better behaved. " I could have kissed her for this instinctivekindness, excited by a momentary view of my embarrassment at hislittle airs and liberties. The queen heard her with an air of approving, as well asunderstanding, her motive, and spoke to me with the utmostPage 169 condescension of him, though I cannot recollect how, for I was agood deal fidgeted lest he should come to some disgrace, by anyactual mischief or positive rebellion. I escaped pretty well, however, and they all left us with smiles and graciousness. . . . You will not be much surprised to hear that papa came to help usout of the coach, at* our return to Chelsea, eager to know howour little rebel had conducted himself, and how he had beenreceived. The sight of his playthings, you will believe, was notvery disagreeable. The ark, watchman, and cobbler, I shall keepfor him till he may himself judge their worth beyond their price. MLLE. BACHMEISTER PRODUCES A FAVOURABLE IMPRESSION. I returned to the Queen's house in the afternoon to drink coffeewith Mlle. Bachmeister, whom I found alone, and spent a half-hourwith very pleasantly, though very seriously, for her character isgrave and feeling, and I fear she is not happy. Afterwards wewere joined by Madame Bremyere, who is far more cheerful. The play was called "Secrets Worth Knowing;" a new piece. In thenext box to ours sat Mrs. Ariana Egerton, the bed-chamber-womanto her majesty, who used so frequently to visit me at Windsor. She soon recollected me, though she protested I looked soconsiderably in better health, she took me for my own Youngersister - and we had a great deal of chat together, very amicableand cordial. I so much respect her warm exertions for theemigrant ladies, that I addressed her with real pleasure, inpouring forth my praises for her kindness and benevolence. When we returned to the Queen's house my father's carriage wasnot arrived, and I was obliged to detain Mlle. Bachmeister inconversation for full half an hour, while I waited ; but itserved to increase my good disposition to her. She is really aninteresting woman. Had she been in that place while I belonged tothe queen, heaven knows if I had so struggled for deliverance, for poor Mrs. Schwellenberg so wore, wasted, and tortured all mylittle leisure, that my time for repose was, in fact, my time ofgreatest labour. So all is for the best! I have escapedoffending lastingly the royal mistress I love and honour, and-Ilive at Westhamble with my two precious Alexanders. (137) The most interesting account of the unfortunate expeditionto Bantry Bay is to be found in Wolfe Tone's " Memoirs. " WolfeTone, one of the leading members of the Irish Revolutionaryparty, had been for some time resident in Paris, engaged innegotiations with the Directory, with the view of obtainingFrench support for the Irish in their intended attempt to throwoff the yoke of England. About the middle of December, 1796, alarge French fleet, under the Admiral Villaret-Joyeuse, sailedfrom Brest, having on board an army of f twenty-five thousandmen, commanded by General Hoche, one of the ablest officers ofthe Republic. Wolfe Tone accompanied the troops in the capacityof adjutant to the general, But the fleet was dispersed bystorms. The vessel which had General Hoche on board was obligedto put into the harbour of Rochelle, and comparatively few of theships, with about six thousand troops on board, actually castanchor in Bantry Bay. Even there, the wind was so 'Violent as torender landing impossible, and after a few days' delay theexpedition returned to France. -ED. (138) Edmund Burke died, at his house at Beaconsfield, half anhour after midnight on the morning Of Sunday, July 9, 1797. Hewas buried, July 15, in the parish church of Beaconsfield. -ED. (139) Sold for the benefit of the nation. (140) Dr. Johnson's negro servant. Johnson left him a comfortableannuity, on which he retired to Lichfield. He died in theinfirmary at Stafford, February 13, 1801. -ED. (141) The Garrick family resided in Lichfield. David Garrick wasborn in Hereford, but educated at Lichfield. -ED. (142) Dr. Burney's little grandson, and the son of Captain JamesBAR Burney. After years, as readers of "Elia" will remember, Martin Burney was the friend of Charles Lamb. -ED. (143) Since the death of his second wife, Dr. Burney had beenengaged upon a "historical and didactic poem on astronomy. " Hehad been urged to the undertaking by Fanny, who hoped that theinterest of this new occupation might prove a relief to hissorrow. Astronomy Was a favourite subject with Dr. Burney, andhe made great progress with the poem, which was for years hisfavourite recreation. At a later period, however, for somereason which his daughter never discovered, he relinquished thetask and destroyed the manuscript. -ED. (144) Ralph Broome, who married Charlotte Francis in 1798, wastheauthor of "The Letters of Simpkin the Second, poetic recorder ofall the proceedings upon the trial of Warren Hastings, Esq. , inWestminster Hall, " published by Stockdale, 1789. These letters, which had already appeared separately in "The World, " form, asthe title implies, a burlesque report of the trial, in rhymedverse. The author is very severe upon the managers, andproportionately favourable to Mr. Hastings. The letters areamusing and not without Wit, although in these respects "Simpkinthe Second" falls decidedly short of "Simpkin the First, " who is, of course, the Simple Simkin of Anstey's "New Bath Guide. " uponwhich clever satire Broome had modelled his performance. -ED. (145) Benjamin Thompson, Count Rumford, was a very singularcharacter--- a compound of experimental philosopher, practicalphilanthropist, soldier and statesman. He was born at Woburn, Massachusetts, in 1753. A Tory during the struggle for Americanindependence, he embarked for England before the close of thewar. There he was well received by the government, but shortlyafterwards he went to Bavaria, where he entered into the serviceof the Elector. He soon attained a high reputation by thereforms which he introduced in various departments, and wascreated a Count of the Holy Roman Empire, by the title of CountRumford. Among his principal achievements in Bavaria were thereforms which he brought about in the army, and the measureswhich he instituted for the relief of the poor and thesuppression of beggary. To Fanny, at present, Count Rumford wasmore interesting as the inventor of an improved Cooking range, bywhich the consumption of fuel was greatly reduced. See his "Life"by James Renwick, in Sparks'. S "Library of American Biography, "Boston, 1845. -ED. (146) The insurrection of the 18th of Fructidor (September 4, 1797). In 1795, on the dissolution of the Convention, thegovernment of France was entrusted to a Directory of fivepersons, assisted by two councils--the Council of Ancients, andthe Council of Five hundred. In course of time, the reactionary, or anti-revolutionary, party obtained a large majority in thecouncils, which were thus involved in continual disputes with theDirectory. The army supported the Directory, and on the 4th OfSeptember a large body of troops surrounded the Tuileries, andarrested a number of the most obnoxious members of the councils;many of these Were afterwards--not guillotined, but transportedto South America. -ED. (147) The marriage of the princess royal and the hereditaryprince of Wurtemberg, May 18, 1797. -ED. (148) In April, 797, a serious mutiny broke out in the fleet atSpithead. The sailors demanded increased pay and better food. Their demands were finally conceded, and they returned to theirduty, May 14. A few days later, a still more alarming mutinybroke out in the fleet at the Nore. The mutineers hoisted thered flag, May 23, and, being joined by vessels from othersquadrons, found themselves presently masters of eleven ships ofthe line, and thirteen frigates. With this powerful fleet theyblocked the Thames, and put a stop to the river trade of London. Their demands were more extensive than those of the SpitheadMutineers, but government firmly refused further concessions, andin June the want of union and resolution among the men broughtabout the collapse of the mutiny. Ship after ship deserted thered flag, until the last vessel was steered into Sheernessharbour, and given up to the authorities. Several of the leaderswere tried by court-martial and hanged ; the rest of themutineers were pardoned. -ED. (149) The decisive victory gained by Admiral Duncan over theDutch fleet, off Camperdown, October 11, 1797. In January, 1795, the French army under General Pichegru had conquered Holland withlittle difficulty, meeting, indeed, with much sympathy from theinhabitants. The Prince of Orange and his family were forced totake refuge in England and the representatives of the Dutchpeople immediately assembling, proclaimed Holland a republic, under the protection of France. From that time Holland had beenin alliance with France, and at war with England. Duncan wasrewarded for his victory with a pension and a peerage--ViscountDuncan of Camperdown henceforward. -ED. (150) Duncan's victory we have already noted. Lord Howe's was thegreat victory of June 1, 1794, over the French fleet commanded byAdmiral Villaret-joyeuse. It was in this battle that the Vengeurwent down, out Of which incident Barrere manufactured, for thebenefit of the French people, that rousing story of the disabledship refusing to strike its colours, and sinking while every manof the crew, With his last breath, shouted "Vive la Republique!"Magnificent, had it not been pure fiction! Lord St. Vincent (thenAdmiral Jervis) gained a complete victory over the Spanish fleetoff Cape St. Vincent, February 14, 1797. Spain, as well asHolland, was now in alliance with France: had made peace withFrance in 1795, and declared war against England in the followingyear. , K Admiral Jervis received the title of Earl St. Vincentand a pension in consequence of his victory. -ED. (151) Only child of the Prince and Princess of Wales, bornJanuary 7, 1796. -ED. (152) A novel by Sarah Harriet Burney. -ED. (153) The Duke of Cumberland, afterward, King of Hanover; fifthson of George III. ; born 1771, died 1851. -ED. (154) William Henry, Duke of Gloucester, and brother of GeorgeIII. -ED. (155) William Frederick, afterwards Duke of Gloucester, andhusband of the Princess Mary. He was born in 1776, and died in1836. -ED. (156) Arthur O'Connor, nephew and heir of Lord Longueville, wasone of the Irish leaders, who took part in the negotiationsbetween the Revolutionary party in Ireland and the FrenchDirectory. He and two or three of his associates were arrestedat Margate (February 28, 1798), where they were attempting tohire a boat to take them to France. They were tried at Maidstone(May 21), and one of the party, on whom were found somecompromising papers, including an address to the Directory, wasconvicted and hanged. O'Connor was acquitted, but immediatelyrearrested and detained in custody during the rising in Ireland. -ED. Page 170 SECTION 22. (1798-1802. ) VISITS TO OLD FRIENDS: WESTHAMBLE: DEATH OF MRS. PHILLIPS:SOJOURN IN FRANCE. [From the " Memoirs of Dr. Burney " we extract the followingdetails respecting the death of Fanny's favourite sister, SusanPhillips. "Winter now was nearly at hand, and travelling seemed deeplydangerous, in her sickly state, for the enfeebled Susanna. Yetshe herself, panting to receive again the blessing of her belovedfather, concentrated every idea of recovery in her return. Shedeclined, therefore, though with exquisite sensibility, thesupplicating desire of this Editor [Madame d'Arblay] to join andto nurse her at Belcotton, her own cottage ; and perseveredthrough every impediment in her efforts to reach the parentalhome. . . . Every obstacle, at length, being finally vanquished, the journey was resolved upon, and its preparations were made;--when a fearful new illness suddenly confined the helpless invalidto her bed. There she remained some weeks - after which, with theutmost difficulty, and by two long days' travelling, though for adistance of only twenty-six miles, she reached Dublin where, exhausted, emaciated, she was again forced to her bed ; thereagain to remain for nearly as long a new delay! " Every hour ofseparation became now to the Doctor Dr. Burney] an hour of grief, from the certainty that, the expedition once begun, it could becaused only by suffering malady, or expiring strength. "It was not till the very close of the year 1799, amidst deepsnow, fierce frost, blighting winds, and darksome days, that, scarcely alive, his sinking Susanna was landed at Park Gate. There she was joined by her affectionate brother, Dr. Charles, who hastened to hail her arrival, that he might convey her in hisown warm carriage to her heart-yearning father, her fondlyimpatient brethren, and the tenderest of friends. But he foundher in no state to travel: further feeble, Page 171 drooping, wasted away, scarcely to be known, shrunk, nearlywithered!--yet still with her fair mind in full possession of itsclearest powers; still with all the native sweetness of herlooks, manners, voice, and smiles; still with all her desire toplease; her affecting patience of endurance; her touchingsensibility for every species of attention; and all herunalterable loveliness of disposition, that sought to console forher own afflictions, to give comfort for her own sufferings! "During the space of a doubtful week, her kind brother Dr. Charles, awaited the happy moment when she might be able to moveon. But on--save as a corpse, ---she moved no more! * Gentle was her end! gentle as the whole tenor of her life but assudden in its conclusion as it had been lingering in itsapproach. " * She died at Park Gate, January 6, 1800, and was buried inNeston Churchyard, near Park Gate. -ED. The latter portion of the following section introduces the readerto new scenes and new acquaintances. During the summer of 1801negotiations for peace between France and England were carried onin London, between lord Hawkesbury, on the part of the Englishgovernment, and M. Otto, the French plenipotentiary. Thepreliminary treaty was signed in London, October 1, 1801, andratified a few days later on the part of Napoleon Bonaparte, thenFirst Consul, and de facto ruler of France, by a special envoyfrom Paris--General Lauriston. The definitive treaty, by whichthe details of mutual concessions, etc. , were finally arranged, was signed at Amiens, March 25, 1802. In England the peace wasreceived with rapture: General Lauriston was drawn in triumph inhis carriage through the streets of London by the people. The"mutual concessions, " however, showed a large balance in favourof France. As Sheridan observed, it was a peace of which everyone was glad, but no one proud. The establishment of peace determined M. D'Arblay to revisitFrance, and to endeavour to obtain from the First Consul thehalf-pay pension to which his former services in the army hadentitled him. In this project he was warmly encouraged by his oldfriend and comrade, General Lauriston, whom he had called upon inLondon, and who had received him with open arms. The result ofhis journey may be read in the following pages. His wife and sonjoined him in France, in April, 1802, with the intention ofreturning to England after a year's absence. But their return wasprevented by the renewal of the war between the two countries inthe following year, and ten years elapsed before Fanny saw againher father and her native country. Her first impressions ofFrance are recorded in the " Diary" with very pleasantminuteness, but of her life during the greater part of theseyears of exile a few letters, Written at long intervals, give usall the information which we possess. -ED. ) Page 172 A VISIT TO MRS. CHAFONE. March 1798. I have not told you of my renewed intercourse withMrs. Chapone, who had repeatedly sent me kind wishes andmessages, of her desire to see me again. She was unfortunatelyill, and I was sent from her door without being named; but shesent me a kind note to Chelsea, which gave me very greatpleasure. Indeed, she had always behaved towards me withaffection as well as kindness, and I owe to her the blessing ofmy first acquaintance with my dear Mrs. , Delany. It was Mrs. Chapone who took me to her first, whose kind account had made herdesire to know me, and who always expressed the most generouspleasure in the intimacy she had brought about, though it soontook place of all that had preceded it with herself. I wrote avery long answer, with a little history of our way of life, andtraits of-M. D'Arblay, by which her quick discernment might judgeboth of that and my state of mind. When we came again to Chelsea at this period, our Esther desired, or was desired by Mrs. Chapone, to arrange a meeting. I wasreally sorry I could not call upon her with my urchin; but Icould only get conveyed to her one evening, when I went with ourEsther, but was disappointed of M. D'Arblay, who had been obligedto go to Westhamble. This really mortified me, and vexed Mrs. Chapone. We found her alone, and she received me with the most openaffection. Mrs. Chapone knew the day I could be with her too lateto make any party, and would have been profuse in apologies if Ihad not truly declared I rejoiced in seeing her alone, Indeed, itwould have been better If we had been so completely, for ourdearest Esther knew but few of the old connexions concerning whomI wished to inquire and to talk, and she knew too much of allabout myself and my situation of which Mrs. Chapone wished to askand to hear. I fear, therefore, she was tired, though she wouldnot: say so, and though she looked and conducted herself withgreat sweetness. . Mrs. Chapone spoke warmly of "Camilla, " especially of Sir Hugh, but told me she had detected me in some Gallicisms, Page 173 and pointed some out. She pressed me in a very flattering mannerto write again ; and dear Hetty, forgetting our relationship'sdecency, seconded her so heartily you must have laughed to hearher hoping we could never furnish our house till I went again tothe press. When Mrs. Chapone heard of my father's difficultiesabout Chelsea, and fears of removal, on account of his twentythousand volumes, --"Twenty thousand volumes!" she repeated;"bless me! why, how can he so encumber himself? Why does he notburn half? for how much must be to spare that never can be worthhis looking at from such a store! And can he want to keep themall? I should not have suspected Dr. Burney, of all men, of beingsuch a Dr. Orkborne!"(157). . . . . . MRS. BOSCAWEN, LADY STRANGE, AND MR. SEWARD. The few other visits which opportunity and inclination united formy making during our short and full fortnight were-- To Mrs. Boscawen, whither we went all three, for I knew shewished to see our little one, whom I had in the coach with Betty, ready for a summons. Mrs. Boscawen was all herself, ---that is, all elegance and good-breeding. Do you remember the verses on theblues which we attributed to Mr. Pepys?-- Each art of conversation knowing, High-bred, elegant boscawen. To Miss Thrale's, where I also carried my little Alex. To Lady Strange(158) whom I had not seen for more years than Iknow how to count. She was at home, and alone, except for heryoung grandchild, another Bell Strange, daughter of James, who islately returned from India, with a large fortune, is becomemember of Parliament, and has married, for his second wife, aniece of Secretary Dundas's. Lady Strange received me with greatkindness, and, to my great surprise, knew me instantly. I foundher more serious and grave than formerly; I had not seen hersince Sir Page 174 Robert's death, and many events of no enlivening nature; but Ifound, with great pleasure, that all her native fire and wit andintelligence were still within, though less voluntary and quickin flashing out, for every instant I stayed she grew brighter andnearer her true self. Her little grandchild is a delightful little creature, the veryreverse of the other Bell(159) in appearance and disposition, forshe is handsome and open and gay; but I hope, at the same time, her resemblance in character, as Bell is strictly principled andupright. Lady Strange inquired if I had any family, and, when she gatheredI had a little one down-stairs in the carriage, desired to seeit, for little Bell was wild in the request. "But have naemair!" cried she; "the times are bad and hard;--ha' nae mair! ifyou take my advice, you'll ha' nae mair! you've been varydiscreet, and, faith, I commend you!" Little Bell had run down-stairs to hasten Betty and the child, and now, having seized him in her arms, she sprang into the roomwith him. His surprise, her courage, her fondling, her littleform, and her prettiness, had astonished him into consenting toher seizure ; but he sprang from her to me the moment theyentered the drawing-room. I begged Lady Strange to give him herblessing. She looked at him with a strong and earnest expressionof examining interest and pleasure, and then, with an arch smile, turning suddenly about to me, exclaimed, "Ah! faith and troth, you mun ha' some mair! if you can make 'em so pratty as this, youmun ha' some mair! sweet bairn! I gi' you my benediction! be acomfort to your papa and mamma! Ah, madam!" (with one of her deepsighs) "I must gi' my consent to your having some mair ! if youcan make 'em so pratty as this, faith and troth, I mun let youhave a girl!" I write all this without scruple to my dearest Susan, forprattiness like this little urchin's is not likely to spoileither him or ourselves by lasting. 'Tis a juvenile flower, yetone my Susan will again, I hope, view while still in its firstbloom. . . . I was extremely pleased in having an interview again with my old, and I believe very faithful, friend Mr. Seward, whom I had notseen since my marriage, but Whom I had heard, through the Lockes, was indefatigable in inquiries andPage 175 expressions of good-will upon every occasion. He had sent me hiscompilation of anecdotes of distinguished characters, and twolittle letters have passed between us upon them. I was unluckilyengaged the morning he was at Chelsea, and obliged to quit himbefore we had quite overcome a little awkwardness which our longabsence and my changed name had involuntarily produced at ourfirst meeting; and I was really sorry, as I have always retaineda true esteem for him, though his singularities and affectationof affectation always struck me. But both those and his spiritof satire are mere quizziness 3 his mind is all solid benevolenceand worth. A MYSTERIOUS BANK-NOTE. And now I must finish this Chelsea narrative, with its mostsingular, though brief, adventure. One morning at breakfast, myfather received a letter, which he opened, and found to be only ablank cover with a letter enclosed, directed "A Madame, Madamed'Arblay. " This, upon opening, produced a little bank-note offive pounds, and these words:-- "Madame d'Arblay need not have any scruple in accepting theenclosed trifle, as it is considered only as a small tribute ofgratitude and kindness, so small, indeed, that every precautionhas been taken to prevent the least chance of discovery ; and theperson who sends it even will never know whether it was receivedor not. Dr. Burney is quite ignorant of it. " This is written evidently in a feigned hand, and I have not themost remote idea whence it can come. But for the word gratitude Imight have suggested many ; but, upon the whole, I am utterlyunable to suggest any one creature upon earth likely to do such athing. I might have thought of my adorable princess, but that itis so little a sum. Be it as it may, it is certainly done ingreat kindness, by some one who knows five pounds is not so smalla matter to us as to most others ; and after vainly striving tofind out or conjecture whence it came, we determined to devote itto our country. There's patriotism! we gave it in voluntarysubscription for the war and it was very seasonable to us forthis purpose. This magnificent patriotic donation was presented to the Bank ofEngland by Mr. Angerstein, through Mr. Locke, and we have hadthanks from the committee which made us blush. Many reasons haveprevented my naming this anecdote, the principal of which werefears that, if it shouldPage 176 be known such a thing was made use of, and, as it chanced when weshould otherwise have really been distressed how tocome forward or hold back, any other friend might adopt the samemethod, which, gratefully as I feel the kindness that alone couldhave instigated it, has yet a depressing effect, and I would nothave it become current. Could I, or should I ever trace it, Imust, in some mode or other, attempt retaliation. THE NEW BROTHER-IN-LAW: A CORDIAL PROFESSOR. (Madame d'Arblay to Mrs. Phillips. )After sundry abortive proposals of our new brother-in-law, Mr. Broome, for our meeting, he and Charlotte finally came, withlittle Charlotte, to breakfast and spend a day with us. He has byno means the wit and humour and hilarity his "Simkin's Letters"prepare for; but the pen and the tongue are often unequallygifted. He is said to be very learned, deeply skilled inlanguages, and general erudition and he is full of informationupon most subjects that can be mentioned. We talked of India, and he permitted me to ask what questions I pleased upon pointsand things of which I was glad to gather accounts from so able atraveller. Another family visit which took place this Summer gave uspleasure of a far more easy nature, because unmixed with watchfulanxiety; this was from Charles and his son, who, by anappointment for which he begged our consent, brought with himalso Mr. Professor Young, of Glasgow, a man whose learning sitsupon him far lighter than Mr. Broome's ! Mr. Young has thebonhonlie of M. De Lally, with as much native humour as he hasacquired erudition: he has a face that looks all honesty andkindness, and manners gentle and humble ; an enthusiasm forwhatever he thinks excellent, whether in talents or character, inart or in nature; and is altogether a man it seems impossible toknow, even for a day, and not to love and wish well. This latteris probably the effect of his own cordial disposition to amity. He took to us, all three, so evidently and so warmly, and was sosmitten with our little dwelling, its situation and simplicity, and so much struck with what he learned and saw of M. D'Arblay'scultivating literally his own grounds, and literally being hisown gardener, after finding by conversation, what a use he hadmade of his earlier days In literaryPage 177 attainments, that he seemed as if he thought himself brought to avision of the golden age, ---such was the appearance of his ownsincere and upright mind in rejoicing to see happiness wherethere was palpably no luxury, no wealth. It was a most agreeablesurprise to me to find such a man in Mr. Professor Young, as Ihad expected a sharp though amusing satirist, from his very comicbut sarcastic imitation of Dr. Johnson's "Lives, " in a criticismupon Gray's "Elegy. " Charles was all kind affection, and delighted at our approbationof his friend, for the professor has been such many years, andvery essentially formerly, -a circumstance Charles is nowgratefully and warmly returning. It is an excellent part ofCharles's character that he never forgets any kind office he hasreceived. I learned from them that Mr. Rogers, author of the "Pleasures ofMemory, " that most sweet poem, had ridden round the lanes aboutour domain to view it, and stood--or made his horse stand, --atour gate a considerable time, to examine our Camilla cottage, --aname I am sorry to find Charles, or some one, had spread to him;and he honoured all with his good word. I should like to meetwith him. PRECOCIOUS MASTER ALEX. Lady Rothes(160) constant in every manifestation of regard, camehither the first week of our establishment, and came three timesto denials, when my gratitude forced open my doors. Her daughter, Lady Harriet, was with her: she is a pretty and pleasing youngwoman. Sir Lucas came another morning, bringing my old friend Mr. Pepys. Alex was in high spirits and amused them singularly. Hehad just taken to spelling; and every word he heard, of which heeither knew or could guess the orthography, he instantly, in alittle concise and steady manner, pronounced all the letters of, with a look of great but very grave satisfaction at his ownperformances, and a familiar nod at every word so conquered, asthus :-- Mr. Pepys. You are a fine boy, indeed! Alex. B, o, y; boy. (Every letter articulated with strong, almostheroic emphasis. ) Mr. P. And do you run about here in this pleasant place all daylong? Page 178 Alex. D, a, y; day. Mr. P. And can you read your book, You Sweet little fellow? Alex. R, e, a, d; read. Etc. He was in such good looks that all this nonsense wonnothing but admiration, and Mr. Pepys could attend to nothingelse, but only charged me to let him alone. "For mercy's sake, don't make him study, " cried Sir Lucas also; "he is so welldisposed that you must rather repress than advance him, or hishealth may pay the forfeit of his application. " "O, leave him alone! cried Mr. Pepys: "take care only of hishealth and strength; never fear such a boy as that wantinglearning. " THE BARBAULDS. I was extremely surprised to be told by the maid a gentleman andlady had called at the door, who sent in a card and begged toknow if I could admit them; and to see the names on the card wereMr. And Mrs. Barbauld. (161) I had never seen them more thantwice; the first time, by their own desire, Mrs. Chapone carriedme to meet them at Mr. Burrows's: the other time, I think, was atMrs. Chapone's. You must be sure I could not hesitate to receive, and receive with thankfulness, this civility from the authoressof the most useful books, next to Mrs. Trimmer's, that have beenyet written for dear little children; though this with the worldis probably her very secondary merit, her many pretty Poems, andparticularly songs, being generally esteemed. But many more havewritten those as well, and not a few better; for children's booksshe began the new walk, which has since been so well cultivated, to the great information as well as utility of parents. Mr. Barbauld is a dissenting minister--an author also, but I amunacquainted with his works. They were in our littledining-parlour-the only one that has any chairs in it--and beganapologies for their visit; but I interrupted and finished themwith my thanks. She is much altered, but not for the worse to me, though she is for herself, since the flight of her youth, whichis evident, has taken also with it a great portion of an almostset smile, which had an air of determined complacence andprepared acquiescence that seemed to result Page 179 from a sweetness which never risked being off guard. I rememberMrs. Chapone's saying to me, after our interview, "She is a verygood young woman, as well as replete with talents; but why mustone always smile so? It makes my poor jaws ache to look at her. " We talked, of course, of that excellent lady ; and you willbelieve I did not quote her notions of smiling. The Burrowsfamily, she told me, . Was quite broken up; old Mrs. Amy aloneremaining alive. Her brother, Dr. Aiken, (162) with his family, were passing the summer at Dorking, on account of his ill-health, the air of that town having been recommended for his complaints. The Barbaulds were come to spend some time with him, and wouldnot be so near without renewing their acquaintance. They had beenwalking in Norbury Park, which they admired very much; and Mrs. Barbauld very elegantly said, "If there was such a public officeras a legislator of taste, Mr. Locke ought to be chosen for it. " They inquired much about M. D'Arblay, who was working in hisgarden, and would not be at the trouble of dressing to appear. They desired to see Alex, and I produced him ; and hisorthographical feats were very well-timed here, for as soon asMrs. Barbauld said, "What is your name, you pretty creature?" hesturdily answered "B, o, y; boy. " Almost all our discourse was upon the Irish rebellion. Mr. Barbauld is a very little, diminutive figure, but well-bred andsensible. I borrowed her poems, afterwards, of Mr. Daniel, who chanced tohave them, and have read them with much esteem of the piety andworth they exhibit, and real admiration of the last amongst them, which is an epistle to Mr. Wilberforce in favour of thedemolition of the slave-trade, 1 'n which her energy seems tospring from the real spirit of virtue, suffering at the luxuriousdepravity which can tolerate, in a free land, so unjust, cruel, and abominable a traffic. We returned their visit together in a few days, at Dr. Aiken'slodgings, at Dorking, where, as she permitted M. D'Arblay tospeak French, they had a very animated discourse upon buildings, French and English, each supporting those of their own countrywith great spirit, but my monsieur, Page 180 to own the truth, having greatly the advantage both in manner andargument. He was in spirits, and came forth with his bestexertions. Dr. Aiken looks very sickly, but is said to be better:he has a good countenance. PRINCESS AMELIA AT JUNIPER HALL. (Madame d'Arblay to Mrs. Phillips. )Westhamble, 1798. And now, my beloved Susan, I will sketch my last Court history ofthis year. The Princess Amelia, who had been extremely ill since My lastroyal admittance, of some complaint in her knee which causedspasms the most dreadfully painful, was now returning from hersea-bathing at Worthing, and I heard from all around theneighbourhood that her royal highness was to rest and stop onenight at juniper Hall, whither she was to be attended by Mr. Keate the surgeon, and by Sir Lucas Pepys, who was her physicianat Worthing. I could not hear of her approaching so near our habitation, andsleeping within sight of us, and be contented without an effortto see her; yet I would not distress Lady Rothes by anapplication she would not know how either to refuse or grant, from the established etiquette of bringing no one into thepresence of their royal highnesses but by the queen's permission. So infinitely sweet, however, that young love of a princessalways is to me, that I gathered courage to address a petition toher majesty herself, through the medium of Miss Planta, for leaveto pay my homage. -I will copy my answer, sent by return of post. . . "My dear friend, -I have infinite pleasure in acquainting you thatthe queen has ordered me to say that you have her leave to seedear Princess Amelia, provided Sir Lucas Pepys and Dr. Keatepermit it, etc. " With so complete and honourable a credential, I now scrupled notto address a few lines to Lady Rothes, telling her My authority, to prevent any embarrassment, for entreating her leave to pay mydevoirs to the young princess on Saturday morning, --the Friday Iimagined she would arrive too fatigued to be seen. I intimatedalso my wish to bring my boy, not to be presented unlessdemanded, but to be Put into some closet where he might be athand in case of thatPage 181 honour. The sweet princess's excessive graciousness to him gaveme courage for this request. Lady Rothes sent me a kind notewhich made me perfectly comfortable. It was the 1st of December, but a beautifully clear and fine day. I borrowed Mr. Locke's carriage. Sir Lucas came to usimmediately, and ushered us to the breakfast-parlour, giving methe most cheering accounts of the recovery of the princess. HereI was received by Lady Rothes, who presented me to Lady AlbiniaCumberland, widow of Cumberland the author's only son, and one ofthe ladies of the princesses. I found her a peculiarly pleasingwoman, in voice, manner, look, and behaviour. This introduction over, I had the pleasure to shake hands withMiss Goldsworthy, whom I was very glad to see, and who was verycordial and kind; but who is become, alas! so dreadfully deaf, there is no conversing with her, but by talking for a whole houseto hear every word ! With this infirmity, however, she is stillin her first youth and brightness, compared with her brother, who, though I knew him of the party, is so dreadfully altered, that I with difficulty could venture to speak to him by the nameof General Goldsworthy. He has had three or four more strokes ofapoplexy since I saw him. I fancy he had a strong consciousnessof his alteration, for he seemed embarrassed and shy, and onlybowed to me, at first, without speaking. But I wore that offafterwards, by chatting over old stories with him. The princess breakfasted alone, attended by Mrs. Cheveley. Whenthis general breakfast was over, Lady Albinia retired. But in avery few minutes she returned, and said, "Her royal highnessdesires to see Madame d'Arblay and her little boy. " The princess was seated on a sofa, in a French gray riding-dress, with pink lapels, her beautiful and richly flowing and shiningfair locks unornamented. Her breakfast was still before her, andMrs. Cheveley in waiting. Lady Albinia announced me, and shereceived me with the brightest smile, calling me up to her, andstopping my profound reverence, by pouting out her sweet rubylips for me to kiss. She desired me to come and sit by her; but, ashamed of so muchindulgence, I seemed not to hear her, and drew a chair at alittle distance. "No, no, " she cried, nodding, "come here; comeand sit by me here, my dear Madame d'Arblay. " I had then only tosay 'twas my duty to obey her, and I seated myself on her sofa. Lady Albinia, whom she motioned Page 182 to sit, took an opposite chair, and Mrs. Cheveley, after we hadspoken a few words together, retired. Her attention now was bestowed upon my Alex, who required notquite so much solicitation to take his part of the sofa. He camejumping and skipping up to her royal highness, with such gay andmerry antics, that it was impossible not to be diverted with sosudden a change from his composed and quiet behaviour in theother room. He seemed enchanted to see her again, and I was onlyalarmed lest he should skip upon her poor knee in his caressingagility. I bid him, in vain, however, repeat Ariel's "Come unto theseyellow sands, " which he can say very prettily; he began, and theprincess, who knew it, prompted him to go on --but a fit of shamecame suddenly across him-or of capriciousness-and he would notcontinue. Lady Albinia soon after left the room - and the princess, then, turning hastily and eagerly to me, said, "Now we are alone, dolet me ask you one question, Madame d'Arblay. Are you--areyou--[looking with strong expression to discover her answer]writing anything?" I could not help laughing, but replied in the negative. "Upon your honour?" she cried earnestly, and lookingdisappointed. This was too hard an interrogatory for evasion;and I was forced to say--the truth--that I was about nothing Ihad yet fixed if or not I should ever finish, but that I wasrarely without some project. This seemed to satisfy and pleaseher. I told her of my having seen the Duke of Clarence at Leatherheadfair. "What, William?" she cried, surprised. This unaffected, natural way of naming her brothers and sisters is infinitelypleasing. She took a miniature from her pocket, and said, "Imust show you Meney's picture, " meaning Princess Mary, whom shestill calls Meney, because it was the name she gave her whenunable to pronounce Mary--a time she knew I well remembered. Itwas a very sweet miniature, and extremely like. "Ah! whathappiness, " I cried, "your royal highness will feel, and give, upon returning to their majesties and their royal highnesses, after such an absence, and such sufferings!" "O! yes!--I shallbe SO glad!" she cried, and then Lady Albinia came in andwhispered her it was time to admit Lady Rothes, who then enteredwith Lady Harriet and the Miss Leslies. When she was removing, painfully lifted from her seatPage 183 between Sir Lucas and Mr. Keate, she stopped to pay hercompliments and thanks to Lady Rothes with a dignity and self-command extremely striking. . DEATH OF MR. SEWARD. (Madame d'Arblay to Mrs. Locke. )Westhamble, May 2, 1799. Poor Mr. Seward! I am indeed exceedingly concerned--nay, grieved--for his loss to us: to us I trust I may say; for Ibelieve he was so substantially good a creature, that he has leftno fear or regret merely for himself. He fully expected his endwas quickly approaching. I saw him at my father's at Chelsea, andhe spent almost a whole morning with me in chatting of othertimes, as he called it ; for we travelled back to Streatham, Dr. Johnson, and the Thrales. But he told me he knew his diseaseincurable. Indeed he had passed a quarter of an hour inrecovering breath, in a room with the servants, before he let meknow he had mounted the college stairs. My father was not athome. He had thought himself immediately dying, he said, fourdays before, by certain sensations that he believed to be fatal, but he mentioned it with cheerfulness ; and though active intrying all means to lengthen life, declared himself perfectlycalm in suspecting they would fail. TO give me a proof, he saidhe had been anxious to serve Mr. Wesley, the methodist musician, and he had recommended him to the patronage of the Hammersleys, and begged my father to meet him there to dinner; but as this wasarranged, he was seized himself with a dangerous attack, which hebelieved to be mortal. And during this belief, "willing to havethe business go on, " said he, laughing, "and not miss me, I wrotea letter to a young lady, to tell her all I wished to be doneupon the occasion, to serve Wesley, and to show him to advantage. I gave every direction I should have given in person, in acomplete persuasion at the moment I should never hold a pen in myhand again. " This letter, I found, was to Miss Hammersley. I had afterwards the pleasure of introducing M. D'Arblay to him, and it seemed a gratification to him to make the acquaintance. Iknew he had been curious to see him, and he wrote my father wordafterwards he had been much pleased. My father says he sat with him an hour the Saturday before hedied - and though he thought him very ill, he was so littlePage 184 aware his end was so rapidly approaching, that, like my dearestfriend, he laments his loss as if by sudden death. I was sorry, too, to see in the newspapers, the expulsion of Mr. Barry from the Royal Academy. I suppose it is from some furiousharangue. (163) His passions have no restraint though I thinkextremely well of his heart, as well as of his understanding. DR. BURNEY AGAIN VISITS DR. HERSCHEL. (Dr. Burney to Madame d'Arblay. )Slough, Monday morning, July 22, 1799, in bed at Dr. Herschel's, half-past five, where I can neither sleep nor lie idle. My dear Fanny, -I believe I told you on Friday that I was going tofinish the perusal of my astronomical verses to the greatastronomer on Saturday. Here I arrived at three o'clock, --neither Dr. Nor Mrs. H. At home. This was rather discouraging, but all was set to rights by the appearance of Miss Baldwin, asweet, timid, amiable girl, Mrs. Herschel's niece. . . . . When wehad conversed about ten minutes, in came two other sweet girls, the daughters of Dr. Parry of Bath, on a visit here. Morenatural, obliging, charming girls I have seldom seen; and, moreover, very pretty. We soon got acquainted. I found they weremusical, and in other respects very well educated. It being aquarter past four, and the lord and lady of the mansion notreturned, Miss Baldwin would have dinner served, according toorder, and an excellent dinner it was, and our chattation nodisagreeable sauce. After an admirable dessert, I made the Misses Parry sing andplay, and sang and played with them so delightfully, "you can'tthink!" Mr. And Mrs. H. Did not return till between seven and eight ; butwhen they came, apologies for being out on pressing business, cordiality and kindness, could not be more liberally bestowed. After tea Dr. H. Proposed that we two should retire into a quietroom, in order to resume the perusal of my work, in Page 185 which no progress had been made since last December. The eveningwas finished very cheerfully; and we went to our bowers not muchout of humour with each other, or with the world. DR. BURNEY AND THE KING. We had settled a plan to go to the chapel at Windsor in' themorning, the king and royal family being there, and the town veryfull. Dr. H. And Mrs. H. Stayed at home, and I was accompanied bythe three Graces. Dr. Goodenough, the successor of Dr. Shepherd, as canon, preached. I had dined with him at Dr. Duval's. He is avery agreeable man, and passionately fond of music, with whom, asa professor, a critic, and an historian of the art; I seem tostand very high; but I could not hear a single sentence of hissermon, on account of the distance. After the service I got aglimpse of the good king, in his light-grey farmer-like morningWindsor uniform, in a great crowd, but could not even obtain thatglance of the queen and princesses. The day was charming. Thechapel is admirably repaired, beautified, and a new west windowpainted on glass. All was cheerfulness, gaiety, and good humour, such as the subjects of no other monarch, I believe, i on earthenjoy at present; and except return of creepings now and then, and a cough, I was as happy as the best. At dinner we all agreed to go to the Terrace, --Mr. , Mrs. , andMiss H. , with their nice little boy, and the three young ladies. This plan we put in execution, and arrived on the Terrace alittle after seven. I never saw it more crowded or gay. Thepark was almost full of happy people--farmers, servants, andtradespeople, --alt In Elysium. Deer in the distance, and dearsunnumbered near. Here I met with everybody I wished and expectedto see previous to the king's arrival in the part of the Terracewhere I and my party were planted. . . . . . Chelsea, Tuesday, three o'clock. Not a moment could I get to write till now; and I am afraid offorgetting some part of my history, but I ought not, for theevents of this visit are very memorable. When the king and queen, arm in arm, were approaching the placewhere the Herschel family and I had planted ourselves, one of theMisses Parry heard the queen say to his majesty, "There's Dr. Burney, " when they instantly came to me, so smiling and graciousthat I longed to throw myself atPage 186 their feet. "How do you, Dr. Burney?" said the king, "Why, youare grown fat and young. " "Yes, indeed, " said the queen; "I was very glad to hear fromMadame d'Arblay how well you looked. " "Why, you used to be as thin as Dr. Lind, " says the king. Lindwas then in sight--a mere lath; but these few words wereaccompanied with such Very gracious smiles, and seeminglyaffectionate good-humour--the whole royal family, except thePrince of Wales, standing by in the midst of a crowd of the firstpeople in the kingdom for rank and office--that I was afterwardslooked at as a sight. After this the king and queen hardly everpassed by me without a smile and a nod. The weather was charming;the park as full as the Terrace, the king having given permissionto the farmers, tradesmen, and even livery servants, to be thereduring the time of his walking. Now I must tell you that Herschel proposed to me to go with himto the king's concert at night, he having permission to go whenhe chooses, his five nephews (Griesbachs) making a principal partof the band. "And, " says he, "I know you will be welcome. " But Ishould not have presumed to believe this if his majesty had notformerly taken me into his concert-room himself from yourapartments. This circumstance, and the gracious notice withwhich I had been just honoured, emboldened me. A fine music-roomin the Castle, next the Terrace, is now fitted up for hismajesty's evening concerts, and an organ erected. Part of thefirst act had been performed previous to our arrival. There werenone but the performers in the room, except the Duchesses of Kentand cumberland, with two or three general officers backwards. Theking seldom goes into the music-room after the first act; and thesecond and part of the third were over before we saw anything ofhim, though we heard his majesty, the queen, and princessestalking in the next room. At length he came directly up to me andHerschel, and the first question his majesty asked me was, --"Howdoes Astronomy go on?" I, pretending to suppose he knew nothingof my poem, said, "Dr. Herschel will better inform your majestythan I can. " "Ay, ay, " says the king, "but you are going to tellus something with your pen;" and moved his hand in a writingmanner. "What--what--progress have you made?" "Sir, it is allfinished, and all but the last of twelve books have been read tomy friend Dr. Herschel. " The king, then, looking at Herschel, aswho would say, "How is it?" "ItPage 187 is a very capital work, sir, " says H. "I wonder how you findtime?" said the king. "I make time, Sir. " "How, how?" "I takeit out of my sleep, sir. " When the considerate good king, "Butyou'll hurt your health. How long, " he adds, "have you been atit?" "Two or three years, at odd and stolen moments, Sir. ""Well, " said the king (as he had said to you before), "whateveryou write, I am sure will be entertaining. " I bowed most humbly, as ashamed of not deserving so flattering a speech. "I don't sayit to flatter you, " says the king; "if I did not think it, Iwould not say it. " OVERWHELMED WITH THE ROYAL GRACIOUSNESS. (Madame d'Arblay to Dr. Burney. )"Fore George, a more excellent song than t'other!"Westhamble, July 25, '99. Why, my dearest padre, your subjects rise and rise, -tillsubjects, in fact, are no longer in question. I do not wonder youfelt melted by the king's goodness. I am sure I did in itsperusal. And the queen!-her naming me so immediately went to myheart. Her speeches about me to Mrs. Locke in the drawing-room, her interest in my welfare, her deigning to say she had "neverbeen amongst those who had blamed my marriage, " though she lostby it my occasional attendances, and her remarking "I looked thepicture of happiness, " had warmed me to the most ferventgratitude, and the more because her saying she had never beenamongst those who had blamed me shows there were people who hadnot failed to do me ill offices in her hearing; though probably, and I firmly believe, without any personal enmity, as I amunconscious of my having any owed me; but merely from a cruelmalice with which many seize every opportunity, almostinvoluntarily, to do mischief and most especially to undermine atCourt any one presumed to be in any favour. And, still further, I thought her words conveyed a confirmation of what her conducttowards me in my new capacity always led me to conjecture, namely, that my guardian star had ordained it so that the realcharacter and principles of my honoured and honourable mate had, by some happy chance, reached the royal ear "before the news ofour union. The dear king's graciousness :to M. D'Arblay upon theTerrace, when the commander-in-chief, just then returned from theContinent, was by his side, made it impossible not to suggestthis : and now, the queen'sPage 188 again naming me so in, public puts it, in my conception, beyonddoubt. My kindest father will be glad, I am sure, to have addedto the great delight of his recital a strength to a notion I somuch love to cherish. WAR RUMOURS. (Madame d'Arblay to Mrs. Phillips. )Aug. 14, '99. People here are very sanguine that Ireland is quiet, and willremain so; and that the combined fleets can never reach it. Howare your own politics upon that point? Mine will take theircolour, be it what it may. Our dear father is Visiting about, from Mr. Cox's to Mrs. Crewe, with whom be is now at Dover, whereMr. Crewe has some command. We are all in extreme disturbancehere about the secret expedition. Nothing authentic is arrivedfrom the first armament; and the second is all prepared forsailing. . . . Both officers and men are gathered from allquarters. - Heaven grant them speedy safety, and ultimate peace !God bless my own dearest Susan, and strengthen and restore her. Amen! Amen. ILLNESS AND DEATH OF MRS. PHILLIPS. (Madame d'Arblay to Dr. Burney. )Westhamble, October 1, '99. Whether gaily or sadly to usher what I have to say I know not, but your sensations, like mine, will I am sure be mixed. Themajor has now written to Mrs. Locke that he is anxious to haveSusan return to England. She is "in an ill state of health, " hesays, and he wishes her to try her native air; but the revival ofcoming to you and among us all, and the tender care that will betaken of her, is likely to do much for her; therefore, if we gether but to this side the channel, the blessing is comparativelyso great, that I shall feel truly thankful to heaven. (Madame d'Arblay to Mrs. Phillips. )Westhamble, December 10, '99. O my Susan, my heart's dear sister! with what bittersorrow have I read this last account! With us, with yourself, your children, -all, -you have trifled in respect to health, thoughin all things else you are honour and veracity personified; Page 189 but nothing had prepared me to think you in such a grave state asI now find you. Would to God I could get to you! If Mr. Keirnanthinks you had best pass the winter in Dublin, stay, and let mecome to you. Venture nothing against his opinion, for mercy'ssake! Fears for your health take place of all impatience toexpedite your return; only go not back to Belcotton, where youcannot be under his direction, and are away from the physician hethinks of so highly. I shall write immediately to Charles about the carriage. I amsure of his answer beforehand, --so must you be. Act, therefore, with regard to the carriage, as if already it were arranged. ButI am well aware it must not set out till you Are well enough tonearly fix your day of sailing. I say nearly, for we must alwaysallow for accidents. I shall write to our dear father, and Etty, and James, and send to Norbury Park - but I shall wait tillto-morrow, not to infect them with what I am infected. . . . O my Susan! that I could come to you! But all must depend on Mr. Keirnan's decision. If you can come to us with perfect safety, however slowly, I shall not dare add to your embarrassment ofpersons and package. Else Charles's carriage--O, what atemptation to air it for you all the way! Take no more largepaper, that you may write with less fatigue, and, if possible, oftener;--to any one will suffice for all. (Madame d'Arblay to Doctor Burney. )9th January, 1800. My most dear padre, -My mate will say all, -so I can only offer upmy earnest prayers I may soon be allowed the blessing--the onlyone I sigh for--of embracing my dearest Susan in your arms andunder your roof. Amen. F. D'A. These were the last written lines of the last period--unsuspectedas such--of my perfect happiness on earth; for they were stoppedon the road by news that my heart's beloved sister, SusannaElizabeth Phillips, had ceased to breathe. The tenderest ofhusbands--the most feeling of human beings--had only reachedNorbury Park, on his way to a believed meeting with that angel, when the fatal blow was struck; and he came back to West Hamble--to the dreadful task of revealing the irreparable loss which hisown goodness, sweetness, patience, and sympathy could alone havemade supported. Page 190 (Madame d'Arblay to Mrs. Locke. )9th January, 1800. "As a guardian angel!"--Yes, my dearest Fredy, as such in everyinterval of despondence I have looked up to the sky to see her, but my eyes cannot pierce through the thick atmosphere, and I canonly represent her to me seated on a chair of sickness, her softhand held partly out to me as I approach her; her softer eyes sogreeting me as never welcome was expressed before; and a smile ofheavenly expression speaking the tender gladness of her gratefulsoul that God at length should grant our re-union. From ourearliest moments, my Fredy, when no misfortune happened to ourdear family, we wanted nothing but each other. Joyfully as otherswere received by us--loved by us--all that was necessary to ourhappiness was fulfilled by our simple junction. This I rememberwith my first remembrance; nor do I recollect a single instanceof being affected beyond a minute by any outward disappointment, if its result was leaving us together. She was the soul of my soul !-and 'tis wonderful to me, mydearest Fredy, that the first shock did not join them immediatelyby the flight of mine-but that over-that dreadful, harrowing, never-to be-forgotten moment of horror that made me wish to bemad--the ties that after that first endearing period have sharedwith her my heart, come to my aid. Yet I was long incredulous;and still sometimes I think it is not--and that she will come--and I paint her by my side--by my father's--in every room ofthese apartments, destined to have chequered the woes of her lifewith rays of comfort, joy, and affection. O, my Fredy ! not selfish is the affliction that repines herearthly course of sorrow was allowed no shade!--that at theinstant soft peace and consolation awaited her she should breatheher last! You would understand all the hardship of resignationfor me were you to read the joyful opening of her letter, on herlanding, to my poor father, and her prayer at the end to berestored to him. O, my Fredy! could you indeed think of me--bealarmed for me on that dreadful day?---I can hardly make thatenter my comprehension; but I thank you from my soul; for that isbeyond any love I had thought possible, even from Your tenderheart. Tell me you all keep well, and forgive me my distraction. Iwrite so fast I fear you can hardly read; but you will SeePage 191 I am conversing with you, and that will show you how I turn toyou for the comfort of your tenderness. Yes, you have all a loss, indeed! A PRINCESS'S CONDESCENSION. (Madame d'Arblay to Mrs. Locke). Greenwich, Friday, February, 1800. Here we are, my beloved friend. We came yesterday. All places tome are now less awful than my own so dear habitation. My royalinterview took place on Wednesday. I was five hours with theroyal family, three of them alone with the queen, whosegraciousness and kind goodness I cannot express. And each of theprincesses saw me with a sort of concern and interest I can neverforget. I did tolerably well, though not quite as steadily as Iexpected but with my own Princess Augusta I lost all command. She is still wrapt up, and just recovering from a fever herself-and she spoke to me in a tone--a voice so commiserating--I couldnot stand it--I was forced to stop short in my approach, and hidemy face with my muff. She came up to me immediately, put her armupon my shoulder, and kissed me--I shall never forget it. --Howmuch more than thousands of words did a condescension so tendertell me her kind feelings!--She is one of the few beings in thisworld that can be, in the words of M. De Narbonne, "all that isdouce and all that is sbirituelle, "--his words upon my lostdarling! It is impossible more of comfort or gratification could be giventhan I received from them all. HORTICULTURAL MISFORTUNES. (Madame d'Arblay to Dr. Burney). Westhamble, March 22, 1800. Day after day I have meant to write to my dearest father 'but Ihave been unwell ever since our return, and that has not added tomy being sprightly. I have not once crossed 'the threshold sinceI re-entered the house till to-day, when Mr. And Mrs. Lockealmost insisted upon taking me an airing. I am glad of it, for ithas done me good, and broken a kind of spell that made meunwilling to stir. Page 192 M. D'Arblay has worked most laboriously in his garden but hismisfortunes there, during our absence, might melt a heart ofstone. The horses of our next neighbouring farmer broke throughour hedges, and have made a kind of bog of our mead ow, byscampering in it during the wet; the sheep followed, who haveeaten up all our greens, every sprout and cabbage and lettuce, destined for the winter ; while the horses dug up our turnips andcarrots; and the swine, pursuing such examples, have trod downall the young plants besides devouring whatever the others leftof vegetables. Our potatoes, left, from our abrupt departure, inthe ground, are all rotten or frostbitten, and utterly spoilt;and not a single thing has our whole ground produced us since wecame home. A few dried carrots, which remain from the in-doorscollection, are all we have to temper our viands. . What think you of this for people who make it a rule to owe athird of their sustenance to the garden? Poor M, d'A. 's renewalof toil, to supply future times, is exemplary to behold, aftersuch discouragement. But he works as if nothing had failed; suchis his patience as well as industry. My Alex, I am sure you will be kindly glad to hear, is entirelywell; and looks so blooming--no rose can be fresher. I amencouraging back his spouting propensity, to fit him for hisroyal interview with the sweet and gay young princess who hasdemanded him, who will, I know, be diverted with his speeches andgestures. We must present ourselves before Easter, as the Courtthen adjourns to Windsor for ten days. My gardener will not againleave his grounds to the fourfooted marauders; and our stay, therefore, will be the very shortest we can possibly make it ;for though we love retirement, we do not like solitude. I long for some further account of you, dearest: sir, and how youbear the mixture of business and company, of "fag and frolic, " asCharlotte used to phrase it. Westhamble, April 27, 1800. My Alex improves in all that I can teach, and my gardeneris laboriously recovering from his winter misfortunes. He is nowraising a hillock by the gate, for a view of NorbUry Park fromour grounds, and he has planted potatoes upon almost every spotwhere they can grow. The dreadful price of provisions makes thisour first attention. The poor people about us complain they arenearly starved, and the children of thePage 193 journeymen of the tradesmen at Dorking come to our door to beghalfpence for a little bread. What the occasion of suchuniversal dearth can be we can form no notion, and have noinformation. The price of bread we can conceive from the badharvest; but meat, butter, and shoes!---nay, all sorts ofnourriture or clothing seem to rise in the same proportion, andwithout any adequate cause. The imputed one of the war does notappear to me sufficient, though the drawback from all by theincome-tax is severely an underminer of comfort. What is becomeof the campaign? are both parties incapacitated from beginning?or is each waiting a happy moment to strike some definitivestroke? We are strangely in the dark about all that is going on, and unless you will have the compassion to write us some news, wemay be kept so till Mr. Locke returns. A WITHDRAWN COMEDY. [Towards the close of the preceding year Dr. Charles Burney hadplaced in the hands of Mr. Harris, the manager of CoventGarden-theatre, a comedy by Madame d'Arblay, called "Love andFashion. " Mr. Harris highly approved the piece, and early in thespring put it into rehearsal ; but Dr. Burney was seized with apanic concerning its success, and, to oblige him, his daughterand her husband withdrew it. The following letter announced theirgenerous compliance with his wishes. ] (Madame d'Arblay to Doctor Burney. )Monday. I hasten to tell you, dearest sir, Mr. H. Has at length listenedto our petitions, and has returned me my poor ill-fated ---, wholly relinquishing all claim to it for this season. He haspromised also to do his utmost, as far as his influence extends, to keep the newspapers totally silent in future. We demand, therefore, no contradictory paragraph, as the report must needsdie when the reality no more exists. Nobody has believed it fromthe beginning, on account of the premature moment when it wasadvertised. This release gives me present repose, which, indeed, I muchwanted; for to combat your, to me, unaccountable but mostafflicting displeasure, in the midst of my own panics anddisturbance, would have been ample punishment to me had I beenguilty of a crime, in doing what I have all my life beenPage 194 urged to, and all my life intended, --writing a comedy. Yourgoodness, your kindness, your regard for my fame, I know havecaused both your trepidation, which doomed me to certain failure, and your displeasure that I ran, what you thought, a wanton risk. But it is not wanton, my dearest father. My imagination is not atmy own control, or I would always have continued in the walk YOUapproved. The combinations for another long work did not occurto me; incidents and effects for a drama did. I 'thought thefield more than open--inviting to me. The chance held out goldendreams. --The risk could be only our own; for, permit me to say, appear when it will, you will find nothing in the principles, themoral, or the language that will make you blush for me. A failureupon those points only, can bring disgrace; Upon mere cabal orwant of dramatic powers, it can only cause disappointment. I hope, therefore, my dearest father, in thinking this over youwill cease to nourish such terrors and disgust at an essay sonatural, and rather say to yourself, with an internal smile, "After all, 'tis but like father like child; for to what walk doI confine myself? She took my example in writing--she takes it inranging. Why then, after all, should I lock her up in onepaddock, well as she has fed there, if she says she finds nothingmore to nibble; while I find all the earth unequal to myambition, and mount the skies to content it? Come on, then, poorFan! the world has acknowledged you my offspring, and I willdisencourage you no more. Leap the pales of your paddock--let uspursue our career; and, while you frisk from novel to comedy, I, quitting music and prose, will try a race with poetry and thestars. " I am sure my dear father will not infer, from this appeal, I meanto parallel our works. No one more truly measures her owninferiority, which, with respect to yours, has always been mypride. I only mean to show, that if my muse loves a littlevariety, she has an hereditary claim to try it. M. D'ARBLAY's FRENCH PROPERTY. (Madame d'Arblay to Doctor Burney. )Westhamble, November 7, 1800. I think it very long not to hear at least of YOU, my dearestpadre. My tranquil and happy security, alas! has beenPage 195 broken in upon by severe conflicts since I wrote to My dearestfather last, which I would not communicate while yet pending, butmust now briefly narrate. My partner, the truest of partners, hasbeen erased from the list of emigrants nearly a year; and in thatperiod has been much pressed and much blamed by his remainingfriends in France, by every opportunity through which they couldsend to him, for not immediately returning, and seeing ifanything could be yet saved from the wreck of his own andfamily's fortune ; but he held steady to his original purposenever to revisit his own country till it was at peace with this ;till a letter came from his beloved uncle himself, conveyed tohim through Hambro', which shook all the firmness of hisresolution, and has kept him, since its receipt, in a state offermentation, from doubts and difficulties, and crossing wishesand interests, that has much affected his health as well astranquillity. All, however, now, is at least decided; for a few days since hereceived a letter from M. Lajard, who is returned to Paris, withinformation from his uncle's eldest son, that some of his smallproperty is yet unsold, to about the amount of 1000 pounds, andcan still be saved from sequestration if he will immediately goover and claim it; or, if that is impossible, if he will send hisprocuration to his uncle, from some country not at war withFrance. This ended all his internal contest; and he is gone this verymorning to town to procure a passport and a passage in somevessel bound to Holland. So unused are we to part, never yet for a week having beenseparated during the eight years of our union, that our firstidea was going together, and taking our Alex; and certain I amnothing would do me such material and mental good as so completea change of scene; but the great expense of the voyage andjourney, and the inclement season for our little boy, at lengthfinally settled us to pray only for a speedy meeting. But I didnot give it up till late last night, and am far from quitereconciled to relinquishing it even now. He has no intention to go to France, or he would make an effortto pass by Calais, which would delightfully shorten the passage;but he merely means to remain at the Hague while he sends overhis procuration, and learns how soon he may hope to reap itsfruits. Page 196 Westhamble, 16th December, 1800. He is returned, my dearest father, already! MY joy and surpriseare so great I seem in a dream. I have just this moment a letterfrom him, written at Gravesend. What he has been able to arrangeas to his affairs, I know not ; and just now cannot care, sogreat is my thankfulness for his safety and return. He waits inthe river for his passport, and will, when he obtains it, hasten, I need not say, to Westhamble. HOME MATTERS. (Madame d'Arblay to Dr. Burney. )Westhamble, September i, 1801. A carpet we have-though not yet spread, as the chimney isunfinished, and room incomplete. Charles brought us the tapis-sothat, in fact, we have yet bought nothing for our best room--andmeant, --for our own share--to buy a table . . . And if my dearestfather will be so good--and so naughty at once, as to crown oursalle d'audience with a gift we shall prize beyond all others, wecan think only of a table. Not a dining one, but a sort of tablefor a little work and a few books, --en ala--without which, a roomlooks always forlorn. I need not say how we shall love it ; and Imust not say how we shall blush at it; and I cannot say how wefeel obliged at it--for the room will then be complete inlove-offerings. Mr. Locke finished glazing or polishing hisimpression border for the chimney on Saturday. It will be, Ifear, his last work of that sort, his eyes, which are verylongsighted, now beginning to fail and weaken at near objects. My Alex intends very soon, he says, to marry-and, not long since, with the gravest simplicity, he went up to Mr William Locke, whowas here with his fair bride, and said, "How did you get thatwife, William? because I want to get such a one--and I don't knowwhich is the way. " And he is now actually employed in fixingsticks and stones at convenient distances, upon a spot very nearour own, where he means to raise a suitable structure for hisresidence, after his nuptials. You will not think he has sufferedmuch time to be wasted before he has begun deliberating upon hisconjugal establishment. We spent the greatest part of last week in visits at NorburyPark, to meet M. De Lally, whom I am very sorry you missed. Page 197 He is delightful in the country full of resources, of gaiety, ofintelligence, of good humour and mingling powers of instruction. With entertainment. He has read us several fragments of works ofhis own, admirable in eloquence, sense, and feeling - chieflyparts of tragedies, and all referring to subjects next his heart, and clearest in his head ; namely, the French Revolution and itscalamities, and filial reverence and enthusiasm for injuredparents. CONTEMPLATED JOURNEY To FRANCE. (Madame d'Arblay to Dr. Burney. )Westhamble, October 3, 1801. God avert mischief from this peace, my dearest father! For in ourhermitage you may imagine, more readily than I can express, thehopes and happiness it excites. M. D'Arblay now feels paid forhis long forbearance, his kind patience, and compliance with myearnest wishes not to revisit his native land while we were atwar with it. He can now go with honour as well as propriety - forevery body, even the highest personages, will rather expect heshould make the journey as a thing of course, than hear of it asa proposition for deliberation. He will now have his heart'sdesire granted, in again seeing his loved and respectableuncle, -and many relations, and more friends, and his own nativetown, as well as soil ; and he will have the delight ofpresenting to that uncle, and those friends, his little pet Alex. With all this gratification to one whose endurance of such alength of suspense, and repetition of disappointment, I haveobserved with gratitude, and felt with sympathy-must not I, too, find pleasure ? Though, on my side, many are the drawbacks - butI ought not, and must not, listen to them. We shall arrange ouraffairs with all the speed in our power, after the ratificationis arrived, for saving the cold and windy weather; but theapproach of winter is unlucky, as it will lengthen our stay, toavoid travelling and voyaging during its severity - unless, indeed, any internal movement, or the menace of any, should makefrost and snow secondary fears, and induce us to scamper off. But the present is a season less liable in all appearance tostorms, than the seasons that may follow. Fates, joy, andpleasure, will probably for some months occupy the public inFrance - and it will not be tillPage 198 those rejoicings are past, that they will set about weighingcauses of new commotion, the rights of their governors, or themeans, or desirability of changing them. I would far rather goimmediately, than six months hence. [The projected journey of Madame d'Arblay with her husband didnot take place this year; the season being already advanced, andtheir little boy not strong enough to bear the fatigue of such anexpedition. Monsieur d'Arblay went alone to France. ] M. D'ARBLAY's ROUGH SEA PASSAGE. (Madame d'Arblay to Dr. Burney. )Westhamble, November 11, 1801. I did not purpose writing to my dearest father till my suspenseand inquietude were happily removed by a letter from France; butas I find he is already anxious himself, I will now relate all Iyet know of my dearest traveller's history. On Wednesday the 28thof October, he set off for Gravesend. A vessel, he was told, wasready for sailing, - and would set off the following day. Hesecured his passage, and took up his abode at an inn, whence hewrote me a very long letter, in full hope his next would be fromhis own country. But Thursday came, and no sailing--though thewind was fair, and the weather then calm: he amused hisdisappointment as well as he could by visiting divers gardeners, and taking sundry lessons for rearing and managing asparagus. Friday, also, came-and still no sailing ! He was more and morevexed ; but had recourse then to a chemist, with whom he revisedmuch of his early knowledge. Saturday followed--no sailing! andhe found the people waited on and on, in hopes of morepassengers, though never avowing their purpose, His patience wasnow nearly exhausted, and he went and made such vifsremonstrances that he almost startled the managers. Theypretended the ballast was all they stayed for : he offered to aidthat himself; and actually went to work, and never rested tillthe vessel was absolutely ready: orders, enfin, were given forsailing next morning, though he fears, with all his skill, andall his eloquence, and all his aiding, they were more owing tothe arrival of four passengers than to his exertions. That night, October the 31st, he went on board; and November the 1st he setsail at five o'clock in the morning. Page 199 You know how high a wind arose on Sunday the 1st, andhow dreadful a storm succeeded, lasting all night, all Monday, and all night again. How thankful, how grateful am I to haveheard of his safety since so terrifying a period. They got on, with infinite difficulty and danger, as far as Margate; theythere took anchor, and my kind voyager got a letter for me senton shore, "moyennant un schelling . "(164) To tell you mygratitude in knowing him safe after that tempest--no I cannot!Your warm affections, my dearest father, will easily paint to youmy thankfulness. Next, they got on to Deal, and here anchored again, for thewinds, though they abated on shore, kept violent and dangerousnear the coast. Some of the passengers went on shore, and put twoletters for me in the post, assuring me all was safe. These twopassengers, who merely meant to dine on shore, and see the town, were left behind. The sea rose so high, no boat could put off tobring them back; and, though the captain hoisted a flag toannounce he was sailing, there was no redress. They had notproceeded a league before the sea grew yet more rough andperilous, and the captain was forced to hoist a flag of distress. Everything in the vessel was overset; my poor M. D'Arblay'sprovision-basket flung down, and its contents demolished; hisbottle of wine broken by another toss, and violent fall, and hewas nearly famished. The water now began to get into the ship, all hands were at work that could work, and he, my poor voyager, gave his whole noble strength to the pump, till he was soexhausted, so fatigued, so weakened, that with difficulty hecould hold a pen to repeat that still--I might be tranquille, forall danger was again over. A pilot came out to them from Dover, for seven guineas, which the higher of the passengers subscribedfor (and here poor M. D'A. Was reckoned of that class], and thevessel was got into the port at Dover, and the pilot, moyennantun autre schelling, put me again a letter, with all theseparticulars, into the post. This was Thursday the 5th. The sea still so boisterous, thevessel was unable to cross the water. The magistrates at Doverpermitted the poor passengers all to land ; and M. D'Arblay wroteto me again, from the inn, after being regaled with an excellentdinner, of which he had been much in want. Here they met againthe two passengers lost at Deal, who, in hopes of thiscircumstance, had travelled post Page 200 from thence to Dover. Here, too, M. D'A. Met the Duke de Duras, an hereditary officer of the crown, but who told him, since peacewas made, and all hope seemed chased of a proper return to hiscountry, he was going, incognito, to visit a beloved old mother, whom he had not seen for eleven years. "I have no passport, " hesaid, "for France, but I mean to avow myself to the commissaryat Calais, and tell him I know I am not erased, nor do I demandto be so. I only solicit an interview with a venerable parent. Send to Paris, to beg leave for it. You may put me in Prisontill the answer arrives; but, for mercy, for humanity's sake, suffer me to wait in France till then! guarded as you please!"This is his Purposed address--which my M. D'A. Says he heard, avec les larmes aux yeux. (165) I shall long to hear the event. On Friday, November 6th, M. D'A. Wrote me two lines:"Nov. 6, 1801. --, Je pars! the wind is excellent--au revoir. " This isdated ten o'clock in the morning. I have not had a word since. [in the original edition here follow three letters, in French, from M. D'Arblay to his wife. From these letters we translate thefollowing extracts. -ED. "Paris. "I do not yet know positively when it will be possible for me togo to see my uncle. The settlement of my claim of half-pay isanything but advanced. . . . To-morrow morning I have anappointment with Du Taillis, aide-de-camp to Berthler (the Frenchminister of war). When I leave him, I hope to see Talleyrand;but what I most particularly desire is, not to depart withouthaving at least a glimpse of the first Consul (Napoleon), thatman so justly celebrated. . . . In reference to the obligationwhich we, formerly on the list of emigrants, have to him, Narbonne said to me to-day, 'He has set all our heads on ourshoulders. ' I like this expression. " " Paris, November 16, 1801. "La Tour Maubourg, one of the companions of General Lafayette, wished to marry his daughter to an emigrant whose name was notyet struck off the list. He obtained an interview with the firstConsul, at which he entered into details on the matter, withoutattempting to conceal the objections which might be taken to therequested erasement of the young man's Page 201 name from the list of emigrants. Bonaparte interrupted him andsaid, 'Is the young man agreeable to your daughter?' 'Yes, General. '-' 'Is he agreeable to you, M. De Maubourg?' 'Very muchso, General. '--'Well then, the man whom you judge worthy to enterinto such a family as yours, is surely worthy also to be a Frenchcitizen. '" "15th Frimaire (December 6), 1801. "According to all appearance, my dearest, I shall not obtain thesettlement I ask for. Everybody says that nothing could be morejust than my demand, but so many persons who have served allthrough the war are at present on half-pay, that I am desperatelyafraid it will be the same with my past services as with myproperty, and for the same reason-the impossibility of satisfyingall demands, however well founded. Meanwhile, my dearest, it isimpossible to conceal from ourselves that we have been living, for some years, with all our economy, on resources which are noweither exhausted, or very nearly so. The greater part of ourincome [Fanny's pension] is anything but certain, yet what shouldwe do if that were to fail us ? The moral of this discourse is, that while I am fit for something, it is my duty, as a husbandand a father, to try what can be done to secure for us, ifpossible, an old age of absolute independence ; and for ourlittle one a position which may prevent his being a burden to us. . . . ". . . The consuls in England have not yet been nominated. Theconsulship in London will be well worth having, and perhaps, although there will be plenty of candidates, it might not beimpossible for me to obtain it. It is at least probable that Icould get appointed to one of the sea-ports. . . . ". . . Answer me at once, I beg of you. Think if this plan isopposed to any of your tastes; for you know there is only onepossible happiness for me. Need I say more?") SUGGESTED ABANDONMENT' OF CAMILLA COTTAGE. (Madame d'Arblay to M. D'Arblay. )Westhamble, December 15, 1801. The relief, the consolation of your frequent letters I can neverexpress, nor my grateful sense of your finding time for them, situated as you now are-, and yet that I have this moment read, of the 15 Frimaire, has made my heart ache Page 202 heavily. Our hermitage is so dear to me-our book-room, 'soprecious, and in its retirement, its beauty of prospect, form, convenience, and comforts, so impossible to replace, that I sigh, and deeply, in thinking of relinquishing it. Your happiness, however, is now all mine ; if deliberately therefore, you wish totry a new system, I will surely try it, with you, be it what itmay. I will try any thing but what I try now--absence ! Think, however, well, mon tr…s cher ami, before you decide upon anyoccupation that robs you of being master of your own time, leisure, hours, gardening, scribbling, and reading. In the happiness you are now enjoying, while it Is SO new to you, you are perhaps unable to appreciate your own value of those sixarticles, which, except in moments of your bitter regret at theprivation of your first friends and beloved country, have madeyour life so desirable. Weigh, weigh it well in the detail. Icannot write. Should you find the sum total preponderate in favour of your newscheme, I will say no more. All schemes will to me be preferableto seeing you again here, without the same fondness for theplace, and way of life, that has made it to me what it has been. With regard to the necessity or urgency of the measure, I couldsay much that I cannot write. You know now I can live with you, and you know I am not without views, as well as hopes, ofameliorating our condition. I will fully discuss the subject with our oracle. (166) Hiskindness, his affection for you! Yesterday, when I produced yourletter, and the extracts from M. Necker, and was going to readsome, he said, in that voice that is so penetratingly sweet, whenhe speaks from his heart--"I had rather hear one line ofd'Arblay's than a volume of M. Necker's, "--yet at the same timebegging to peruse the MS. When I could spare it. I wish you couldhave heard the tone in which he pronounced those words: itvibrated on my ears all day. I have spent near two hours upon this theme with our dearestoracle and his other half He is much affected by the idea of anychange that may remove us from his daily sight; but, with hisunvarying disinterestedness, says he thinks such a place would befully acquitted by you. If it is of consul here, in London, heis sure you would fill up all its functions even Page 203 admirably. I put the whole consideration into your own hands, what, upon mature deliberation, you judge to be best, I willabide by. Heaven guide and speed your determination! M. D'ARBLAY'S PROPOSED RETIREMENT FROM MILITARY SERVICE. 1802. [The beginning of this year was attended with much anxiety toMadame d'Arblay. Her husband, disappointed in the hopessuggested by his friends, of his receiving employment as Frenchcommercial consul in London, directed his efforts to obtaininghis half-pay on the retired list of French officers. This waspromised, on condition that he should previously serve at St. Domingo, where General Leclerc was then endeavouring to put downToussaint's insurrection. He accepted the appointmentconditionally on his being allowed to retire as soon as thatexpedition should be ended. This, he was told, was impossible, and he therefore hastened back to his family towards the end ofJanuary. In February, a despatch followed him from General Berthier, thenminister at war, announcing that his appointment was made out, and on his own terms. 'To this M. D'Arblay wrote his acceptance, but repeated a stipulation he had before made, that while he wasready to fight against the enemies of the Republic, yet, shouldfuture events disturb the peace lately established between Franceand England, it was his unalterable determination never to takeup arms against the British government. As this determination hadalready been signified by M. D'Arblay, he waited not to hear theresult of its repetition, but set off again for Paris to receiveorders, and proceed thence to St. Domingo. After a short time he was informed that his stipulation of nevertaking up arms against England could not be accepted, and thathis military appointment was in consequence annulled. Having beenrequired at the Alien office, on quitting England, to engage thathe would not return for the space of one year, he now proposedthat Madame d'Arblay, with her little boy, should join him inFrance:-and among the following letters will be found several inwhich she describes her first impressions on reaching thatcountry, and the society to which she was introduced. ]Page 204 (Madame d'Arblay to Miss Planta. )Camilla Cottage, Westhamble, February 11, 1802. A most unexpected, and, to me, severe event, draws from me now anaccount I had hoped to have reserved for a far happiercommunication, but which I must beg you to endeavour to seek someleisure moment for making known, with the utmost humility, to myroyal mistress. . . . Upon the total failure of every effort M. D'Arblay could make torecover any part of his natural inheritance, he was advised byhis friends to apply to the French government for half pay, uponthe claims of his former military services. He drew up a memoir, openly stating his attachment and loyalty to his late king, andappealing for this justice after undeserved proscription. Hisright was admitted, but he was informed it could only be madegood by his re-entering the army; and a proposal to that effectwas sent him by Berthier, the minister of war. The disturbance of his mind at an offer which so many existingcircumstances forbade his foreseeing, was indescribable. He hadpurposed faithfully retiring to his hermitage, with hisfellow-hermit, for the remainder of his life: and nothing uponearth could ever induce him to bear arms against the countrywhich had given him asylum, as well as birth to his wife andchild;--and yet a military spirit of honour, born and bred inhim, made it repugnant to all his feelings to demand evenretribution from the government of his own country, yet refuse toserve it. Finally, therefore, he resolved to accept the offerconditionally--to accompany the expedition to St. Domingo, forthe restoration of order in the French colonies, and then, restored thus to his rank in the army, to claim his retraite. This he declared to the minister of war, annexing a furtherclause of receiving his instructions immediately from thegovernment. The minister's answer to this was, that these conditions wereimpossible. Relieved rather than resigned-though dejected to findhimself thus thrown out of every promise of prosperity, M. D'Arblay hastened back to his cottage, to the inexpressiblesatisfaction of the- recluse he had left there. short, however, has been its duration ! A packet has justfollowed him, containing a letter from Berthier, to tell him thathis appointment was made out according to his own demands ! andPage 205 enclosing another letter to the commander-in-chief, Leclerc, withthe orders of government for employing him, delivered in terms, the most distinguished, of his professional character. All hesitation, therefore, now necessarily ends, and nothingremains for M. D'Arblay but acquiescence and despatch, -- whilehis best consolation is in the assurance he has universallyreceived, that this expedition has the good wishes and sanctionof England. And, to avert any misconception or misrepresentation, he has this day delivered to M. Otto(167) a letter, addressedimmediately to the first Consul, acknowledging the flatteringmanner in which he has been called forth, but decidedly andclearly repeating what he had already declared to the warminister, that though he would faithfully fulfil the engagementinto which he was entering, it was his unalterable resolutionnever to take up arms against the British government. I presume to hope this little detail may, at some convenientmoment, meet her majesty's eyes-with every expression of myprofoundest devotion. M. D'ARBLAY's DISAPPOINTMENT. (Madame d'Arblay to M. D'Arblay. )Westhamble, March 14, 1802. O my dearest friend, - Can the intelligence I have mostdesired come to me in a form that forbids my joy at it? Whattumultuous sensations your letter of the 8th has raised!(168)Alas! that to relinquish this purpose should to you be as greatunhappiness as to me was its suggestion! I know not how to enterupon the subject--how to express a single feeling. I fear toseem ungrateful to providence, or to you ungenerous. I willonly, therefore, say, that as all your motives have been the moststrictly honourable, it is not possible they should not, ultimately, have justice done them by all. That I feel for your disappointment I need not tell you, when youfind it has power to shake to its foundation what would else bethe purest satisfaction of my soul. Let us--let us hope fairerdays will ensue and do not let the courage Page 206 which was so prompt to support you to St. Domingo fail you inremaining at Paris. What you say of the year's probation I knew not before. Wouldyou have me make any inquiry if it be irreversible?' I shouldthink not ; and am most ready and eager to try by every means inmy power, if you will authorize me. If not, to follow you, whithersoever you will, is much less my duty than my delight !You have only to dictate whither, and how, and every doubt, everyfear, every difficulty, will give way to my eager desire to bringyour little boy to you. Would I not have left even Kin to havefollowed you and your fate even to St. Domingo? 'Tis well, however, you did not listen to me, for that poor littlesusceptible soul could not, as yet lose us both at once, and bepreserved himself He has lived' so singularly alone with us, andfor us, that he does not dream of any possible existence in whichwe should be both separated from him. But of him--ourretreat--our books--our scribbling--our garden--our unique modeof life--I must not talk to you now, now that your mind, thoughts, views, and wishes are all distorted from themes ofpeace, domestic life, and literary pursuits; yet time, I hope, reflection, your natural philosophy of accommodating yourself toyour fate, and your kindness for those who are wholly devoted toyou, will bring you back to the love of those scenes, modes, andsentiments, which for upwards of eight years have sufficed forour mutual happiness. I had been negotiating for apartments at Twickenham, oppositeRichmond, ever since you went, and on Friday I wrote to closewith the engagement. This very morning I have two letters, fullof delight at our approaching neighbourhood. Miss C. (169) herselfwrites in tears, she says, of joy, that I should be so near her, and that you should have wished it, and blesses you for yourconfidence in her warm friendship. It is quite impossibleto read of such affection and zeal and goodness with dry eyes. Iam confounded how to disenchant her--- yet so generous anddisinterested she is, that, however disappointed, she will besure to rejoice for me in our re-union; for you, my dearestfriend! ah! who can rejoice? Your mind was all made up to thereturn of its professional pursuits, and I am frightened out ofall my own satisfaction by MY dread of the weight of this chagrinupon your spirits. What Page 207 you can do to avert depression, , that cruel underminer of everyfaculty that makes life worth sustaining, I beseech you to callforth. Think how I have worked for fortitude since Feb. 11th. Alas! vainly I have tried what most I wished--mypoor pen!--but now "occupe-toi pour r‚aliser l'esp‚rance. " Thosewords will operate like magic, I trust; and I will not close myeyes this night till I have committed to paper some opening to anew essay. Be good, then, and don't let me be as unhappy this wayas I have been the other. Direct always to me, Norbury Park, Dorking. Heaven bless--bless you [Here follows, in the original edition, another letter in French, from M. D'Arblay to his wife. We translate the followingpassage. -ED. "At Ventose, year 10, (March 12, 1802). "You have doubtless communicated to our friends at Norbury Park, the letters which I have sent you. Did I tell you that I sent acopy of those letters to M. De Lafayette?(170) M. De Lafayettecame at once to Paris, and requested an interview with Bonaparte, who granted it immediately. Addressing him, M. De Lafayette said, ' I have come to speak to you of one of my friends andcompanions--d'Arblay. ' 'I know that business, ' said the firstConsul, in a tone which expressed more good-will than I venturedto hope for, at least, more than I had been given reason toexpect. 'I assure you, ' said M. De Lafayette to me, the nextday, 'you have some good friends with the first Consul, who hadalready spoken to him on your business. He seemed to me, fromthe first instant, rather disposed in your favour than angry withyou. . . . When I told him of your fear lest this business shouldhave excited his displeasure, he replied positively, that itshould do you no injury whatever, and that he would regard, inthe step you had taken, only the husband of Cecilia. ' "I hope you will not be very displeased at the way this business, which has caused me much vexation, has terminated. I think I mayeven add, in confidence, that I am, perhaps, not without a nearprospect of getting my retiring pension. Come to me, then, mydearest. Page 208 ON THE EVE OF MADAME D'ARBLAY'S JOURNEY To FRANCE. (Madame d'Arblay to Doctor Burney. )March 30, 1802. Now, indeed, my dearest father, I am in an excess of hurry not tobe exceeded by even any of yours. I have a letter from M. D'Arblay, to tell me he has already taken us an apartment, and hedates from the 5th of April, in Paris, where he has reasons forremaining some time, before we go to his good uncle, at Joigny. I am to take the little sweet child with me you saw here one day, Mlle. De Chavagnac, whose father, le Comte de Chavagnac, hasdesired her restoration. My kind Mrs: Locke is almost inaffliction at parting with her though glad of an opportunity ofsending her with friends the poor thing knows and loves. I fear, I have so very much to do here, that I shall have a very, veryshort enjoyment of my beloved father at Chelsea but I shall getthere as soon as possible, and stay there to my last moment. I have a thousand things, and very curious ones, to tell you; butI must defer them for vive voix. I am really bewildered andalmost trembling with hurry, and with what I am going toundertake! Yet through all, i bless God every moment of my lifethat M. D'Arblay went not to that pestilential climate I do all--all I can to keep up my courage--or rather to make up; and when Ifeel faltering, I think of St Domingo! Every body that knows StDomingo now owns that he had hardly a chance for safety, independent of tempests in the voyage, and massacres in themountains. May I but be able to console him for all he hassacrificed to my peace and happiness ! and no privation will besevere, so that at our stated period, Michaelmas twelvemonth, wereturn to my country, and to my dearest father, whom heaven blessand preserve, prays his dutiful, affectionate and grateful, anddevoted daughter, F. D'A. DIARY: (Addressed to Dr. Burney). IN FRANCE DURING THE PEACE AND SUBSEQUENTLY. April, 1802-I seize, at length, upon the largest paper I canprocure, to begin to my beloved father some account of ourjourney, and if I am able, I mean to keep him a briefPage 209 journal of my proceedings during this destined year or eighteenmonths' separation, -secure of his kindest interest in all that Imay have to relate, and certain he will be anxious to know how Igo on in a strange land : 'tis my only way now of communicatingwith him, and I must draw from it one of my dearest worldlycomforts, the hopes of seeing his loved hand with some return. April 15. -William and John conducted my little boy and me inexcellent time to the inn in Piccadilly, where we met my kindMrs. Locke and dear little Adrienne de Chavagnac. The partingthere was brief and hurried; and I set off on my grandexpedition, with my two dear young charges, exactly at fiveo'clock. . . . Paris, April 15, 1802. -The book-keeper came to me eagerly, crying"vite, vite, madame, prenez votre place dans la diligence, carvoici un Monsieur Anglais, qui surement va prendre la meileure!"En effet, ce Monsieur Anglais did not disappoint hisexpectations, or much raise mine - for he not only took the bestplace, but contrived to ameliorate it by the little scruple withwhich he made every other worse, from the unbridled expansion inwhich he indulged his dear person, by putting out his elbowsagainst his next, and his knees and feet against his oppositeneighbour. He seemed prepared to look upon all around-him with asort of sulky haughtiness, pompously announcing himself as acommander of distinction who had long served at Gibraltar andvarious places, who had travelled thence through France, and fromFrance to Italy, who was a native of Scotland, and -of proud, though unnamed genealogy '; and was now going to Paris purposelyto behold the first Consul, to whom he meant to claim anintroduction through Mr. Jackson. His burnt complexion, Scotchaccent, large bony face and figure, and high and distantdemeanour, made me easily conceive and believe him a highlandchief. I never heard his name, but I think him a gentleman born, though not gently bred. Page 210 The next to mention is a Madame Raymond or Grammont, for I heardnot distinctly which, who seemed very much a gentlewoman, and whowas returning to France, too uncertain of the state of heraffairs to know whether she might rest there or not. She had onlyone defect to prevent my taking much interest in her ; this was, not merely an avoidance, but a horror of being touched by eitherof my children ; who, poor little souls, restless and fatigued bythe confinement they endured, both tried to fling themselves uponevery passenger in turn ; and though by every one they were sentback to their sole prop, they were by no one repulsed with suchhasty displeasure as by this old lady, who seemed as fearful ofhaving the petticoat of her gown, which was stiff, round, andbulging, as if lined with parchment, deranged, as if she had beenattired in a hoop for Court. The third person was a Madame Blaizeau, who seemed an exceedinggood sort of a woman, gay, voluble, good humoured, and merry. Allwe had of amusement sprung from her sallies, which were utteredless from a desire of pleasing others, her very natural characterhaving none of the high polish bestowed by the Graces, than froma jovial spirit of enjoyment which made them produce pleasure toherself. She soon and frankly acquainted us she had left Franceto be a governess to some young ladies before the Revolution, andunder the patronage, as I think, of the Duke of Dorset - she hadbeen courted, she told us, by an English gentleman farmer, but hewould not change his religion for her, nor she for him, and so, when every thing was bought for her wedding, they broke off theconnexion ; and she afterwards married a Frenchman. She had seena portrait, set richly in diamonds, of the king, prepared for apresent to the first Consul ; and described its superb ornamentsand magnificence, in a way to leave no doubt of the fact. Shemeant to stop at St. Denis, to inquire if her mother yet lived, having received no intelligence from or of her, these last teneventful years ! At Canterbury, while the horses were changed, my little ones andI went to the cathedral; but dared merely seize sufficient timeto view the outside and enter the principal aisle. I was gladeven of that much, as its antique grandeur gave me a pleasurewhich I always love to cherish in the view of fine oldcathedrals, those most permanent monuments Of what our ancestorsthought reverence to God, as manifested in munificence to theplace dedicated to his worship. Page 211 At Dover we had a kind of dinner-supper in one, and mylittle boy and girl and I retired immediately after it, took sometea in our chamber, and went to rest. April 16. -As we were not to sail till twelve, I had hoped to haveseen the castle and Shakspeare's cliff, but most unfortunately itrained all the morning, and we were confined to the inn, exceptfor the interlude of the custom-house, where, however, theexamination was so slight, and made with such civility, that wehad no other trouble with it than a wet walk and a few shillings. Our passports were examined; and we then ' went to the port, and, the sea being perfectly smooth, were lifted from the quay to thedeck of our vessel with as little difficulty as we could havedescended from a common chair to the ground. ARRIVAL AT CALAIS. The calm which caused our slow passage and our sickness, was nowfavourable, for it took us into the port of Calais so close andeven with the quay, that we scarcely accepted even a hand to aidus from the vessel to the shore. The quay was lined with crowds of people, men, women, andchildren, and certain amphibious females, who might have passedfor either sex, or anything else in the world, except what theyreally were, European women! Their men's hats, men's jackets, andmen's shoes - their burnt skins, and mostsavage-looking petticoats, hardly reaching, nay, not reachingtheir knees, would have made me instantly believe any account Icould have heard of their being just imported from the wilds ofAmerica. The vessel was presently filled with men, who, though dirty andmean, were so civil and gentle, that they could not displease, and who entered it so softly and quietly, that, neither hearingnor seeing their approach, it seemed as if they had availedthemselves of some secret trap-doors through which they hadmounted to fill the ship, without sound or bustle, in a singlemoment. When we were quitting it, however, this tranquillity asabruptly finished, for in an instant a part of them rushed roundme, one demanding to carryAlex, another Adrienne, another seizing my ‚critoire, another myarm, and some one, I fear, my parasol, as I have never been ableto find it since. We were informed we must not leave the ship till MonsieurPage 212 le commissaire arrived to carry us, I think, to the Municipalityof Calais to show our passports. Monsieur le commisSaire in whitewith some red trappings, soon arrived, civilly hastening himselfquite out of breath to save us from waiting' We then mounted thequay, and I followed the rest of the passengers, who all followedthe commissary, accompanied by two men carrying the two children, and two more carrying one my ‚critoire, and the other insistingon conducting its owner. The quantity of people that surroundedand walked with us, surprised me ; and their decency, theirsilence their quietness astonished me. To fear them wasimpossible: even in entering France with all the formed fearshanging upon its recent though past horrors. But on coming to themunicipality, I was, I own, extremely ill at ease, when upon ourgouvernante's desiring me to give the commissary my passport, asthe rest of the passengers had done, and my answering it was inmy ‚critoire, she exclaimed, "Vite! Vite! cherchez-le, ou vousserez arrˆt‚e!"(172) You may be sure I was quick enough, or atleast tried to be so, for my fingers presently trembled, and Icould hardly put in the key. In the hall to which we now repaired, our passports were takenand deposited, and we had new ones drawn up and given us in theirstead. On quitting this place we were accosted by a new crowd, all however as gentle, though not as silent, as our firstfriends, who recommended various hotels to us, one begging wewould go to Grandsire, another to Duroc, another to Meurice--andthis last prevailed with the gouvernante, whom I regularlyfollowed, not from preference, but from the singular horror myotherwise worthy and wellbred old lady manifested, when, by beingapproached by the children, her full round coats risked thedanger of being modernised into the flimsy, falling drapery ofthe present day. At Meurice's our goods were entered, and we heard that they wouldbe examined at the custom-house in the afternoon. We breakfasted, and the crowd of fees which were claimed by the captain, steward, sailors, carriers, and heaven knows who, besides, areinconceivable. I gave whatever they asked, from ignorance of whatwas due, and from fear of offending those of whose extent, stillless of whose use, of power I could form no judgment. I was theonly one in this predicament; the rest refusing or disputingevery demand. They all, but usPage 213 Went out to walk - but I stayed to write to my dearest father, toMrs. Locke, and my expecting mate. "GOD SAVE THE KING!" ON FRENCH SOIL. We were all three too much awake by the new scene to try for anyrepose, and the hotel windows sufficed for our amusement tilldinner; and imagine, my dearest sir, how my repast was seasoned, when I tell you that, as soon as it began, a band "of music cameto the window and struck up "God save the king. " I can nevertell you what a pleased emotion was excited in my breast by thissound on a shore so lately hostile, and on which I have so many, so heartfelt motives for wishing peace and amity perpetual! A RAMBLE THROUGH THE TOWN. This over, we ventured out of the hotel to look at the street. The day was fine, the street was clean, two or three people whopassed us, made way for the children as they skipped out of' myhands, and I saw such an unexpected appearance of quiet, orderand civility, that, almost without knowing it, we strolled fromthe gate, and presently found ourselves in the market-place, which was completely full of sellers, and buyers, ,and booths, looking like a large English fair. The queer, gaudy jackets, always of a different colour from thepetticoats of the women, and their immense wing-caps, whichseemed made to double over their noses, but which all flew backso as to discover their ears, in which 1 regularly saw -large andgenerally drop gold ear-rings, were quite as diverting . . . Tomyself as to Alex and Adrienne. Many of them, also, had goldnecklaces chains, and crosses; but ear-rings all: even maids whowere scrubbing or sweeping, ragged wretches bearing burdens ontheir heads or shoulders, old women selling fruit or othereatables, gipsy-looking creatures with children tied to theirbacks--all wore these long, broad, large, shining ear-rings. Beggars we saw not--no, not one, all the time we stayed orsauntered; and for civility and gentleness, the poorest and mostordinary persons we met or passed might be compared with the bestdressed and best looking walkers in the streets of ourmetropolis, and still to the disadvantage of the latter. I cannotsay how much this surprised me, as I had conceived a horrificidea of the populace of this country, imagining em alltransformed into bloody monsters. Page 214 Another astonishment I experienced equally pleasing, though notequally important to my ease; I saw innumerable pretty women andlovely children, almost all of them extremely fair. I had beentaught to expect nothing but mahogany complexions and hideousfeatures instantly on crossing the strait of Dover. When this, however, was mentioned in our party afterwards, the Highlanderexclaimed, "But Calais was in the hands of the English so manyyears, that the English -race there is not yet extinct. " The perfect security in which I now saw we might wander about, induced us to walk over the whole town, and even extend ourexcursions to the ramparts surrounding it. It is now a very cleanand pretty town, and so orderly that there was no more tumult oreven noise in the market-place, where the people were so closetogether as to form a continual crowd, than in the by-streetsleading to the country, where scarcely a passenger was to beseen. This is certainly a remark which, I believe, could neverbe made in England. When we returned to the hotel, I found all my fellow travellershad been to the custom house! I had quite forgotten, or ratherneglected to inquire the hour for this formality, and wasbeginning to alarm myself lest I was out of rule, when a youngman, a commissary, I heard, of the hotel, came to me and asked ifI had anything contraband to the laws of the Republic. I answeredas I had done before, and he readily undertook to go through theceremony for me without my appearing. I was so much frightened, and so happy not to be called upon personally, that I thoughtmyself very cheaply off in his after-demand of a guinea and ahalf. I had two and a half to pay afterwards for additionalluggage. . We found reigning through Calais a general joy and satisfactionat the restoration of Dimanche and abolition of d‚cade. (173) Ihad a good deal of conversation with the maid of the inn, a tall, fair, extremely pretty woman, and she talked much upon thissubject, and the delight it occasioned, and the obligation allFrance was under to the premier Consul for restoring religion andworship. Page 215 SUNDAY ON THE ROAD TO PARIS. Sunday, April 18. --We set off for Paris at five o'clock in themorning. The country broad, flat, or' barrenly steep --Withouttrees, without buildings, and scarcely inhabited-- exhibited achange from the fertile fields, and beautiful woods, bandgardens, and civilisation of Kent, so sudden and unpleasant thatI only lamented the fatigue of my position, which regularlyimpeded my making use of this chasm of 'pleasure and observationfor repose. This part of France must certainly be the leastfrequented, for we rarely met a single carriage, and thevillages, few and distant, seemed to have no intercourse witheach other. Dimanche, indeed, might occasion this stiffness, forwe saw, at almost all the villages, neat and clean peasants goingto or coming from mass, and seeming indescribably elated andhappy by the public permission of divine worship on itsoriginally appointed day. I was struck with the change in Madame Raymond, who joined us inthe morning from another hotel. Her hoop was no more visible; herpetticoats were as lank, or more so, than her neighbours'; andher distancing the children was not only at an end, but sheprevented me from renewing any of my cautions to them, of notincommoding her - and when we were together a few moments, beforewe were joined by the rest, she told me, with a significantsmile, not to tutor the children about her any more, as she onlyavoided them from having something of consequence to take careof, which was removed. I then saw she meant some English lace ormuslin, which she had carried in a petticoat, and, since thecustomhouse examination was over, had now packed in her trunk. Poor lady! I fear this little merchandise was all her hope ofsuccour on her arrival! She is amongst the emigrants who havetwice or thrice returned, but not yet been able to rest in theirown country. What most in the course of this journey struck me, was thesatisfaction of all the country people, with whom I couldconverse at the restoration of the Dimanche; and the boasts theynow ventured to make of having never kept the d‚cade, exceptduring the dreadful reign of Robespierre, when not to oppose anyof his severest decrees was insufficient for safety, ,"it wasessential even to existence to observe them with every parade ofthe warmest approval. Page 216 The horrible stories from every one of that period of wanton aswell as political cruelty, I must have judged exaggerated, eitherthrough the mist of fear or the heats of resentment but that, though the details had innumerable modifications' there was butone voice for the excess of barbarity. At a little hamlet near Clermont, where we rested some time, twogood old women told us that this was the happiest day (twasSunday) of their lives; that they had lost le bon Dieu for theselast ten years, but that Bonaparte had now found him! In anothercottage we were told the villagers had kept their own cur‚ allthis time concealed, and though privately and with fright, theyhad thereby saved their souls through the whole of the bad times!And in another, some poor creatures said they were now contentwith their destiny, be it what it might, since they should behappy, at least, in the world to come - but that while deniedgoing to mass, they had all their sufferings aggravated byknowing that they must lose their souls hereafter, besides allthat they had to endure here! O my dearest father! that there can have existed wretches of suchdiabolical wickedness as to have snatched, torn, from the toilingindigent every ray even of future hope! Various of these littleconversations extremely touched me nor was I unmoved, though notwith such painful emotion, on the sight of the Sunday nightdance, in a little village through which we passed, where thereseemed two or three hundred peasants engaged in that pastime allclean and very gaily dressed, yet all so decent and well behaved, that, but for the poor old fiddlers, we might have driven on, andnot have perceived the rustic ball. Here ends the account of my journey, and if it has amused mydearest father, it will be a true delight to me to have scribbledit. My next letter brings me to the capital, and to the onlyperson who can console me for my always lamented absence fromhimself. ENGAGEMENTS, OCCUPATIONS, AND FATIGUE (Madame d'Arblay to Miss Planta. )Paris, April 27, 1802. A week have I been here, my dear Miss Planta, so astonishinglyengaged, so indispensably occupied, or so suffering from fatigue, that I have not been able till now to take upPage 217 pen, except to satisfy my dear father of our safe arrival. To give you some idea of these engagements, occupations, andfatigues, I must begin with the last. We were a whole long, languid day, a whole restless, painful night, upon the sea; mylittle Alex sick as death, suffering if possible yet more thanmyself, though I had not a moment of ease and comfort. My littleAdrienne de Chavagnac was perfectly well all the time, singingand skipping about the cabin, and amusing every one by herinnocent enjoyment of the novelty of the scene. . . . As to my occupations;-my little apartment to arrange, my trunksand baggage to unpack and place, my poor Adrienne to consign toher friends, my Alex to nurse from a threatening malady; lettersto deliver, necessaries to buy; a femme de chambre to engage;and, most important of all! my own sumptuous wardrobe to refit, and my own poor exterior to reorganise! I see you smile, methinks, at this hint; but what smiles would brighten thecountenance of a certain young lady called Miss Rose, who amusedherself by anticipation, when I had last the honour of seeingher, with the changes I might have to undergo, could she haveheard the exclamations which followed the examination of myattire: "This won't do! That YOU can never wear! This you cannever be seen in! That would make you stared at as a curiosity!--Three petticoats! no one wears more than one!-- Stays? everybodyhas left off even corsets!--Shift sleeves? not a soul now wearseven a chemise!" etc. In short, I found all I possessed seemedso hideously old fashioned, or so comically rustic, that as soonas it was decreed I must make appearance in the grand monde, hopeless of success in exhibiting myself in the' costumeFran‡ais, I gave over the attempt, and ventured to come forth asa gothic Anglaise, who never heard of, or never heeded thereigning metamorphosis. As to my engagements;--when should I finish, should I tell allthat have been made or proposed, even in the short space of asingle week? The civilities I have met with, contrary to all myexpectations, have not more amazed me for myself, than gratifiedme for M. D'Arblay, who is keenly alive to the kind, I might saydistinguished, reception I have been favoured with by those towhom my arrival is known. Your favourite hero is excessively popular at this moment fromthree successive grand events, all occurring within thePage 218 short time of my arrival, --the ratification of the treaty ofpeace--the restoration of Sunday, and Catholic worship--and theamnesty of the emigrants. At the Opera buffa, the loge in whichI sat was exactly opposite to that of the first Consul but he andhis family are all at Malmaison. DIARY RESUMED: (Addressed to Dr. Burney. ) ARISTOCRATIC VISITORS. Paris, April 1, 1802. (174)-Almost immediately after my arrival inParis, I was much surprised by a visit from the ci-devant Princede Beauvau, madame his wife, and Mademoiselle de Mortemar hersister, all brought by Madame d'Henin. If gratified in the firstinstance by a politeness of attention so little my due and socompletely beyond my expectations, how was my pleasure enhancedwhen I found they all three spoke English with the utmost easeand fluency, and how pleased also at the pleasure I was able togive them in reward of their civility, by a letter I had broughtfrom Mrs. Harcourt, which was received with the warmest delightby Mademoiselle de Mortemar and a message from a young lady namedElizabeth, with the profoundest gratitude. April 24-This morning Madame d'Henin was so kind as to accompanyus, in making our visit to Madame de Beauvau her niece, andMademoiselle de Mortemar. We found them at home with M. DeBeauvau, and they indulged me with the sight of their children, who are the most flourishing and healthy possible, and dressedand brought up with English plainness and simplicity. The visitwas very pleasant, and Madame d'Henin made a party for us all tomeet again the next day, and go to the Opera buffa. ANXIETY TO SEE THE FIRST CONSUL. I have heard much of the visit of Mrs. Damer and the Miss Berrysto Paris, and their difficulty to get introduced to the firstConsul. (175) A lady here told us she had been called upon Page 219 by Miss Berry, who had complained with much energy upon thissubject, saying, "We have been everywhere--seen everything--heardevery body--beheld such sights! listened to such discourse!joined such society! and all to obtain his notice! Don't youthink it very extraordinary that he should not himself desire tosee Mrs. Damer? "Madame, " replied the lady, "perhaps if you had done but halfthis, the first Consul might have desired to see you both. " "But you don't imagine, " answered she, laughing, "we came overfrom England to see you ci-devants ? We can see such as you athome!" She was gone before our arrival ; and, as I understand, succeededat last in obtaining an introduction. They were both, Mrs. Damerand Miss Berry, as I am told, very gay and agreeable, as well asenterprising, and extremely well r‚pandues. AT THE OPERA-BOUFFE. April 25. -I was not much better in the evening, but the party forthe Opera buffa being formed by Madame d'Henin on my account, mygoing was indispensable. She had borrowed the loge of M. DeChoiseul, which, being entailed upon the family … perp‚tuit‚, hasin a most extraordinary manner continued unalienated through thewhole course of massacres and proscriptions to the present day, when the right owner possesses it. It is the largest and bestbox, except that which is opposite to it, in the theatre. . . . The opera was "Le Nozze di Dorina, " by Sarti, and extremelypretty; though I wished it had been as new to M. C-- de P-- as tomyself, for then he would not have divided my attention byobligingly singing every note with every performer. In truth, Iwas still so far from recovered from the fatigue of my journey, that I was lulled to a drowsiness the most distressing before theend of the second act, ' page 220 which being but too obvious, Madame d'Henin and M. D'Arblay tookme away before I risked a downright nap by waiting for the third. DIFFICULTIES RESPECTING MADAME DE STAEL. April 26-The assembly at Madame d'Henin's was one of the mostselect and agreeable at which I was ever present. Assembly, however, I ought not to call a meeting within the number oftwenty. But I was uneasy for my poor Alex, and therefore stoleaway as soon as possible; not, however, till Madame de Tess‚ madea party for us for the following Thursday at her house, nor tillI had held a private discourse with Mademoiselle de -- upon myembarrassment as to Madame de Stael, from the character she heldin England; which embarrassment was not much lightened by hertelling me it was not held more fair in France ! Yet, thateverywhere the real evil is highly exaggerated by report, envy, and party-spirit, all allow. She gives, however, greatassemblies at which all Paris assist, and though not solicited oresteemed by her early friends and acquaintance, she is admired, and pitied, and received by them. I would she were gone toCopet!(176) What most perplexed me at this period was the following note fromMadame de Stael. "je voudrois vous t‚moigner mon empressement, madame, et jecrains d'ˆtre indiscrette. J'espŠre que vous aurez la bont‚ deme faire dire quand vous serez assez remise des fatigues de votrevoyage pour que je puisse avoir l'honneur de vous voir sans vousimportuner. "Ce 4 florial. (177)"Necker Stael de H. "(178) How is it possible, when even the common civility of a card forher card is yet unreturned, that she can have brought herselfthus to descend from her proud heights to solicit the Page 221 renewal of an acquaintance broken so abruptly in England, and sopalpably shunned in France ? Is it that the regard she appearedto conceive for me in England was not only sincere but constant?If so, I must very much indeed regret a waste of kindness hercharacter and conduct make it impossible for me to repay, eventhough, on this spot, I am assured all her misfortunes areaggravated, nay caricatured, by report, and that she exerts herutmost influence, and calls forth her best talents, upon everyoccasion which presents itself for serving those who have beenher friends ; and that, notwithstanding circumstances anddisunion, either in politics or morals, may have made them becomeher enemies. Her generosity is cited as truly singular upon thishead, and I have heard histories of her returning, personally, good for evil that would do honour to any character living. After much deliberation and discussion, my French master composedthe following answer:-- "Madame d'Arblay ne peut qu'ˆtre infiniment flatt‚e de l'extrŠmebont‚ de Madame la Comtesse de Stael. Elle aura trŠscertainement l'honneur de se pr‚senter chez Madame de Staelaussit“t que possible. "(179) Cooler than this it was not easy to write, and the ne peutqu'ˆtre is a tournure that is far enough from flattering. Ihope, however, it will prepare her for the frozen kind ofintercourse which alone can have place between us. MADAME DE LAFAYETTE. As I wished much to see the parade, or review, which was to takeplace on the 5th, and is only once a month, we were forced todevote the preceding day to visits, as it was decreed in ourcouncil of etiquette that I could not appear in a place where Imight be seen by those who had shown me the civility of beginningan acquaintance, till I had acknowledged my debt to them. . . . Iwas so thoroughly tired when I returned from all these visits, that I was forced to rest upon a bed for the remainder of theday, to my no small discomposure before the evening was closed;for, in a close cap, my feet in their native, undraperied state, hidden by a large, long, wrapping morningPage 222gown, your daughter, my dearest sir, lay reclined on a bed when, rather late in the evening, I was told Madame d'Henin was in thesalon. I was going to send in my excuses, while I rose to getready for waiting upon her - but Alex flung open the door, andseeing where I was, and how fatigued, she insisted on my keepingstill, and came to my bedside, and sat in friendly converse, listening to the history of my morning excursion, till a ring atthe bell of our ante-room made me desire to have nobody admitted. Alex again, however, frisking about, prevented Pauline, my littlefemme de chambre, from hearing me, and she announced Madame deLafayette! You may easily believe this name, and my present situation, putme into no small commotion. I was beseeching Madame d'Henin to goto the saloon with my apologies, when Alex, whose illness, thoughit has diminished his strength and his flesh, has left hisspirits as wild as ever, called out to proclaim where I was, andwhile Madame Lafayette was gently moving on, flung the bedroomdoor wide open, saying, "Mamma is here! " Madame Lafayette, concluding, I suppose, that I received du monde in the Frenchmanner, immediately presented herself at the door, where I had noresource but to entreat Madame d'Henin, who is her intimatefriend, to receive her, for I was wholly powerless, with myunsandaled feet, from rising. Madame d'Henin now brought her tomy bedside, where nothing could have been more awkward than mysituation : but that the real reverence I had conceived for hercharacter and her virtues made the sight of so singular a person, her condescension in the visit, and her goodness, though lame, inmounting three pair of stairs, give me a sensation of pleasure, that by animating my spirits, endowed me with a courage thatovercame all difficulties both of language and position, andenabled me to express my gratitude for her kindness and myrespect for her person, with something far nearer to fluency andclearness than anything in speech I have yet attempted. My mindinstantly presented her to me, torn from her beloved family, andthrown into the death-impending prison of Robespierre ; and thensaved by his timely destruction from the scaffold, and then usingher hardly-recovered liberty only by voluntarily sacrificing itto be immured with her husband in the dungeon of Olmtz. (180)Various as may be the opinions ofPage 223 the politics of M. De Lafayette, all Europe, I believe, 'concur inadmiration of the character and conduct of his virtuous andheroic wife. Indeed, nothing since my arrival has so sensiblygratified me, from without, as this visit. Madame Lafayette is the daughter of the ci-devant Duc d'Ayen, andconsequently niece of Madame de Tess‚, the duke's sister. She wasmarried to M. De Lafayette when she was only seventeen years ofage. By some cold or mismanagement, and total want of exercise inthe prison of Olmtz, some humour has fallen into one of herankles, that, though it does not make her absolutely lame, causeswalking to be so painful and difficult to her that she moves aslittle as possible, and is always obliged to have a stool for herfoot. She now resides with M. De Lafayette and their threechildren entirely in the country, at a chateau which hasdescended to her since the revolutionary horrors and thereforehas not been confiscated, called "La Grange. " They never come toParis but upon business of positive necessity. She had arrivedonly this morning on a visit to her aunt, Madame de Tess‚, tomake some preparations for the approaching marriage of her onlyson. Her youngest daughter, Mademoiselle de Lafayette, accompaniedher. She is a blooming young creature of English fairness-as weEnglish choose to say-with a bright native colour, and beautifullight hair ; otherwise with but indifferent features, and nothandsome : yet her air, though modest even to the extreme thatborders upon bashfulness, is distinguished, and speaks her to beboth sensible and well brought up. Madame de Lafayette, also, is by no means handsome; but has eyesso expressive, so large, and so speaking, that it is not easy tocriticise her other features, for it is almost impossible to lookat them. Her manner is calm and mild, yet noble. She isrespected even by surrounding infidels for her genuine piety, which, in the true character of true religion, is severe only forherself, lenient and cheerful for all others. I do not say thisfrom what I could see in the hour she was so good as to pass withme, but from all I have heard. She warmly invited me to La Grange, and requested me to name anearly day for passing some time there. I proposed Page 224 that it might be after the marriage had taken place, "as till thenall foreign people or subjects might be obtrusive. She paused amoment, and then said, "AprŠs?--c'est vrai we could then morecompletely enjoy Madame d'Arblay' society; for we must now havecontinual interruptions, surrounded as we are by workmen, goods, chattels, and preparations; so that there would be a nail tohammer between almost every word; and yet, as we are going toAuvergne, after the ceremony, it will be so long before a meetingmay be arranged, that I believe the less time lost the better. " I know M. D'Arblay desired this acquaintance for me too earnestlyto offer any opposition; and I was too much charmed with itsopening to make any myself: it was therefore determined we shouldgo the following week to La Grange. SIGHT-SEEING AT THE TuILERIES. May 5-Again a full day. M. D'Arblay had procured us three ticketsfor entering the apartments at the Tuileries to see the parade ofGeneral Hulin, now high in actual rank and service, but who hadbeen a sous-officier under M. D'Arblay's command; our thirdticket was for Madame d'Henin, who had never been to this sight--nor, indeed, more than twice to any spectacle since her return toFrance--till my arrival; but she is so obliging and good as toaccept, nay to seek, every thing that can amuse, of which I canprofit. We breakfasted with her early, and were appointed to jointhe party of M. Le Prince de Beauvau, who had a general in hiscarriage, through whose aid and instructions we hoped to escapeall difficulties. Accordingly the coach in which they went was desired to stop atMadame d'Henin's door, so as to let us get into our fiacre, andfollow it straight. This was done, and our precursor stopped atthe gate leading to the garden of the Tuileries. The De Beauvaus, Mademoiselle de Mortemar, and their attending general, alighted, and we followed their example and joined them, which was nosooner done than their general, at the sight of M. D'Arblay, suddenly drew back from conducting Madame de Beauvau, and flew upto him. They had been ancient camarades, but had not met since M. D'A. 's emigration. The crowd was great, but civil and well -dressed ; and we metwith no impediment till we came to the great entrance. Alas, Ihad sad recollections of sad readings in mounting the Page 225 steps! We had great difficulty, notwithstanding our tickets, inmaking our way--I mean Madame d'Henin and ourselves, for Madamede Beauvau and Mademoiselle de Mortemar having an officer in theexisting military to aid them, were admitted and helped by allthe attendants; and so forwarded that we wholly lost sight ofthem, till we arrived, long after, in the apartment destined forthe exhibition. This, however, was so crowded that every place atthe windows for seeing the parade was taken, and the row formedopposite to see the first Consul as he passes through the room totake horse, was so thick and threefold filled, that not apossibility existed of even a passing peep. Madame d'Henin wouldhave retired, but as the whole scene was new and curious to me, Iprevailed with her to stay, that I might view a little of thecostume of the company; though I was sorry I detained her, when Isaw her perturbed spirits from the recollections which, I amsure, pressed upon her on re-entering this palace : and that hersorrows were only subdued by her personal indignation, which wasunconscious, but yet very prominent, to find herself included inthe mass of the crowd in being refused all place and distinction, where, heretofore, she was amongst the first for every sort ofcourtesy. Nothing of this, however, was said and you may believemy pity for her was equally unuttered. We seated ourselves now, hopeless of any other amusement thanseeing the uniforms of the passing officers, and the lightdrapery of the stationary ladies, which, by the way, is not byany means so notorious nor so common as has been represented ; onthe contrary, there are far more who are decent enough to attractno attention, than who are fashionable enough to call for it. During this interval M. D'Arblay found means, by a ticket lenthim by M. De Narbonne, to enter the next apartment, and there tostate our distress, not in vain, to General Hulin; and presentlyhe returned, accompanied by this officer, who is, I fancy, atleast seven feet high, and was dressed in one of the most showyuniforms I ever saw. M. D'Arblay introduced me to him. Heexpressed his pleasure in seeing the wife of his old comrade, andtaking my hand, caused all the crowd to make way, and conductedme into the apartment adjoining to that where the first Consulreceives the ambassadors, with a flourish of manners so fullydisplaying power as well as courtesy, that I felt as if in thehands of one of the seven champions who meant to mow down allbefore him, shouldPage 226 any impious elf dare dispute his right to give me liberty, or toshow me honour. A GOOD PLACE IS SECURED, He put me into the first place in the apartment which was sacredto general officers, and as many ladies as could be accommodatedin two rows only at the windows. M. D'Arblay, under the sanctionof his big friend, followed with Madame d'Henin, and we had thepleasure of rejoining Madame de Beauvau and Mademoiselle deMortemar, who were at the same windows, through the exertions ofGeneral Songis. The scene now, with regard to all that was present, wassplendidly gay and highly animating. The room was full, but notcrowded, with officers of rank in sumptuous rather than richuniforms, and exhibiting a martial air that became their attire, which, however, generally speaking, was too gorgeous to be noble. Our window was that next to the consular apartment, in whichBonaparte was holding a levee, and it was close to the stepsascending to it; by which means we saw all the forms of thevarious exits and entrances, and had opportunity to examine everydress and every countenance that passed and repassed. This washighly amusing, I might say historic, where the past history andthe present office were known. Sundry footmen of the first Consul, in very fine liveries, wereattending to bring or arrange chairs for whoever required them ;various peace-officers, superbly begilt, paraded occasionally upand down the chamber, to keep the ladies to their windows and thegentlemen to their ranks, so as to preserve the passage or lanethrough which the first Consul was to walk upon his entrance, clear and open; and several gentlemanlike looking persons, whomin former times I should have supposed pages of the back stairs, dressed in black, with gold chains hanging round their necks, andmedallions pending from them, seemed to have the charge of thedoor itself, leading immediately to the audience chamber of thefirst Consul. M. D'ARPLAY'S MILITARY COMRADES. But what was most prominent in commanding notice, was the arrayof the aides-de-camp of Bonaparte, which was soPage 227 almost furiously striking, that all other vestments, even themost gaudy, appeared suddenly under a gloomy cloud whencontrasted with its brightness. We were long viewing them beforewe could discover what they were to represent, my three ladycompanions being as new to this scene as myself; but afterwardsM. D'Arblay starting forward to speak to one of them, brought himacross the lane to me, and said "General Lauriston, " His kind and faithful friendship to M. D'Arblay, so amiablymanifested upon his late splendid embassy to England, made me seehim with great pleasure. It was of course but for a moment, as hewas amongst those who had most business upon their hands. Generald'Hennezel also came to me for a few minutes, and three or fourothers, whom M. D'Arblay named, but whom I have forgotten. Indeed, I was amazed at the number of old friends by whom he wasrecognised, and touched far more than I can express, to see himin his old coat and complete undress, accosted by his fine(former) brethren, in all their new and beautiful costume, withan eagerness of regard that, resulting from first impulse, provedtheir judgment, or rather knowledge of his merits, more forciblythan any professions, however warm, could have done. He wasindeed, after the aides-de-camp, the most striking figure in theapartment, from contrasting as much with the general herd bybeing the plainest and worst dressed, as they did by being thegayest and most showy. General Lauriston is a very handsome man, and of a very pleasingand amiable countenance; and his manly air carried off thefrippery of his trappings, so as to make them appear almost toadvantage. ARRIVAL OF THE TROOPS. While this variety of attire, of carriage, and of physiognomyamused us in facing the passage prepared for the first Consul, wewere occupied, whenever we turned round, by seeing from thewindow the garden of the Tuileries filling 'with troops. In the first row of females at the window where we stood, werethree ladies who, by my speaking English with Mademoiselle deMortemar and Madame de Beauvau, discovered . My country, and, as Ihave since heard, gathered my name; and here I blush to own howunlike was the result to what "One of this nation might haveexperienced from a similarPage 228 discovery in England; for the moment it was buzzed "C'est Une‚trangŠre, c'est une Anglaise, " (181) every one tried to Place, to oblige, and to assist me, and yet no one looked curious, orstared at me. Ah, my dear padre, do you not a little fear, in acontrasted situation, no one would have tried to place oblige, orassist, yet every one would have looked curious, and stared?Well, there are virtues as well as defects of all classes, andJohn Bull can fight so good a battle for his share of the former, that he need not be utterly cast down in acknowledging now andthen a few of the latter. AN IMPORTANT NEW ACQUAINTANCE. The best view from the window to see the marching forwards of thetroops was now bestowed upon me, and I vainly offered it to theladies of my own party, to whom the whole of the sight was as newas to myself. The three unknown ladies began conversing with me, and, after a little general-talk, one of them with suddenimportance of manner, in a tone slow but energetic, said, "Avez-vous vu, madame, le premier Consul?" "Pas encore, madame. " "C'est sans doute ce que vous souhaitez le plus, madame?" "Oui, madame. " "Voulez-vous le voir parfaitement bien, et tout … fait … votreaise?" "je le d‚sire beaucoup, madame. "(182) She then told me to keep my eyes constantly upon her, and not aninstant lose sight of her movements; and to suffer no head, inthe press that would ensue when the first Consul appeared, tointervene between us. "Faites comme cela, madame, " continuedshe; "et vous le verrez bien, bien; car, " added she, solemnly, and putting her hand on her breast, --"moi--je vais luiparler!"(183) I thanked her very much, but it was difficult to express asPage 229 much satisfaction as she displayed herself. You may suppose, however, how curious I felt for such a conversation, and howscrupulously I followed her injunctions of watching her motions. A little squat good-humoured lady, with yellow flowers over a mobcap upon her hair - who had little sunken eyes, concise nose, anda mouth so extended by perpetual smiling, that, hardly leaving aninch for the cheek, it ran nearly into the ear, on my other sidenow demanded my attention also, and told me she came regularlyevery month to the great review, that she might always bring somefriend who wanted to see it. I found by this she was a person ofsome power, some influence, at least, and not entirely averse tohaving it known. She was extremely civil to me - but as my otherfriend had promised me so singular a regale, I had not muchvoluntary time to spare for her, this, however, appeared to beno impediment to that she was so obliging as to determine tobestow upon me, and she talked satisfied with my acquiescence toher civility, till a sort of bustle just before us making me looka little sharp, she cried-- "Vous le voyez, madame!" "Qui?" exclaimed I, "le premier Consul?" "Mais non!--pas encore--mais--ce--ce monsieur l…!"(184) MADAME, C'EST MON MArI. I looked at her to see whom I was to remark, and her eyes led meto a tall, large figure, with a broad gold-laced hat, who wasclearing the lane which some of the company had infringed, with astentorian voice, and an air and manner of such authority as achief constable might exert in an English riot. "Oui, madame, " I answered, not conceiving why I was to look athim; "je le vois, ce monsieur; il est bien grand. "(185) "Oui, madame, " replied she, with a yet widened smile, and a lookof lively satisfaction; "il est bien grand! Vous le voyez bien?" "O, fort bien!" cried I, quite at a loss what she meant me tounderstand, till at last, fixing first him, and then me, sheexpressively said-- page 230 "Madame, c'est mon mari!"(186) The grin now was distended to the very utmost limits of thestretched lips, and the complacency of her countenance forciblysaid, . "What do you think of me now?" My countenance, however, was far more clever than my head, if it made her any answer. But, in the plenitude of her own admiration of a gentleman whoseemed privileged to speak roughly, and push violently whoever, by a single inch, passed a given barrier, she imagined, Ibelieve, that to belong to him entitled her to be considered assharing his prowess ; she seemed even to be participating in themerits of his height and breadth, though be could easily have puther into his pocket. Not perceiving, as I imagine, all the delight of felicitation inmy countenance that she had expected, her own fell, in adisappointed pause, into as much of length as its circular formwould admit of; it recovered, however, in another minute its fullmerry rotundity, by conjecturing, as I have reason to think, thatthe niggardliness of my admiration was occasioned by my doubt ofher assertions; for, looking at me with an expression thatdemanded my attention, she poked her head under the arm of a tallgrenadier, stationed to guard our window, and trying to catch theeye of the object of her devotion, called out in an accent oftenderness, "M'ami! M'ami!" The surprise she required was now gratified in full, though whatshe concluded to be excited by her happiness, was simply theeffect of so caressing a public address from so diminutive alittle creature to so gigantic a big one. Three or four times thesoft sound was repeated ere it reached the destined ear, throughthe hubbub created by his own loud and rough manner of calling toorder; but, when at last he caught the gentle appellation, andlooked down upon her, it was with an eyebrow so scowling, a mouthso pouting, and an air that so rudely said, "What the d-- do youwant?" that I was almost afraid he would have taken her betweenhis thumb and finger, and given her a shake. However, be onlygrumbled out, "Qu'est-ce que c'est, donc?"(187) A little at aloss what to say, she gently stammered, "M'ami, --le--le premierConsul, ne vient-il pas?"(188) "Oui! oui!" was blustered inreply, with a look that completed the phrase by "you fool you!"though the voice left it unfinished. Page 231 Not disconcerted even yet, though rather abashed, , sheturned to me with a pleased grin that showed her proud of hisnoble ferociousness, and said, "C'est mon mari, madame!" as ifstill fearful I was not fully convinced of the grandeur of herconnexion. "M'ami" having now cleared the passage by ranging allthe company in two direct lines, the officers of highest rankwere assembled, and went in a sort of procession into the innerapartment to the audience of the first Consul. During the timethis lasted, some relaxation of discipline ensued, and thegentlemen from the opposite row ventured to approach and peep atthe windows with the ladies; but as soon as the generalsdescended from the steps they had mounted, their short conferencebeing over, "M'ami" again appeared, . To the inexpressiblegratification of his loving little mate, again furiously hustledevery one to his post; and the flags, next, as I think, werecarried in procession to the inner apartment, but soon afterbrought back. ADVENT OF THE FIRST CONSUL. The Prince of Orange then passed us to enter the audiencechamber, with a look so serious, an air so depressed, that I havenot been at all surprised to hear he was that very night takenvery ill. The last object for whom the way was cleared was the secondConsul, CambacŠr‚s, who advanced with a stately and solemn pace, slow, regular, and consequential; dressed richly in scarlet andgold, and never looking to the right or left, but wearing a mienof fixed gravity and importance. He had several persons in hissuite, who, I think, but am not sure, were ministers of state. At length the two human hedges were finally formed, the door ofthe audience chamber was thrown wide open with a commandingcrash, and a vivacious officer-sentinel-or I know not what, nimbly descended the three steps into our apartment, and placinghimself at the side of the door, with one hand spread as high aspossible above his head, and the other extended horizontally, called out in a loud and authoritative voice, "Le premierConsul!" You will easily believe nothing more was necessary to obtainattention; not a soul either spoke or stirred as he and his suitepassed along, which was so quickly that, had I not been placed sonear the door, and had not all about Page 232 me facilitated my standing foremost, and being least crowdobstructed, I could hardly have seen him. As it was, I had a viewso near, though so brief, of his face, as to be very much struckby it. It is of a deeply impressive cast, pale even tosallowness, while not only in the eye but in every feature--care, thought, melancholy, and meditation are strongly marked, with somuch of character, nay, genius, and so penetrating a seriousness, or rather sadness, as powerfully to sink into an observer's mind. Yet, though the busts and medallions I have seen are, in general, such good resemblances that I think I should have known himuntold, he has by no means the look to be expected fromBonaparte, but rather that of a profoundly studious andcontemplative man, who "o'er books consumes" not only the"midnight oil" but his own daily strength, "and wastes the punybody to decay" by abstruse speculation and theoretic plans orrather visions, ingenious but not practicable. But the look ofthe commander who heads his own army, who fights his own battles, who conquers every difficulty by personal exertion, who executesall he plans, who performs even all he suggests; whose ambitionis of the most enterprising, and whose bravery is of the mostdaring cast:--this, which is the look to be expected from hissituation, and the exploits which have led to it, the spectatorwatches for in vain. The plainness, also, of his dress, soconspicuously contrasted by the finery of all around him, conspires forcibly with his countenance, so "sicklied o'er withthe pale hue of thought, " to give him far more the air of astudent than a warrior. The intense attention with which I fixed him in this short butcomplete view made me entirely forget the lady who had promisedme to hold him in conference. When he had passed, however, shetold me it was upon his return she should address him, as he wastoo much hurried to be talked with at the moment of going to theparade. I was glad to find my chance not over, and infinitelycurious to know what was to follow. THE PARADE OF TROOPS. The review I shall attempt no description of. I have no knowledgeof the subject, and no fondness for its object. It was far moresuperb than anything I had ever beheld: but while all the pompand circumstance of war animated others, Page 233 it only saddened me ; and all of past reflection, all of futuredread, made the whole grandeur of the martial scene, and all thedelusive seduction of martial music, fill my eyes frequently withtears, but not regale my poor muscles with one single smile. Bonaparte, mounting a beautiful and spirited white horse, closelyencircled by his glittering aides-de-camp, and accompanied by hisgenerals, rode round the ranks, holding his bridle indifferentlyin- either hand, and seeming utterly careless of the prancing, rearing, or other freaks of his horse, insomuch as to strike somewho were near me with a notion of his being a bad horseman. I amthe last to be a judge upon this subject, but as a remarker, heonly appeared to me a man who knew so well he could manage theanimal when he pleased, that he did not deem it worth his whileto keep constantly in order what he knew, if urged or provoked, he could subdue in a moment. Precisely opposite to the window at which I was placed, the chiefConsul stationed himself after making his round and thence hepresented some swords of honour, spreading out one arm with anair and mien which changed his look from that of scholasticseverity to one that was highly military and commanding. . . . A SCENE. The review over, the chief Consul returned to the palace. Thelines were again formed, and he re-entered our apartment with hissuite. As soon as he approached our window, I observed my firstacquaintance start a little forward. I was now all attention toher performance of her promise; and just as he reached us shestretched out her hand to present him a petition! The enigma of the conference was now solved, and I laughed at myown wasted expectation. Lui parler, however, the lady certainlydid; so far she kept her word; for when he had taken the scroll, and was passing on, she rushed out of the line, and plantingherself immediately before him so as to prevent his walking on, screamed, rather than spoke, for her voice was shrill withimpetuosity to be heard and terror of failure, "C'est pour monfils! vous me l'avez promis!"(189) The first Consul stopped andspoke; but not loud enough for me to hear his voice: while hisaides-de-camp and the attending generals surrounding him moreclosely, all in aPage 234 breath rapidly said to the lady, "Votre nom, madame, votrenom!"(190) trying to disengage the Consul from her importunity, in which they succeeded, but not with much ease, as she seemedpurposing to cling to him till she got his personal answer. Hefaintly smiled as he passed on, but looked harassed and worn;while she, turning to me, with an exulting face and voice, exclaimed, "Je l'aurai! je l'aurai!" meaning what she hadpetitioned for--"car . . . Tous ces g‚n‚raux m'ont demand‚s monnom!" (191) Could any inference be clearer? The moment the chief Consul had ascended the steps leading to theinner apartment, the gentlemen in black with, gold chains gave ageneral hint that all the company must depart, as the ambassadorsand the ministers were now summoned to their monthly publicaudience with the chief Consul. The crowd, however, was sogreat, and Madame d'Henin was so much incommoded, and half ill, Ifear, by internal suffering, that M. D'Arblay procured a pass forus by a private door down to a terrace leading to a quiet exitfrom the palace into the Tuileries garden. WITH M. D'ARBLAY'S RELATIVES AT JOIGNY. (Madame d'Arblay to Mrs. Burney. )(192)Paris, 1802. . . . . . With the nearest relatives now existing of M. D'Arblay I ammyself more pleased than I can tell you. We have spent afortnight at joigny, (193) and found them all awaiting us with themost enthusiastic determination to receive with open arms andopen heart the choice and the offspring of their returned exile. Their kindness has truly penetrated me; and the heads of thefamily, the uncle and the aunt, are so charming as well as soworthy, that I could have remained with them for months had notthe way of life which their residence in a country town hasforced them to adopt, been utterly at war with all that, to me, makes peace, and happiness, and cheerfulness, namely, the realdomestic life of living with my own small but all-sufficientfamily. I have never loved a dissipatedPage 235 life, which it is no virtue in me, therefore, to relinquish; but I now far less than ever can relish it, andknow not how to enjoy anything away from home, except by distantintervals; and then with that real moderation, I am so far frombeing a misanthrope or sick of the world, that I have realpleasure in mixed society. It is difficult, however, in theextreme, to be able to keep to such terms. M. D'Arblay has somany friends, and an acquaintance so extensive, that the merecommon decencies of established etiquettes demand, as yet, nearlyall my time; and this has been a true fatigue both to my body andmy spirits. M. D'Arblay is related, though very distantly, to a quarter ofthe town, and the other three-quarters are his friends oracquaintance; and all of them came, first, to see me; next, toknow how I did after the journey; next, were all to be waitedupon in return ; next, came to thank me for my visit; next, toknow how the air of Joigny agreed with me - next, to make alittle further acquaintance ; and, finally, to make a visit ofcong‚. And yet all were so civil, so pleasant, and so pleasedwith my monsieur's return, that could I have lived three lives, so as to have had some respite, I could not have found fault forit was scarcely ever with the individual intruder, but with thecontinuance or repetition of interruption. SOME JOIGNY ACQUAINTANCES. (Madame d'Arblay to Miss Planta, for the queen and princesses. )Passy, December 19, 1802. . . . . . Rarely, indeed, my dear Miss Planta, I have received morepleasure than from your last most truly welcome letter, withassurances so unspeakably seasonable. I had it here at Passy the5th day after its date. I thank you again and again, but oh! howI thank God! Permit me now to go back to Joigny, for the purpose of givingsome account of two very interesting acquaintances we made there. The first was Colonel Louis Bonaparte, (194) youngest brother butone, (Jerome) of the first Consul. His Page 236 regiment was quartered at joigny, where he happened to be uponour last arrival at that town, and where the first visit he madewas to M. MBazille, the worthy maternal uncle of M. D'Arblay. Heis a young man of the most serious demeanour, a grave yetpleasing countenance, and the most reserved yet gentlest manners. His conduct in the small town (for France) of joigny was notmerely respectable, but exemplary; he would accept no distinctionin consequence of his powerful connexions, but presented himselfeverywhere with the unassuming modesty of a young man who had noclaims beyond what he might make by his own efforts and merits. He discouraged all gaming, to which the inhabitants are extremelyprone, by always playing low himself; and he discountenancedparade, by never suffering his own servant to wait behind hischair where he dined. He broke up early both from table and fromplay - was rigid in his attentions to his military duties, strictin the discipline of is officers as well as men, -and the firstto lead the way in every decency and regularity. When to this Iadd that his conversation is sensible, and well bred, yetuncommonly diffident, and that but twenty-three summers have yetrolled over his head, so much good sense, forbearance, andpropriety, in a situation so open to flattery, ambition, orvanity, obtained, as they merited, high consideration and perfectgood will. I had a good deal of conversation with him, for he came to sit byme both before and after his card-party wherever I had thepleasure to meet him ; and his quiet and amiable manners, andrational style of discourse, made him a great loss to oursociety, when he was summoned to Paris, upon the near approach ofthe event which gave him a son and heir. He was very kind to mylittle Alex, whom he never saw without embracing, and he treatedM. D'Arblay with a marked distinction extremely gratifying to me. The second acquaintance to which I have alluded is a lady, Madamede Souza. (195) She soon found the road to my good will andregard, for she told me that she, with another lady, had beenfixed upon by M. Del Campo, my old sea-visitor, for the highhonour of aiding him in his reception of the first lady of ourland and her lovely daughters, upon the grand fˆte which he gaveupon the dearest and most memorable of occasions(196) and shespoke with such pleasure and gratitude ofPage 237 the sweet condescension she then experienced, that she charmedand delighted me, and we struck up an intimacy without furtherdelay. Our theme was always ready, and I only regretted that Icould see her but seldom, as she lived two or three miles out ofJoigny, at Cesy, in the small chƒteau of la ci-devant Princessede Beaufremont, a lady with whom I had had the honour of makingacquaintance in Paris, and who is one of those who suffered mostduring the horrors of the Revolution. At the dreadful period whenall the rage was to burn the property and title-deeds of the richand high-born, her noble chƒteau, one of the most considerable inFrance, was. Utterly consumed, and all her papers; that no recordof her genealogy might remain, were committed, with barbaroustriumph, to the flames : yet was this, such is her unhappy fate, the least of her misfortunes ; her eldest daughter, a beautifulyoung creature, upon whom she doted, was in the chƒteau at thishorrible period, and forced to make her escape with such alarmand precipitance, that she never recovered from the excess of herterror, which robbed her of her life before she was quiteseventeen years of age ! Around the small and modest chƒteau de Cesy, in which Madame deBeaufremont and her youngest and now only daughter, Madame deListenois, at present reside, the grounds have been cultivated inthe English style; and the walks, now shady, now open, nowrising, now descending, with water, bridges, cascades, andgroves, and occasional fine picturesque views from the banks ofthe Yonne, are all laid out with taste and pretty effects. Westrolled over them with a large party, till we came to a littlerecess. Madame de Beaufremont then took me by the arm, and weseparated from the company to enter it together, and she showedme an urn surrounded with cypress trees and weeping willows, watered by a clear, small, running rivulet, and dedicated to thememory of her first-born and early-lost lamented daughter. Poorlady! she seems entirely resigned to all the rest of herdeprivations, but here the wound is incurable ! yet, this subjectapart, she is cheerful, loves society, or rather socialdiscourse, with a chosen few, and not only accepts with Pleasurewhatever may enliven her, but exerts herself to contribute allthat is in her power to the entertainment of others. She hasstill preserved enough from the wreck of her Possessions to liveelegantly, though not splendidly; and her table is remarkablywell served. She has a son-in-law, M. Page 238 de Listenois, whom I did not see; but her remaining daughterMadame de Listenois, is a very fine young woman. Madame de Souzahas spent the whole summer with these ladies. She told me sheliked England so very much, and was so happy during the six weeksshe passed there, that she wept bitterly on quitting it. She wasreceived, she says, at Court in the most bewitching manner, andshe delights in retracing her honours, and her sense of them. She is still so very handsome, though sickly and suffering, that I imagine she must then have been exquisitely beautiful. Iam told, by a French officer who has served in Spain, M. DeMeulan, that when she left that country she was reckoned the mostcelebrated beauty of Madrid. I had another new acquaintance at Joigny, also, in a lady whocame from Auxerre, as she was pleased to say, to see me, MadameLa Villheurnois, widow of M. La Villheurnois, who was amongst theunhappy objects d‚port‚s, by the order of the Directory, … laGuiane. (197) As soon as the first civilities were over, shesaid, "Permettez, madame! connaisseZ-vous Sidney?"(198) I couldnot doubt who she meant, though there is no avoiding a smile atthis drolly concise way of naming a man by his nom debaptˆme. (199) She was extremely surprised when I answered no;telling me she had concluded "que tout le monde enAngleterre"(200) must know Sidney! Yes, I said, by charactercertainly ; but personally I had never the gratification ofmeeting with him. She told me she was intimately acquainted withhim herself, from seeing him continually when he was confined inthe Temple, as she attended there her "malheureux ‚poux, "(201)and she saw also, she said, "son valet et son jockey, "(202) whomshe never suspected to be disguised emigrants, watching to aidhis escape. "Surtout, " she added, "comme le jockey avait destrous aux bas terribles, ")203) which Page 239 induced her daughter to buy him a new pair of stockings forcharity. A gentleman who accompanied her to Joigny, hersecretary, told me he had played at ball with Sidney every dayfor six months, while he also attended upon poor M. LaVilheurnois. . . . . . THE INFLUENZA IN PARIS. (Madame d'Arblay to Dr. Burney. )Passy, March 23, 1803. I have been anxious to write since I received your last kindinquiries, my dearest padre; but so tedious has been my seizure, that I have not yet got from its wraps or confinements. I feel, however, as if this were their last day, and that to-morrow wouldhave the honour to see me abroad. I have had no fever, and nophysician, and no important malady; but cold has fastened uponcold, so as utterly to imprison me. La gripe, (204) however, Iescaped, so has Alex, and our maid and helpers--and M. D'Arblay, who caught it latterly in his excursions to Paris, had it soslightly that but for the fright attached to the seizure (which Ithought would almost have demolished me at first, from the terrorhanging on its very name at that fatal period) I should havedeemed it a mere common cold. It is now universally over, butthe mischief it has done is grievously irreparable. . . . It wasa disastrous and frightful time. The streets of Paris were saidto be as full of funerals as of cabriolets. For my own part, Ihave not once been able to enter that capital since I left it atthe end of October. But I cannot help attributing much of themortality which prevailed in consequence of this slight disease, to the unwholesome air occasioned by the dreadful want ofcleanliness in that city, which, but for the healthiness of thebeautiful and delicious walks around it, i. E. , the Boulevards, must surely have proved pestilential. The air of our house atPassy is perfectly pure and sweet. M. D'Arblay is now making a last effort with respect to hisretraite, (205) which has languished in adjournment above a year. He has put it into the hands of a faithful and most amiablefriend, now in high esteem with the premier Consul, GeneralLauriston, who so kindly renewed an ancient friendship with hisformer camarade when he was on his splendid short embassy inEngland. If through him it should fail, I shall never think of itmore. Page 240 RUMOURS OF WAR. (Madame dArblay to Mrs. Locke)NO- 54, Rue Basse, Passy, near Paris, April 30, 1803. How to write I know not, at a period so tremendous-nor yet how tobe silent. My dearest, dearest friends ! if the war indeed proveinevitable, what a heart-breaking position is ours!-to explain itfully would demand folios, and yet be never so well done as you, with a little consideration, can do it for us. Who better thanMr. Locke and his Fredy-who so well can comprehend, that, whereone must be sacrificed, the other will be yet more to be pitied?-I will not go on-I will talk only of you, till our fate must bedetermined. And M. D'Arblay, who only in the wide world loves hispaternal uncle as well (we always except ourselves atWestminster! how tenderly does he join in my every feeling! andhow faithfully keep unimpaired all our best and happiestsympathies! May 2. --Better appearances in the political horizon now somewhatrecruit my spirits, which have been quite indescribably tortured, rather than sunk, by the impossibility of any private arrangementfor our mutual happiness in the dread event of war. God Almightyyet avert it! And should it fall to the lot of Lauriston toconfirm the peace, what a guardian angel upon earth I shall deemhim! How I wish he could meet with you! he is so elegant in hismanners he would immediately give you pleasure; and hiscountenance is so true in announcing him amiable, that you mightlook at him with trust as well as satisfaction. . . . May 13--Ah, my dearest friends--what a melancholy end to my hopesand my letter. I have just heard that Lord Whitworth(206) setoff for Chantilly last night; war therefore seems inevitable; andmy grief, I, who feel myself now of two countries, is far greaterthan I can wish to express. While posts are yet open, write tome, my beloved friend, and by Hamburg. I trust we may still andregularly correspond, long as the letters may be in travelling. As our letters never Page 241 treat but of our private concerns, health and welfare neithercountry can object to our intercourse. (Madame d'Arblay to Dr. Burney). Passy, May 6, 1803. If my dearest father has the smallest idea of the suspense andterror in which I have spent this last fortnight, from the dailymenace of war, he will be glad, I am sure, of the respite allowedme-if no more--from a visit I have just received from Mrs. Huber, who assures me the Ambassador has postponed his setting off, andconsented to send another courier. (207) To say how I pray forhis success would indeed be needless. I have hardly closed myeyes many nights past. My dearest father will easily conceive thevarying conflicts of our minds, and how mutual are oursufferings. . . . We were buoyed up here for some days with the hope that GeneralLauriston was gone to England as plenipo, to end the dreadcontest without new effusion of blood: but Paris, like London, teems with hourly false reports, and this intelligence, unhappily, was of the number. The continued kindness andfriendship of that gentleman for M. D'Arblay make me take a warminterest in whatever belongs to him. About ten days ago, when M. D'Arblay called upon him, relative to the affair so longimpending of his retraite, he took his hand, and said "Fais-moiton compliment!"(208) You are sure how heartily M. D'Arblaywould be ready to comply-"but "what, " he demanded, "can be new toyou of honours?" "I have succeeded, " he answered, "for you!--thefirst Consul has signed your m‚moire. " When such delicacy isjoined to warm attachment, my dearest father will not wonder Ishould be touched by it. . . . M. D'Arblay has now something in his native country, where allother claims are vain, and all other expectations completelydestroyed. He had been flattered with recovering some portion, at least, of his landed property near Joigny; but those who havepurchased it during his exile add such enormous and unaccountablecharges to what they paid for it at that period, that it isbecome, to us, wholly unattainable. Page 242 " OUR LITTLE CELL AT PASSY. " (Madame d'Arblay to Dr. Burney. )Passy, April 11, 1804. We live in the most quiet, and, I think, enviable retired merit. Our house is larger than we require, but not a quarter furnished. Our view is extremely pretty from it, and always cheerful; werarely go out, yet always are pleased to return. We have ourbooks, our prate, and our boy--how, with all this, can we, orought we to suffer ourselves to complain of our narrowed andnarrowing income? If we are still able to continue at Passy, endeared to me now beyond any other residence away from you all, by a friendship I have formed here with one of the sweetest womenI have ever known, Madame de Maisonneuve, and to M. D'Arblay bysimilar sentiments for all her family, our philosophy will not beput to severer trials than it can sustain. And this engages us tobear a thousand small privations which we might, perhaps, escape, by shutting ourselves up in some spot more remote from thecapital. But as my deprivation of the society of my friends iswhat I most lament, so something that approaches nearest to whatI have lost affords me the best reparation. (Madame d'Arblay to Dr. Burney. )Passy, May 29, 1808. Before I expected it, my promised opportunity for again writingto my most dear father is arrived. I entirely forget whether, before the breaking out of the war stopt our correspondence, M. D'Arblay had already obtained his retraite: and, consequently, whether that is an event I have mentioned or not. Be that as itmay, he now has it--it is 1500 livres, or 62 pounds, 10shillings. Per annum. But all our resources from England ceasingwith the peace, we had so little left from what we had broughtover, and M. D'Arblay has found so nearly nothing remaining ofhis natural and hereditary claims in his own province, that hedetermined upon applying for some employment that might enablehim to live with independence, how ever parsimoniously. This hehas, with infinite difficulty, etc. , at length obtained, and heis now a r‚dacteur in the civil department of les Bƒtimens, etc. (209) This is no sinecure. He Page 243 attends at his bureau from half-past nine to half-past fouro'clock every day; and as we live so far off as Passy he isobliged to set off for his office between eight and nine, anddoes not return to his hermitage till past five. However, whatnecessity has urged us to desire, and made him solicit, we mustnot, now acquired, name or think of with murmuring or regret. Hehas the happiness to be placed amongst extremely worthy people;and those who are his chefs in office treat him with everypossible mark of consideration and feeling. We continue steady toour little cell at Passy, which is retired, quiet, and quite toourselves, with a magnificent view of Paris from one side, and abeautiful one of the country on the other. It isunfurnished-indeed, unpapered, and every way unfinished; for ourworkmen, in the indispensable repairs which preceded our enteringit, ran us up bills that compelled us to turn them adrift, andleave every thing at a stand, when three rooms only were madejust habitable. THE PRINCE OF WALES EULOGIZED. (Dr. Burney to Madame d'Arblay. )July 12, 1805. . . . Your brother, Dr. Charles, and I have had the honour lastTuesday of dining with the Prince of Wales at Lord Melbourne's atthe particular desire of H. R. H. He is so good-humoured andgracious to those against whom he has no party prejudice, that itis impossible not to be flattered by this politeness andcondescension. I was astonished to find him, amidst suchconstant dissipation, possessed of so much learning, wit, knowledge of books in general, discrimination of Character, aswell as original humour. He quoted Homer to my son as readily asif the beauties of Dryden or Pope were under consideration. Andas to music, he is an excellent critic; has an enlarged taste--admiring whatever is excellent in its kind, of whatever age orcountry the composers or performers may be; without, however, being insensible to the superior genius and learning necessary tosome kinds of music more than others. The conversation was general and lively, in which several of thecompany, consisting of eighteen or twenty, took a share, tilltowards the heel of the evening, or rather the toe of themorning; for we did not rise from table till onePage 244 o'clock, when Lady Melbourne being returned from the opera withher daughters, coffee was ordered; during which H. R. H. Took meoutside and talked exclusively about music near half an hour, andas long with your brother concerning Greek literature. He is amost excellent mimic of well-known characters: had we been in thedark any one would have sworn that Dr. Parr and Kemble were inthe room. Besides being possessed of a great fund of originalhumour, and good humour, he may with truth be said to have asmuch wit as Charles II. , with much more learning--for his merrymajesty could spell no better than the bourgeois gentilhomme. DR. BURNEY AT BATH. (Dr. Burney to Madame dArblay. )June 12, 1808. . . . Last autumn I had an alarming seizure In my left hand and, mine being pronounced a Bath case, on Christmas Eve I set out forthat city, extremely weak and dispirited-put myself under thecare of Dr. Parry, and after remaining there three months, Ifound my hand much more alive, and my general health considerablyamended. During my invalidity at Bath I had an unexpected visit from yourStreatham friend, (210) of whom I had lost sight for more than tenyears. I saw very few people, but none of an evening nor of amorning, on the days my hand was pumped on. When her name wassent in I was much surprised, but desired she might be admitted;and I received her as an old friend with whom I had spent muchtime very happily, and never wished to quarrel. She still lookswell, but is grave, and candour itself; though still she saysgood things, and writes admirable notes and letters, I am told, to my granddaughters C. And M. , of whom she is very fond. Weshook hands very cordially, and avoided any allusion to our longseparation and its cause; the Caro Sposo still lives, but is suchan object from the gout that the account of his sufferings mademe pity him sincerely; he wished, she told me, "to see his oldand worthy friend, " and, un beau matin, I could not refusecompliance with his wish. She nurses him with great affectionand tenderness, never goes out or has company when he is in pain. Page 245 AFFECTIONATE GREETINGS To DR. BURNEY. (Madame d'Arblay to Dr. Burney. )September, 1808. After being so long robbed of all means of writing to my belovedfather, I seize, with nearly as much surprise as gratitude, asecond opportunity of addressing him almost before the first canhave brought my hand to his sight. When will some occasion offerto bring me back-not my revenge, but my first and most covetedsatisfaction ? With how much more spirit, also, should I write, if I knew what were received of what already I have scrawled !Volumes, however, must have been told you, of what in other timesI should have written, by Maria. For myself, when once a reuniontakes place, I can scarcely conceive which will be hardestworked, my talking faculties or my listening ones. O whatmillions of things I want to inquire and to know! The risinggeneration, me thinks, at least, might keep me some letters andpackets ready for occasional conveyances. I should be gratefulbeyond measure. M. D'Arblay writes--"how desired is, how happyshall be, the day, in which we shall receive your dearestblessing and embrace! Pray be so kind not to forget the matealways remembering your kindness for him and his. A thousandthousand loves to all. " (Madame d'Arblay to Dr. Burney. )No. 13, Rue d'Anjou, Paris, May 2, 1810. A happy May-day to my dearest father! Sweet-scented be thecowslips which approach his nostrils! lovely and rosy themilkmaids that greet his eyes, and animating as they are noisythe marrow-bones and cleavers that salute his ears! Dear, andeven touching, are these anniversary recollections where distanceand absence give them existence only in the memory! and, at thismoment, to hear and see them I Would exchange all the Raphaels inour Museum, and the new and beautiful composition of Paesiello inthe chapel. Could you but send me a little food for the hope now in privatecirculation that the new alliance of the Emperor(211) may perhapsextend to a general alliance of all Europe, Oh, Page 246 heaven! how would that brighten my faculties of enjoyment! Ishould run about to see all I have hitherto omitted to seek, withthe ardent curiosity of a traveller newly arrived ; and I shouldhasten to review and consider all I have already beheld, with analertness of vivacity that would draw information from everyobject I have as yet looked at with undiscerning tameness. Oh, such a gleam of light would new-model or re-model me, and Ishould make you present to all my sights, and partake of all thewonders that surround me ! Were not this cruel obscurity so darkening to my views, and sodepressing to my spirits, I could tell my dearest father manythings that might amuse him, and detail to him, in particular, mygreat and rare happiness in a point the most essential, afterdomestic comforts, to peace of mind and cheerfulness, namely, mygood fortune in my adopted friends in this my adopted country. The society in which I mix, when I can prevail with myself toquit my yet dearer fireside, is all that can be wished, whetherfor wit, wisdom, intelligence, gaiety, or politeness. Theindividuals with whom I chiefly mix, from being admired at firstfor their talents or amiability, are now sincerely loved fortheir kindness and goodness. Could I write more frequently, orwith more security that I write not to the winds and the waves, Iwould characterize the whole set to you, and try to make us yetshake hands in the same Party. . . . (Madame d'Arblay to Dr. Burney. )No. 13, Rue d'Anjou, Paris, ce 16 Sept. 1810. Can I tell you, my dearest father!-oh, no! I can never tellyou-the pleasure, the rapture with which I received your letterby Madame Solvyns. It had been so cruelly long since I had heardfrom you, so anxious and suffering a space since I had seen yourhandwriting, that, when at last it came, I might have seemed, toone who did not know me, rather penetrated by sudden afflictionthan by joy. But how different was all within to what appearedwithout! My partner-in-all received it at his bureau, and felt animpatience so unconquerable to communicate so extreme a pleasurethat he quitted everything to hasten home; for he was incapableof going on with his business. How satisfactory, also, is allthe intelligence ! how gaily, with what spirit written ! . . . I do nothing of late but dream of seeing you, my most dear Page 247 father. I think I dream it wide awake, too; the desire is sostrong that it pursues me night and day, and almost persuades meit has something in it of reality : and I do not choose todiscourage even ideal happiness. DR. BURNEY's DIPLOMA. (Madame d'Arblay to Dr. Burney. )No. 13, Rue d'Anjou, 14th April, 1811. . . . . . Have you received the letter in which I related that yourdiploma has been brought to me by the perpetual secretary of theclass of the Fine Arts of the Institute of France?(212) I shallnot have it conveyed but by some very certain hand, and that, now, is most difficult to find. M. Le Breton has given me, also, a book of the list of your camarades, in which he has writtenyour name. He says it will be printed in next year's register. He has delivered to me, moreover, a medal, which is a mark ofdistinction reserved for peculiar honour to peculiar selectpersonages. Do you suppose I do not often--often--often think whowould like, and be fittest to be the bearer to you of thesehonours? . . . How kind was the collection of letters you made more precious byendorsing! I beseech you to thank all my dear correspondents, and to bespeak their patience for answers, which shall arrive byevery wind that I can make blow their way; but yet more, beseechtheir generous attention to my impatience for more, should thewind blow fair for me before it will let me hail them in return. Difficultly can they figure to themselves my joy--my emotion atreceiving letters from such dates as they can give me! [During this year Madame d'Arblay's correspondence with herEnglish connexions was interrupted not only by the difficulty ofconveying letters, but also by a dangerous illness and the menaceof a cancer, from which she could only be relieved by submittingto a painful and hazardous operation. The fortitude with whichshe bore this suffering, and her generous solicitude for Monsieurd'Arblay and those around her, excited the warmest sympathy inall who heard of her trial, and her French friends universallygave her the name of l'ange, (213) so touched were they by hertenderness and Magnanimity. ] (157) " Dr. Orkborne" is the name of one of the characters in"Camilla, " a pedantic scholar, who lives only in his books. -ED. (158) Widow of Sir Robert Strange, the celebrated engraver, and avery old friend of the Burney family. She was a Scotchwoman (hermaiden name, Isabel Lumisden), and in her younger days anenthusiastic Jacobite. She obliged her lover, Strange, to jointhe young Pretender in 1745, and afterwards married him againsther father's wish. -ED. (159) "The other Bell" was the daughter of Sir Robert and LadyStrange. -ED. (160) Wife of Sir Lucas Pepys, the physician. -ED. (161) Anna Letitia Barbauld, the well-known author, and editor ofRichardson's Correspondence, etc. -ED. (162) John Aiken, M. D. , brother to Mrs. Barbauld, and, like hissister, an author and editor. His "Evenings at Home" is still awell-known book: many of our readers will probably have pleasantreminiscences of it, connected with their childhood. -ED. (163) Barry had published a furious attack upon hisfellow-Academicians in a "Letter to the Dilettanti Society. " Hewas already, owing chiefly to his own violent temper, on illterms with nearly all of them, and the "Letter" prove(I to be thelast straw. Various charges were drawn up against the Professorof Painting, and he was expelled forthwith from the Academy, without being permitted to speak in his own defence. (164) "By the help of a shilling. " (165) "With tears in his eyes. " (166) i. E. , Mr. Locke. -ED. (167) The French minister in England. -ED. (168) A letter in which M. D'Arblay had acquainted his wife withthe withdrawal of his commission in the French army, inconsequence of his refusal, under any circumstances, to bear armsagainst England. -ED. (169) Miss Cambridge. -ED. (170) Lafayette was then living in retirement, with his wife andfamily, at is chateau of La Grange. -ED. (171) "Quick, quick, madam, take your seat in the diligence, forhere is an English gentleman who is sure to take the bestplace!"--There is evidently some mistake here, in making thebook-keeper in Piccadilly speak French and talk about thediligence. That the paragraph relates to Fanny's departure fromLondon is evident from several passages in the text: the mention, later, of changing horses at Canterbury, the references to herfellow-travellers at Calais. The date to the above paragraph isalso clearly wrong, as it will be seen that on the 18th of Aprilthey were still on the road to Paris. -ED. (172) "Quick! quick! look for it, or you will be arrested!" (173) in the new calendar adopted by the Republic in 1793, adivision of the month into decades, or periods of ten days, wassubstituted for the old division into weeks. Every tenth day(d‚cadi) was a day of rest, instead of every seventh day, (Sunday, Dimanche). The months were of thirty days each, withfive odd festival days (Sansculottades) in the year, and a sixth(Festival of the Revolution) in Leap Year. Napoleon restored theSunday in place of d‚cadi. The new calendar was discontinuedaltogether, January 1, 1806. -ED. (174) The date is again wrong--probably a misprint forApril 21. -ED. (175) Mrs. Damer, the sculptor, as an ardent Whig and supporterof Charles Fox, professed herself at this time an enthusiasticadmirer of the first Consul. She had known jos‚phine deBeauharnais before her marriage with Napoleon, and, after thepeace of Amiens, visited Paris on Jos‚phine's invitation. Shewas there introduced to Napoleon, to whom she afterwardspresented a bust of Charles Fox, executed by herself. Mrs. Damer's companions on this excursion were Mary Berry, the author(born 1763-died 1852), and her younger sister, Agnes Berry. Thesetwo ladies were prodigious favourites with Horace Walpole, whocalled them his "twin wives, " and was, it is said, even desirous, in his old age, Of marrying the elder Miss Berry. One of hisvalued possessions was a marble bust of Mary Berry, the work ofhis kinswoman, Mrs. Damer. At his death in 1797 he bequeathed tothe Miss Berrys a house for their joint lives, besides a legacyOf 4000 pounds to each sister. Mary Berry published an editionof her old admirer's works the year after his death. -ED. (176) The Swiss home of her father, 'M. Necker, on the shore ofthe lake, and some ten miles north of the town of Geneva. Neckerretired thither after his fall in 1790, and spent there, inretirement, the remaining years of his life. He died at Geneva, in April, 1804. -ED. (177) Madame de Stael's orthography is here preserved. " I should like to prove to you my zeal, madam, and I am afraidof being indiscreet. I hope you will have the goodness to let meknow when you are sufficiently recovered from the fatigue of yourjourney, that I might have the honour of seeing you without beingtiresome to you. " (178) The 4th Floria (April 23). (179) "Madame d'Arblay can only be infinitely flattered by theextreme goodness of Madame the Countess de Stael. She will verycertainly have the honour of calling upon Madame de Stael as soonas possible. "(180) Madame de Lafayette was thrown into prison after the flightof her husband; released in February, 1795, more than six monthsafter the death of Robespierre. She then journeyed to Austria, and obtained leave to share, with her two daughters, herhusband's captivity at Olmtz. Lafayette was released inSeptember, 1797; returned to France in 1800, Napoleon notforbidding, though not quite approving. Madame de Lafayette'sconstitution was permanently impaired by the confinement whichshe suffered at Olmtz. She died December 24, 1807. -ED. (181) "It's a foreigner, it's an Englishwoman. " (182) "Have you seen the first Consul, madam?" "Not yet, madam. " "It is doubtless what you most wish for, madam?" "Yes, madam. " "Do you wish to have an excellent view of him, and to see himquite at your ease?" "I am particularly desirous of it, madam. " (183) "Do thus, madam, and you will see him well, well; for I-amgoing to speak to him ! " (184) "You see him, madam!" "Whom?" exclaimed I, "the first Consul?" "Oh no!--not yet;--but--that--that gentleman!" (185) "yes, madam, I see that gentleman; he is very tall!" (186) "Madam, it is my husband!" (187) "What is the matter?" (188) "M'ami, the--the first Consul, is he not coming?" (189) "'Tis for my son ! you promised it me!" (190) "Your name, madam, your name!" (191) "I shall have it! I shall have it! for all those generalsasked my name!" (192) Fanny's eldest sister, Esther, who married (1770) hercousin, Charles Rousseau Burney. -ED. (193) joigny was the birth-place of M. D'Arblay. -ED. (194) Louis Bonaparte was born in 1778, and, young as he was, hadalready served with distinction in the campaign in Italy. He wassubsequently king of Holland from 1806 to 1810, when that countrywas annexed by Napoleon to the French Empire. He marriedHortense de Beauharnais, daughter, by her first marriage, ofNapoleon's wife, Josephine, and was the father of the EmperorNapoleon III. -ED. (195) Authoress of "AdŠle de Senange, " etc. (196) On the king's recovery, in the spring of 1789. -ED. (197) Many of the leading members of the Councils of "Ancients"and of "Five Hundred " had been transported to Guiana after thecoup d'‚tat of September 4, 1797. See note (146) ante, p. 136. -ED. (198) "Excuse me, madam ! do you know Sidney? Sidney " is SirSidney Smith, whose gallant and successful defence of Acreagainst the French, , in the spring of 1799, obliged Napoleon torelinquish the invasion of Syria. -ED. (199) Christian name. (200) "Every one in England. " (201) "Unfortunate husband. " (202) "His valet and his jockey, (groom). " (203) "Especially as the jockey had terrible holes in hisstockings. " (204) The influenza. (205) Retiring pension. (206) The English ambassador in Paris. All hopes of asatisfactory termination to the dispute between the English andFrench governments being now at an end, Lord Whitworth wasordered to return to England, and left Paris May 12, 1803. Hisreturn was followed by the recall of the French minister inLondon, and the declaration of war between the two countries. -ED. (207) The reader will have noticed that the date of this letteris earlier than that of the paragraph in the preceding letter, inwhich Fanny alludes to the departure of the Ambassador fromParis. -ED. (208) "Make me your compliments. " (209) "Or, as we might say, a clerk in the department of works. "-ED. (210) Mrs. Piozzi. -ED. (211) Napoleon was crowned Emperor of the French, November 19, 1804. His "new alliance" was his marriage, in the spring Of1810, with the archduchess Maria Louisa, daughter of the Emperorof Austria. With this alliance in view he had been divorced fromJos‚phine at the close of the preceding year. -ED (212) Dr. Burney had been elected a corresponding member of thissection of the Institute. -ED. (213) The angel. Page 248 SECTION 23. (1812-14. ) MADAME D'ARBLAY AND HER SON IN ENGLAND, [At the commencement of the year 1814 was published "TheWanderer, or Female Difficulties, " the fourth and last novel bythe author of "Evelina, " "Cecilia, " and "Camilla. " The fivevolumes were sold for two guineas-double the price of"Camilla, "--and we gather from Madame d'Arblay's own statementthat she received at least fifteen hundred pounds for the work. She informs us also that three thousand six hundred copies weresold during the first six months. This pecuniary profit, however, was the only advantage which she derived from the book. It wasseverely treated by the critics ; its popularity, -- if it everhad any, for its large sale was probably due to the author's highreputation, --speedily declined; and the almost total oblivioninto which it passed has remained unbroken to the present day. Yet "The Wanderer" was deserving of a better fate. In manyrespects it is not inferior to any of Madame d'Arblay's earlierworks. Its principal defect is one of literary style, and itsstyle, though faulty and unequal, is by no means devoid of charmand impressiveness. The artless simplicity and freshness of"Evelina" render that work, her first novel, the most successfulof all in point of style. In "Cecilia" the style shows more ofconscious art, and is more laboured. In "Camilla" and "TheWanderer" it is at once more careless and more affected than inthe earlier novels ; her English is at times slipshod, at timesdisfigured by attempts at fine writing. But, admitting all this, we must admit also that Fanny, even in "The Wanderer, " provesherself mistress of what we may surely regard as the mostessential part of style-its power of affecting the readeragreeably with the intentions of the author. She plays upon herreader's emotions with a sure touch; she excites or soothes himat her will; she arouses by turns his compassion, his mirth, hisresentment, according as she strikes the keys of pathos, ofhumour, or of irony. A style which is capable of producing sucheffects is not rashly to be condemned on the score of occasionalaffectations and irregularities. Page 249 The question of style apart, we do not feel that "The Wanderer"shows the slightest decline in its author's powers. The plot isas ingeniously complicated as ever, the suspense as skilfullymaintained; the characters seem to us as real as those in"Evelina, " or "Cecilia, " or in the "Diary" itself; the alternatepathos and satire of the book keep our attention ever on thealert. That it failed to win the suffrages of the public wascertainly due to no demerit in the work. Many causes may haveconspired against it. The public taste had long been debauched bynovels of that nightmare school in which Mrs Radcliffe and "Monk"Lewis were the leaders. Moreover, in the very year in which "TheWanderer" was published, appeared the first of a series of worksof fiction which, by their power and novelty, were to monopolise, for a time, the public attention and applause, and which werethereafter to secure for their author a high rank among theimmortals of English literature. At the end of the fifth volumeof "The Wanderer" were inserted a few leaves, containing a listof books recently published or "in the press;" and last on thelist of the latter stands "Waverley, or 'Tis Sixty Years since. " Like " Evelina, " "The Wanderer" is inscribed in a touchingdedication (this time, however, in prose, and with his nameprefixed) to Fanny's beloved father. The dedication is datedMarch 14, 1814 : on the 12th of the following month Dr. Burneydied at Chelsea College, in his eighty-seventh year. -ED. ] NARRATIVE OF MADAME D'ARBLAY'S JOURNEY TO LONDON. ANXIETY TO SEE FATHER AND FRIENDS. Dunkirk, 1812. There are few events of my life that I more regretnot having committed to paper while they were fresher in mymemory, than my police adventure at Dunkirk, the most fearfulthat I have ever experienced, though not, alas, the mostafflicting, for terror, and even horror, are short of deepaffliction; while they last they are, nevertheless, absorbers;but once past, whether ill or well, they are over, and from them, as from bodily pain, the animal spirits can rise uninjured: notso from that grief which has its source in irreInediablecalamity; from that there is no rising, no relief, save in hopesof eternity: for here on earth all buoyancy of mind that Mightproduce the return of peace, is sunk for ever. I willPage 250 now, however, put down all that recurs to me of my first returnhome. In the year 1810, when I had been separated from my dear father, and country, and native friends, for eight years, my desire toagain see them became so anxiously impatient that my tendercompanion proposed my passing over to England alone, to spend amonth or two at Chelsea. Many females at that period, and amongstthem the young Duchesse de Duras, had contrived to procurepassports for a short similar excursion ; though no male waspermitted, under any pretence, to quit France, save with thearmy. Reluctantly--with all my wishes in favour of the scheme, --yetmost reluctantly, I accepted the generous offer; for never did Iknow happiness away from that companion, no, not even out of hissight! but still, I was consuming with solicitude to see myrevered father--to be again in his kind arms, and receive hiskind benediction. A MILD MINISTER OF POLICE. For this all was settled, and I had obtained my passport, whichwas brought to me without my even going to the police office, bythe especial favour of M. Le Breton, the Secretaire Perp‚tuel …l'Institut. The ever active services of M. De Narbonne aidedthis peculiar grant ; though, had not Bonaparte been abroad withhis army at the time, neither the one nor the other would haveventured at so hardy a measure of assistance. But wheneverBonaparte left Paris, there was always an immediate abatement ofseverity in the police; and Fouch‚, though he had borne acharacter dreadful beyond description in the earlier and mosthorrible times of the Revolution, was, 'at this period, whenminister of police, a man of the mildest manners, the mostconciliatory conduct, and of the easiest access in Paris. He hadleast the glare of the new imperial court of any one of itsadministration; he affected, indeed, all the simplicity of aplain Republican. I have often seen him strolling in the mostshady and unfrequented parts of the "Elysian Fields, " muffled upin a plain brown rocolo, and giving le bras to his wife, withoutsuite or servant, merely taking the air, with the evident designof enjoying also an unmolested tˆte-…-tˆte. On these occasions, though he was universally known, nobody approached him; and heseemed, himself, not to observe that any other personPage 251 was in the walks. He was said to be remarkably agreeable inconversation, and his person was the best fashioned and mostgentlemanly of any man I have happened to see, belonging to thegovernment. Yet, such was the impression made upon me by thedreadful reports that were spread of his cruelty and ferocity atLyons, (214) that I never saw him but I thrilled with horror. Howgreat, therefore, was my obligation to M. De Narbonne and to M. Le Breton, for procuring me a passport, without my personalapplication to a man from whom I shrunk as from a monster. EMBARKATION INTERDICTED. I forget now for what spot the passport was nominated, perhapsfor Canada, but certainly not for England and M. Le Breton, whobrought it to me himself, assured me that no difficulty would bemade for me either to go or to return, as I was known to havelived a life the most inoffensive to government, and perfectlyfree from all species of political intrigue, and as I shouldleave behind me such sacred hostages as my husband and my son. Thus armed, and thus authorized, I prepared, quietly andsecretly, for my expedition, while my generous mate employed allhis little leisure in discovering where and how I might embark -when, one morning, when I was bending over my trunk to press inits contents, I was abruptly broken in upon by M. De Boinville, who was in my secret, and who called upon me to stop! He hadreceived certain, he said, though as yet unpublished information, that a universal embargo was laid upon every vessel, and that nota fishing-boat was permitted to quit the coast. Confounded, affrighted, disappointed, and yet relieved, I submitted to theblow, and obeyed the injunction. M. De Boinville then revealed tome the new political changes that occasioned this measure, whichhe had learned from some confiding friends in office; but which Ido not touch upon, as they are now in every history of thosetimes. Page 252 I pass on to my second attempt, in the year 1812. Disastrous was that interval ! All correspondence with Englandwas prohibited under pain of death ! One letter only reached me, most unhappily, written with unreflecting abruptness, announcing, without preface, the death of the Princess Amelia, the new andtotal derangement of the king, and the death of Mr. Locke. Threesuch calamities overwhelmed me, overwhelmed us both, for Mr. Locke, my revered Mr. Locke, was as dear to my beloved partner asto myself. Poor Mrs. C concluded these tidings must have alreadyarrived, but her fatal letter gave the first intelligence, and noother letter, at that period, found its way to me. She sent hers, I think, by some trusty returned prisoner. She little knew mythen terrible situation ; hovering over my head was the stilettoof a surgeon for a menace of cancer yet, till that moment, hopeof escape had always been held out to me by the Baron de Larrey--hope which, from the reading of that fatal letter, becameextinct. A CHANGE OF PLAN. When I was sufficiently recovered for travelling, after adreadful operation, my plan was resumed, but with an alterationwhich added infinitely to its interest, as well as to itsimportance. Bonaparte was now engaging in a new war, of which theaim and intention was no less than-the conquest of the world. This menaced a severity of conscription to which Alexander, whohad now spent ten years in France, and was seventeen years ofage, would soon become liable. His noble father had relinquishedall his own hopes and emoluments in the military career, from theepoch that his king was separated from his country; though thatcareer had been his peculiar choice, and was suited peculiarly tothe energy of his character, the vigour of his constitution, hisactivity, his address, his bravery, his spirit of resource, neveroverset by difficulty nor wearied by fatigue---all whichcombination of military requisites-- "The eye could in a moment reach, And read depicted in his martial air, " But his high honour, superior to his interest, superior to hisinclination, and ruling his whole conduct with unremitting, unalienable constancy, impelled him to prefer the hard labour andobscure drudgery of working at a bureau of the ministerPage 253 of the interior, to any and every advantage or promotion thatcould be offered him in his own immediate and favourite line oflife, when no longer compatible with his allegiance and loyalty. To see, therefore, his son bear arms in the very cause that hadbeen his ruin--bear arms against the country which had givenhimself as well as his mother, birth, would indeed have beenheart-breaking. We agreed, therefore, that Alexander shouldaccompany me to England, where, I flattered myself, I mightsafely deposit him, while I returned to await, by the side of myhusband, the issue of the war, in the fervent hope that it wouldprove our restoration to liberty and reunion. A NEW PASSPORT OBTAINED. My second passport was procured with much less facility than thefirst. Fouch‚ was no longer minister of police, and, strange totell, Fouch‚, who, till he became that minister, had been held inhorror by all France-all Europe, conducted himself with suchconciliatory mildness to all ranks of people . While in thatoffice, evinced such an appearance of humanity, and exhibitedsuch an undaunted spirit of justice in its execution, that at hisdismission all Paris was in affliction and dismay ! Was this fromthe real merit he had shown in his police capacity? Or was itfrom a yet greater fear of malignant cruelty awakened by the veryname of his successor, Savary, Duke of Rovigo?(215) Now, as before, the critical moment was seized by my friends toact for me when Bonaparte had left Paris to proceed towards thescene of his next destined enterprise;(216) and he was, Ibelieve, already at Dresden when my application was, made. Mykind friend Madame de T-- here took the agency which M. DeNarbonne could no longer sustain, as he was now attending theemperor, to whom he had been made aide-de-camp, and through hermeans, after many difficulties and delays, I obtained a licenceof departure for myself andPage 254 for Alexander. For what place, nominally, my passport wasassigned, I do not recollect; I think, for Newfoundland, butcertainly for some part of the coast of America. Yet everybody atthe police office saw and knew that England was my object. Theyconnived, nevertheless, at the accomplishment of my wishes, withsignificant though taciturn consciousness. COMMISSIONS FOR LONDON. >From all the friends whom I dared trust with my secretexpedition, I had commissions for London; though merely verbal, as I was cautioned to take no letters. No one at that time couldsend any to England by the post. I was charged by sundry personsto write for them, and in their names, upon my arrival. Madame deTracy begged me to discover the address of her sister-in-law, Madame de Civrac, who had emigrated into the wilds of Scotland, and of whom she anxiously wished for some intelligence. Thisoccasioned my having a little correspondence with her, which Inow remark because she is named as one of the principal dames dela soci‚t‚ by Madame de Genlis. Madame d'Astorre desired me tofind out her father, M. Le Comte de Cely, and to give him news ofher and her children. This I did, and received from the oldgentleman some visits, and many letters. Madame la Princesse deChimay entrusted me with a petition--a verbal one, to the Princeof Wales, in favour of the Duc de Fitzjames, who, in losing hiswife, had lost an English pension. This I was to transmit to hisroyal highness by means of the Duchess dowager of Buccleugh - whowas also entreated to make known the duke's situation to M. D'Escars, who was in the immediate service of Louis XVIII. ; forM. D'Escars I had a sort of cipher from Madame de Chimay, toauthenticate my account. DELAY AT DUNKIRK. Our journey--Alexander's and mine--from Paris to Dunkirk was sad, from the cruel separation which it exacted, and the fearfuluncertainty of impending events ; though I was animated at timesinto the liveliest sensations, in the prospect of again beholdingmy father, my friends, and my country. General d'Arblay, throughhis assiduous researches, aided by those of M. De Boinville andsome others, found that a vessel was preparing to sail fromDunkirk to Dover, underPage 255 American colours, and with American passports and licence and, after privately landing such of its passengers as meant but tocross the channel, to proceed to the western continents. M. D'Arblay found, at the same time, six or seven persons of hisacquaintance who were to embark in this vessel. We all met, and severally visited at Dunkirk, where I wascompelled, through the mismanagement and misconduct of thecaptain of the vessel, to spend the most painfully wearisome sixweeks of my life, for they kept me alike from all that wasdearest to me, either in France or in England, save my Alexander. I was twenty times on the point of returning to Paris; butwhenever I made known that design, the captain promised to sailthe next morning. The truth is, he postponed the voyage from dayto day and from week to week, in the hope of obtaining morepassengers ; and, as the clandestine visit he meant to make. ToDover, in his way to America, was whispered about, reinforcementsvery frequently encouraged his cupidity. The ennui of having no positive occupation was now, for the firsttime, known to me; for though the first object of my active careswas with me, it was not as if that object had been a daughter, and always at my side ; it was a youth of seventeen, who, with myfree consent, sought whatever entertainment the place couldafford, to while away fatigue. He ran, therefore, wildly about athis pleasure, to the quay, the dockyard, the sea, the suburbs, the surrounding country - but chiefly, his time was spent inskipping to the " Mary Ann, " our destined vessel, and seeing itspreparations for departure. To stroll about the town, to callupon my fellow-sufferers, to visit the principal shops, and totalk with the good Dutch people while I made slight purchases, was all I could devise to do that required action. THE MS. OF "THE WANDERER. " When I found our stay indefinitely protracted, it occurred to methat if I had the papers of a work which I had then in hand, theymight afford me an occupation to while away my truly vapid anduninteresting leisure. I wrote this idea to my partner in all--as M. De Talleyrand had called M. D'Arblay; and, with a spiritthat was always in its first youth where any service was to beperformed, he waited on M. De Saulnier at the police office, andmade a request that my manuscriptsPage 256 might be sent after me, with a permission that I might also beallowed to carry them with me on board the ship. He durst not sayto England, whither no vessel was supposed to sail; but he wouldnot, to M. De Saulnier, who palpably connived at my plan andpurpose, say America. M. De Saulnier made many inquiries relativeto these papers; but on being assured, upon honour, that the workhad nothing in it political, nor even national, nor possiblyoffensive to the government, he took the single word of M. D'Arblay, whose noble countenance and dauntless openness ofmanner were guarantees of sincerity that wanted neither seals norbonds, and invested him with the power to send me what papers bepleased, without demanding to examine, or even to see them -atrust so confiding and so generous, that I have regretted athousand times the want of means to acknowledge it according toits merit. This work was "The Wanderer, or Female Difficulties, " of whichnearly three volumes were finished. They arrived, nevertheless, vainly for any purpose at Dunkirk; the disturbance of mysuspensive -state incapacitating me for any composition, save ofletters to my best friend, to whom I wrote, or dictated byAlexander, every day; and every day was only supported by thesame kind diurnal return. But when, at length, we were summonedto the vessel, and our goods and chattels were conveyed to thecustom-house, and when the little portmanteau was produced, andfound to be filled with manuscripts, the police officer whoopened it began a rant of indignation and amazement at a sight sounexpected and prohibited, that made him incapable to inquire orto hear the meaning of such a freight. He sputtered at themouth, and stamped with his feet, so forcibly and vociferously, that no endeavours of mine could induce him to stop hisaccusations of traitorous designs, till, tired of the attempt, Iceased both explanation and entreaty, and stood before him withcalm taciturnity. Wanting, then, the fresh fuel of interruptionor opposition, his fire and fury evaporated into curiosity toknow what I could offer. Yet even then, though my accountstaggered his violence into some degree of civility, he evidentlydeemed it, from its very nature, incredible ; and this fourthchild of my brain had undoubtedly been destroyed ere it was born, had I not had recourse to an English merchant, Mr. Gregory, longsettled at Dunkirk, to whom, Page 257 happily, I had been recommended, as to a person capable, in anyemergence, to afford me assistance; he undertook theresponsibility ; and the letter of M. D'Arblay, containing thelicence of M. De Saulnier, was then all-sufficient for mymanuscripts and their embarkation. SPANISH PRISONERS AT DUNKIRK. The second event I have to relate I never even yet recollectwithout an inward shuddering. In our walks out of the town, onthe borders of the ocean, after passing beyond the dockyard orwharf, we frequently met a large party of Spanish prisoners, wellescorted by gendarmes, and either going to their hard destinedlabour, or returning from it for repast or repose. I felt deeplyinterested by them, knowing they were men with and for whom ourown English and the immortal Wellington were then fighting : andthis interest induced me to walk on the bank by which they wereparaded to and fro, as often as I could engage Alexander, fromhis other pursuits, to accompany me. Their appearance was highlyin their favour, as well as their situation ; they had a lookcalmly intrepid, of concentrated resentment, yet unalterablepatience, They were mostly strong-built and vigorous; of solemn, almost stately deportment, and with fine dark eyes, full ofmeaning, rolling around them as if in watchful expectation ofinsult; and in a short time they certainly caught from mycountenance an air of sympathy, for they gave me, in return, aswe passed one another, a glance that spoke gratefulconsciousness. I followed them to the place of their labour ;though my short-sightedness would not let me distinguish whatthey were about, whether mending fortifications, dykes, banks, parapets, or what not: and I durst not use my glass, lest Ishould be suspected as a spy. We only strolled about in theirvicinity, as if merely visiting and viewing the sea. The weather -it was now August-was so intensely hot, the placewas so completely without shade, and their work was so violent, that they changed hands every two hours, and those who were sentoff to recruit were allowed to cast themselves upon the burnt andstraw-like grass, to await their alternate summons. This theydid in small groups, but without venturing to solace their restby any species of social intercourse. They were as taciturn withone another as with their keepers and taskmasters. Page 258 One among them there was who wore an air of superiority, ,graveand composed, yet decided, to which they all appeared to bow downwith willing subserviency, though the distinction was onlydemonstrated by an air of profound respect whenever theyapproached or passed him, for discourse held they none. Onemorning, when I observed him seated at a greater distance thanusual from his overseers, during his hour of release, I turnedsuddenly from my walk as if with a view to bend my way homewards, but contrived, while talking with Alexander and looking anotherway, to slant my steps close to where he sat surrounded by hismute adherents, and to drop a handful of small coin nearly underthe elbow upon which, wearily, lie was reclining. We proceededwith alertness, and talking together aloud; but Alexanderperceived this apparent chief evidently moved by what I had done, though forbearing to touch the little offering, which, however, his companions immediately secured. After this I never met him that he did not make me a slight butexpressive bow. This encouraged me to repeat the poor littletribute of compassion, which I soon found he distributed, as faras it would go, to the whole set, by the kindly looks with whichevery one thenceforward greeted me upon every meeting. Yet hewhom we supposed to be some chief, and who palpably discovered itwas himself I meant to distinguish, never touched the money, norexamined what was taken up by the others, who, on their part, nevertheless seemed but to take charge of it in trust. We werenow such good friends, that this became more than ever myfavourite walk and these poor unhappy captives never saw mewithout brightening up into a vivacity of pleasure that was to mea real exhilaration. We had been at Dunkirk above five weeks, when one evening, havinga letter of consequence to send to Paris, I begged Alexander tocarry it to the post himself, and to deposit me upon the quay, and there to join me. As the weather was very fine I stood nearthe sea, wistfully regarding the element on which depended all mypresent hopes and views. But presently my meditations wereinterrupted, and my thoughts diverted from mere self by thesudden entrance, in a large body, of my friends the Spanishprisoners, who all bore down to the very place where I wasstationed, evidently recognising me, and eagerly showing that itwas not without extreme satisfaction. I saw their approach, inreturn, with livelyPage 259 pleasure, for, the quay being, I suppose, a place of certainsecurity, they were unencumbered by their usual turnkeys, thegendarmes, and this freedom, joined to their surprise at mysight, put them also off their guard, and they flocked roundthough not near me, and hailed me with smiles, bows, and handsput upon their breasts. I now took courage to speak to them, partly in French, partly in English, for I found they understooda little of both those languages. I inquired whence they came, and whether they knew General Wellington. They smiled and noddedat his name, and expressed infinite delight in finding I wasEnglish ; but though they all, by their head movements, enteredinto discourse, my friend the chief was the only one whoattempted to answer me. When I first went to France, being continually embarrassed forterms, I used constantly to apply to M. D'Arblay for aid, tillMadame de Tess‚ charged him to be quiet, saying that my looksfilled up what my words left short, "de sorte que, " she added, "nous la devinons;"(217) this was the case between my Spaniardsand myself, and we -devin-d one another so much to our mutualsatisfaction, that while this was the converse the most to mytaste of any I had had at Dunkirk, it was also, probably, most totheirs of any that had fallen to their lot since they had beentorn from their native country. SURPRISED BY AN OFFICER OF POLICE. While this was going on I was privately drawing from my purse allthat it contained of small money to distribute to my new friends- but at this same moment a sudden change in the countenance ofthe chief from looks of grateful feeling, to an expression ofausterity, checked my purpose, and, sorry and alarmed lest he hadtaken offence, I hastily drew my empty hand from my reticule. Ithen saw that the change of expression was not simply toausterity from pleasure, but to consternation from serenity - andI perceived that it was not to me the altered visage wasdirected; the eye pointed beyond me, and over my headstartled, I turned round, and what, then, was my ownconsternation when I beheld an officer of the police, in fullgold trappings, furiously darting forward from a small house atthe entrance upon the quay, which I afterwards learnt was hisofficial dwelling. When he came within two yards of us he stoodstill, mute and erect ; but with an air of menace, his eyesscowling first upon the chief, Page 260 then upon me, then upon the whole group, and then upon me again, with looks that seemed diving into some conspiracy. My alarm was extreme - my imprudence in conversing with theseunhappy captives struck me at once with foreboding terror of illconsequences. I had, however, sufficient presence of mind to meetthe eyes of my antagonist with a look that showed surprise, rather than apprehension at his wrath. This was not without some effect. Accustomed, probably, toscrutinize and to penetrate into secret plots, he might be anadept in distinguishing the fear of ill-treatment from the fearof detection. The latter I could certainly not manifest, as mycompassion had shown no outward mark beyond a little charity -but the former I tried, vainly, perhaps, to subdue : for I wellknew that pity towards a Spaniard would be deemed suspicious, atleast, if not culpable. We were all silent, and all motionless ; but when the man, havingfixed upon me his eyes with intention to petrify me, saw that Ifixed him in return with an open though probably not verycomposed face, he-spoke, and with a voice of thunder, vociferating reproach, accusation, and condemnation all in one. His words I could not distinguish; they were so confused andrapid from rage. This violence, though it secretly affrighted me, I tried to meetwith simple astonishment, making no sort of answer orinterruption to his invectives. When he observed my steadiness, and that he excited none of the humiliation of discovered guilt, he stopped short and, after a pause, gruffly said, -- "Qui ˆtes-vous?" "Je me nomme d'Arblay. " "Etes-vous mari‚e?" "Oui. " "O– est votre mari?" "A Paris. " "Qui est-il?" "Il travaille aux Bureaux de l'Int‚rieur. " "Pourquoi le quittez-vous?"(218) Page 261 I was here sensibly embarrassed. I durst not avow I wasgoing to England ; I could not assert I was really going toAmerica. I hesitated, and the sight of his eyes brightening upwith the hope of mischief, abated my firmness ; and, while heseemed to be staring me through, I gave an account, veryimperfect, indeed, and far from clear, though true, that I cameto Dunkirk to embark on board the "Mary Ann" vessel. "Ah ha!" exclaimed he, "vous ˆtes Anglaise?"(219) Then, tossing back his head with an air of triumphant victory, "suivez-moi!"(220) he added, and walked away, fast and fierce, but looking back every minute to see that I followed. INTERROGATED AT THE POLICE OFFICE. Never can I forget the terror with which I was seized at thiscommand; it could only be equalled by the evident consternationand sorrow that struck me, as I turned my head around to seewhere I was, in my poor chief and his group. Follow I did, thoughnot less per force than if I had been dragged by chains. When Isaw him arrive at the gate of the little dwelling I havementioned, which I now perceived to belong to him officially, Iimpulsively, involuntarily stopped. To enter a police office, tobe probably charged with planning some conspiracy with theenemies of the state, my poor Alexander away, and not knowingwhat must have become of me; my breath was gone; my power ofmovement ceased; my head, or understanding, seemed a chaos, bereft of every distinct or discriminating idea; and my feet, asif those of a statue, felt riveted to the ground, from a vaguebut overwhelming belief I was destined to incarceration in somedungeon, where I might sink ere I could make known my situationto my friends, while Alex, thus unaccountably abandoned, might bedriven to despair, or become the prey to nameless mischiefs. Again the tiger vociferated a "suivez-moi!" but finding it nolonger obeyed, he turned full round as he stood upon ]itsthreshold, and perceiving my motionless and speechless dismay, looked at me for two or three seconds in scornful, butinvestigating taciturnity. Then, putting his arms a-kimbo, hesaid, in lower, but more, taunting accents, "Vous ne le jugezdonc pas … propos de me suivre?" (221) Page 262 This was followed by a sneering, sardonic grin that seemedanticipating the enjoyment of using compulsion. On, therefore, Iagain forced myself, and with tolerable composure I said, "Jen'ai rien, monsieur, je crois, … faire ici?"(222) "Nous verrons!"(223) he answered, bluffly, and led the way into asmall hovel rather than parlour - and then haughtily seatedhimself at a table, on which were pen, ink, and paper, and, whileI stood before him, began an interrogation, with the decidedasperity of examining a detected criminal, of whom he was to drawup the proces verbal. When I perceived this, my every fear, feeling, nay, thought, concentrated in Alexander, to whom I had determined not toallude, while I had any hope of self-escape, to avoid for us boththe greatest of all perils, that of an accusation of intending toevade the ensuing conscription, for which, though Alex was yettoo young, he was fast advancing to be amenable. But now that I was enclosed from his sight, and there was dangerevery moment of his suddenly missing me, I felt that our onlychance of safety must lie in my naming him before he shouldreturn. With all the composure, therefore, that I could assume, I said that I was come to Dunkirk with my son to embark in the"Mary Ann, " an American vessel, with a passport from M. DeSaulnier, secretary to the Duke de Rovigo, minister of police. And what had I done with this son? I had sent him to the post-office with a letter for his father. At that instant I perceived Alexander wildly running past thewindow. This moment was critical. I instantly cried, "Sir, there is myson!" The man rose, and went to the door, calling Out, "Jeunehomme!"(224) Alex approached, and was questioned, and though much amazed, gaveanswers perfectly agreeing with mine. I now recovered my poor affrighted faculties, and calmly saidthat if he had any doubt of our veracity, I begged he would sendfor Mr. Gregory, who knew us well. This, a second time, was amost happy reference. Mr. Gregory was of the highestrespectability, and he was near at hand. There could be no doubtof the authenticity f such an appeal. Page 263 The brow of my ferocious assailant was presently unbent. I seizedthe favourable omen to assure him, with apparent indifference, that I had no objection to being accompanied or preceded to theHotel Sauvage, where I resided, nor to giving him the key of myportmanteau and portfolio, if it were possible I had excited anysuspicion by merely speaking, from curiosity, to the Spanishprisoners. No, he answered, he would not disturb me; and then, havingentered the name of Alexander by the side of mine, he let usdepart. Speechless was my joy, and speechless was the surpriseof Alexander, and we walked home in utter silence. Happily, thisincident occurred but just before we set sail, for with itterminated my greatest solace at Dunkirk, the seeing andconsoling those unhappy prisoners, and the regale of wandering bythe sea-coast. THE "MARY ANN" CAPTURED OFF DEAL. Six weeks completely we consumed in wasteful weariness atDunkirk; and our passage, when at last we set sail, was equally, in its proportion, toilsome and tedious. Involved in a sickeningcalm, we could make no way, but lingered two days and two nightsin this long-short passage. The second night, indeed, might havebeen spared me, as it was spared to all my fellow voyagers. Butwhen we cast anchor, I was so exhausted by the unremittingsufferings I had endured, that I was literally unable to risefrom my hammock. Yet was there a circumstance capable to have aroused me from anytorpidity, save the demolishing ravage of sea-sickness forscarcely were we at anchor, when Alex, capering up to the deck, descended with yet more velocity than he had mounted to exclaim, "Oh, maman! there are two British officers now upon deck. " But, finding that even this could not make me recover speech ormotion, he ran back again to this new and delighting sight, andagain returning 'cried out in a tone of rapture, "Maman, we aretaken by the British! We are all captured by British officers!" Even in my immovable, and nearly insensible state, this juvenileardour, excited by so new and strange an adventure, afforded mesome amusement. It did not, however, afford me strength, for Icould not rise, though I heard that every other passenger wasremoved. With difficulty, even next morning, I crawled upon thedeck, and there I had been but a short time, Page 264 when Lieutenant Harford came on board to take possession of thevessel, not as French, but American booty, war having beendeclared against America the preceding week. Mr. Harford, hearingmy name, most courteously addressed me, with congratulationsupon my safe arrival in England. These were words to rewaken allthe happiest purposes of my expedition, and they recovered mefrom the nerveless, sinking state into which my exhaustion hadcast me, as if by a miracle. My father, my brothers, my sisters, and all my heart-dear friends, seemed rising to my view andspringing to my embraces, with all the joy of renovating reunion. I thankfully accepted his obliging offer to carry me on shore inhis own boat; but when I turned round, and called upon Alexanderto follow us, Mr. Harford, assuming a commanding air, said, "No, madam, I cannot take that young man. No French person can comeinto my boat without a passport and permission from government. "My air now a little corresponded with his own, as I answered, "Hewas born, Sir, in England!" "Oh!" cried he, " "that's quite another matter; come along, Sir!we'll all go together. " I now found we were rowing to Deal, not Dover, to which town wehad been destined by our engagement: but we had been captured, itseems, chemin fuisant, though so gently, and with such utterhelplessness of opposition, that I had become a prisoner withoutany suspicion of my captivity. JOY ON ARRIVING IN ENGLAND. We had anchored about half a mile, I imagine, from the shore ;which I no sooner touched than, drawing away my arm from Mr. Harford, I took up on one knee, with irrepressible transport, thenearest bright pebble, to press to my lips in grateful joy attouching again the land of my nativity, after an absence, nearlyhopeless, of more than twelve years. Of the happiness that ensued--my being again in the arms of mydearly loved father-in those of my dear surviving sisters--mybrothers--my friends, some faint details yet remain in a fewletters to my heart's confidant that he preserved: but they aretruly faint, for my satisfaction was always damped in recordingit to him who SO fondly wished to partake of it, and whoseabsence from that participation always rendered it incomplete. And, on one great source of renovated felicity, I did notPage 265 dare touch even by inference, even by allusion--that of findingmy gracious royal mistress and her august daughters as cordial intheir welcome, as trustingly confidential, and as amiablycondescending, I had almost said affectionate, as if I had neverdeparted from the royal roof under which, for five years, I hadenjoyed their favour. To have spoken of the royal family inletters sent to France under the reign of Bonaparte, might havebrought destruction on him for whom I would a thousand timessooner have suffered it myself. (Madame d'Arblay to Mrs. Broome. )(225)Aug. 15, 1812. In a flutter of joy such as my tender Charlotte will feel inreading this, I write to her from England! I can hardly believeit; I look around me in constant inquiry and doubt I speak Frenchto every soul, and I whisper still if I utter a word thatbreathes private opinion. . . . We set off for Canterbury, where we slept, and on the 20th(226)proceeded towards Chelsea. While, upon some common, we stopped towater the horses, a gentleman on horseback passed us twice, andthen, looking in, pronounced my name - and I saw it was Charles, dear Charles! who had been watching for us several hours andthree nights following, through a mistake. Thence we proceeded toChelsea, where we arrived at nine o'clock at night. I was in astate almost breathless. I could only demand to see my dearfather alone: fortunately, he had had the same feeling, and hadcharged all the family to stay away, and all the world to bedenied. I found him, therefore, in his library, by himself-butoh! my dearest, very much altered indeed--weak, weak and changed--his head almost always hanging down, and his hearing mostcruelly impaired. I was terribly affected, but most grateful toGod for my arrival. Our meeting, you may be sure, was verytender, though I roused myself as quickly as possible to be gayand cheering. He was extremely kind to Alex, and said, in a tonethe most impressive, "I should have been very glad to have seenM. D'Arblay!" In discourse, however, he reanimated, and was, attimes, all himself. But he now admits scarcely a creature but ofhis family, and will only see for a short time even his children. He likes quietly reading, and lies Page 266 almost constantly upon the sofa, and will never eat but alone. What a change! YOUNG D'ARBLAY SECURES A SCHOLARSHIP. (Madame d'Arblay to Dr. Burney. )March 16, 1813. How will my kindest father rejoice for me! for my dear partner--for my boy! The election is gained, and Alexander has obtainedthe Tancred scholarship. He had all the votes: the opponentretired. Sir D-- behaved handsomely, came forward, andspeechified for us. Sir Francis Milman, who was chairman, led theway in the harangue. Dr. Davy, our supporter, leader, inspirer, director, heart and head, patron and guide, spoke also. Mr H--spoke, too; but nothing, they tell me, to our purpose, nor yetagainst it. He gave a very long and elaborate history of a causewhich he is to plead in the House of Lords, and which has not thesmallest reference whatsoever to the case in point. Dr. Davytold me, in recounting it, that he is convinced the good and warylawyer thought this an opportunity not to be lost for rehearsinghis cause, which would prevent loss of time to himself, orhindrance of business, except to his hearers : however, he gaveus his vote. 'Tis a most glorious affair. THE QUEEN ALARMED BY A MAD WOMAN. (Madame d'Arblay to Dr. Burney. )May 11, 1813. My own inclination and intention kept in mind your charge, , mydearest sir, that as soon as I was able I would wait upon LadyCrewe;(227) fortunately, I found her at home, and in her beststyle, cordial as well as good-humoured, and abounding in acuteand odd remarks. I had also the good fortune to see my lord, whoseems always pleasing, unaffected, and sensible, and to possess ashare of innate modesty that no intercourse with the world, noraddition of years, can rob him of. I was much satisfied with myvisit - but what I shall do for time, now once I have beenlaunched from my couch, or sick chamber, I wot not. Page 267 What a terrible alarm is this which the poor tormentedqueen has again received!(228) I wrote my concern as soon as Iheard of it, though I have not yet seen the printed account, mypacket of papers reaching only to the very day before that event. My answer has been a most gracious summons to the Queen's housefor to-morrow. Her majesty and two of the princesses come to townfor four days. This robs me of my Chelsea visit for this week, asI keep always within call during the town residences, when I haveroyal notice of them, and, indeed, there is nothing I desire morethan to see her majesty at this moment, and to be allowed toexpress what I have felt for her. My letter from MadameBeckersdorff says that such an alarm would have been frightfulfor anybody, but how much more peculiarly so for the queen, whohas experienced such poignant horror from the effects ofdisordered intellects! who is always suffering from them, and sonearly a victim to the unremitting exercise of her duties uponthat subject and these calls. I have had a visit this morning from Mrs. Piozzi, who is in townonly for a few days upon business. She came while I was out - butI must undoubtedly make a second tour, after my royal four daysare passed, in order to wait upon and thank her. I have been received more graciously than ever, if that bepossible, by my dear and honoured queen and sweet PrincessesEliza and Mary. The queen has borne this alarm astonishingly, considering how great was the shock at the moment; but she has sohigh a character, that she will not suffer anything personal tosink her spirits, which she saves wholly for the calls upon themof others, and great and terrible have been those calls. Thebeloved king is in the best state possible for his presentmelancholy situation; that is, wholly free from real bodilysuffering, or imaginary mental misery, for he is persuaded thathe is always conversing with angels. WEATHER COMPLAINTS. PROPOSED MEETING WITH LORDLANSDOWNE. (Madame d'Arblay to Dr. Burney. )Chenies-street, Alfred-place, May 23, 1813. Oh, how teased I am, my dearest padre, by this eternal unwalkableweather! Every morning rises so fairly, that at every noon I ampreparing to quit my conjuring, and repair, Page 268 by your kind invitation, to prelude my promised chat by a repastwith Sarah - when mizzling falls the rain, or hard raps the hail, and the day, for me, is involved in damps and dangers that fix meagain to my dry, but solitary conjurations. I am so tired now ofdisappointments, that I must talk a little with my padre in theirdefiance, and in a manner now, thank God! out of their reach. Ah, how long will letters be any safer than meetings! The littleworld I see all give me hope and comfort from the posture ofaffairs but I am too deeply interested to dare be sanguine whilein such suspense. Lady Crewe invited me to her party that she calls Noah's ark; butI cannot yet risk an evening, and a dressed one too. She thensaid she would make me a small party with the Miss Berrys, andfor a morning; and now she has written to Charles to makeinterest with me to admit Lord Lansdowne, at his own earnestrequest! I am quite non compos to know how I shall make my waythrough these honours, to my strength and re-establishment, forthey clash with my private plan and adopted system of quiet. However, she says the meeting shall be in the country, atBrompton, and without fuss or ceremony. Her kindness isinexpressible, therefore I have not courage to refuse her. Shehas offered me her little residence at Brompton for my dwellingfor a week or so, to restore me from all my influenzas : she maytruly be called a faithful family friend. I hope dear Sarah andFanny Raper will be of the party. If they are, charge them, dearsir, to let me hear their voices, for I shall never find outtheir faces. What weather! what weather! when shall I get to Chelsea, andembrace again my beloved father? This free-born weather of our sea-girt isle of liberty is veryincommodious to those who have neither carriages for wet feet, nor health for damp shoulders. If the farmers, however, arecontented, I must be patient. We may quarrel with all our wishesbetter than with our corn. Adieu, my most dear father, till the sun shines drier. A YOUNG GIRL'S ENTRY TO LONDON SOCIETY. MADAME DE STAEL. (Madame d'Arblay to a friend. )London, August 20, 1813-. . . Your charming girl, by what I can gather, has seen, upon thewhole, a great deal of this vast town and its Page 269 splendours, --a little more might, perhaps, have been better, inmaking her, with a mind such as hers, regret it a little less. Merit of her sort can here be known with difficulty. Dissipationis so hurried, so always in a bustle, that even amusement must beprominent, to be enjoyed. There is no time for development;nothing, therefore, is seen but what is conspicuous; and not muchis heard but what is obstreperous. They who, in a short time, canmake themselves known and admired now in London, must have theircupids, in Earl Dorset's phrase-- Like blackguard boys, Who thrust their links full in your face. I had very much matter that I meant and wished to say to you uponthis subject; but in brief--I do not myself think it a misfortunethat your dear girl cannot move in a London round, away from yourown wing: you have brought her up so well, and she seems so good, gentle, and contented, as well as accomplished, that I cannotwish her drawn into a vortex where she may be imbued with otherideas, views, and wishes than those that now constitute herhappiness--and happiness! what ought to be held more sacred whereit is innocent--what ought so little to risk any unnecessary orpremature concussion? With all the deficiencies and imperfectionsof her present situation, which you bewail but which she does notfind out, it is, alas! a million to one whether, even inattaining the advantages and society you wish for her, she willever again, after any change, be as happy as she is at thismoment. A mother whom she looks up to and doats upon--a sisterwhom she so fondly loves--how shall they be replaced? Thechances are all against her (though the world has, I know, suchreplacers), from their rarity. I am truly glad you had a gratification you so earnestly coveted, that of seeing Madame de Stael: your account of her was extremelyinteresting to me. As to myself, I have not seen her at all. Various causes have kept me in utter retirement; and, in truth, with respect to Madame de Stael, my situation is reallyembarrassing. It is too long and difficult to write upon, nor doI recollect whether I ever communicated to you our originalacquaintance, which, at first, was intimate. I shall always, internally, be grateful for the partiality with which she soughtme out upon her arrival in this country before my- marriage: andstill, and far more, if she can forgive my dropping her, which Icould not helpPage 270 for none of my friends, at that time, would suffer me to keep upthe intercourse! I had messages, remonstrances, entreaties, representations, letters, and conferences, till I could resist nolonger; though I had found her so charming, that I fought thehardest battle I dared fight against almost all my bestconnections. She is now received by all mankind;--but that, indeed, she always was--all womankind, I should say--withdistinction and pleasure. I wish much to see her "Essay onSuicide;" but it has not yet fallen in my way. When will the workcome out for which she was, she says, chass‚e de la France?(229)Where did --- hear her a whole evening? She is, indeed, mostuncommonly entertaining, and animating as well as animated, almost beyond anybody, "Les M‚moires de Madame de Stael" I haveread long ago, and with singular interest and eagerness. Theyare so attaching, so evidently original and natural, that theystand very high, indeed, in reading that has given me mostpleasure. My boy has just left me for Greenwich. (230) He goesin October to Cambridge; I wish to install him there myself. Mylast letter from Paris gives me to the end of October to stay inEngland. ROGERS THE POET. (Madame d'Arblay to Dr. Burney. )August 24, 1813. . . . . . I was delighted by meeting Lady Wellington, not long since, at Lady Templetown's. Her very name electrified me with emotion. I dined at Mr. Rogers's, at his beautiful mansion in the GreenPark, to meet Lady Crewe; and Mrs. Barbauld was also there, whomI had not seen many, many years, and alas, should not have known!Mr. Rogers was so considerate to my sauvagerie as to have noparty, though Mr. Sheridan, he said, had expressed his greatdesire to meet again his old friend Madame d'Arblay! Lady Crewetold me she certainly would not leave town without seeking Page 271 another chattery with her old friend, Dr. Burney, whom she alwayssaw with fresh pleasure. INTERVIEW WITH MR. WILBERFORCE. (Madame d'Arblay to Dr. Burney. )Sandgate, Sept. , 1813. Let me steal a moment to relate a singular gratification, and, intruth, a real and great honour I have had to rejoice in. Youknow, my padre, probably, that Marianne Francis was commissionedby Mr. Wilberforce(231) to bring about an acquaintance with yourF. D'A. , and that, though highly susceptible to such a desire, myusual shyness, or rather consciousness of inability to meet theexpectations that must have made him seek me, induced mydeclining an interview. Eh bien--at church at Sandgate, the dayafter my arrival, I saw this justly celebrated man, and wasintroduced to him in the churchyard, after the service, byCharles. The ramparts and martellos around us became naturallyour theme, and Mr. Wilberforce proposed showing them to me. Ireadily accepted the offer, and Charles and Sarah, and Mrs. Wilberforce and Mrs. Barrett, went away in their severalcarriages, while Mr. Barrett alone remained, and Mr. Wilberforcegave me his arm, and, in short, we walked the round from one tofive o'clock! Four hours' of the best conversation I have, nearly, ever enjoyed. He was anxious for a full and true accountof Paris, and particularly of religion and infidelity, and ofBonaparte and the wars, and of all and everything that hadoccurred during my ten years' seclusion in France; and I had somuch to communicate, and his drawing out and comments andepisodes were all so judicious, so spirited, so full ofinformation yet so unassuming, that my shyness all flew away andI felt to be his confidential friend, opening to him upon everyoccurrence and every sentiment, with the frankness that isusually won by years of intercourse. I was really and trulydelighted and enlightened by him; I desire nothing more Page 272 than to renew the acquaintance, and cultivate it to intimacy. But, alas! he was going away next morning. INTENDED PUBLICATION OF "THE WANDERER. " (Madame d'Arblay to Dr. Burney. )Richmond Hill, Oct. 12, 1813. My most dear padre will, I am sure, congratulate me that I havejust had the heartfelt delight of a few lines from M. D'Arblay, dated September 5th. I had not had any news since the 17th ofAugust, and I had the melancholy apprehension upon my spiritsthat no more letters would be allowed to pass till the campaignwas over. It has been therefore one of the most welcomesurprises I ever experienced. He tells me, also, that he isperfectly well, and quite acabl‚ with business. This, for theinstant, gives me nothing but joy; for, were he not essentiallynecessary in some department of civil labour and use, he wouldsurely be included in some lev‚e en masse. Every way, therefore, this letter gives me relief and pleasure. I have had, also, this morning, the great comfort to hear that myAlexander is " stout and well at Cambridge, where his kind uncleCharles still remains. I am indescribably occupied, and have been so ever since myreturn from Ramsgate, in giving more and more last touches to mywork, about which I begin to grow very, anxious. I am to receivemerely 500 pounds upon delivery of the MS. The two following 500by instalments from nine months to nine months, that is, in ayear and a half from the day of publication. If all goes well, the whole will be 3000, but only at the end of the sale of eightthousand copies. Oh, my padre, if you approve the work, I shallhave good hope. GENERAL D'ARBLAY'S WOUNDED COMRADES. (Madame d'Arblay to Mrs. Locke. )Dec. 16, 1813. Ah, my dearest friend, how is my poor cottage-how are my proofs--how is everything forced from my mind, except what necessitydrives there, by this cruel stroke to my suffering partner! Theworld had power only in two instances to have given him quite sodeadly a blow, dear to his heart of love asPage 273 are some, nay, many others; but here--for M. De Narbonne, it wasa passion of admiration, joined to a fondness of friendship, thatwere a part of himself. (232) How he will bear it, and in ourabsence, perpetually occupies my thoughts. And I have no meansto hear from, or to write to him!--none, absolutely none! just before this wound was inflicted, I was already overwhelmedwith grief for my poor Madame de Maisonneuve, A for M. D'Arblayhimself, and for my own personal loss, in the death--prematureand dreadful, nay, inhuman--of the noble, perfect brother of thatMadame de Maisonneuve; General Latour Maubourg, a man who, likemy own best friend was--is signalized among his comrades by theterm of a vrai Chevalier Fran‡ais. He was without a blot; andhis life has been thrown away merely to prevent his being made aprisoner! He had received a horrible wound on the first of thetremendous battles of Leipzic, and on the second he sufferedamputation; and immediately after was carried away to follow theretreating army! In such a condition, who can wonder to hearthat, a very few miles from Leipzic, he expired?(233) DEATH OF DR. BURNEY. [In the beginning of the year 1814, Madame d'Arblay published herfourth work, "The Wanderer, " and nearly at the same time peacewas declared between France and England. Her satisfaction at anevent so long wished for, was deeply saddened by the death of herfather, Dr. Burney; whom she nursed and attended to the lastmoment with dutiful tenderness. Soon after the Restoration of the French royal family, Monsieurd'Arblay was placed by the Duke de Luxembourg in the French "gardes du corps. " He obtained leave of absence towards the closeof the year, and came to England Page 274 for a few weeks ; after which Madame d'Arblay returned with himto Paris, leaving their son to pursue his studies at Cambridge. ] (Madame d'Arblay to Mrs. ----)March(234) 19, 1814. Be not uneasy for me, nay tender friend: my affliction is heavy, but not acute - my beloved father had been spared to us somethingbeyond the verge of the prayer for his preservation, which youmust have read, for already his sufferings had far surpassed hisenjoyments. I could not have wished him so to linger, though Iindulged almost to the last hour a hope he might yet recover, andbe restored to comfort. I last of all gave him up, but neverwished his duration such as I saw him on the last few days. Dearblessed parent! how blest am I that I came over to him while hewas yet susceptible of pleasure--of happiness! My best comfortin my grief, in his loss, is that I watched by his side the lastnight, and hovered over him two hours after he breathed no more;for though much suffering had preceded the last hours, they wereso quiet, and the final exit was so soft, that I had notperceived it though I was sitting by his bedside, and would notbelieve when all around announced it. I forced them to let mestay by him, and his revered form became stiff before I couldpersuade myself that he was gone hence for ever. Yet neither then nor now has there been any violence, anything tofear from my grief; his loss was too indubitably to be expected, he had been granted too long to our indulgence to allow anyspecies of repining to mingle with my sorrow; and it is repiningthat makes sorrow too hard to bear with resignation. Oh, I haveknown it! FAVOURABLE NEWS OF M. D'ARBLAY. (Madame d'Arblay to Mrs. Locke. )April 3, 1814. I hasten to impart to my kind and sympathising friend that Ireceived-last night good tidings of my best friend of friends;they have been communicated to me, oddly enough, through theAlien office! Mr. Reeves wrote them to my Page 275 reverend brother, (235) by the desire of an English lady nowresident in Paris-Madame Solvyns (wife of a Frenchman), at therequest of M. D'Arblay; they assure me of his perfect health. . . Nothing could be so well timed as this intelligence, for myinquietude was beginning to be doubly restless from the accessionof time that has fallen to me by having got rid of all my proofs, etc. It is only real and indispensable business that can forceaway attention from suspensive uneasiness. Another comfort of thevery first magnitude, my sweet friend will truly, I know, participate in--my Alexander begins to listen to reason. Heassures me he is now going on with very tolerable regularity; andI have given him, for this term, to soberize and methodize him alittle, a private tutor ; and this tutor has won his heart byindulging him in his problem passion. They work together, hesays, with a rapidity and eagerness that makes the hour of hislesson by far the most delightful portion of his day. And thistutor, he tells me, most generously gives him problems to work atin his absence: a favour for which every pupil, perchance, wouldnot be equally grateful, but which Alexander, who loves problemsalgebraic as another boy loves a play or an opera, regards as theheight of indulgence. "THE WANDERER. " [Soon after the publication of " The Wanderer, " Madame d'Arblaywrote as follows to a friend:--] I beseech you not to let your too ardent friendship disturb youabout the reviews and critiques, and I quite supplicate you toleave their authors to their own severities or indulgence. Ihave ever steadily refused all interference with public opinionor private criticism. I am told I have been very harshly treated; but I attribute it not to what alone would affect me, but whichI trust I have not excited, personal enmity. I attribute it tothe false expectation, universally spread, that the book would bea picture of France, as well as to the astonishing ‚clat of awork in five volumes being all bespoken before it was published. The booksellers, erroneously and injudiciously concluding thesale would so go on, fixed the rapacious price of two guineas, which again damped the sale. But why say damped, when it is onlytheir unreasonable expectations that are disappointed ? for theyacknowledge that 3600 copies are positively sold and paid for inthe first half year. What must I be, if not far more thanPage 276 contented? I have not read or heard one of the criticisms; mymind has been wholly occupied by grief for the loss of my dearestfather, or the inspection of his MSS. , and my harassing situationrelative to my own proceedings. Why, then, make myself blackbile to disturb me further? No; I will not look at a word till myspirits and time are calmed and quiet, and I can set aboutpreparing a corrected edition. I will then carefully read all -and then, the blow to immediate feelings being over, I canexamine as well as read, impartially and with profit, both to myfuture surveyors and myself. MADAME D'ARBLAY'S PRESENTATION TO LOUIS XVIII AT GRILLON's HOTEL. 1814. -While I was still under the almost first impression ofgrief for the loss of my dear and honoured father I received aletter from Windsor Castle, written by Madame Beckersdorff, atthe command of her majesty, to desire I would take the necessarymeasures for being presented to son altesse royale MadameDuchesse d'Angoulˆme, l who was to have a Drawing-room in London, both for French and English, on the day preceding her departurefor France. The letter added, that I must waive all objectionsrelative to my recent loss, as it would be improper, in thepresent state of things, that the wife of a general officershould not be presented; and, moreover, that I should bepersonally expected and well received, as I had been named to sonaltesse royale by the queen herself. In conclusion, I was chargednot to mention this circumstance, from the applications orjealousies it might excite. To hesitate was out of the question - and to do honour to mynoble absent partner, and in his name to receive honour, wereprecisely the two distinctions my kind father would most haveenjoyed for me. Page 277 I had but two or three days for preparation. Lady Crewemost amiably came to me herself, and missing me in person, wroteme word she would lend me her carriage, to convey me from Chelseato her house in Lower Grosvenor-street, and thence accompany meherself to the audience. When the morning arrived I set off withtolerable courage. Arrived, however, at Lady Crewe's, when I entered the room inwhich this dear and attached friend of my father received me, theheaviness of his loss proved quite overpowering to my spirits ;and in meeting the two hands of my hostess, I burst into tearsand could not, for some time, listen to the remonstrances againstunavailing grief with which she rather chid than soothed me. ButI could not contest the justice of what she uttered, though mygrief was too fresh for its observance. Sorrow, as my dearestfather was wont to say, requires time, as well as wisdom andreligion, to digest itself, and till that time is both accordedand well employed, the sense of its uselessness serves but toaugment, not mitigate, its severity. Lady Crewe purposed taking this opportunity of paying her ownrespects, with her congratulations, to Madame la Duchessed'Angoulˆme. She had sent me a note from Madame de Gouvello, relative to the time, for presentation, which was to take placeit Grillon's hotel in Albemarle-street. We went very early, to avoid a crowd. But Albemarle-street wasalready quite full, though quiet. We entered the hotel withoutdifficulty, Lady Crewe having previously demanded a private roomof Grillon, who had once been cook to her lord. This privateroom was at the back of the house, with a mere yard or commongarden for its prospect. , Lady Crewe declared this was quite toostupid, and rang the bell for waiter after waiter, till she madeM. Grillon come himself. She then, in her singularly open andeasy manner, told him to be so good as to order us a front room, where we might watch for the arrival of the royals, and be amusedourselves at the same time by seeing the entrances of the mayor, aldermen, and common councilmen, and other odd characters, whowould be coming to pay their court to these French princes andprincesses. M. Grillon gave a nod of acquiescence, and we were instantlyshown to a front apartment just over the street door, which wasfortunately supplied with a balcony. I should have been much entertained by all this, andPage 278 particularly with the originality, good humour, and intrepid yetintelligent odd fearlessness of all remark, or even consequence, which led Lady Crewe to both say and do exactly what she pleased, had my heart been lighter - but it was too heavy for pleasure;and the depth of my mourning, and the little, but sad time thatwas yet passed since it had become my gloomy garb, made me holdit a matter even of decency, as well as of feeling, to keep outof sight. I left Lady Crewe, therefore, to the full enjoyment ofher odd figures, while I seated myself, solitarily, at thefurther end of the room. GRATTAN THE ORATOR. In an instant, however, she saw from the window someacquaintance, and beckoned them up. A gentleman, middle-aged, ofa most pleasing appearance and address, immediately obeyed hersummons, accompanied by a young man with a sensible look; and ayoung lady, pretty, gentle, and engaging, with languishing, softeyes; though with a smile and an expression of countenance thatshowed an innate disposition to archness and sport. This uncommon trio I soon found to consist of the celebratedIrish orator, Mr. Grattan, (237) and his son and daughter. LadyCrewe welcomed them with all the alertness belonging to herthirst for amusement, and her delight in sharing it with thoseshe thought capable of its participation. This she had sought, but wholly missed in me; and could neither be angry nordisappointed, though she was a little vexed. She suffered me not, however, to remain long in my seclusion, but called me to thebalcony, to witness the jolting out of their carriages of thealdermen and common councilmen, exhibiting, as she said, "Theirfair round bodies with fat capon lined;" and wearing an air ofproudly hospitable satisfaction, in visiting a king of France whohad found an asylum in a street of the city of Westminster. The crowd, however, for they deserve a better name thanPage 279 mob, interested my observation still more. John Bull has seldomappeared to me to greater advantage. I never saw him en massebehave with such impulsive propriety. Enchanted to behold a kingof France in his capital; conscious that le grand monarque wasfully in his power; yet honestly enraptured to see that "The kingwould enjoy his own again, " and enjoy it through the generousefforts of his rival, brave, noble old England; he yet seemedaware that it was fitting to subdue all exuberance of pleasure, which, else, might annoy, if not alarm, his regal guest. He tookcare, therefore, that his delight should not amount toexultation; it was quiet and placid, though pleased and curious :I had almost said it was gentlemanlike. And nearly of the same colour, though from so inferior anincitement, were the looks and attention of the Grattans, particularly of the father, to the black mourner whom Lady Crewecalled amongst them. My garb, or the newspapers, or both, explained the dejection I attempted not to repress, though Icarefully forbade it any vent - and the finely speaking face ofMr. Grattan seemed investigating the physiognomy, while itcommiserated the situation of the person brought thus before him. His air had something foreign in it, from the vivacity thataccompanied his politeness ; I should have taken him for awell-bred man of fashion of France. Good breeding, in England, amongst the men, is ordinarily stiff, reserved, or cold. Amongthe exceptions to this stricture, how high stood Mr. Windham! andhow high in gaiety with vivacity stood my own honoured father!Mr. Locke, who was elegance personified in his manners, waslively only in his own domestic or chosen circle. A DEMONSTRATIVE IRISH LADY, A new scene now both astonished and discomposed me. A lady, accompanied humbly by a gentleman, burst into the room with anoise, a self-sufficiency, and an assuming confidence ofsuperiority, that would have proved highly offensive, had it notbeen egregiously ridiculous. Her attire was as flaunting as herair and her manner; she was rouged and beribboned. But Englishshe was not - she was Irish, in its most flaunting and untamednature, and possessed of so boisterous a spirit, that sheappeared to be just caught from the woods---the bogs, I mightrather say. Page 280 When she had poured forth a volley of words, with a fluency andloudness that stunned me, Lady Crewe, with a. Smile that seemedto denote she intended to give her pleasure, presented me by nameto Madame la Baronne de M-- She made me a very haughty curtsey, and then, turning rudelyaway, looked reproachfully at Lady Crewe, and screamed out, " Oh, fie! fie, fie, fie!" Lady Crewe, astonished and shocked, seemedstruck speechless, and I stood still with my eyes wide open, andmy mouth probably so also, from a sort of stupor, for I couldannex no meaning nor even any idea to such behaviour. She madenot, however, any scruple to develop her motives, for shevehemently inveighed against being introduced to such anacquaintance, squalling out, "She has writ against the ‚migr‚s!--she has writ against the Great Cause! O fie! fie! fie!" When she had made these exclamations, and uttered theseaccusations, till the indulged vent to her rage began to cool it, she stopped of her own accord, and, finding no one spoke, lookedas if she felt rather silly; while M. Le Baron de M--, her veryhumble sposo, shrugged his shoulders. The pause was succeeded byan opening harangue from Lady Crewe, begun in a low and gentlevoice, that seemed desirous to spare me what might appear anundue condescension, in taking any pains to clear me from sogross an attack. She gave, therefore, nearly in a whisper, ashort character of me and of my conduct, of which I heard justenough to know that such was her theme; and then, more audibly, she proceeded to state, that far from writing against theemigrants, I had addressed an exhortation to all the ladies ofGreat Britain in their favour. "Oh, then, " cried Madame de M--, "it was somebody else--it wassomebody else!" And then she screamed out delightedly, "I'm so glad I spoke out, because of this explanation!--I'm so glad! never was so glad!"She now jumped about the room, quite crazily, protesting shenever rejoiced so much at anything she had ever done in her life. But when she found her joy, like her assault, was all her own, she stopped short, astonished, I suppose, at my insensibility;and said to me, "How lucky I spoke out! the luckiest thing in theworld! I'm so glad! A'n't you? Because of this ‚claircissement. " "If I had required any ‚claircissement, " I drily began. "O, if it was not you, then, " cried she, "'twas Charlotte Smith. "Page 281 Lady Crewe seemed quite ashamed that such a scene shouldpass where she presided, and Mr. Grattan quietly stole away. Not quietly, nor yet by stealth, but with evident disappointmentthat her energies were not more admired, Madame la Baronne nowcalled upon her attendant sposo, and strode off herself. I foundshe was a great heiress of Irish extraction and education, andthat she had bestowed all her wealth upon this emigrant baron, who might easily merit it, when, besides his title, he gave herhis patience and obsequiousness. INQUIRIES AFTER THE DUCHESS D'ANGOULEME. Some other friends of Lady Crewe now found her out, and she madeeager inquiries amongst them relative to Madame la Duchessed'Angoulˆme, but could gather no tidings. She heard, however, that there were great expectations of some arrivals down stairs, where two or three rooms were filled with company. She desiredMr. Grattan, junior, to descend into this crowd, and to find outwhere the duchess was to be seen, and when, and how. He obeyed. But, when he returned, what was the provocation ofLady Crewe, what my own disappointment, to hear that the duchesswas not arrived, and was not expected ! She was at the house ofMonsieur le Comte d'Artois, her father-in-law. "Then what are we come hither for?" exclaimed her ladyship:"expressly to be tired to death for no purpose! Do pray, atleast, Mr. Grattan, be so good as to see for my carriage, that wemay go to the right house. " Mr. Grattan was all compliance, and with a readiness so obligingand so well bred that I am sure he is his father's true son inmanners, though there was no opportunity to discover whether theresemblance extended also to genius. He was not, however, cheered when he brought word that neither carriage nor footmanwere to be found. Lady Crewe then said he must positively go down, and make the Ducde Duras tell us what to do. In a few minutes he was with usagain, shrugging his shoulders at his ill success. The king, Louis XVIII. , (238) he said, Page 282 was expected, and M. Le Duc was preparing to receive him, and notable to speak or listen to any one. Lady Crewe declared herself delighted by this information, because there would be an opportunity for having me presented tohis majesty. "Go to M. De Duras, " she cried, "and tell himMadame d'Arblay wishes it. " "For heaven's sake!" exclaimed I, "do no such thing! I have notthe most distant thought of the kind! It is Madame la Duchessed'Angoulˆme alone that I--" "O, pho, pho!--it is still more essential to be done to theking--it is really important: so go, and tell the duke, Mr. Grattan, that Madame d'Arblay is here, and desires to bepresented. Tell him 'tis a thing quite indispensable. " I stopped him again, and quite entreated that no such step mightbe taken, as I had no authority for presentation but to theduchess. However, Lady Crewe was only provoked at mybackwardness, and charged Mr. Grattan not to heed me. "Tell theduke, " she cried, "that Madame d'Arblay is our Madame de Stael!tell him we are as proud of our Madame d'Arblay as he can be ofhis Madame de Stael. " Off she sent him, and off I flew again to follow him and whetherhe was most amused or most teased by our opposing petitions, Iknow not - but he took the discreet side of not venturing againto return among us. PREPARATIONS FOR THE PRESENTATIONS. Poor Lady Crewe seemed to think I lost a place at Court, orperhaps a peerage, by my untamable shyness, and was quite vexed. Others came to her now, who said several rooms below were filledwith expectant courtiers. Miss Grattan then earnestly requestedme to descend with her, as a chaperon, that she might seesomething of what was going forwards. I could not refuse so natural a request, and down we went, seeking one of the common] crowded rooms, that we might notintrude where there was preparation or expectation relative tothe king. And here, sauntering or grouping, meditating in silence orcongratulating each other in coteries, or waiting with curiosity, or self-preparing for presentation with timidity, we found amultitude of folks in an almost unfurnished and quite unadornedapartment. The personages seemed fairly divided between thenation at home and the nation from abroad ;Page 283 the English and the French; each equally, though variously, occupied in expecting the extraordinary sight of a monarch thuswonderfully restored to his rank and his throne, aftermisfortunes that had seemed irremediable, and an exile that hadappeared hopeless. Miss Grattan was saluted, en passant, by several acquaintances, and amongst them by the son-in-law of her dear country's viceroyLord Whitworth, the young Duke of Dorset; and Lady Crewe herself, too tired to abide any longer in her appropriated apartment, nowdescended. We patrolled about, zig-zag, as we could; the crowd, though ofvery good company, having no chief or regulator, and thereforemaking no sort of avenue or arrangement for avoidinginconvenience. There was neither going up nor coming down; wewere all hustled together, without direction and without object, for nothing whatsoever was present to look at or to create anyinterest, and our expectations were merely kept awake by a beliefthat we should know in time when and where something or somebodywas to be seen. For myself, however, I was much tormented during this intervalfrom being named incessantly by Lady Crewe. My deep mourning, myrecent heavy loss, and the absence and distance of my dearhusband made me peculiarly wish to be unobserved. Peculiarly, Isay; for never yet had the moment arrived in which to be markedhad not been embarrassing and disconcerting to me, even when mostflattering. A little hubbub soon after announced something new, and presentlya whisper was buzzed around the room of the "Prince de Cond‚. "His serene highness looked very much pleased--as no wonder--atthe arrival of such a day; but he was so surrounded by all hiscountrymen who were of rank to claim his attention, that I couldmerely see that he was little and old, but very unassuming andpolite. Amongst his courtiers were sundry of the French noblessethat were known to Lady Crewe and I heard her uniformly say tothem, one after another, Here is Madame d'Arblay, who must bepresented to the king. Quite frightened by an assertion so wide from my intentions, sounauthorised by any preparatory ceremonies, unknown to myhusband, and not, like a presentation to the Duchessed'Angoulˆme, encouraged by my queen, I felt as if guilty oftaking liberty the most presumptuous, and with a forwardness andassurance the most foreign to my character. Yet toPage 284 control the zeal of Lady Crewe was painful from her earnestness, and appeared to be ungrateful to her kindness ; I thereforeshrunk back, and presently suffered the crowd to press between usso as to find myself wholly separated from my party. This wouldhave been ridiculous had I been more happy - but in my then stateof affliction, it was necessary to my peace. ARRIVAL OF Louis XVIII. Quite to myself, how I smiled inwardly at my adroit cowardice, and was contemplating the surrounding masses of people, when anew and more mighty hubbub startled me, and presently I heard abuzzing whisper spread throughout the apartment of "The king!--leroi!" Alarmed at my strange situation, I now sought to decamp, meaningto wait for Lady Crewe up stairs : but to even approach the doorwas impossible. I turned back, therefore, to take a place by thewindow, that I might see his majesty alight from his carriage, but how great was my surprise when, just as I reached the top ofthe room, the king himself entered it at the bottom! I had not the smallest idea that this was the chamber of audience; it was so utterly unornamented. But I now saw that a largefauteuil was being conveyed to the upper part, exactly where Istood, ready for his reception and repose. Placed thus singularly, by mere accident, and freed from my fearsof being brought forward by Lady Crewe, I felt rejoiced in sofair an opportunity of beholding the king of my honoured husband, and planted myself immediately behind, though not near to hisprepared seat ; and, as I was utterly unknown and must be utterlyunsuspected, I indulged myself with a full examination. An avenuehad instantly been cleared from the door to the chair, and theking moved along It slowly, slowly, slowly, rather dragging hislarge and weak limbs than walking; but his face was trulyengaging; benignity was in every feature, and a smile beamed overthem that showed thankfulness to providence in the happiness towhich he was so suddenly arrived; with a courtesy, at the sametime, to the spectators, who came to see and congratulate it, themost pleasing and cheering. The scene was replete with motives to grand reflections and tome, the devoted subject of another monarch, whose melancholyalienation of mind was a constant source to me ofPage 285 sorrow, it was a scene for conflicting feelings and profoundmeditation. THE PRESENTATIONS TO THE KING. His majesty took his seat, with an air of mingled sweetness anddignity. I then, being immediately behind him, lost sight of hiscountenance, but saw that of every individual who approached tobe presented. The Duc de Duras stood at his left hand, and was legrand maitre des c‚r‚monies; Madame de Gouvello stood at hisright side; though whether in any capacity, or simply as a Frenchlady known to him, I cannot tell. In a whisper, from that lady, Ilearned more fully the mistake of the hotel, the Duchessed'Angoulˆme never having meant to quit that of her beaupŠre, Monsieur le Comte d'Artois, in South Audley-street. The presentations were short, and without much mark orlikelihood. The men bowed low, and passed on; the ladiescurtsied, and did the same. Those who were not known gave a card, I think, to the Duc de Duras, who named them; those of formeracquaintance with his majesty simply made their obeisance. M. De Duras, who knew how much fatigue the king had to gothrough, hurried every one on, not only with speed but almostwith ill-breeding, to my extreme astonishment. Yet the English, by express command of his majesty, had always the preference andalways took place of the French ; which was an attention of theking in return for the asylum he had here found, that he seemeddelighted to display, Early in this ceremony came forward Lady Crewe, who being knownto the king from sundry previous meetings, was not named ; andonly, after curtseying, reciprocated smiles with his majesty, andpassed on. But instead of then moving off, though the duke, whodid not know her, waved his hand to hasten her away, shewhispered, but loud enough for me to hear, "Voici Madamed'Arblay; il faut qu'elle soit pr‚sent‚e. "(239) She then wentgaily off, without heeding me. The duke only bowed, but by a quick glance recognised me, and byanother showed a pleased acquiescence in the demand. Retreat' now, was out of the question; but I so feared myposition was wrong, that I was terribly disturbed, and felt hotand cold, and cold and hot, alternately, with excess ofPage 286 embarrassment. I was roused, however, after hearing for so long atime nothing but French, by the sudden sound of English. Anaddress, in that language, was read to his majesty, which waspresented by the noblemen and gentlemen of the county ofBuckingham, congratulatory upon his happy restoration, and filledwith cordial thanks for the graciousness of his manners, and thebenignity of his conduct, during his long residence amongst them;warmly proclaiming their participation in his joy, and theiradmiration of his virtues. The reader was colonel Nugent, a nearrelation of the present Duke of Buckingham. But, if theunexpected sound of these felicitations delivered in English, roused and struck me, how much greater arose my astonishment anddelight when the French monarch, in an accent of the mostcondescending familiarity and pleasure, uttered hisacknowledgments in English also-expressing his gratitude for alltheir attentions, his sense of their kind interest in his favour, and his eternal remembrance of the obligations he owed to thewhole county of Buckinghamshire, for the asylum and consolationshe had found in it during his trials and calamities! I wonder notthat Colonel Nugent was so touched by this reply, as to be led tobend the knee, as to his own sovereign, when the king held outhis hand - for I myself, though a mere outside auditress, was somoved, and so transported with surprise by the dear Englishlanguage from his mouth, that I forgot at once all my fears, anddubitations, and, indeed, all myself, my poor little self, in mypride and exultation at such a moment for my noble country. (240) A FLATTERING ROYAL RECEPTION. Fortunately for me, the Duc de Duras made this the moment for mypresentation, and, seizing my hand and drawing me suddenly frombehind the chair to the royal presence, he said, " Sire, Madamed'Arblay. " How singular a change, that what, but the instantbefore, would have overwhelmed me with diffidence andembarrassment, Page 287 now found me all courage and animation ! and when his majestytook my hand--or, rather, took hold of my fist--and said, in verypretty English, "I am very happy to see you, " I felt such a glowof satisfaction, that involuntarily, I burst forth with itsexpression, incoherently, but delightedly and irresistibly, though I cannot remember how. He certainly was not displeased, for his smile was brightened and his manner was most flattering, as he repeated that he was very glad to see me, and added that hehad known me, "though without sight, very long: for I have readyou--and been charmed with your books--charmed and entertained. I have read them often, I know them very well indeed; and I havelong wanted to know you!" I was extremely surprised, -and not only at these unexpectedcompliments, but equally that my presentation, far from seeming, as I had apprehended, strange, was met by a reception of theutmost encouragement. When he stopped, and let go my hand, Icurtsied respectfully, and was moving on ; but he again caught myfist, and, fixing me, with looks of strong though smilinginvestigation, he appeared archly desirous to read the lines ofmy face, as if to deduce from them the qualities of my mind. Hismanner, however, was so polite and so gentle that he did not atall discountenance me : and though he resumed the praise of mylittle works, he uttered the panegyric with a benignity so gay aswell as flattering, that I felt enlivened, nay, elevated, with ajoy that overcame mauvaise honte. The Duc de Duras, who had hurried on all others, seeing he had nochance to dismiss me with the same sans c‚r‚monie speed, nowjoined his voice to exalt my satisfaction, by saying, at the nextpause, "et M. D'Arblay, sire, bon et brave, est un des plusdevou‚s et fidŠles serviteurs de votre majest‚. "(241) The king with a gracious little motion of his head, and with eyesof the most pleased benevolence, expressively said, "Je leCrois. "(242) And a third time he stopped my retiring curtsey, totake my hand. This last stroke gave me such delight, for my absent best ami, that I could not again attempt to speak. The king pressed myhand--wrist I should say, for it was that he grasped, and thensaying, "Bon jour, madame la comtesse, " let me go. Page 288 My eyes were suffused with tears, from mingled emotions I glidednimbly through the crowd to a corner at the other end of theroom, where Lady Crewe joined me almost instantly, and withfelicitations the most amiably cordial and lively. We then repaired to a side-board on which we contrived to seatourselves, and Lady Crewe named to me the numerous personages ofrank who passed on before us for presentation. But every time anyone espied her and approached, , she named me also; an honour towhich I was very averse. This I intimated, but to no purpose; shewent on her own way. The curious stares this produced, in myembarrassed state of spirits, from recent grief, were reallypainful to sustain ; but when the seriousness of myrepresentation forced her to see that I was truly in earnest inmy desire to remain unnoticed, she was so much vexed, and evenprovoked, that she very gravely begged that, if such were thecase, I would move a little farther from her; saying, "If onemust be so ill-natured to people as not to name you, I had rathernot seem to know who you are myself. " AN IMPORTANT LETTER DELAYED. When, at length, her ladyship's chariot was announced, we droveto Great Cumberland-place, Lady Crewe being so kind as to conveyme to Mrs. Angerstein. As Lady Crewe was too much in haste toalight, the sweet Amelia Angerstein came to the carriage to speakto her, and to make known that a letter had arrived from M. De laChƒtre relative to my presentation, which, by a mistake ofaddress, had not come in time for my reception. (244) This note dispelled all of astonishment that had enveloped withsomething like incredulity my own feelings and perceptions in myunexpected presentation and reception. The king himself hadpersonally desired to bestow upon me this mark of royal favour. What difficulty, what embarrassment, what confusion should I haveescaped, had not that provoking mistake which kept back my letteroccurred Page 289 M. D'ARBLAY ARRIVES IN ENGLAND. Madame d"Arblay to Mrs. Locke. )April 30, 1814. My own dearest friend must be the first, as she will be among thewarmest, to participate in my happiness--M. D'Arblay is arrived. He came yesterday, quite unexpectedly as to the day, but not verymuch quicker than my secret hopes. He is extremely fatigued withall that has passed, yet well ; and all himself, i. E. , all thatis calculated to fill my heart with gratitude for my lot in life. How would my beloved father have rejoiced in his sight, and inthese glorious new events!(245) A BRILLIANT ASSEMBLAGE. (Madame d'Arblay to M. D'Arblay)June 18, 1814. Ah, mon ami! you are really, then, well?--really in Paris?--really without hurt or injury? What I have suffered from asuspense that has no name from its misery shall now be buried inrestored peace, and hope, and happiness. With the most ferventthanks to providence that my terrors are removed, and that I havebeen tortured by only false apprehensions, I will try to banishfrom my mind all but the joy, and gratitude to heaven, that yoursafety and health inspire. Yet still, it is difficult to me tofeel assured that all is well ! I have so long been the victim tofear and anguish, that my spirits cannot at once get back theirequilibrium. . . . Hier j'ai quitt‚ ma retraite, trŠs volontiers, pour(246) indulgemyself with the sight of the Emperor of Russia. How was I charmedwith his pleasing, gentle, and so perfectly unassuming air, manner, and demeanour! I was extremely gratified, also, by seeingthe King of Prussia, who interests us all here, by a look thatstill indicates his tender regret for the partner of his hopes, toils, and sufferings, but not of his victories and enjoyments. It was at the queen's palace I saw them by especial and mostgracious permission. The Prussian princes, six in number, and theyoung prince of Mecklenburg, and the Duchess of Oldenbourg, wereof the party. All our royalPage 290 dukes assisted, and the Princesses Augusta and Mary. ThePrincess Charlotte looked quite beautiful. She is wonderfullyimproved. It was impossible not to be struck with her personalattractions, her youth, and splendour. The Duchess of Yorklooked amongst the happiest; the King of Prussia is her brother. M. D'ARBLAY ENTERS Louis XVIII. 'S BODY-GUARD. (Madame d'Arblay to Mrs. Locke. )London, July, 1814. After a most painful suspense I have been at length relieved by aletter from Paris. It is dated the 18th of June, and has been afortnight on the road. It is, he says, his fourth letter, and hehad not then received one of the uneasy tribe of my own. The consul-generalship is, alas, entirely relinquished, and thatby M. D'Arblay himself, who has been invited into the garde ducorps by the Duc de Luxembourg, for his own company an invitationhe deemed it wrong to resist at such a moment ; and he has sincebeen named one of the officers of the garde du corps by the king, Louis XVIII. , to whom he had taken the customary oath that veryday--the 18th. The season, however, of danger over, and the throne and ordersteadily re-established, he will still, I trust and believe, retire to civil domestic life. May it be speedily! After twentyyears' lying by, I cannot wish to see him re-enter a militarycareer at sixty years of age, though still young in all hisfaculties and feelings, and in his capacity of being as useful toothers as to himself. There is a time, however, when the poormachine, though still perfect in a calm, is unequal to a storm. Private life, then, should be sought while it yet may be enjoyed;and M. D'Arblay has resources for retirement the most delightful, both for himself and his friends. He is dreadfully worn andfatigued by the last year; and he began his active services atthirteen years of age. He is now past sixty. Every propriety, therefore, will abet my wishes, when the king no longer requiresaround him his tried and faithful adherents. And, indeed, I amby no means myself insensible to what is so highly gratifying tohis feelings as this mark of distinction bien plus honorable, cependant, (247) as he adds, than lucrative. . . . . . Page 291 (Madame d'Arblay to Mrs. Locke. )August 9, 1814. The friends of M. D'A. In Paris are now preparing to claim forhim his rank in the army, as he held it under Louis XVI. , ofmar‚chal de Camp; and as the Duc de Luxembourg will present, inperson, the demand au roi, there is much reason to expect it willbe granted. M. De Thuisy, who brought your letter from Adrienne, has given aflourishing account of M. D'A. In his new uniform, though theuniform itself, he says, is very ugly. But so sought is thecompany of the garde du corps du roi that the very privates, M. De T. Says, are gentlemen. M. D'A. Himself has only the place ofsous-lieutenant; but it is of consequence sufficient, in thatcompany, to be signed by the king, who had rejected two officersthat had been named to him just before he gave his signature forM. D'A. August 24, 1814. M. D'Arblay has obtained his rank, and the kind king has dated itfrom the aera when the original brevet was signed by poor LouisXVI. In 1792. [Here follows, in the original edition, a long letter in Frenchfrom M. D'Arblay to his wife, dated " Paris, August 3 0, 1814. "He records the enthusiasm manifested by the people of Paris onthe arrival of the king and the Duchess of Angoulˆme, and theflattering reception given by the king to the Duke of Wellington. "After having testified his satisfaction at the sentiments whichthe duke had just expressed to him on the part of the princeregent, and told him that he infinitely desired to see the peacewhich had been so happily concluded, established on solidfoundations, his majesty added, 'For that I shall have need ofthe powerful co-operation of his royal highness. The choice whichhe has made of you, sir, gives me hope of it. He honours me. . . . I am proud to see that the first ambassador sent to me byEngland is the justly celebrated Duke of Wellington. "' M. D'Arblay counts with certainty upon his wife's joining him inNovember, and ventures upon the unlucky assertion that " theleast doubt of the stability of the paternal government, whichhas been so miraculously restored to us, is no longeradmissible. "-ED. ] (214) Lyons rebelled against the Republic in the summer of 1793:against Jacobinism, in the first instance, and guillotined itsjacobin leader, Chalier; later it declared for the king. After along siege and a heroic defence, Lyons surrendered to theRepublicans, October 9, 1793, and Fouch‚ was one of thecommissioners sent down by the Convention to execute vengeance onthe unfortunate town. A terrible vengeance was taken. "TheRepublic must march to liberty over corpses, " said Fouch‚; andthousands of the inhabitants were shot or guillotined. -ED. (215) The reputed assassin of the Duc d'Enghien. ["Assassin" issurely an unnecessarily strong term. The seizure of the Duked'Enghien on neutral soil was illegal and indefensible: but hewas certainly guilty of conspiring against the government of hiscountry. He was arrested, by Napoleon's orders, in theelectorate of Baden, in March, 1804; carried across the frontier, conveyed to Vincennes, tried by court-martial, condemned, andshot forthwith. -ED. ] (216) The disastrous campaign in Russia. Napoleon left Paris onthe 9th Of May, 1812. -ED. (217) "So that we divine her meaning. " (218) "Who are you? "My name is d'Arblay. " "Are you married?" "Yes. " "Where is your husband?" "At Paris. " "Who is he?" "He works in the Home Office. " "Why are you leaving him?" (219) "You are English?" (220) "Follow me!" (221) "You do not think proper to follow me, then?" (222) "I have nothing to do here, sir, I believe. " (223) "We shall see!" " (224) "Young Man!" (225) Her sister Charlotte, formerly Mrs. Francis. -ED. (226) The 20th of August. -ED. (227) Mrs Crewe's husband, John Crewe of Crewe Hall, cheshire, had been created a peer by the title of Baron Crewe of Crewe, in1806. -ED. (228) An attempt to enter her apartment by a crazy woman. (229) " Hunted out of France. " The work in question was Madame deStael's book on Germany (De l'Allemagne), which had been printedat Paris, and of which the entire edition had been seized by thepolice before its publication, on the plea that it containedpassages offensive to the government. The authoress, moreover, was ordered to quit France, and joined her father at Coppet inSwitzerland-ED. (230) No doubt, for his uncle's school. Dr Charles Burney hadleft Hammersmith and established his school at Greenwich in1793. -ED. (231) William Wilberforce, the celebrated philanthropist, wasborn at Htill in 1759. He devoted his life to the cause of thenegro slaves; and to his exertions in Parliament were chiefly duethe abolition of the slave trade in 1807, and the total abolitionof slavery in the English colonies in 1833. He died in thelatter year, thanking God that he "had seen the day in whichEngland was willing to give twenty millions sterling for theabolition of slavery. "-ED. (232) Narbonne was appointed by Napoleon, during the campaign of1813, governor of the fortress of Torgau, on the Elbe. Hedefended the place with great resolution, even after the emperorhad been obliged to retreat beyond the Rhine, but unhappily tookthe fever, and died there, November 17, 1813. -ED. (233) This proved to be a false report. General Victor de LatourMaubourg suffered the amputation of a leg at Leipzic, where hefought bravely in the service of the Emperor Napoleon. But hedid not die of his wound, and we find him, in 1815, engaged inraising volunteers for the service of Louis XVIII. -ED. (234) Here is evidently a mistake as to the month: the date, nodoubt, should be April 19. Dr. Burney died on the 12th of April, 1814. -ED. (235) Dr. Charles Burney. -ED. (236) Marie Th‚rŠse Charlotte, Duchess of Angoulˆme, was thedaughter of Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette. She was born in1778, and, after the execution of her father and mother she wasdetained in captivity in Paris until December, 1795, when she wasdelivered up to the Austrians in exchange for certain Frenchprisoners of war. In 1799 she married her cousin, the Duke ofAngoulˆme, son of Louis XVI's brother, the Count d'Artois, (afterwards Charles X. Of France). On the return of Napoleon fromElba, the Duchess of Angoulˆme so distinguished herself by herexertions and the spirit which she displayed in the king's cause, that Napoleon said of her " she was the only man in herfamily. "-ED. (237) Henry Grattan, the Irish statesman, orator, and patriot. Already one of the most distinguished members of the IrishParliament, he vigorously opposed the legislative union of GreatBritain and Ireland in 1800. He sat in the Imperial Parliament asmember for Dublin from 1806 until his death in 1820, in hisseventy-fourth year. As an orator, Mr. Lecky writes of him, "Hewas almost unrivalled in crushing invective, in delineations ofcharacter, and in brief, keen arguments; carrying on a train ofsustained reason he was not so happy. "-ED. (238) Louis XVIII. , formerly known as the Count of Provence, wasthe brother of the unfortunate Louis XVI. "Louis XVII" was thetitle given by the royalists to the young son of Louis XVI. , whodied, a prisoner, in June, 1795, some two years after theexecution of his father. -ED. (239) "There is Madame d'Arblay; she must be presented. " (240) What a moment for her noble country, and what a subject forpride and exultation! Were we not very sure of Fanny'ssincerity, it were scarcely possible to read with patience suchpassages as this and others similarly extravagant. Her commonsense seems to take flight in the presence of royalty. -ED. (242) "And M. D'Arblay, Sire, good and brave, is one of yourmajesty's most devoted and faithful servants. " (243) "I believe it. " (244) This letter, addressed to Mrs. Angerstein, was to theeffect that the Duchess of Angoulˆme would be very pleased toreceive Madame d'Arblay, at 72 South Audley-street, between threeand half-past three ; and that the king (Louis XVIII. ) alsodesired to see her, and would receive between four and five. -ED. (245) M. D'Arblay returned to France in the following June. -ED. (246) Yesterday I left my retreat, very willingly, to-" (247) "Far more honorable, nevertheless---" Page 292SECTION 24. (1815) MADAME D'ARBLAY AGAIN IN FRANCE: BONAPARTE'S ESCAPE FROMELBA. (The two following sections contain Fanny's account of heradventures during the " Hundred Days " which elapsed between thereturn of Napoleon from Elba and his final downfall andabdication. This narrative may be recommended to the reader as aninteresting supplement to the history of that period. The greatevents of the time, the triumphal progress of the emperor, thebattles which decided his destiny and the fate of Europe, we hearof only at a distance, by rumour or chance intelligence ; but ourauthor brings vividly before us, and with the authenticity ofpersonal observation, the disturbed state of the country, thesuspense, the alarms, the distress occasioned by the war. Torefresh our readers' memories, we give an epitome, as brief aspossible, of the events to which Madame d'Arblay's narrativeforms, as it were, a background. When Napoleon abdicated the imperial throne, in April, 1814, theallied powers consented by treaty to confer upon him thesovereignty of the island of Elba, with a revenue of two millionfrancs. To Elba he was accordingly banished, but the revenue wasnever paid. This disgraceful infringement of the treaty ofFontainebleau, joined to the accounts which he received of thestate of public feeling in France, determined him to make theattempt to regain his lost empire. March 1, 1815, he landed atCannes, with a few hundred men. He was everywhere received withthe utmost enthusiasm. The troops sent to oppose him joined hisstandard with shouts of "Vive l'empereur!" March 20, he enteredParis in triumph, Louis XVIII having taken his departure thepreceding evening, "amidst the tears and lamentations of severalcourtiers. "(248) The congress of the allied powers at Vienna proclaimed theemperor an outlaw, not choosing to remember that the treaty whichthey accused him of breaking, had been first violated bythemselves. To his offers of negotiation they replied not. ThePage 293 English army under the Duke of Wellington, the Prussian underPrince Bl‹cher occupied Belgium; the Austrians and Russians wereadvancing in immense force towards the Rhine. Anxious to strike ablow before the arrival of the latter Napoleon left Paris forBelgium, June 12. His army amounted to about one hundred andtwenty thousand men. On the 15th the fighting commenced, h andthe advanced guard of the Prussians was driven back. On the 16th, Blcher was attacked at Ligny, and defeated with terrible loss;but Marshal Ney was unsuccessful in an attack upon the combinedEnglish and Belgian army at Quatre Bras. Sunday, June 18, was theday of the decisive battle of Waterloo. After the destruction ofhis army, Napoleon hastened to Paris, but all hope was at an end. He abdicated the throne for the second time, proceeded toRochefort, and voluntarily surrendered himself to CaptainMaitland, of the English seventy-four, Bellerophon. He wasconveyed to England, but was not permitted to land, and passedthe few remaining years of his life a prisoner in the island ofSt. Helena. -ED. ] AN INTERVIEW WITH THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME. I come now to my audience with Madame, Duchesse d'Angoulˆme. (249)As I had missed, through a vexatious mistake, the honour she hadherself intended me, of presentation in England, my owncondescending royal mistress, Queen Charlotte, recommended myclaiming its performance on my return to Paris. M. D'Arblay thenconsulted with the Vicomte d'Agoult, his intimate early friend, how to repair in France my English deprivation. M. D'Agoult was‚cuyer to her royal highness, and high in her confidence andfavour. He advised me simply to faire ma cour as the wife of asuperior officer in the garde du corps du roi, at a publicdrawing-room; but the great exertion and publicity, joined to theexpense Of such a presentation, made me averse, in all ways, tothis proposal; and when M. D'Arblay protested I had not anythingin view but to pay my respectful devoirs to her royal highness, M. D'Agoult undertook to make known my wish. It soon proved thatthis alone was necessary for its success, for madame la duchessePage 294 instantly recollected what had passed in England, and said shewould name, with pleasure, the first moment in her power -expressing an impatience on her own part that an interview shouldnot be delayed which had been desired by her majesty QueenCharlotte of England. . . . I have omitted to mention that on the Sunday preceding, theDuchess d'Angoulˆme, at Court, had deigned to tell my best friendthat she was reading, and with great pleasure, Madame d'Arblay'slast work. He expressed his gratification, and added that hehoped it was in English, as her altesse royale so well knew thatlanguage. No, she answered, it was the translation she read; theoriginal she had not been able to procure. On this M. D'Arblayadvised me to send a copy. I had none bound, but the set whichhad come back to me from my dear father. This, however, M. D'A. Carried to the Vicomte d'Agoult, with a note from me in which, through the medium of M. D'Agoult, I supplicated leave from herroyal highness to lay at her feet this only English set Ipossessed. In the most gracious manner possible, as the Vicomtetold M. D'Arblay, her royal highness accepted the work, anddeigned also to keep the billet. She had already, unfortunately, finished the translation, but she declared her intention to readthe original. Previously to my presentation, M. D'Arblay took me to the salonof the exhibition of pictures, to view a portrait of Madamed'Angoulˆme, that I might make some acquaintance with her facebefore the audience. This portrait was deeply interesting, butdeeply melancholy. ARRIVAL AT THE TUILERIES. All these precautions taken, I went, at the appointed hour andmorning, about the end of February, 1815, to the palace of theTuileries, escorted by the most indulgent of husbands we repairedinstantly to the apartment of the Duchesse de Serrent, whoreceived us with the utmost politeness; she gave us our lessonhow to proceed, and then delivered us over to some page of herroyal highness. We were next shown into a very large apartment. I communicated tothe page a request that he would endeavour to make known to M. DeMontmorency that I was arrived, and how much I wished to see him. In a minute or two came forth a tall, sturdy dame, whoPage 295 immediately addressed me by my name, and spoke with an air, thatdemanded my returning her compliment. I could not, however, recollect her till she said she had formerly met me at thePrincess d'Henin's. I then recognised the dowager Duchesse deDuras, whom, in fact, I had seen last at the Princesse deChimay's, in the year 1812, just before my first return toEngland; and had received from her a commission to acquaint theroyal family of France that her son, the duke, had kept alooffrom all service under Bonaparte, though he had been named in thegazettes as having accepted the place of chamberlain to the thenemperor. Yet such was the subjection, at that time, of all theold nobility to the despotic power of that mighty ruler, that M. De Duras had not dared to contradict the paragraph. She then said that her altesse royale was expecting me; and madea motion that I should pursue my way into the next room, M. D'Arblay no longer accompanying me. But before I disappeared sheassured me that I should meet with a most gracious reception, forher altesse royale had declared she would see me with markedfavour, if she saw no other English whatsoever; because Madamed'Arblay, she said, was the only English person who had beenpeculiarly recommended to her notice by the Queen of England. In the next, which was another very large apartment, I wasreceived by a lady much younger and more agreeable than Madame deDuras, gaily and becomingly dressed, and wearing a smiling airwith a sensible face. I afterwards heard it was Madame deChoisy, who, a few years later, married the Vicomte d'Agoult. Madame de Choisy instantly began some compliments, but findingshe only disconcerted me, she soon said she must not keep meback, and curtsied me on to another room, into which she shut me. A MISAPPREHENSION. I here imagined I was to find M. De Montmorency, but I saw only alady, who stood at the upper end of the apartment, and slightlycurtsied, but without moving or speaking. Concluding this to beanother dame de la cour, from my internal persuasion thatultimately I was to be presented by M. De Montmorency, Iapproached her composedly, with a mere common inclination of thehead, and looked wistfully forward to the further door. Sheinquired politely after myPage 296 health, expressing good-natured concern to hear it had beenderanged, and adding that she was bien aise de me voir. ](250) Ithanked her, with some expression of obligation to her civility, but almost without looking at her, from perturbation lest somemistake had intervened to prevent my introduction, as I still sawnothing of M. De Montmorency. She then asked me if I would not sit down, taking a seat at thesame time herself. I readily complied; but was too much occupiedwith the ceremony I was awaiting to discourse, though sheimmediately began what was meant for a conversation. I hardlyheard, or answered, so exclusively was my attention engaged inwatching the door through which I was expecting a summons; till, at length, the following words rather surprised me (I must writethem in English, for my greater ease, though they were spoken inFrench)--"I am quite sorry to have read your last charming workin French. " My eyes now changed their direction from the door to her face, towhich I hastily turned my head, as she added, --"Puis-je le garderle livre que vous m'avez envoy‚?"(251) A DISCOVERY AND A RECTIFICATION. Startled, as if awakened from a dream, I fixed her and perceivedthe same figure that I had seen at the salon. I now felt sure Iwas already in the royal presence of the Duchesse d'Angoulˆme, with whom I had seated myself almost cheek by jowl, without thesmallest suspicion of my situation. I really seemed thunderstruck. I had approached her with solittle formality, I had received all her graciousness with solittle apparent sense of her condescension, I had taken my seat, nearly unasked, so completely at my ease, and I had pronounced sounceremoniously the plain "vous, " without softening it off withone single "altesse royale, " that I had given her reason to thinkme either the most forward person in my nature, or the worst bred]In my education, existing. I was in a consternation and a confusion that robbed me ofbreath; and my first impulse was to abruptly arise, confess myerror, and offer every respectful apology I could devise; but asmy silence and strangeness produced silence, a pause ensued thatgave me a moment for reflection, which representedPage 297 to me that son altesse royale might be seriously hurt, thatnothing in her demeanour had announced her, rank; and such adiscovery might lead to increased distance and reserve in herfuture conduct upon other extra audiences, that could not but beprejudicial to her popularity, which already was injured by anopinion extremely unjust, but very generally spread, of herhaughtiness. It was better, therefore, to be quiet, and to lether suppose that embarrassment, and English awkwardness andmauvaise honte, had occasioned my unaccountable manners. Ipreserved, therefore, my taciturnity, till, tired of her own, shegently repeated, "Puis-je le garder, cette copie que vous m'avezenvoy‚?" civilly adding that she should be happy to read it againwhen she had a little forgotten it, and had a little more time. I seized this fortunate moment to express my gratefulacknowledgments for her goodness, with the most unaffectedsincerity, yet scrupulously accompanied with all the due forms ofprofound respect. What she thought of so sudden a change of dialect I have no meansof knowing ; hut I could not, for a long time afterwards, thinkof it myself with a grave countenance. From that time, however, Ifailed not to address her with appropriate reverence, though, asit was too late now to assume the distant homage pertaining, ofcourse, to her very high rank, I insensibly suffered oneirregularity to lead to, nay to excuse another; for I passed overall the etiquette d'usage, of never speaking but en r‚ponse; andanimated myself to attempt to catch her attention, by conversingwith fullness and spirit upon every subject she began, or led to; and even by starting subjects myself, when she was silent. Thisgave me an opportunity of mentioning many things that hadhappened in Paris during my long ten years' uninterruptedresidence, which were evidently very interesting to her. Had shebecome grave, or inattentive, I should have drawn back _; but, onthe contrary, she grew more and more ‚veill‚e, and hercountenance was lighted up with the most encouraging approval. CONVERSATION ON MADAME D'ARBLAY's ESCAPE AND M. D'ARBLAY'S LOYALTY. She was curious, she said, to know how I got over to England inthe year 1812, having been told that I had effected my escape byan extraordinary disguise. I assured her thatPage 298 I had not escaped at all; as so to have done must have endangeredthe generous husband and father, who permitted mine and his son'sdeparture. I had procured a passport for us both, which wasregistered in the ordinary manner, chez le ministre de police forforeign affairs; ches- one, I added, whose name I could notpronounce in her royal highness's hearing; but to whom I had notmyself applied. She well knew I meant Savary, Duc de Rovigo, whose history with respect to the murdered Due d'Enghien has, since that period, been so variously related. I was thenembarrassed, for I had owed my passport to the request of Madamed'A. , who was distantly connected with Savary, and who hadobtained it to oblige a mutual friend ; I found, however, to mygreat relief, that the duchess possessed the same noble delicacythat renders all private intercourse with my own exemplaryprincesses as safe for others as it is honourable to myself; forshe suffered me to pass by the names of my assistants, when Isaid they were friends who exerted themselves for me inconsideration of my heavy grief, in an absence of ten years froma father whom I had left at the advanced age of seventy-five;joined to my terror lest my son should remain till he attainedthe period of the conscription, and be necessarily drawn into themilitary service of Bonaparte. And, indeed, these two pointscould alone, with all my eagerness to revisit my native land, have induced me to make the journey by a separation from my bestfriend. This led me to assume courage to recount some of the prominentparts of the conduct of M. D'Arblay during our ten years'confinement, rather than residence, in France ; I thought thisnecessary, lest our sojourn during the usurpation should bemisunderstood. I told her, in particular, of three high militaryappointments which he had declined. The first was to be head ofl'‚tat major of a regiment under a general whose name I cannotspell--in the army of Poland, a post of which the offer wasprocured for him by M. De Narbonne, then aide-de-camp toBonaparte. The second was an offer, through General Gassendi, ofbeing Commander of Palma Nuova, whither M. D'A. Might carry hiswife and son, as he was to have the castle for his residence, andthere was no war with Italy at that time. The third offer was avery high one: it was no less than the command of Cherbourg, assuccessor to M. Le Comte de la Tour Maubourg, who was sentelsewhere, by still higher promotion. Steady, however, Page 299 invariably steady was M. D'Arblay never to serve against hisliege sovereign, General Gassendi, one of the most zealous of hisfriends, contrived to cover up this dangerous rejection and M. D'Arblay continued In his humbler but far more' meritoriousOffice Of sous Chef to one of the bureaux de l, int‚rieur. I had now the pleasure to hear the princess say, "Il a aqi biennoblement. "(252) "For though he would take no part, " I added, …la guerre, nor yet in the diplomatie, he could have no objectionto making plans, arrangements, buildings, and so forth, ofmonuments, hospitals, and palaces; for at that period, palaces, like princes, were ‚lev‚s tous les jours. "(253) She could not forbear smiling; and her smile, which is rare, isso peculiarly becoming, that it brightens her countenance into alook of youth and beauty. "But why, " I cried, recollecting myself, "should I speak French, when your royal highness knows English so well?" "O, no!" cried she, shaking her head, "very bad!" >From that time, however, I spoke in my own tongue, and saw myselfperfectly understood, though those two little words were the onlyEnglish ones she uttered herself, replying always in French. "Le roi, " she said, "se rapelle tr…s bien de vous avoir vu …Londres. "(254) "O, je n'en doute nullement, "(255) I replied, rather naŒvely, "for there passed a scene that cannot be forgotten, and thatsurprised me into courage to come forward, after I had spent thewhole morning in endeavouring to shrink backward. And I could notbe sorry--for I felt that his majesty could not he offended at avivacity which his own courtesy to England excited. " The princess smiled, with a graciousness that assured me I hadnot mistaken the king's benevolence, of which she evidentlypartook. THE PRINCE REGENT THE DUCHEss's FAVOURITE. The conversation then turned upon the royal family of England, and it was inexpressibly gratifying to me to hear her justappreciation of the virtues, the intellectual endowments, the ' Page 300 sweetness of manner, and the striking grace of every one, according to their different character, that was mentioned. Theprince regent, however, was evidently her favourite. The noblestyle in which he had treated her and all her family at hisCarlton House fˆte, in the midst of their misfortunes, and whileso much doubt hung against every chance of those misfortunesbeing ever reversed, did so much honour to his heart and provedso solacing to their woes and humiliation, that she could neverrevert to that public testimony of his esteem and goodwillwithout the most glowing gratitude. "O!" she cried, "il a ‚t‚ parfait!"(256) The Princesse Elise, (257) with whom she was in correspondence, seemed to stand next. "C'est elle, " she said, "qui fait leshonneurs de la famille royale, (258) and with a charm the mostenlivening and delightful. " The conference was only broken up by a summons to the king'sdinner. My audience, however, instead of a few minutes, for whichthe Duchesse de Duras had prepared me, was extended tothree-quarters of an hour, by the watch of my kind husband, whowaited, with some of his old friends whom he had joined in thepalace, to take me home. The princess, as she left me to go down a long corridor to thedining apartment, took leave of me in a manner the most gracious, honouring me with a message to her majesty the queen of England, of her most respectful homage, and with her kind and affectionateremembrance to all the princesses, with warm assurances of hereternal attachment. She then moved on, but again stopped whengoing, to utter some sentences most grateful to my ears, of herhigh devotion to the queen and deep sense of all her virtues. Ilittle thought that this, my first, would prove also my last, meeting with this exemplary princess, whose worth, courage, fortitude, and piety are universally acknowledged, but whosepowers of pleasing seem little known. After an opening such asthis, how little could I foresee that this interview was to be afinal one! . . . Alas! in a day or two after it had taken place, son altesse royale set out for Bordeaux. . . . And then followedthe return of Bonaparte from Elba, and then the Hundred Days. Page 301 NARRATIVE OF MADAME D'ARBLAY'S FLIGHT FROM PARIS TOBRUSSELS [The following Narrative was written some time after the eventsdescribed took place. It is judged better to print it in aconnected form : a few of the letters written on the spot beingsubsequently given. ] PREVAILING INERTIA ON BONAPARTE'S RETURN FROM ELBA. I have no remembrance how I first heard of the return ofBonaparte from Elba. Wonder at his temerity was the impressionmade by the news, but wonder unmixed with apprehension. Thisinactivity of foresight was universal. A torpor indescribable, aspecies of stupor utterly indefinable, seemed to have envelopedthe capital with a mist that was impervious. Everybody went abouttheir affairs, made or received visits, met, and parted, withoutspeaking, or, I suppose, thinking of this event as of a matterof any importance. My own participation in this improvidentblindness is to myself incomprehensible. Ten years I had livedunder the dominion of Bonaparte; I had been in habits of intimacywith many friends of those who most closely surrounded him; I wasgenerously trusted, as one with whom information, whileinteresting and precious, would be inviolably safe-as one, infact, whose honour was the honour of her spotless husband, andtherefore invulnerable : well, therefore, by narrations the mostauthentic, and by documents the most indisputable, I knew thecharacter of Bonaparte ; and marvellous beyond the reach of mycomprehension is my participation in this inertia. . . . Thus familiar to his practices, thus initiated in his resources, thus aware of his gigantic ideas of his own destiny, how could Ifor a moment suppose he would re-visit France without aconsciousness of success, founded upon some secret convictionthat it was infallible, through measures previously arranged ? Ican only conclude that my understanding, such as it is, wasutterly tired out by a long harass of perpetual alarm andsleepless apprehension. Unmoved, therefore, I remained in thegeneral apparent repose which, if it were as real in those withwhom I mixed as in myself, I now deem a species of infatuation. Whether or not M. D'Arblay was involved in the general failure offoresight I have mentioned, I never now can ascertain. To spareme any evil tidings, and save me from Page 302 even the shadow of any unnecessary alarm, was the first andconstant solicitude of his indulgent goodness. At this period he returned to Paris to settle various matters forour Senlis residence. We both now knew the event that so soon wasto monopolize all thought and all interest throughout Europe: butwe knew it without any change in our way of life; on thecontrary, we even resumed our delightful airings in the Bois deBoulogne, whither the general drove me every morning in a lightcalŠche, of which he had possessed himself upon his entrance intothe king's body-guard the preceding year. Brief, however, was this illusion, and fearful was the light bywhich its darkness was dispersed. In a few days we hear thatBonaparte, whom we had concluded to be, of course, either stoppedat landing and taken prisoner, or forced to save himself byflight, was, on the contrary, pursuing unimpeded his route toLyons. >From this moment disguise, if any there had been, was over withthe most open and frank of human beings, who never eventransitorily practised it but to keep off evil, or itsapprehension, from others. He communicated to me now his strongview of danger ; not alone that measures might be taken to securemy safety, but to spare me any sudden agitation. Alas! none wasspared to himself! More clearly than any one he anticipated theimpending tempest, and foreboded its devastating effects. Hespoke aloud and strenuously, with prophetic energy, to all withwhom he was then officially associated but the greater parteither despaired of resisting the torrent, or disbelieved itsapproach. What deeply interesting scenes crowd upon myremembrance, of his noble, his daring, but successless exertions!The king's body-guard immediately de service, (259) at that time, was the compagnie of the Prince de Poix, a man of the mostheartfelt loyalty, but who had never served, and who wasincapable of so great a command at so critical a juncture, fromutter inexperience. BONAPARTE'S ADVANCE: CONTEMPLATED MIGRATION FROM PARIS. At this opening of the famous Hundred Days it seemed to occur tono one that Bonaparte would make any attempt upon Paris. It wascalmly taken for granted he would Page 303 speedily escape back to Elba, or remain in the south a prisoner -and it was only amongst deep or restless politicians that anyinquietude was manifested with respect to either of theseresults. Madame la Princesse d'Henin, indeed, whom I was in thehabit of frequently meeting, had an air and Manner that announcedperturbation ; but her impetuous spirit in politics kept her mindalways in a state of energy upon public affairs. But when Bonaparte actually arrived at Lyons the face of affairschanged. Expectation was then awakened--consternation began tospread; and report went rapidly to her usual work, of nowexciting nameless terror, and now allaying even reasonableapprehension. To me, every moment became more anxious. I saw General d'Arblayimposing upon himself a severity of service for which he had nolonger health or strength, and imposing it only the more rigidlyfrom the fear that his then beginning weakness and infirmitiesshould seem to plead for indulgence. It was thus that he insistedupon going through the double duty of artillery officer at thebarracks, and of officier sup‚rieur in the king's body-guards atthe Tuileries, The smallest representation to M. Le Duc deLuxembourg, who had a true value for him, would have procured asubstitute: but he would not hear me upon such a proposition; hewould sooner, far, have died at his post, He now almost livedeither at the Tuileries or at the barracks. I only saw him whenbusiness or military arrangements brought him home; but he kindlysent me billets to appease my suspense every two or three hours. The project upon Paris became at length obvious, yet its successwas little feared, though the horrors of a civil war seemedinevitable. M. D'Arblay began to wish me away; he made variouspropositions for ensuring my safety; he even pressed me to departfor England to rejoin Alexander and my family: but I knew them tobe in security, whilst my first earthly tie was exposed to everyspecies of danger, and I besought him not to force me away. Hewas greatly distressed, but could not oppose my urgency. Heprocured me, however, a passport from M. Le Comte de Jaucourt, his long attached friend, who was minister aux affaires‚trangŠres(260) ad interim, while Talleyrand Perigord was withthe Congress at Vienna. Page 304 I received it most unwillingly: I could not endure to absentmyself from the seat of government, -for I little divined how soonthat government was to change its master. Nevertheless, theprudence of this preparatory measure soon became conspicuous, forthe very following day I heard of nothing but purposedemigrations from Paris-retirement, concealment, embarrassments, and difficulties. My sole personal joy was that my youngerAlexander was far away, and safely lodged in the only country ofsafety. But, on the 17th, hope again revived. I received these words frommy best friend, written on a scrap of paper torn from a parcel, and brought to me by his groom from the palace of the Tuileries, where their writer had passed the night mounting guard:-- "Nous avons de meilleures nouvelles. Je ne puis entrer dans aucund‚tail; mais sois tranquille, et aime bien qui t'aimeuniquement. (261) God bless you. " This news hung upon the departure of Marshal Ney to meetBonaparte and stop his progress, with the memorable words utteredpublicly to the king, that he would bring him to Paris in an ironcage. The king at this time positively announced and protestedthat he would never abandon his throne nor quit his capital, Paris. Various of my friends called upon me this day, all believing thestorm was blowing over. Madame Chastel and her two daughters werecalm, but, nevertheless, resolved to visit a small terre(262)which they possessed, till the metropolis was free from allcontradictory rumours. Madame de Cadignan preserved herimperturbable gaiety and carelessness, and said she should stay, happen what might ; for what mischief could befall a poor widow ?Her sportive smiles and laughing eyes displayed her security inthe power of her charms. Madame de Maisonneuve was filled withapprehensions for her brothers, who were all in highlyresponsible situations, and determined to remain in Paris to bein the midst of them. The Princesse d'Henin came to me daily tocommunicate all the intelligence she gathered from the numerousfriends and connections through whom she was furnished withsupplies. Her own plans were incessantly changing, but herfriendship knew no Page 305 alteration; and in every various modification of her intentionsshe always offered to include me in their execution, should myaffairs reduce me, finally, to flight. Flight, however, was intolerable to my thoughts. I weighed it notas saving me from Bonaparte - I could consider it only asseparating me from all to which my heart most dearly clung. Madame d'Henin was undecided whether to go to the north or to thesouth-to Bordeaux or to Brussels ; I could not, therefore, evengive a direction to M. D'Arblay where I could receive anyintelligence, and the body-guard of the king was held in uttersuspense as to its destination. This, also, was unavoidable, since the king himself could only be guided by events. The next day, the 18th of March, all hope disappeared. Fromnorth, from south, from east, from west, alarm took the field, danger flashed its lightnings, and contention growled itsthunders: yet in Paris there was no rising, no disturbance, noconfusion--all was taciturn suspense, dark dismay, or sullenpassiveness. The dread necessity which had reduced the king, Louis XVIII. , to be placed on his throne by foreigners, wouldhave annihilated all enthusiasm of loyalty, if any had been leftby the long underminings of revolutionary principles. What a day was *this of gloomy solitude! Not a soul approachedme, save, for a few moments, my active Madame d'Henin, who cameto tell me she was preparing to depart, unless a successfulbattle should secure the capital from the conqueror. I nowpromised that if I should ultimately be compelled to fly my home, I would thankfully be of her party; and she grasped at thisengagement with an eagerness that gave proof of her sincere andanimated friendship. This intimation was balm to the heart of mydearest partner, and he wished the measure to be executed andexpedited; but I besought him, as he valued my existence, not toforce me away till every other resource was hopeless. GENERAL D'ARBLAY'S MILITARY PREPARATIONS. He passed the day almost wholly at the barracks. When he enteredhis dwelling, in the Rue de Miromenil, it was only upon militarybusiness, and from that he could spare me scarcely a second. Hewas shut up in his library with continual comers and goers; andthough I durst not follow Page 306 him, I could not avoid gathering, from various circumstances, that he was now preparing to take the field, in full expectationof being sent out with his comrades of the guard, to check therapid progress of the invader. I knew this to be his earnestwish, as the only chance of saving the king and the throne; buthe well knew it was my greatest dread, though I was always silentupon the subject, well aware that while his honour was dearer tohim than his life, my own sense of duty was dearer to me alsothan mine. While he sought, therefore, to spare me the view ofhis arms and warlike equipage and habiliments, I felt his wisdomas well as his kindness, and tried to appear as if I had nosuspicion of his proceedings, remaining almost wholly in my ownroom, to avoid any accidental surprise, and to avoid paining himwith the sight of my anguish. I masked it as well as I could forthe little instant he had from time to time to spare me; butbefore dinner he left me entirely, having to pass the night …cheval at the barracks, as he had done the preceding night at theTuileries. The length of this afternoon, evening, and night was scarcelysupportable : his broken health, his altered looks, his frequentsufferings, and diminished strength, all haunted me with terror, in the now advancing prospect of his taking the field. And where?And how? No one knew! Yet he was uncertain whether he could evensee me once more the next day! . . . I come now to the detail of one of the most dreadful days of myexistence, the 19th of March, 1815, the last which preceded thetriumphant return of Bonaparte to the capital of France. Little, on its opening, did I imagine that return so near, or believe itwould be brought about without even any attempted resistance. General d'Arblay, more in the way of immediate intelligence, andmore able to judge of its result, was deeply affected by the mostgloomy prognostics. He came home at about six in the morning, harassed, worn, almost wasted with fatigue, and yet more with abaleful view of all around him, and with a sense of woundedmilitary honour in the inertia which seemed to paralyze alleffort to save the king and his cause. He had spent two nightsfollowing armed on guard, one at the Tuileries, in his duty ofgarde du corps to the king; the other on duty as artillerycaptain at the barracks. He went to bed for a few hours ; andthen, after a wretched breakfast in which hePage 307 briefly narrated the state of things he had witnessed and hisapprehensions, be conjured me, in the most solemn and earnestmanner, to yield to the necessity of the times, and consent toquit Paris with Madame d'Henin, should she ultimately decide todepart. I could not, when I saw his sufferings, endure to augmentthem by any further opposition; but never was acquiescence sopainful! To lose even the knowledge whither he went, or themeans of acquainting him whither I might go myself--to bedeprived of the power to join him, should he be made prisoner--orto attend him, should he be wounded. . . . I could not pronouncemy consent; but he accepted it so decidedly in my silence, thathe treated it as arranged, and hastened its confirmation byassuring me I had relieved his mind from a weight of care anddistress nearly intolerable. As the wife of an officer in theking's body-guard, in actual service, I might be seized, hethought, as a kind of hostage, and might probably fare all theworse for being also an Englishwoman. He then wrote a most touching note to the Princesse d'Henin, supplicating her generous friendship to take the charge not onlyof my safety, but of supporting and consoling me. After this, he hurried back to the Tuileries for orders, apparently more composed; and that alone enabled me to sustain myso nearly compulsory and so repugnant agreement. His return wasspeedy: he came, as he had departed, tolerably composed, for hehad secured me a refuge, and he had received orders to prepare tomarch--to Melun, he concluded, to encounter Bonaparte, and tobattle; for certain news had arrived of the invader's rapidapproach. . . . At half-past two; at noon it was expected thatthe body-guard would be put in motion. Having told me thishistory, he could not spare me another moment till that whichpreceded his leaving home to join the Due de Luxembourg'scompany. He then came to me, with an air of assumed serenity, andagain, in the most kindly, soothing terms, called upon me to givehim an example of courage. I obeyed his injunction with my bestability-yet how dreadful was our parting! We knelt together inshort but fervent prayer to heaven for each other's preservation, and then separated. At the door he turned back, and with a smilewhich, though forced, had inexpressible sweetness, he half gailyexclaimed, "Vive le roi!" I instantly caught his wisePage 308 wish that we should part with apparent cheerfulness, and reechoedhis words-and then he darted from my sight. This had passed in an ante-room ; but I then retired to mybedchamber, where, all effort over, I remained for some minutesabandoned to an affliction nearly allied to despair, thoughrescued from it by fervent devotion. But an idea then started into my mind that yet again I mightbehold him. I ran to a window which looked upon the inwardcourt-yard. There, indeed, behold him I did, but oh, with whatanguish ! just mounting his war-horse, a noble animal, of whichhe was singularly fond, but which at this moment I viewed withacutest terror, for it seemed loaded with pistols, and equippedcompletely for immediate service on the field of battle; whileDeprez, the groom, prepared to mount another, and our cabrioletwas filled with baggage and implements of war. I could not be surprised, since I knew the destination of thegeneral ; but so carefully had he spared me the progress of hispreparations, which he thought would be killing me by inches, that I had not the most distant idea he was thus armed andencircled with instruments of death-bayonets, lances, pistols, guns, sabres, daggers !-what horror assailed me at the sight! Ihad only so much sense and self-control left as to crawl softlyand silently away, that I might not inflict upon him thesuffering of beholding my distress - but when he had passed thewindows, I opened them to look after him. The street was empty -the gay constant gala of a Parisian Sunday was changed intofearful solitude : no sound was heard, but that of here and theresome hurried footstep, on one hand hastening for a passport tosecure safety by flight ; on the other, rushing abruptly from orto some concealment, to devise means of accelerating and hailingthe entrance of the conqueror. Well in tune with this air of animpending crisis, was my miserable mind, which from grief littleshort of torture sunk, at its view, into a state of morbid quiet, that seemed the produce of feelings totally exhausted. PREPARATIONS FOR FLIGHT: LEAVE-TAKINGS. Thus I continued, inert, helpless, motionless, till the Princessed'Henin came into my apartment. Her first news was, thatBonaparte had already reached CompiŠgne, and that to-morrow, the20th of March, he might arrive in Paris, if thePage 309 army of the king stopped not his progress. It was now necessaryto make a prompt decision; my word was given, and I agreed toaccompany her whithersoever she fixed to go. She was STILLhesitating; but it was settled I should join her in the evening, bag and baggage, and partake of her destination. . . . I was now sufficiently roused for action, and my first return toconscious understanding was a desire to call in and pay everybill that might be owing, as well as the rent of our apartmentsup to the present moment, that no pretence might be assumed fromour absence for disposing of our goods, books, or property of anydescription. As we never had any avoidable debts, this was soonsettled ; but the proprietor of the house was thunderstruck bythe measure, saying, the king had reiterated his proclamationthat he would not desert his capital. I could only reply thatthe general was at his majesty's orders, and that my absenceWould be short. I then began collecting our small portion ofplate, etc. ; but while thus occupied, I received a message fromMadame d'Henin, to tell me I must bring nothing but a smallchange of linen, and one band-box, as by the news she had justheard, she was convinced we should be back again in two or threedays, and she charged me to be with her in an hour from thattime. I did what she directed, and put what I most valued, thatwas not too large, into a hand-basket, made by some Frenchprisoners in England, that had been given me by my beloved friendMrs. Locke. I then swallowed, standing, my neglected dinner, and, with Madame Deprez, and my small allowance of baggage, I got intoa fiacre, and drove to General Victor de la Tour Maubourg, to bidadieu to my dearest Madame de Maisonneuve, and her family. It was about nine o'clock at night, and very dark. I sent onMadame Deprez to the princess, and charged her not to return tosummon me till the last moment. The distance was small. I found the -house of the Marquis Victor de la Tour Maubourg in astate of the most gloomy dismay. No portier was in the way, butthe door of the porte CocHŠre was ajar, and I entered on foot, nofiacre being ever admitted into les cours des h“Tels. Officersand strangers were passing to and fro, some to receive, others toresign commissions, but all with quick steps, though in deadsilence. Not a servant was in the way, and hardly any light; allseemed in disorder. Page 310 groped along till I came to the drawing-room, in which wereseveral people, waiting for orders, or for an audience ; but inno communication with each other, for here, also, a dismaltaciturnity prevailed, From my own disturbance, joined to myshort-sightedness, I was some time ere I distinguished MadameVictor de la Tour Maubourg, and when at last I saw her, Iventured not to address or to approach her. She was at a table, endeavouring to make some arrangement, or package, orexamination, with papers and boxes before her, but deluged intears, which flowed so fast that she appeared to haverelinquished all effort to restrain them, And this was the moreaffecting to witness, as she is eminently equal and cheerful inher disposition. I kept aloof, and am not certain that she evenperceived me. The general was in his own apartment, transactingmilitary business of moment. But no sooner was I espied by mydearest Madame de Maisonneuve, than I was in her kind arms. Shetook me apart to reveal to me that the advance of the lateemperor was still more rapid than its report. All were quittingParis, or resigning themselves to passive submission. Forherself, she meant to abide by whatever should be the destinationof her darling brother Victor, who was now finishing a commissionthat no longer could be continued, of raising volunteers-forthere was no longer any royal army for them to join ! Whether theking would make a stand at the Tuileries, as he had unhappilypromised, or whether he would fly, was yet unknown ; but GeneralVictor de Maubourg was now going to equip himself in fulluniform, that he might wait upon his majesty in person, decidedlyfixed to take his orders, be they what they might. With danger thus before him, in his mutilated state, havingundergone an amputation of the leg and thigh on the field ofbattle, who can wonder at the desolation of Madame Victor when heresolved to sustain the risk of such an offer? Presently, whatwas my emotion at the sudden and abrupt entrance into the room ofan officer of the king's garde du corps! in the self-same uniformas that from which I had parted with such anguish in the morning!A transitory hope glanced like lightning upon my brain, with anidea that the body-guard was all at hand; but as evanescent asbright was the flash! The concentrated and mournful look of theofficer assured me nothing genial was awaiting me - and when thenext minute we recognized each other, I saw it was the CountCharles de la Tour Maubourg, the youngest brother of Madame de Page 311 Maisonneuve; and he then told me he had a note for me from M. D'Arblay. Did I breathe then? i think not! I grasped the paper in my hand, but a mist was before my eyes, and I could not read a word. Madame de Maisonneuve held a hurried conference with her brother, and then informed me that the body-guard was all. Called out) thewhole four companies, with their servants, equipage, arms andhorses, to accompany and protect the king in his flight fromParis! But whither he would go, or with what intent, whether ofbattle or of escape, had not been announced. The Count Charleshad obtained leave of absence for one hour to see his wife(Mademoiselle de Lafayette) and his children; but M. D'Arblay, who belonged to the artillery company, could not be spared even amoment. He had therefore seized a cover of a letter of M. DeBethizy, the commandant, to write me a few words. I now read them, and found-- "Ma chŠre amie--Tout est perdu! je ne puis entrer dans aucund‚tail--de grƒce, partez! le plut“t sera le mieux. A la vie et …la mort, A. D'A. "(263) Scarcely had I read these lines, when I was told that Madamed'Henin had sent me a summons. I now could but embrace my Madamede Maisonneuve in silence, and depart. . . . ARISTOCRATIC IRRITABILITY. Arrived at Madame la Princesse d'Henin's, all was in aperturbation yet greater than what I had left, though not equallyafflicting. Madame d'Henin was so little herself, that everymoment presented a new view of things, and urged her impatiently, nay imperiously, to differ from whatever was offered. Now she saw instantly impending danger, and was for precipitateflight; now she saw fearless security, and determined not to movea step ; the next moment all was alarm again, and she wantedwings for speed - and the next, the smallest apprehensionawakened derision and contempt. I, who had never yet seen her butall that was elegant, rational, and kind, was thunderstruck bythis effect of threatening Page 312 evil upon her high and susceptible spirit. From manners ofdignified serenity, she so lost all self-possession as to answernearly with fury whatever was not acquiescent concurrence in heropinion: from sentiments of the most elevated nobleness she wasurged, by every report that opposed her expectations, to theutterance of wishes and of assertions that owed their impulse topassion, and their foundation to prejudice ; and from havingsought, with the most flattering partiality, to attach me to herparty, she gave me the severe shock of intimating that my joiningher confused all er measures. To change my plan now was impossible ; my husband and my bestfriends knew me to be with her, and could seek me, or bestowinformation upon me, in no other direction; I had given up my ownhome, and to return thither, or to stay any where in Paris, wasto constitute myself a prisoner: nevertheless, it was equally asorrow and a violence to my feelings to remain with her anothermoment after so astonishing a reproach. Displeasure at it, however, subsided, when I found that it proceeded neither fromweakened regard, nor a wanton abuse of power, but from a mindabsolutely disorganized. M. Le Comte de Lally Tolendal, the Cicero of France, and mosteloquent man of his day, and one of the most honourable, as wellas most highly gifted, was, I now found, to be of our fugitiveparty. He was her admiring and truly devoted friend, and by manybelieved to be privately married to her. I am myself of thatopinion, and that the union, on account of prior and unhappycircumstances, was forborne to be avowed. Certainly their mutualconduct warranted this conclusion. Nevertheless, his wholedemeanour towards her announced the most profound respect as wellas attachment ; and hers to him the deepest consideration, with adelight in his talents amounting to an adoration that met his forher noble mind and winning qualities. She wanted, however, despotically to sway him ; and little as he might like thesubmission she required, he commonly yielded, to avoid, as Iconceive, the dangerous conjectures to which dissension mightmake them liable. But at this moment, revolutionary terrors and conflictingsensations robbed each of them of that self-command which tillnow had regulated their public intercourse. She, off all guard, let loose alike the anxious sensibility and the arbitraryimpetuosity of her nature: he, occupied with too mighty a troubleto have time or care for his wonted watchfulPage 313 attentions, heard alike her admonitions or lamentations with anair of angry, but silent displeasure ; or, when urged toopointedly for maintaining his taciturnity, retorted herreproaches or remarks with a vehemence that seemed the echo ofher own. Yet in the midst of this unguarded contention, which hadits secret incitement, I doubt not, from some cruelly opposingdifference of feelings--of ideas upon the present momentouscrisis, nothing could be more clear than that their attachment toeach other, though it could not subdue their violent tempers, was, nevertheless, the predominant passion of their souls. THE COUNTESS D'AUCH'S COMPOSURE. The turbulence of these two animated characters upon this tryingoccasion was strongly contrasted by the placid suffering andfeminine endurance of Madame la Comtesse d'Auch, the daughter andsole heiress and descendant of M. De Lally. Her husband, likemine, was in the body-guard of Louis XVIII. , and going, or gone, no one knew whither, nor with what intent; her estate andproperty were all near Bordeaux, and her little children werewith her at Paris. The difficult task, in the great uncertaintyof events, was now hers to decide, whether to seek the samerefuge that her father and Madame Henin should resolve uponseeking, or whether to run every personal risk in trying to saveher lands and fortune from confiscation, by traversing, with onlyher babies and servants, two or three hundred miles, to reach herchateau at Auch ere it might be seized by the conquering party. Quietly, and in total silence, she communed with herself, notmixing in the discourse, nor seeming to heed the disturbancearound her; but, when at length applied to, her resolution, fromher Own concentrated meditations, was fixedly taken, to preserve, if possible, by her exertions and courage, the property of herabsent and beloved husband, for his hoped return and for herchildren. This steadiness and composure called not forth anyimitation. M. De Lally breathed hard with absolute agony ofinternal debate; and Madame d'Henin now declared she was sure allwould blow over in a false alarm, and that she would not hesitateany longer between Brussels and Bordeaux, but remain quietly inParis, and merely sit up all night to be on the watch. Page 314 RUMOURS OF BONAPARTE'S NEAR APPROACH. M. De Lally determined to go now in person to the Tuileries, toprocure such information as might decide his shattered andirresolute friend. When he was gone, a total silence ensued. Madame d'Auch was absorbed in her fearful enterprise, and Madamed'Henin, finding no one opposed her (for my thoughts were with noone present), walked up and down the room, with hasty movement, as if performing some task. Various persons came and went, messengers, friends, or people upon business. She seized uponthem all, impatiently demanding their news, and their opinions, but so volubly, at the same time, uttering her own, as to givethem no time to reply, though as they left her, too much hurriedthemselves to wait her leisure for listening, she indignantlyexclaimed against their stupidity and insensibility. But what a new and terrible commotion was raised in her mind, inthat of Madame d'Auch, and in mine, upon receiving a pencilbillet from M. De Lally, brought by a confidential servant, toannounce that Bonaparte was within a few hours' march of Paris!He begged her to hasten off, and said he would follow in hiscabriolet when he had made certain arrangements, and could gainsome information as to the motions of the king. She now instantly ordered horses to her berlin, (264) which hadlong been loaded, and calling up all her people and dependants, was giving her orders with the utmost vivacity, when intelligencewas brought her that no horses could now be had, the governmenthaving put them all in requisition. I was struck with horror. Tobe detained in Paris, the seat of impending conquest, and thedestined capital of the conqueror--detained a helpless prisoner, where all would be darkly unknown to me, where Truth could findno entrance, Falsehood no detection--where no news could reachme, except news that was fatal--oh! what dire feelings were mineat this period! Madame d'Auch, who had taken her precautions, instantly thoughsadly, went away, to secure her own carriage, and preserve herlittle babies. DEPARTURE FROM PARIS AT NIGHT TIME. Madame d'Henin was now almost distracted, but this dreadfulprospect of indefinite detention, with all the horrors Page 315 of captivity, lasted not long: Le Roy, her faithful domestic fromhis childhood, prevailed upon some stable friend to grant the useof his horses for one stage from Paris, and the berlin and fourwas at the porte cochŠre in another moment, The servants anddependants of Madame d'Henin accompanied her to the carriage intears ; and all her fine qualities were now unmixed, as she tookan affectionate leave of them, with a sweetness the mostengaging, suffering the women to kiss her cheek, and smilingkindly on the men, who kissed her robe. Vivacity like herscreates alarm, but, in France, breeds no resentment ; and where, like hers, the character is eminently noble and generous, it isbut considered as a mark of conscious rank, and augments ratherthan diminishes personal devotion. We now rushed into the carriage, averse, yet eager, between tenand eleven o'clock at night, 19th March, 1815. As Madame d'Heninhad a passport for herself, et sa famille, we resolved to keepmine in reserve, in case of accidents or separation, and only toproduce hers, while I should be included in its privileges. Thedecision for our route was for Brussels ; the femme de chambre ofMadame d'Henin-within, and the valet, Le Roy, outside thecarriage, alone accompanied us, with two postilions for the fourhorses. Madame d'Henin, greatly agitated, spoke from time totime, though rather in ejaculations upon our flight, itsuncertainties and alarms, than with any view to conversation; butif she had any answer, it was of simple acquiescence from hergood and gentle femme de chambre; as to me . . . I could notutter a word--my husband on his war-horse--his shattered state ofhealth--his long disuse to military service, yet high-wroughtsense of military honour--all these were before me. I saw, heard, and was conscious of nothing else, till we arrived at LeBourget, (265) a long, straggling, small town. And here, Madamed'Henin meant to stop, or at least change horses. A HALT AT LE BOURGET. But all was still, and dark, and shut up. It was the dead ofnight, and no sort of alarm seemed to disturb the inhabitants Page 316 of the place. We knocked at the first inn: but after waiting aquarter of an hour, some stable-man came Out to say there was nota room vacant. The same reply was with the same delay given us attwo other inns; but, finally, we were more successful, thougheven then we could obtain only a single apartment, with threebeds. These we appropriated for Madame d'Henin, myself, and hermaid; and the men-servants were obliged to content themselveswith mattresses in the kitchen. The town, probably, was filledwith fugitives from Paris. A supper was directly provided, but Madame d'Henin, who now againrepented having hurried off, resolved upon sending her faithfulLe Roy back to the metropolis, to discover whether it werepositively true that the king had quitted it, He hired a horse, and we then endeavoured to repose . . . But oh, how far from mewas all possibility of obtaining it! About three in the morning M. De Lally overtook us. Hisinformation was immediately conveyed to the Princesse d'Henin. It was gloomily affrighting. The approach of Bonaparte waswholly unresisted; all bowed before, that did not spring forwardto meet him. Le Roy returned about six in the morning. The king, and hisguards, and his family, had all suddenly left Paris, but whitherhad not transpired. He was preceded, encircled, and followed byhis four companies of body-guards. Horror and distress at such a flight and such uncertainty werenot mine only, though circumstances rendered mine the mostpoignant; but M. De Lally had a thousand fears for the excellentand loved husband of his daughter, M. Le Comte d'Auch; and Madamed'Henin trembled, for herself and all her family, at the dangerof the young Hombert La Tour du Pin. THE JOURNEY RESUMED. No longer easy to be so near Paris, we hastily prepared to get onfor Brussels, our destined harbour. M. De Lally now accompaniedus, followed by his valet in a cabriolet. Our journey commencedin almost total silence on all parts: the greatness of the changeof government thus marvellously effecting, the impenetrableuncertainty of coming events, and our dreadful ignorance of thefate of those most precious to us, who were involved in the deedsand the consequencesPage 317 of immediate action, filled every mind too awfully for speech andour sole apparent attention was to the passengers we overtook, orby whom we were overtaken. These were so few, that I think we could not count half a dozenon our way to Senlis, and those seemed absorbed in deadly thoughtand silence, neither looking at us, nor caring to encounter ourlooks. The road, the fields, the hamlets, all appeared deserted. Desolate and lone was the universal air. I have since concludedthat the people of these parts had separated into two divisions;one of which had hastily escaped, to save their lives andloyalty, while the other had hurried to the capital to greet theconqueror - for this was Sunday, (266) the 20th of March. Oh, what were my sensations on passing through Senlis Senlis, solately fixed for my three months' abode with my general, duringhis being de service. When we stopped at a nearly empty inn, during the change of horses, I inquired after Madame Le Quint, and some other ladies who had been prepared to kindly receiveme--but they were all gone! hastily they had quitted the town, which, like its environs, had an air of being generallyabandoned. The desire of obtaining intelligence made Madame d'Henin mostunwilling to continue a straightforward journey, that mustseparate her more and more from the scene of action. M. De Lallywished to see his friend the young Duc d'Orl‚ans, (267) who was atPeronne, with his sister and part of his family; and he waspreparing to gratify this desire, when a discussion relative tothe danger of some political misconstruction, the duke being atthat time upon ill terms with Monsieur, Comte d'Artois, (268) madehim relinquish his purpose. We wandered about, however, I hardlyknow where, save that we stopped from time to time at smallhovels in which resided tenants of the Prince or of the Princessde Poix, who received Madame d'Henin with as much devotion ofattachment as they could have done in the fullest splendour ofher power to reward their kindness ; though with an entirefamiliarity of discourse that, had I been new to French Customs, would have seemed to me marks of total loss of respect. But aftera ten years' unbroken residence in France, Page 318 I was too well initiated in the ways of the dependants Upon thegreat belonging to their own tenantry, to make a mistake sounjust to their characters. We touched, as I think, at Noailles, at St. Just, at Mouchy, and at Poix--but I am only sure wefinished the day by arriving at Roy, where still the news of thatday was unknown. What made it travel so slowly I cannot tell; butfrom utter dearth of all the intelligence by which we meant to beguided, we remained, languidly and helplessly, at Roy till themiddle of the following Monday, (269) the 21st March. About that time some military entered the town and our inn. Wedurst not ask a single question, in our uncertainty to which sidethey belonged ; but the four horses were hastily ordered, sinceto decamp seemed what was most necessary. But Brussels was nolonger the indisputable spot, as the servants Overheard somewords that implied a belief that Louis XVIII. Was quitting Franceto return to his old asylum, England. It was determined, therefore, though not till after a tumultuous debate between theprincess and M. De Lally, to go straight to Amiens, where theprefect, M. Lameth, was a former friend, if not connection, ofthe princess. We had now to travel by a cross-road, and a very bad one, and itwas not till night that we arrived at the suburbs. It was herefirst we met with those difficulties that announced, by vigilancewith disturbance, a kind of suspended government; for theofficers of the police who demanded our passports were evidentlyat a loss whether to regard them as valid or not. Theirinterrogatories, meanwhile, were endless; and, finally, theydesired us, as it was so late and dark, to find ourselves alodging in the suburbs, and not enter the city of Amiens till thenext morning. Clouded as were alike our perceptions and our information, wecould not but be aware of the danger of to-morrow, when ourentrance might be of a sort to make our exit prohibited. Againfollowed a tumultuous debate, which ended in the hazardousresolve of appealing to the prefect and casting ourselves uponhis protection. This appeal ended all inquisition : we weretreated with deference, and accommodated in a decent room, whilethe passports of Madame d'Henin and of M. De Lally were forwardedto the prefecture. We remained here some time in the utmoststillness, no one pronouncing a word. We knew not who mightlisten, nor Page 319 with what ears ! But far from still was all within, because farfrom confident how the prefect might judge necessary to arrest, or to suffer our proceeding further. The answer was, at length, an order to the police officers to let us enter the city and beconducted to an hotel named by M. Lameth. A SUPPER AT AmIENS WITH THE PREFECT. We had an immensely long drive through the city of Amiens ere wecame to the indicated hotel. But here Madame d'Henin found anote that was delivered to her by the secretary of theprefecture, announcing the intention of the prefect to have thehonour of waiting upon her; and when M. Lameth was announced, M. De Lally and I retired to our several chambers. Her tˆte-…-tˆte with him was very long, and ended in a summons toM. De Lally to make it a trio. This interview was longer still, and my anxiety for the news with which it might terminaterelative to the king, the body-guard, and our detention orprogression, was acute. At length I also was summoned. Madame d'Henin came out to me upon the landing-place, hastily andconfusedly, to say that the prefect did not judge proper toreceive her at the prefecture, but that he would stay and supwith her, and that I was to pass for her premiŠre femme dechambre, as it would not be prudent to give in my name, though ithad been made known to M. Lameth; but the wife of an officer soimmediately in the service of the king must not be specified asthe host of a prefect, if that prefect meant, to yield to thetide of a new government. Tide? Nay, torrent it was at thismoment ; and any resistance that had not been previouslyorganized, and with military force, must have been vain. I made, however, no inquiry. I was simply acquiescent; and, distantlyfollowing Madame d'Henin, remained at the end of the room whilethe servants and the waiters adjusted matters for supper. In a situation of such embarrassment I never before was placed. Iknew not which way to look, nor what to do. Discovery at such acrisis might have been fatal, as far as might hang upondetention; and detention, which would rob me of all means ofhearing of M. D'Arblay, should I gather what was his route, andbe able to write to him, was death to my peace. I regretted I hadnot demanded to stay inPage 320 another room; but, in such heart-piercing moments, to be in theway of intelligence is the involuntary first movement. When all was arranged, and Madame d'Henin was seated M. De Lallyset a chair for me, slightly bowing to me to take it. I complied, and supper began. I was helped, of course the last, and not oncespoken to by any body. The repast' was not very gay, yet by nomeans dejected. The conversation was upon general topics, and M. De Lameth was entirely master of himself, seeming wholly withoutemotion. I was afterwards informed that news had just reached him, but notofficially, that Bonaparte had returned to Paris. Having heard, therefore, nothing from the new government he was able to act asif there were none such, and he kindly obliged Madame d'Henin bygiving her new passports, which should the conquest be confirmed, would be safer than passports from the ministers of Louis XVIII. At Paris. . . . M. Lameth could not, however, answer for retaining his powers, nor for what might be their modification even from hour to hour:he advised us, therefore, by no means to risk his being eitherreplaced or restrained, but to get on as fast as possible withhis passports while certain they were efficient. He thought itsafer, also, to make a circuit than to go back again to thehigh-road we had quitted. Our design of following the king, whomwe imagined gaining the sea-coast to embark for England, wasrendered abortive from the number of contradictory accounts whichhad reached M. Lameth as to the route he had taken. Brussels, therefore, became again our point of desire; but M. Lamethcounselled us to proceed for the moment to Arras, where M. --- (Iforget his name) would aid us either to proceed, or to change, according to circumstances, our destination. Not an instant, however, was to be lost, lest M. Lameth should be forced himselfto detain us. Horses, therefore, he ordered for us, and a guideacross the country for Arras. I learnt nothing of this till we re-entered our carriage. Theservants and waiters never quitted the room, and the prefect hadas much his own safety to guard from ill construction or report as ours. Madame d'Henin, thoughrouged the whole time with confusion, never ventured to address aword to me. It was, indeed, more easy to be silent than to speakto me either with a tone of condescension or of command, and anyother must have been suspicious. M. DePage 321 Lally was equally dumb, but active in holding out every plat tome, though always looking another way. M. Lameth eyed me withcuriosity, but had no resource against surmise save that adoptedby Madame d'Henin. However, he had the skill and the politenessto name, in the course of the repast, M. D'Arblay, as ifaccidentally, yet with an expression of respect and distinction, carefully, as he spoke, turning his eyes from mine, though it wasthe only time that, voluntarily, he would have met them. The horses being ready, M. Lameth took leave. RECEPTION AT THE PREFECTURE AT ARRAS. It was now about eleven at night. The road was of the roughestsort, and we were jerked up and down the ruts so as withdifficulty to keep our seats : it was also very dark, and thedrivers could not help frequently going out of their way, thoughthe guide, groping on upon such occasions on foot, soon set themright. It was every way a frightful night. Misery, both publicand private, oppressed us all, and the fear of pursuit andcaptivity had the gloomy effect of causing general taciturnity ;so that no kind voice, nor social suggestion, diverted the senseof danger, or excited one of hope. At what hour we arrived at Arras on Wednesday, the 22nd March, Icannot tell; but we drove straight to the prefecture, a veryconsiderable mansion, surrounded with spacious grounds andgardens, which to me, nevertheless, had a bleak, flat, anddesolate air, though the sun was brightly shining. We stopped atthe furthest of many gates on the high road, while madame sent into M. -- (I forget his name) the note with which we had beenfavoured by M. Lameth. The answer was a most courteousinvitation of entrance, and the moment the carriage stopped atthe great door of the portico, the prefect, M. -, hastened out togive Madame d'Henin le bras. He was an old soldier and in fulluniform, and he came to us from a battalion drawn out in array onone side the park. Tall, and with still a goodly port, thoughwith a face worn and weather-beaten, he had the air of agentleman as well as of a general officer - and the open andhospitable smile with which he received the princess, whilebareheaded and baldheaded he led her into his palace, diffused awelcome around that gave an involuntary cheeriness even to poordejected me. How indescribably gifted is the human face Y Page 322 divine, " in those who are invested with power, to transmit Or toblight comfort even by a glance! As Madame d'Henin demanded a private audience, I know not whatpassed; but I have reason to believe we were the first whobrought news to Arras that approached to the truth of the actualposition of Paris. M. Lameth, for Political reasons, had asstudiously avoided naming M. De Lally as myself in his note . -but M. De Lally was treated by the mistress of the house with thedistinction due to a gentleman travelling with the princess ; andas to me, some of the younger branches of the family took meunder their protection, and very kind they were, showing me thegarden, library, and views of the surrounding country. A CHEERFUL DEJEUNER SOMEWHAT RUFFLED. Meanwhile, an elegant breakfast was prepared for a large company, a review having been ordered for that morning, and severalgeneral officers being invited by the prefect. This repast had acheerfulness that to me, an Englishwoman, was unaccountable andis indefinable. The king had been compelled to fly his capital, no one knew where he was seeking shelter; no one knew whether hemeant to resign his crown in hopeless inaction, or whether tocontest it in sanguinary civil war. Every family, therefore, with its every connection in the whole empire of the French, wasinvolved in scenes upon which hung prosperity or adversity, reputation or disgrace, honour or captivity ; yet at such acrisis the large assembled family met with cheerfulness, the manyguests were attended to with politeness, and the goodly fare ofthat medley of refreshments called a d‚jeuner in France was metwith appetites as goodly as its incitements. This could not be from insensibility; the French are anythingrather than insensible : it could not be from attachment toBonaparte, the prefect loudly declaring his devotion to LouisXVIII. I can only, therefore, attribute it to the longrevolutionary state of the French mind, as well as nation, whichhad made it so familiar to insurrection, change, and incertitude, that they met it as a man meets some unpleasant business which hemust unavoidably transact, and which, since he has no choice toget rid of, he resolves to get through to the best of hisability. We were still, however, smelling sweet flowers and regaledPage 323 with fine fruits, when this serenity was somewhat ruffled by thearrival of the commander of the forces which had been reviewed, or destined for review, I know not which. He took the prefectaside, and they were some time together. He then, only bowing tothe ladies of the house, hastened off. The prefect told us thenews that imperfectly arrived was very bad, but he hoped a standwould be made against any obstinate revolt ; and he resolved toassemble every officer and soldier belonging to his government, and to call upon each separately to take again, and solemnly, hisoath of allegiance. . While preparing for this ceremony thecommander again returned, and told him he had positiveinformation that the. Defection was spreading, and that wholetroops and' companies were either sturdily waiting in inaction, or boldly marching on to meet the conqueror. A LOYAL PREFECT. Our table was now broken up, and we were wishing to depart ereofficial intimation from the capital might arrest our furtherprogress - but our horses were still too tired, and no otherswere to be procured. We became again very uneasy, and uneasinessbegan to steal upon all around us. The prefect was engaged inperpetual little groups of consultation, chiefly with generalofficers, who came and went with incessant bustle, andoccasionally and anxiously were joined by persons of consequenceof the vicinity. The greater the danger appeared, the moreintrepidly the brave old prefect declared his loyalty ; yet hewas advised by all parties to give up his scheme till he knewwhether the king himself 'made a stand in his own cause. $ He yielded reluctantly; and when Madame d'Henin found his steadyadhesion to his king, she came up to him and said, that, findingthe firmness of his devotion to Louis XVIII. , she was sure itwould give him pleasure to know he had at that moment under hisroof the wife of a general officer in the actual escort of hismajesty. He instantly came to me with a benevolent smile, and wehad a conversation of deep Interest upon the present state ofthings. I had the heartfelt satisfaction to find that myhonoured husband was known to him, not alone by reputation, butpersonally; and to find that, and to hear his praise, has alwaysbeen one and the same thing. Alas! those sounds on these sad earsvibrate noPage 324 more!. . . . . At length, however, about noon, we set off, accompaniedby the prefect and all his family to our carriage. EMBLEMS OF LOYALTY AT DOUAY. At Douay, we had the satisfaction to see still stronger outwardmarks of attachment to the king and his cause, for in everystreet through which we passed, the windows were decked withemblems of faithfulness to the Bourbon dynasty, white flags, orribands, or, handkerchiefs. All, however, without commotion, allwas a simple manifestation of respect, No insurrection waschecked, for none had been excited - no mob was dispersed, forscarcely any one seemed to venture from his house. Our intention was to quit the French territory that night, andsleep in more security at Tournay ; but the roads became so bad, and our horses grew so tired, that it was already dark before wereached Orchies. M. De Lally went on from Douay in his cabriolet, to lighten our weight, as Madame d'Henin had a good deal ofbaggage. We were less at our ease, while thus perforce travellingslower, to find the roads, as we proceeded from Douay, becomemore peopled. Hitherto they had seemed nearly a blank. We nowbegan, also, to be met, or to be overtaken, by small parties oftroops. We naturally looked out with earnestness on each side, todiscover to whom or to what they belonged : but the compliment ofa similar curiosity on their part was all we gained. Sometimesthey called out a "Vive--" but without finishing their wish; andwe repeated--that is, we bowed to--the same hailing exclamation, without knowing or daring to inquire its purport. STATE OF UNCERTAINTY AT ORCHIES. At Orchies, where we arrived rather late in the evening, we firstfound decided marks of a revolutionary state of things. No orderswere sent by either party. The king and his government were tooimminently in personal danger to assert their rights, or retaintheir authority for directing the provinces; Bonaparte and hisfollowers and supporters were too much engrossed by takingpossession of the capital, and too uncertain of their success, totry a power which had as yet no basis, or risk a disobediencewhich they had no means to resent. The people, as far as we couldsee or learn Page 325 seemed passively waiting the event ; and the constitutedauthorities appeared to be self-suspended from their functionstill the droit des plus fort(270) should ascertain who were theirmasters. Nevertheless, while we waited at Orchies for horses, news arrived by straggling parties which, though only whispered, created evidently some disturbance - a sort of wonderingexpectation soon stared from face to face, asking by the eye whatno one durst pronounce by the voice; what does all this portend?and for what ought we to prepare? A MISHAP ON THE ROAD. it was past eleven o'clock, and the night was dark and damp, erewe could get again into our carriages - but the increasing bustlewarned us off, and a nocturnal journey had nothing to appal usequally with the danger of remaining. We eagerly, therefore, setoff, but we were still in the suburbs of Orchies, when a call forhelp struck our ears, and the berlin stopped. It was so dark, wecould not at first discern what was the matter, but we soon foundthat the carriage of M. De Lally had broken down. Madame d'Henindarted out of the berlin with the activity of fifteen. Her maidaccompanied her, and I eagerly followed. Neither M. De Lally nor his man had received any injury, but thecabriolet could no longer proceed without being repaired. Thegroom was sent to discover the nearest blacksmith, who came soonto examine the mischief, and declared that it could not beremedied before daylight. We were forced to submit the vehicleto his decree - but our distress what to do with ourselves wasnow very serious. We knew there was no accommodation for us atthe inn we had 'just quitted, but that of passing the night bythe kitchen fire, exposed to all the hazards of suspiciousobservation upon our evident flight. To remain upon the high roadstationary in our berlin might, at such a period, encompass uswith dangers yet more serious. A KINDLY OFFER OF SHELTER. We were yet unresolved, when a light from the windows of a smallhouse attracted our attention, and a door was opened, at which agentlewoman somewhat more than elderly stood, with a candle inher hand, that lighted up a face full ofPage 326 benevolence, in which was painted strong compassion on the viewof our palpable distress. Her countenance encouraged us toapproach her, and the smile with which she saw us come forwardsoon accelerated our advance; and when We reached her threshold, she waited neither for solicitation nor representation, but letus into her small dwelling without a single question, silently, as if fearful herself we might be observed, shutting the streetdoor before she spoke. She then lamented, as we must needs, shesaid, be cold and comfortless, that she had no fire, but addedthat she and her little maid were in bed and asleep, when thedisturbance on the road had awakened her, and made her hasten up, to inquire if any one were hurt. We told as much of our Story asbelonged to our immediate situation, and she then instantly, assured us we should be welcome to stay in her house till thecabriolet was repaired. Without waiting for our thanks, she then gave to each a chair, and fetched great plenty of fuel, with which she made an ampleand most reviving fire, in a large stove that was placed in themiddle of the room. She had bedding, she said, for two, andbegged that, when we were warmed and comforted, we would decidewhich of us most wanted rest. We durst not, however, risk, atsuch a moment, either being separated or surprised; we entreatedher, therefore, to let us remain together, and to retire herselfto the repose her humanity had thus broken. But she would notleave us. She brought forth bread, butter, and cheese, with wineand some other beverage, and then made us each a large bowl oftea. And when we could no longer partake of her hospitable fare, she fetched us each a pillow, and a double chair, to rest ourheads and our feet. ALARMED BY POLISH LANCERS. Thus cheered and refreshed, we blessed our kind hostess, and fellinto something like a slumber, when we were suddenly roused bythe sound of trumpets, and warlike instruments, and the tramplingof many horses, coming from afar, but approaching with rapidity. We all started up alarmed, and presently the group, perceiving, Iimagine, through the ill-closed shutters, some light, stoppedbefore the house, and battered the door and the window, demandingadmission. We hesitated whether to remain or endeavour to concealourselves Page 327 but our admirable hostess bid us be still, while, calm herself, she opened the street door, where she parleyed with the party, cheerfully and without any appearance of fear, and told them shehad no room for their accommodation, because she had given upeven her own bed to some relations who were travelling, shegained from them an applauding huzza and their departure. Shethen informed us they were Polish lancers, and that she believedthey were advancing to scour the country in favour of Bonaparte. She expressed herself an open 'and ardent loyalist for theBourbons, but said she had no safety except in submitting, likeall around her, to the stronger powers. Again, by her persuasion, we sought to compose ourselves; but asecond party soon startled us from our purpose, and from thattime we made no similar attempt. I felt horrified at every blastof the trumpet, and the fear of being made prisoner, or pillaged, assailed me unremittingly. At about five o'clock in the morning our carriages were at thedoor. We blessed our benevolent hostess, took her name andaddress, that we might seek some means of manifesting ourgratitude, and then quitted Orchies. For the rest of our journeytill we reached the frontiers, we were annoyed with incessantsmall military groups or horsemen; but though suspiciouslyregarded, we were not stopped. The fact is, the new governmentwas not yet, in those parts, sufficiently organised to have beenable to keep if they had been strong enough to detain us. But wehad much difficulty to have our passports honoured for passingthe frontiers ; and if they had not been so recently renewed atAmiens, I think it most probable our progress would have beenimpeded till new orders and officers were entitled to make ushalt. ARRIVAL AT TOURNAY. Great, therefore, was our satisfaction when, through all thesedifficulties, we entered Tournay-where, being no longer in thelately restored kingdom of France, we considered ourselves to beescaped from the dominion of Bonaparte, and where we determinedtherefore to remain till we could guide our further proceedingsby tidings of the plan and the position of Louis XVIII. We wentto the most considerable inn, and all retired to rest which, after so much fatigue, mental and bodily, we required, andhappily obtained. Page 328 The next day we had the melancholy satisfaction of hearing thatLouis XVIII. Also had safely passed the frontiers of his lostkingdom. As we were less fearful, now, of making inquiries, M. De Lally soon learnt that his majesty had halted at Lille, wherehe was then waiting permission and directions for a place ofretreat from the King of Holland, or the Netherlands. But nointelligence whatsoever could we gain relative to thebody-guards, and my disturbance increased, every moment. There was far more commotion at Tournay than at any other townthrough which we passed; for as the people here were not underthe French government, either old or new, they were not awed intowaiting to know to which they should belong, in fearfulpassiveness : yet they had all the perplexity upon their minds ofdisquieting ignorance whether they were to be treated as friendsor foes, since if Bonaparte prevailed they could not but expectto be joined again to his dominions. All the commotion, therefore, of divided interests and jarring opinions was awake, and in full operation upon the faculties and feelings of everyBelgian at this critical moment. FUTILE EFFORTS TO COMMUNICATE WITH M. D'ARBLAY. The horror of my suspense relative to the safety and the fate ofMonsieur d'Arblay reduced my mind to a sort of chaos, that makesit impossible to recollect what was our abode at Tournay. I canbut relate my distress and my researches. My first thought was to send a letter to my general at Lille, which if he was there would inform him of my vicinity, and ifnot, might perhaps find its way to his destination. At allevents, I resolved only to write what would be harmless should itfall even into the hands of the enemy. I directed those fewlines to M. Le Chevalier d'Arblay, officier sup‚rieur du garde ducorps de sa majest‚ Louis XVIII. But when I would have sent them to the post, I was informed therewas no post then to Lille. I then sought for a messenger, but was told that Lille wasinaccessible. The few letters that were permitted to enter itwere placed in a basket, the handle of which was tied to a longcord, that was hooked up to the top of the walls, and thencedescended to appointed magistrates. Vainly I made every effort in my power to avail myself Of thismethod, no one of my party, nor at the inn, ,knew orPage 329 could indicate any means that promised success, or even a trial. Worn at length by an anxiety I foundinsupportable, I took a resolution to go forth myself, strangeras I was to the place, and try to get my letter conveyed to thebasket, however difficult or costly might be its carriage. Quite alone, therefore, I sallied forth, purposing to find, ifpossible, some sturdy boy who would be glad of such remunerationas I could offer, to pass over to Lille. Again, however, vain was every attempt. I entered all decent poor houses; sauntered to the suburbs, andentered sundry cottages; but no inquiry could procure either aman or a boy that would execute my commission. French was sogenerally known that I commonly made myself understood, though Ionly received a shake of the head, or a silent walking off, inreturn to my propositions. But in the end, a lad told me hethought he had heard that Madame la Duchesse de St. Agnes had hadsome intercourse with Lille. Delighted, I desired him to show methe house she inhabited. We walked to it together, and I thensaid I would saunter near the spot while he entered, with myearnest petition to know whether madame could give me any tidingsof the king's body-guard. He returned with an answer that madamewould reply to a written note, but to nothing verbal. I bid theboy hie with me to the inn; but as I had no writing tackle, Isent him forward to procure me proper implements at thestationer's. How it happened I know not, but I missed the boy, whom I couldnever regain and I soon after lost my way myself. In much perplexity I was seeking information which way to steer, when a distant sound of a party of horse caught my attention. Istopped. The sound approached nearer; the boys and idle peoplein the street ran forward to meet it, and presently were joinedor followed by the more decent inhabitants. I had not thetemerity to make one among them, yet my anxiety for news of anysort was too acute to permit me to retire. I stood thereforestill, waiting for what might arrive, till I perceived someoutriders galloping forward in the royal livery of France. Immediately after, a chariot and four with the arms of Francefollowed, encircled by horsemen, and nearly enveloped by acontinually increasing crowd, whence, from time to time, issued afeeble cry of "Vive le roi!" while two or three other carriagesbrought up the rear. With difficulty now could I forbearplunging into the midst of them, for my big expectations paintedto me Louis XVIII. ArrivedPage 330 at Tournay, and my bigger hopes pictured with him his loyalguard. They had soon however passed by, but their stragglingfollowers showed me their route, which I pursued till I lost bothsight and sound belonging to them. I then loitered for my errand boy, till I found myself, by someindications that helped my remembrance, near the spot whence Ihad started. . Glad, for safety's sake, to be so near my thenhome, though mourning my fruitless wandering, I hastened myfootsteps; but what was my emotion on arriving within a few yardsof the inn, to observe the royal carriage which had galloped pastme, the horsemen, the royal livery and all the appearance thathad awakened my dearest hopes' The crowd was dispersed, but theporter's lodge, or perhaps bookkeeper's, was filled withgentlemen, or officers in full uniform. I hurried on, andhastily inquired who it was that had just arrived. My answer was, the Prince de Cond‚. A thousand projects now occurred to me for gaining intelligencefrom such high authority, but in the large courtyard I espiedMadame d'Henin sauntering up and down, while holding by the armof a gentleman I had never before seen. Anxious to avoid delay, and almost equally desirous to escape remonstrances on myenterprise, since I could listen only to my restless anxiety, Iwould have glided by unnoticed; but she called after me aloud, and I was compelled to approach her. She was all astonishment atmy courage in thus issuing forth alone, I knew not where norwhither, and declared that I was m‚connoissable; but I onlyanswered by entreating her to inquire the names of some of thegentlemen just arrived, that I might judge whether any among themcould give me the information for which I sighed. No sooner did I hear that M. Le Comte de Viomenil was of thenumber, than, recollecting his recent appointment at Paris, inconjunction with Victor de Maubourg, to raise volunteers for theking, I decided upon seeking him. Madame d'Henin would have givenme some counsel, but I could not hear her; as I hurried off, however, the gentleman whose arm she held offered me hisassistance in a tone and with a look of so much benevolence, thatI frankly accepted it, and we sallied in search of a person knownto me only by name. My stranger friend now saved me everyexertion, by making every inquiry and led me from corridor tocorridor, above, below, and to almost every apartment, askingincessantly if M. Le Comte de Viomenil was not in the inn. Page 331 At length we learned that M. De Viomenil was dining quite alonein an upper chamber. My kind-hearted conductor led me to the door of the roomassigned, and then tapped at it; and on an answer of "entrez!" helet go my arm, and with a bow silently left me. I found M. DeViomenil at table : he said he could give no possible account ofhis majesty, save that he was at Gand, but that of the body-guardhe knew positively nothing. INTERVIEWS WITH M. DE CHATEAUBRIAND. I afterwards learnt that my benevolent strange chevalier was noother than the celebrated M. De Chƒteaubriand. (271) I sawnothing more of him, save for a moment, when, in passing by asmall staircase that led to my chamber, a door was suddenlyopened, whence Madame d'Henin put out her head to invite me toenter, when she presented me to him and to Madame deChƒteaubriand, a very elegant woman, but of a cold, reserveddemeanour. I expressed eagerly the pleasure I had experienced in seeing theauthor of " The Itinerary to Jerusalem, " a work I had read inParis with extraordinary interest and satisfaction ; but Ibelieve the "G‚nie du Christianisme, " and perhaps the "Atala, "were works so much more prized by that author as to make mycompliment misplaced. However, I so much more enjoy the natural, pleasing, instructive, and simple, though ingenious style andmatter of the " Itinerary " than I do the overpowering sort ofheroic eloquence of those more popular performances, that thezest of dear hallowed truth would have been wanting had I notexpressed my choice. The "Itinerary" is, indeed, one of the mostagreeable books I know. M. De Ch‚teaubriand hung back, whether pleased or not, Page 332 with an air of gentlemanly serenity. I had opportunity forfurther effort : we left Tournay to proceed to Brussels, andheavy was my heart and my will to quit, thus in ignorance, thevicinity of Lille. At the town at which we stopped to dine which, I think, was Atot, we again met M. Et Madame de Chƒteaubriand. This was a mutualsatisfaction, and we agreed to have our meal in common. I now hadmore leisure, not of time alone, but of faculty, for doingjustice to M. De Chateaubriand, whom I found amiable, unassuming, and, though somewhat spoilt by the egregious flattery to which hehad been accustomed, wholly free from airs or impertinentselfconceit. Excessive praise seemed only to cause him excessivepleasure in himself, without leading to contempt or scorn ofothers. He is by no means tall, and is rather thickset - but hisfeatures are good, his countenance is very fine, and his eyes arebeautiful, alike from colour, shape, and expression ; while thereis a striking benevolence in his look, tone of voice, and manner. Madame de Chƒteaubriand also gained ground by fartheracquaintance. She was faded, but not pass‚e, and was stillhandsome, and of a most graceful carriage, though distant anduninviting. Her loftiness had in it something so pensive mixedwith its haughtiness, that though it could not inspireconfidence, it did not create displeasure. She possessed also aclaim to sympathy and respect in being the niece of M. DeMalesherbes, that wise, tender, generous, noble defender of LouisXVI. The conversation during and after dinner was highly interesting. M. De Chƒteaubriand opened upon his situation with a trustingunreserve that impressed me with an opinion of the nobleness ofhis mind. Bonaparte had conceived against him, he said, apeculiar antipathy, for which various motives might be assigned:he enumerated them not, however, probably from the presence ofhis wife ; as his marriage with a niece of that martyr to theservice of the murdered king, Louis XVI. , I conclude to be attheir head. The astonishing and almost boundless success of hisworks, since he was dissatisfied with his principles, and morethan suspicious of his disaffection to the imperial government, must have augmented aversion by mixing with it some species ofapprehension. I know not what were the first publications of M. De Chƒteaubriand, but they were in such high estimationPage 333 when first I heard him mentioned, that no author was morecelebrated in France; when his "Martyres" came out, no other bookwas mentioned; and the famous critic Geoffroyq who guided thetaste of Paris, kept it alive by criticisms of alternate praiseand censure without end. "Atala, " the pastoral heroic romance, bewitched all the reading ladies into a sort of idolatry of itswriter, and scarcely a page of it remained unadorned by somerepresentation in painting. The enthusiasm, indeed, of thedraughtsmen and of the fair sex seemed equally emulous to placethe author and the work at the head of celebrity and the fashion. Of all this, of course, he spoke not - but he related the storyof his persecution by Napoleon concerning his being elected amember of the French Institute. I was in too much disturbance tobe able to clearly listen to the narrative, but I perfectlyrecollect that the censor, to soften Napoleon, had sent back themanuscript to M. De Chƒteaubriand, with an intimation that nopublic discourse could be delivered that did not contain an ‚logeof the Emperor. M. De Chƒteaubriand complied with the ordinance;but whether the forced praise was too feeble, or whether theaversion was too insuperable, I know not : all that is certainis, that Napoleon, after repeated efforts from the Institute ofreelection, positively refused to ratify that of M. DeChƒteaubriand. (272) Another time a cousin of this gentleman was reputed to be engagedIn a conspiracy against the emperor. M. De Chƒteaubriand solemnlydeclared he disbelieved the charge; and, as his weight in publicopinion was so great, he ventured to address a supplique toNapoleon in favour of his kinsman; but the answer which reachedhim the following day was an account of his execution ! (248) Horne's"History of Napoleon. " (249) This portion of the Diary is not dated, but the meetingwith the Duchess of Angoulˆme must have taken place in January orFebruary, 1815. Madame d'Arblay had joined her husband in France, her son remaining at Cambridge. -ED. (250) "Very glad to see me. " (251) "May I keep the book you sent me?" (252) "He has acted very nobly. " (253) Raised every day. " (254) "The king recollects very well having seen you in London. " (255) "O, I don't doubt it at all. " (256) "He was perfect!" (257) Princess Elizabeth. (258) "'Tis she who does the honours of the royal family. " (259) On duty. (260) Minister for foreign affairs. (261) "We have better news. I can enter into no detail; but becalm, and love him who loves you alone. (262) Country estate. (263) "My dearest--All is lost! I cannot enter intodetails--pray, set out the sooner the better. Yours in life anddeath, A. D'A. " (264) A large travelling-coach. -ED. (265) Le Bourget was the scene of some desperate fighting duringthe siege of Paris in 1870. It was surprised and captured fromthe Prussians before daybreak of October 28, by a French forcecommanded by General de Bellemare, but, after a gallant defenceof two days, it was retaken by the Prussians. December 21, anattempt was made by the French to recapture Le Bourget, butwithout success. -ED. (266) Monday, the 20th, it should be-ED. (267) The son of Philippe Egalit‚, afterwards King LouisPhilippe. -ED. (268) Brother of Louis XVIII. , whom he succeeded under the titleof Charles X. -ED. (269) Should be Tuesday-ED. (270) "Right of the strongest. " (271) Fran‡ois Ren‚ de Chƒteaubriand was born at Saint Malo in1768 He visited the United States in 1789, and found, in thepathless forests of the new world, the scenery which hedescribes, with poetic fervour, in the pages of "Atala. " Thenews of the king's flight to Varennes brought him back to Europe. He married (1792) 'Mlle. De la Vigne-Buisson, joined the emigrantarmy which marched with Brunswick to conquer France, got woundedat Thionville, and retired to England. After the appointment ofBonaparte to the office of first Consul, Chƒteaubriand returnedto France, and published his heroic- sentimental romance of"Atala. " Its success with the public was great, and it wasfollowed by "The Genius of Christianity, " and other works. Underthe restored Bourbons, Chƒteaubriand filled high diplomaticposts. This most sentimental of men of genius died in July, 1848. -ED. (272) This occurred in the year 1811. -ED. Page 334 SECTION 25 (1815) AT BRUSSELS: WATERLOO: REJOINS M. D'ARBLAY. SOJOURN AT BRUSSELS. Arrived at Brussels, we drove immediately to the house in whichdwelt Madame la Comtesse de Maurville. That excellent person hadlived many years in England an emigrant, and there earned ascanty maintenance by keeping a French school. She had nowretired upon a very moderate pension, but was surrounded byintimate friends, who only suffered her to lodge at her own home. She received us in great dismay, fearing to lose her little allby these changes of government. I was quite ill on my arrival:excessive fatigue, affright, and watchfulness overwhelmed me. At Brussels all was quiet and tame. The Belgians had lost theiroriginal antipathy to Bonaparte, without having yet had time toacquire any warmth of interest for the Bourbons. Nativelyphlegmatic, they demand great causes or strong incitement torouse them from that sort of passiveness that is the offspring ofphilosophy and timidity- philosophy, that teaches them to prize'the blessings of safety ; and timidity, that points out thedangers of enterprise. In all I had to do with them I found themuniversally worthy, rational, and kind-hearted ; but Slow, sleepy, and uninteresting, in the sickroom to which I was immediately consigned, I met withevery sort of kindness from Madame de Maurville, whom I had knownintimately at Paris, and who had known and Page 335 appreciated my beloved, exemplary sister Phillips in London. Madame de Maurville was a woman that the Scotch would calllong-headed; she was sagacious, penetrating, and gifted withstrong humour. She saw readily the vices and follies of mankind, and laughed at them heartily, without troubling herself to grieveat them. She was good herself, alike in heart and in conduct, and zealous to serve and oblige ; but with a turn to satire thatmade the defects of her neighbours rather afford her amusementthan concern. ' I was visited here by the highly accomplished Madame de la: Tourdu Pin, wife to the favourite nephew of Madame d'Henin; a womanof as much courage as elegance, and who had met danger, toil, anddifficulty in the Revolution with as much spirit, and nearly asmuch grace, as she had displayed in meeting universal admirationand homage at the court of Marie-Antoinette, of which she was oneof the most brilliant latter ornaments. Her husband was at thistime one of the French ministers at the Congress at Vienna;whence, as she learned a few days after my arrival at Brussels, he had been sent on an embassy of the deepest importance andrisk, to La Vend‚e or Bordeaux. She bore the term of thatsuspense with an heroism that I greatly admired, for I well knewshe adored her husband. M. La Tour du Pin had been a prefect ofBrussels under Bonaparte, though never in favour, his internalloyalty to the Bourbons being well known. But Bonaparte loved toattach great names and great characters to his government, conscious of their weight both at home and abroad, and he trustedin the address of that mental diving-machine, his secret police, for warding off any hazard he might run, from employing theadherents of his enemies. His greatly capacious, yet onlyhalf-formed mind, could have parried, as well as braved, everydanger and all opposition, had not his inordinate ambition heldhim as arbitrarily under control as he himself held under controlevery other passion. Madame de Maurville soon found us a house, of which we took allbut the ground floor: the entresol was mine, the first floor wasMadame d'Henin's, and that above it was for M. De Lally. It wasnear the cathedral, and still in a prolongation of Madame deMaurville's street, la Rue de la Montagne. Nothing was known at Brussels, nothing at all, of the fate Of thebody-guard, or of the final destination of Louis XVIII. Howcircumstances of such moment, nay, notoriety, could be kept frompublic knowledge, I can form no idea; but neitherPage 336 in the private houses of persons of the first rank, in which, through Madame d'Henin, I visited, nor in any of the shops nor byany other sort of intercourse, either usual or accidental, couldI gather any intelligence. Madame la Duchesse de Duras, ci-devant Mademoiselle Kersaint, whohad visited me in Paris, and who was now in hasty emigration atBrussels, with her youngest daughter, Mademoiselle Clara deDuras, seemed sincerely moved by my distress, and wrote tovarious of her friends, who were emigrating within her reach, tomake inquiry for me. I visited her in a shabby hotel, where Ifound her without suite or equipage, but in perfect tranquillityat their loss, and not alone unmurmuring, but nearly indifferentto her privations; while Mademoiselle Clara ran up and downstairs on her mother's messages, and even brought in wood for thestove, with an alacrity and cheerfulness that seemed almost toenjoy the change to hardships from grandeur. Indeed, to veryyoung people, such reverses, for a certain time, appear as afrolic. Novelty, mere novelty, during the first youth, canscarcely be bought too dear. >From M. De la Feronaye, Madame de Duras procured me intelligencethat the body-guard had been dispersed and disbanded by the Ducde Berry, on the frontiers of La Belgique they were left atliberty to remain in France, or to seek other asylums, as hismajesty Louis XVIII. Could not enter the kingdom of Holland witha military guard of his own. This news left me utterly in thedark which way to look for hope or information. Madame de Duras, however, said she expected soon to see the Duc de Richelieu, whose tidings might be more precise. LETTERS FROM GENERAL D'ARBLAY. Ten wretched days passed on in this ignorance, from the19th to the 29th of March, 1815, when Madame de Maurville flewinto my apartment, with all the celerity of fifteen, and all theardour of twenty years of age, to put into my hands a letter fromGeneral d'Arblay, addressed to herself, to inquire whether shehad any tidings to give him of my existence, and whether I hadbeen heard of at Brussels, or was known to have travelled toBordeaux, as Madame d'Henin, cousin to Madame de Maurville, hadbeen uncertain, when M. D'Arblay left me in Paris, to which ofthose cities she should go. Page 337 The joy of that moment, Oh! the joy of that Moment that showed meagain the handwriting that demonstrated the life and safety ofall to which my earthly happiness clung, can never be expressed, and only by our meeting, when at last it took place, could beequalled. It was dated "Ypres, 27 Mars. " I wrote directlythither, proposing to join him, if ", there were any impedimentto his coming on to Brussels. I had already written, at hazard, to almost every town in the Netherlands. The very next day, another letter from the same kind hand arrived to Madame laDuchesse d'Hurste. This was succeeded by news that the king, Louis XVIII. , had been followed to Gand by his body-guard. Thither, also, I expedited a letter, under cover to the Duc deLuxembourg, capitaine of the company to which M. D'Arblaybelonged. I lived now in a hurry of delight that scarcely allowed mebreathing-time, a delight that made me forget all my losses, mymisfortunes-my papers, keepsakes, valuables of various sorts, with our goods, clothes, money-bonds, and endless et ceteras, left, as I had reason to fear, to seizure and confiscation uponthe entry of the emperor into Paris-all, all was light, wasnothing in the scale ; and I wrote to my Alexander, and mydearest friends, to rejoice in my joy, and that they had escapedmy alarm. Next day, and again the next, came a letter from M. D'Arblayhimself. The first was from Ypres, the second was from Bruges, and brought by the post, as my beloved correspondent had beenassured of my arrival at Brussels by the Duc de Luxembourg, atGhistelle, near Ostend, which M. D'Arblay was slowly approachingon horseback, when he met the carriage of Louis XVIII. , as itstopped for a relay of horses, and the duke, espying him, descended from the second carriage of the king's suite, to fly toand embrace him, with that lively friendship he has evermanifested towards him. Thence they agreed that the plan ofembarkation should be renounced, and, instead of Ostend M. D'Arblay turned his horse's head towards Gand, where he had arendezvous with the duke. There he remained, to renew the offer of his services to hisking, and there he was most peculiarly distinguished by M. Le Ducde Feltre (General Clarke), who was still occupying the Postassigned him on the restoration of Louis XVIII. Of ministre de laguerre. (273) Page 338 Relieved now--or rather blest--I was no longer deaf to thekindness of those who sought to enliven my exile ; I not onlyvisited Madame la Duchesse de Duras, but also cultivated anintercourse with the charming Madame de la Tour du Pin whom I wasthe more glad to find delightful from her being of Englishorigin; a Mademoiselle Dillon, Whose family was transplanted intoFrance under James II. , and who was descended from a noblemanwhose eminent accomplishments she inherited with his blood; thefamous Lord Falkland, on whose tomb in Westminster Abbey iscarved "Here lies the friend of Sir Philip Sidney. " Her sister, Miss Fanny Dillon, had been married by Bonaparte toGeneral Bertrand; and thus, while one of them' was an emigrantfollowing the fortunes of the Bourbons, the other was soon afterdestined to accompany Bonaparte himself into exile. Le Colonel deBeaufort, also, a warm, early friend of General d'Arblay, belonging to the garrison of Metz or of Toul, I forget which, hadmarried a lady of great wealth in La Belgique; a woman ratherunhappy in her person, but possessed of a generous and feelingheart : and this she instantly demonstrated by seeking andcultivating an acquaintance with the wandering wife of herhusband's early camarade. I found her so amiable, and so soothingin her commiseration during my distress, that I warmly returnedthe partiality she showed me. ARRIVAL OF GENERAL D'ARBLAY. Four days passed thus serenely, when, on that which completed afortnight's absence from my best friend, the Duc de Duras came toconvoy his wife to Gand, where he was himself in waiting uponLouis XVIII. , and shortly afterwards M. De Chƒteaubriand was madea privy counsellor and settled there also. And within a day ortwo after this my door was opened by General d'Arblay! Oh, howsweet was this meeting ! this blessed reunion!-- how perfect, howexquisite! Here I must be silent. General d'Arblay was only with me by the permission of the Duc deLuxembourg, and liable to receive orders daily to return to Gand; for I found to my speechless dismay, yet resistlessapprobation, that General d'Arblay had made a Page 339decision as noble as it was dangerous, to refuse no call, toabstain from no effort, that might bring into movement hisloyalty to his king and his cause, at this moment of calamity toboth. Yet such was the harassed, or rather broken state of hishealth, that his mental strength and unconquerable courage alonepreserved the poor shattered frame from sinking into languor andinertion. About this time I saw the entry of the new king, WilliamFrederick, of the new kingdom of the Netherlands. (274) Tapestry, or branches of trees, were hung out at all the windows, or, intheir failure, dirty carpets, old coats and cloaks, and evenmats-a motley display of proud parade or vulgar poverty, thatalways, to me, made processions on the continent appearburlesque. A MISSION ENTRUSTED To GENERAL D'ARBLAY. On the 22nd of April opened a new source, though not anunexpected one, of inquietude, that preyed the more deeply uponmy spirits from the necessity of concealing its torments. . . . The military call for M. D'Arblay arrived from Gand. The summonswas from M. Le Comte de Roch. The immediate hope in which weindulged at this call was, that the mission to which it alludedneed not necessarily separate us, but that I might accompany myhonoured husband and remain at his quarters. But, alas! he setout instantly for Gand . . . . . April 23rd brought me a letter: the mission was to Luxembourg. His adjoint was the Colonel Comte de Mazancourt, his aide-de-campM. De Premorel, and also that gentleman's son. The plan was tocollect and examine all the soldiers who were willing to returnfrom the army of Bonaparte to that of Louis XVIII. Eleven othergeneral officers were named to similar posts, all on frontiertowns, for the better convenience of receiving the volunteers. On the 24th April M. D'Arblay again joined me revived by hisnatively martial spirit, and pleased to be employed! April 26, we left the Rue de La Montague, after, on my part, exactly a month's residence. Our new apartments in Page 340 the March‚ aux Bois were au premier, (275) and commodious andpleasant. One drawing-room was appropriated solely by M. D'Arblayfor his military friends or military business ; the other wasmine. Here we spent together seventeen days; and not to harass myrecollections, I will simply copy what I find in MY oldmemorandum-book, as it was written soon after those days were nomore:--"Seventeen days I have passed with my best friend; and, alas ! passed them chiefly in suspense and gnawing inquietude, covered over with assumed composure . But they have terminated, Heaven be praised! with better views, with softer calm, andfairer hopes. Heaven realize them! I am much pleased with hiscompanions. M. Le Comte de Mazancourt, his adjoint, is a gay, spirited and spirituel young man, remarkably well bred, andgallantly fond of his profession. M. De Premorel, theaide-de-camp, is a man of solid worth and of delicate honour, andhe is a descendant of Godefroy de Bouillon. To this must beadded, that he is as poor as he is noble, and bears his penurywith the gentlemanly sentiment of feeling it distinct fromdisgrace. He is married, and has ten or eleven children: heresides with a most deserving wife, a woman also of family, on asmall farm, which he works at himself, and which repays him byits produce. For many days in the year, potatoes, he told me, were the only food they could afford for themselves or theiroffspring! But they eat them with the proud pleasure ofindependence and of honour and loyalty, such as befits their highorigins, always to serve, or be served, in the line of theirlegal princes. As soon as Louis XVIII. Was established on histhrone, M. De Premorel made himself known to the Duc deLuxembourg, who placed him in his own company in the garde ducorps, and put his son upon the supernumerary list. . . . . " This young man is really charming. He has a native noblesse ofair and manner, with a suavity as well as steadiness of serenepoliteness, that announce the Godefroy blood flowing Withconscious dignity and inborn courage through his youthful veins. He is very young, but tall and handsome, and speaks of all hisbrothers and sisters as if already he were chef de famille, andbound to sustain and protect them. . I delighted to lead him totalk of them, and the conversation on that subject alwaysbrightened him into joy and loquacity. He named every one of themto me in particular repeatedly, Page 341 with a desire I should know them individually, and a warm hope Imight one day verify his representations. This youth, Alphonse, and his father dined with us daily at thisperiod. All the mornings were devoted to preparations for theensuing expected campaign. When, however, all was prepared, andthe word of command alone was waited for from the Mar‚chal Duc deFeltre, my dearest friend indulged in one morning's recreation, which proved as 'agreeable as anything at such a period could beto a mind oppressed like mine. He determined that we should visitthe Palais de Lachen, which had been the dwelling assigned as thepalace for the Empress Josephine by Bonaparte at the time of hisdivorce. My dearest husband drove me in his cabriolet, and thethree gentlemen whom he invited to be of the party accompanied uson horseback. The drive, the day, the road, the views, our newhorses-all were delightful, and procured me a short relaxationfrom the foresight of evil. The Palace of Lachen was at this moment wholly uninhabited, andshown to us by some common servant. It is situated in a deliciouspark d'Anglaise, and with a taste, a polish, and an elegance thatclears it from the charge of frippery or gaudiness, though itsornaments and embellishments are all of the liveliest gaiety. There is in some of the apartments some Gobelin tapestry, ofwhich there are here and there parts and details so exquisitelyworked that I could have " hung over them enamoured. " "RULE BRITANNIA!" IN THE ALLEE VERTE. Previously to this reviving excursion my dearest friend haddriven me occasionally in the famous All‚e Verte, which theinhabitants of Brussels consider as the first promenade in theworld; but it by no means answered to such praise in my eyes: itis certainly very pretty, but too regular, too monotonous, andtoo flat to be eminently beautiful, though from some parts themost distant from the city there are views of cottages andhamlets that afford great pleasure. Our last entertainment here was a concert in the public and fineroom appropriated for music or dancing. The celebrated MadameCatalani had a benefit, at which the Queen of the Netherlands waspresent, not, however, in state, though not incognita; and theking of warriors, Marshal Lord Wellington, surrounded by hisstaff and all the officers Page 342 and first persons here, whether Belgians, Prussians, Hanoverians, or English. I looked at Lord Wellington watchfully, and wascharmed with every turn of his countenance, with his noble andsingular physiognomy and his eagle eye. He was gay even tosportiveness all the evening, conversing with the officers aroundhim. He never was seated, not even a moment, though I saw seatsvacated to offer to him frequently. He seemed enthusiasticallycharmed with Catalani, ardently applauding whatsoever she sung, except the "Rule Britannia;: and there, with sagacious reserve, he listened in utter Silence. Who ordered it I know not, but hefelt it was injudicious in every country but -our own to give outa chorus of "Rule, Britannia! Britannia, rule the waves!" And when an encore began to be vociferated from his officers, heinstantly crushed it by a commanding air of disapprobation, andthus offered me an opportunity of seeing how magnificently hecould quit his convivial familiarity for imperious' dominion whenoccasion might call for the transformation. GENERAL D'ARBLAY LEAVES FOR LUXEMBOURG. When the full order arrived from Gand, establishing the missionof M. D'Arblay at Luxembourg, he decided upon demanding anaudience of the Duke of Wellington, with whom he thought itnecessary to concert his measures. The duke received him withoutdifficulty, and they had a conference of some length, the resultof which was that his grace promised to prepare Blucher, thegreat Prussian general, then actually at Luxembourg, for aidingthe scheme. M. D'Arblay himself also wrote to Blcher; but beforeany answer could be returned, a new ordonnance from the Duc deFeltre directed M. D'Arblay to hasten to his post without delay. May 13, 1815. -My best friend left me to begin his campaign; leftme, by melancholy chance, upon his birthday. I could not that daysee a human being - I could but consecrate it to thoughts of himwho had just quitted me yet who from me never was, never can be, mentally absent, and to our poor Alexander, thus inevitably, yetseverely cast upon himself. AN EXCHANGE OF VISITS. The next day the gentle and feeling Madame de Beaufort spent themorning with me, using the most engaging efforts toPage 343 prevail with me to dine constantly at her table, and to accompanyher in a short time to her villa. Without any charms, personal oreven intellectual, to catch or fascinate, she seemed to have somuch goodness of character, that I could not but try to attachmyself to her, and accept her kindness as the "cordial drop" tomake the cup of woe of my sad solitude go down; for Madamed'Henin, who, to equal sensibility, joined the finestunderstanding, was now so absorbed in politics that she had notime for any expansion of sympathy. She came, nevertheless, tosee me in the evening, and to endeavour to draw me again intohuman life ! And her kind effort so far conquered me, that Icalled upon her the next day, and met Madame de Vaudreuil, forwhom I had a still unexecuted commission from the Duchess dowagerof Buccleuch, upon whom I had waited at the request of theprincesse de Chimay, to entreat the interest of her grace withthe prince regent, that the English pension accorded to theDuchess of Fitzjames might be continued to the duke, her husband, who remained a ruined widower with several children. I failed inmy attempt, the natural answer being, that there was nopossibility of granting a pension to a foreigner who resided inhis own country while that country was at open war with the landwhence he aspired at its obtention, a word I make for my passingconvenience. I exchanged visits also with Madame de la Tour du Pin, the trulyelegant, accomplished, and high-bred niece, by marriage, ofMadame la Princesse d'Henin. Her husband, M. De la Tour du Pin, was at that time at Vienna, forming a part of the renownedCongress, by which he was sent to La Vend‚e; to announce therethe resolution of the assembled sovereigns to declare Bonapartean outlaw, in consequence of his having broken the conditions ofhis accepted abdication, And I was discovered and visited by M. Le Comte de Boursac, one of the first officers of theestablishment of the Prince de Cond‚, with whom he was then atBrussels; a man of worth and cultivation. At Paris he visited usso often, that he took up the name at the door of "Le Voisin, "thinking it more safe to be so designated than to pronounce toofrequently the name of a known adherent to the Bourbons. The goodMadame de Maurville I saw often, and the family of the Boyds, with which my general had engaged me to quit Brussels, shouldBrussels become the seat of War, Page 344 THE FETE DIEU. Brussels in general was then inhabited by catholics, and catholicceremonies were not unfrequent. In particular, la Fˆte Dieu waskept with much pomp, and a procession of priests paraded thestreets, accompanied by images, pictures paintings, tapestry, andother insignia of outward and visible worship; and the windowswere hung with carpets, and rugs, and mats, and almost with rags, to prove good will, at least, to what they deem a pious show. Ludicrous circumstances without end interrupted, or marred theprocession, from frequent hard showers, during which the priests, decorated with splendid robes and petticoats, and ornaments themost gaudy, took sudden refuge at the doors of the houses bywhich they were passing, and great cloths, towels, or coarsecanvas, were flung over the consecrated finery, and the relicswere swaddled up in flannels, while dirt, splashes, running, scampering, and ludicrous wrappings up, broke at once anddisfigured the procession. THE ECCENTRIC LADY CAROLINE LAMB. At Madame de la Tour du Pin's I kept the fˆte of Madame deMaurville, with a large and pleasant party; and I just missedmeeting the famous Lady Caroline Lamb, (276) who had been there atdinner, and whom I saw, however, crossing the Place Royale, fromMadame de la Tour du Pin's to the Grand Hotel ; dressed, Orrather not dressed, so as to excite universal attention, andauthorise every boldness of staring, from the general to thelowest soldier, among the military groups then constantlyparading the Place, -for she had one shoulder, half her back, andall her throat and neck, displayed as if at the call of somestatuary for modelling a heathen goddess. A slight scarf hungover the other shoulder, and the rest Of the attire was ofaccordant lightness. As her ladyship had Page 345 not then written, and was not, therefore, considered as oneapart, from being known as an eccentric authoress, this conductand demeanour excited something beyond surprise, and in an English lady provoked censure, if not derision, uponthe whole English nation. A PROPOSED ROYAL CORPS. Monsieur le Duc de Luxembourg came to inform me that he was onthe point of negotiating with the Duke of Wellington and PrinceBlcher, upon raising a royal corps to accompany their army intoFrance, should the expected battle lead to that result ; and hedesired me to prepare M. D'Arblay, should such be the case, for arecall from TrŠves, that he might resume his post in thebody-guards belonging to the Compagnie de Luxembourg. He spoke ofmy beloved in terms of such high consideration, and withexpressions so amiable of regard and esteem, that he won myheart. He could by no means, he said, be again under activemilitary orders, and consent to lose so distinguished an officerfrom his corps. I had formerly met the duke in Paris, at Madamede Laval's - and he bad honoured me with a visit chez moiimmediately after my return from England: and in consequence ofthose meetings, and of his real friendship for M. D'Arblay, henow spoke to me with the unreserved trust due to a triedconfidant in case of peril and urgency. He stayed with me nearlytwo hours-for when once the heart ventured to open itself uponthe circumstances, expectations, or apprehensions of. Thateventful period, subjects, opinions, and feelings pressed forwardwith such eagerness for discussion, that those who upon suchconditions met, found nothing so difficult as to separate. I wrote instantly to M. D'Arblay ; but the duke's plan provedabortive, as the Duke of Wellington and Prince Blcher refusedall sanction to the junction of a French army With that of theallies. The thought, -perhaps-and perhaps Justly, that byentering France with natives against natives, they might excite acivil war, more difficult to conduct than that of only foreignersagainst foreigners. PAINFUL SUSPENSE. Suspense, during all this period, was frightfully mistress of'-, ,the mind; nothing was known, everything was imagined. Page 346 The two great interests that were at war, the Bourbonists andBonapartists, were divided and sub-divided into factions, orrather fractions, without end, and all that was kept invariablyand on both sides alive was expectation. Wanderers, deserters orcaptives from France, arrived daily at Brussels, all with varyingnews of the state of that empire, and of the designs of Bonaparteamongst them. The Chevalier d'Argy made me a visit, to deliver mea letter from M. De Premorel, for M. D'Arblay. This gentleman wasjust escaped from Sedan in the disguise of a paysan, and assistedby a paysanne, belonging to his family. She conducted him throughby-paths and thick forests, that she knew to be least frequentedby the troops, police, or custom-house officers of *Bonaparte. Hewas going to offer his services to the king, Louis XVIII. I hadmuch interesting public news from M. D'Argy : but I pass by allnow except personal detail, as I write but for my nearestfriends; and all that was then known of public occurrence haslong been stale. . . . During this melancholy period when leisure, till now a delight, became a burthen to me, I could not call my faculties into anyspecies of intellectual service; all was sunk, was annihilated inthe overpowering predominance of anxiety for the coming event. Iendured my suspense only by writing to or hearing from him whowas its object. All my next dear connections were well. I heardfrom them satisfactorily, and I was also engaged in frequentcorrespondence with the Princess Elizabeth, whose letters arecharming, not only from their vivacity, their frankness, andcondescension, but from a peculiarity of manner, the result ofhaving mixed little with the world, that, joined to greatfertility of fancy, gives a something so singular and so genuineto her style of writing, as to render her letters desirable andinteresting, independent of the sincere and most meritedattachment which their gracious kindness inspires. INQUIETUDE AT BRUSSELS. I come now to busier scenes, and to my sojourn at Brussels duringthe opening of one of the most famous campaigns upon record ; andthe battle of Waterloo, upon which, in great measure, hung thefate of Europe. Yet upon reflection, I will write no account of these greatevents, which have been detailed so many hundred times, andPage 347 so many hundred ways, as I have nothing new to offer upon them ;I will simply write the narrative of my own history at that awfulperiod. I was awakened in the middle of the night by confused noises inthe house, and running up and down stairs. I listenedattentively, but heard no sound of voices, and soon all wasquiet. I then concluded the persons who resided in theapartments on the second floor, over my head, had returned homelater and I tried to fall asleep again. I succeeded; but I was again awakened at about five o'clock inthe morning Friday, 16th June, by the sound of a bugle in theMarch‚ aux Bois: I started up and opened the window. But I onlyperceived some straggling soldiers, hurrying in differentdirections, and saw lights gleaming from some of the chambers inthe neighbourhood : all again was soon still, and my own dwellingin profound silence, and therefore I concluded there had beensome disturbance in exchanging sentinels at the various posts, which was already appeased: and I retired once more to my pillow, and remained till my usual hour. I was finishing, however, a letter for my best friend, when mybreakfast was brought in, at my then customary time of eighto'clock; and, as mistakes and delays and miscarriages of lettershad caused me much unnecessary misery, I determined to put what Iwas then writing in the post myself, and set off with it themoment it was sealed. THE BLACK BRUNSWICKERS. In my way back from the post-office, my ears were alarmed by thesound of military music, and my eyes equally struck with thesight of a body of troops marching to its measured time. But Isoon found that what I had supposed to be an occasionally passingtroop, was a complete corps; infantry, cavalry artillery, bag andbaggage, with all its officers in full uniform, and that uniformwas black. This gloomy hue gave an air so mournful to theprocession, that, knowing its destination for battle, Icontemplated with an aching heart. On inquiry, I learned it wasthe army of Brunswick. How much deeper yet had been my heartachehad I foreknown that nearly all those brave men, thus marching onin gallant though dark array, with their valiant royal chief(277)at their head, Page 348 the nephew of my own king, George III. , were amongst the firstdestined victims to this dreadful contest, and that neither thechief, nor the greater part of his warlike associates, wouldwithin a few short hours, breathe again the vital air ! My interrogations were answered with brevity, yet curiosity wasall awake and all abroad; for the procession lasted some hours. Not a door but was open; not a threshold but was crowded, and nota window of the many-windowed gothic modern, frightful, handsome, quaint, disfigured, fantastic, or lofty mansions that diversifythe large' market-place of Brussels, but was occupied by lookerson. Placidly, indeed, they saw the warriors pass : no kindgreeting welcomed their arrival; no warm wishes followed them tocombat. Neither, on the other hand, was there the slightestsymptom of dissatisfaction ; yet even while standing thus in themidst of them, an unheeded, yet observant stranger, it was notpossible for me to discern, with any solidity of conviction, whether the Belgians were, at heart, Bourbonists or Bonapartists. The Bonapartists, however, were in general the most open, for theopinion on both sides, alike with good will and with ill, wasnearly universal that Bonaparte was invincible. THE OPENING OF THE CAMPAIGN. Still, I knew not, dreamt not, that the campaign was alreadyopened - that Bonaparte had broken into La Belgique on the 15th, and had taken Charleroi; though it was news undoubtedly spreadall over Brussels except to my lonely self. My own disposition, at this period, to silence and retirement, was too congenial withthe taciturn habits of my hosts to be by them counteracted, andthey suffered me, therefore, to return to my home as I hadquitted it, with a mere usual and civil salutation ; whilethemselves and their house were evidently continuing their commonavocations with their common composure. Surely our colloquial useof the word phlegm must be derived from the character of theFlemings. The important tidings now, however, burst upon me in sundrydirections. The Princesse d'Henin, Colonel de Beaufort, Madame deMaurville, the Boyd family, all, with intelligence of the event, joined offers of service, and invitations to reside with themduring this momentous contest, should I prefer such protection toremaining alone at such a crisis. Page 349 What a day of confusion and alarm did we all spend on the17th! In my heart the whole time was TrŠves! TrŠves! TrŠves!That day, and June 18th, I passed in hearing the cannon! Goodheaven! what indescribable horror to be so near the field ofslaughter! such I call it, for the preparation to the ear by thetremendous sound was soon followed by its fullest effect, in theview of the wounded, the bleeding martyrs to the formidablecontention that was soon to terminate the history of the war. Andhardly more afflicting was this disabled return from the battle, than the sight of the continually pouring forth ready-armed andvigorous victims that marched past my windows to meet similardestruction. NEWS FROM THE FIELD OF BATTLE. Accounts from the field of battle arrived hourly; sometimesdirectly from the Duke of Wellington to Lady Charlotte Greville, and to some other ladies who had near relations in the combat, and which, by their means, were circulated in Brussels ; and atother times from such as conveyed those amongst the woundedBelgians, whose misfortunes were -inflicted near enough to theskirts of the spots of action, to allow of their being draggedaway by their hovering countrymen to the city : the spots, I say, of action, for the far-famed battle of Waterloo was preceded bythree days of partial engagements. During this period, I spent my whole time in seeking and passingfrom house to house of the associates of my distress, orreceiving them in mine. Ten times, at least, I crossed over toMadame d'Henin, discussing plans and probabilities, andinterchanging hopes and fears. I spent a considerable part of themorning with Madame de la Tour -du Pin, who was now returned fromGand, where Louis XVIII. Supported his suspense and his dangerwith a coolness and equanimity which, when the ‚clat surroundingthe glory of his daring and great opponent shall no longer by itsoverpowering resplendence keep all around it in the shade, willcarry him down to posterity as the monarch precisely formed, bythe patient good sense, the enlightened liberality, and theImmovable composure of his character, to meet the perilousperplexities of his situation, and, if he could not combat themwith the vigour and genius of a hero, to sustain them at leastwith the dignity of a prince. Page 350 PROJECTS FOR QUITTING BRUSSELS, Madame d'Henin and Madame de la Tour du Pin projected retreatingto Gand, should the approach of the enemy be unchecked ; to availthemselves of such protection as might be obtained from seekingit under the wing of Louis XVIII. M. De la Tour du Pin had, Ibelieve, remained there with his majesty. M. De Lally and theBoyds inclined to Antwerp, where they might safely await the fateof Brussels, near enough for returning, should it weather thestorm, yet within reach of vessels to waft them to the Britishshores should it be lost. Should this last be the fatal termination, I, Of course, hadagreed to join the party of the voyage, and resolved to secure mypassport, that, while I waited to the last moment, I might yet beprepared for a hasty retreat. I applied for a passport toColonel Jones, to whom the Duke of Wellington had deputed themilitary command of Brussels in his absence but he was unwillingto sanction an evacuation of Brussels, which he deemed premature. It was not, he said, for us, the English, to spread alarm, orprepare for an overthrow: he had not sent away his own wife orchildren, and he had no doubt but victory would repay hisconfidence. I was silenced, but not convinced ; the event was yet uncertain, and my stake was, with respect to earthly happiness, myexistence. A compromise occurred to me, which suggested mydispensing with a new passport, and contenting myself withobtaining his signature to my old one, accorded by M. LeChevalier de Jaucourt. He could not refuse to sign it; and wethen separated. I promised him, nevertheless, that I wouldremain to the last extremity; and I meant no other. I was nowbetter satisfied, though by no means at ease. Yet the motive of Colonel Jones was, that all should yield to theglory of the British arms and the Duke of Wellington. And I hadthe less right to be surprised, from the dreadful soldier'sspeech I had heard him utter when I first saw him, to thePrincesse d'Henin: complaining of the length of time that waswasted in inaction, and of the inactivity and tameness of theBourbons, he exclaimed, "We want blood, madam! what we want isblood!" CALMLY AWAITING THE RESULT, I found upon again going my rounds for information, that 'thoughnews was arriving incessantly from the scene of action, Page 351 and with details always varying, , Bonaparte was always advancing. All the people of Brussels lived in the streets. Doors seemed ofno use, for they were never shut. The individuals, when theyre-entered their houses, only resided at the windows : so thatthe whole population of the city seemed constantly in publicview. Not only business as well as society was annihilated, buteven every species of occupation. All of which we seemed capablewas, to inquire or to relate, to speak or to hear. Yet noclamour, no wrangling, nor even debate was intermixed with eitherquestion or answer ; curiosity, though incessant, was serene ;the faces were all monotony, though the tidings were all variety. I could attribute this only to the length of time during whichthe inhabitants had been habituated to change both of masters andmeasures, and to their finding that, upon an average, theyneither lost nor gained by such successive revolutions. And tothis must be joined their necessity of submitting, be it what itmight, to the result. This mental consciousness probably kepttheir passions in order, and crushed all the impulses by whichhope or fear is excited. No love of liberty buoyed up resistance;no views of independence brightened their imagination; and theybore even suspense with the calm of apparent philosophy, and anexterior of placid indifference. The first intelligence Madame d'Henin now gave me was, that theAustrian minister extraordinary, M. Le Comte de Vincent, had beenwounded close by the side of the Duke of Wellington ; and that hewas just brought back in a litter to her hotel. As she was muchacquainted with him, she desired me to accompany her in makingher personal inquiries. No one now sent servants, cards, ormessages, where there was any serious interest in a research. There was too much eagerness to bear delay, and ceremony andetiquette always fly from distress and from business. Le Comte de Vincent, we had the pleasure to hear, had been hurtonly in the hand ; but this wound afterwards proved more seriousthan at first was apprehended, threatening for, many weeks eithergangrene or amputation. News, however, far more fatal struck ourears soon after : the gallant Duke of Brunswick was killed! andby a shot close also to the Duke of Wellington! The report now throughout Brussels was that the two Mightychiefs, Bonaparte and Wellington, were almost constantly in viewof each other. Page 352 FLIGHT To ANTWERP DETERMINED ON. But what a day was the next--June 18th--the greatest, perhaps, inits result, in the annals of Great Britain! My slumbers having been tranquillized by the close Of the17th, I was calmly reposing, when I was awakened by the sound offeet abruptly entering my drawing-room. I started, and had butjust time to see by my watch that it was only six o'clock, when arapping at my bedroom door so quick as to announce as muchtrepidation as it excited, made me slip on a long kind of dominoalways, in those times, at hand, to keep me ready forencountering surprise, and demanded what was the matter? "Openyour door! there is not a moment to lose! " was the answer, inthe voice of Miss Ann Boyd. I obeyed, in great alarm, and sawthat pretty and pleasing young woman, with her mother, Mrs. Boyd, who remembered having known and played with me when we were bothchildren, and whom I had met with at Passy, after a lapse of morethan forty years. They both eagerly told me that all their newhopes had been overthrown by better authenticated news, and thatI must be with them by eight o'clock, to proceed to the wharf, and set sail for Antwerp, whence we sail on for England, shouldthe taking of Brussels by Bonaparte endanger Antwerp also. To send off a few lines to the post, with my direction atAntwerp, to pack and to pay, was all that I could attempt, oreven desire ; for I had not less time than appetite for thinkingof breakfast. My host and my maid carried my small package, andI arrived before eight in the Rue d'Assault. We set off for thewharf on foot, not a fiacre or chaise being procurable. Mr. AndMrs. Boyd, five or six of their family, a governess, and Ibelieve some servants, with bearers of our baggage, made ourparty. Though the distance was short, the walk was long, becauserugged, dirty, and melancholy. Now and then we heard a growlingnoise, like distant thunder, but far more dreadful. When we hadgot about a third part of the way, a heavy rumbling sound made usstop to listen. It was approaching nearer and nearer, and we soonfound that we were followed by innumerable carriages, and amultitude of persons. All was evidently military, but of so gloomy, taciturn, andforbidding a description, that when we were overtaken we had notcourage to offer a question to any passer by. HadPage 353 we been as certain that they belonged to the enemy as we feltconvinced that, thus circumstanced, they must belong to our owninterests, we could not have been awed more effectually intosilent passiveness, so decisively repelling to inquiry was everyaspect, In truth, at that period, when every other hour changedthe current of expectation, no one could be inquisitive withoutthe risk of passing for a spy, nor communicative without thehazard of being suspected as a traitor. Arrived at the wharf, Mr. Boyd pointed out to us our barge, whichseemed fully ready for departure ; but the crowd already come andstill coming so incommoded us, that Mr. Boyd desired we wouldenter a large inn, and wait till he could speak with the master, and arrange our luggage and places, We went, therefore, into aspacious room and ordered breakfast, when the room was entered bya body of military men of all sorts ; but we were suffered tokeep our ground till Mr, Boyd came to inform us that we must alldecamp! A CHECK MET WITH. Confounded, but without any interrogatory, we vacated theapartment, and Mr. Boyd conducted us not to the barge, not to thewharf, but to the road back to Brussels ; telling us, in anaccent of depression, that he feared all was lost-that Bonapartewas advancing-that his point was decidedly Brussels-and that theDuke of Wellington had sent orders that all the magazines, theartillery, and the warlike stores of every description, and allthe wounded, the maimed, and the sick, should be immediatelyremoved to Antwerp. For this purpose he had issued directionsthat every barge, every boat should be seized for the use of thearmy, and that everything of value should be conveyed away, thehospitals emptied, and Brussels evacuated. If this intelligence filled us with the most fearful alarm, howmuch more affrighting still was the sound of cannon which nextassailed our ears ! The dread reverberation became louder andlouder as we proceeded. Every shot tolled to our imaginations thedeath of myriads; and the conviction that the destruction anddevastation were so near us, with the probability that if allattempt at escape should prove abortive, we might be personallyinvolved in the carnage, gave us sensations too awful for verbalexpression; we could only gaze and tremble, listen and shudder. Page 354 Yet, strange to relate! on re-entering the city, all seemed quietand tranquil as usual! and though it was in this imminent andimmediate danger of being invested, and perhaps pillaged, I sawno outward mark of distress or disturbance, or even of hurry orcuriosity. Having re-lodged us in the Rue d'Assault, Mr. Boyd tried to findsome land carriage for our removal. But not only every chaisehad been taken, and every diligence secured, the cabriolets, thecalŠches, nay, the waggons and the carts; and every species ofcaravan, had been seized for Military service. And, after theutmost efforts he could make, in every kind of way, he told us wemust wait the chances of the day, for that there was nopossibility of escape from Brussels either by land or water. Remedy there was none; nor had we any other resource; we werefain, therefore, quietly to submit. Mr. Boyd, however, assured methat, though no land carriage was likely to find horses duringthis furious contest, he had been promised the return of a bargefor the next morning, if he and his party would be at the wharfby six o'clock. We all therefore agreed that, if we were sparedany previous calamity, we would set out for the wharf at fiveo'clock, and I accepted their invitation to be with them in theevening, and spend the night at their house. We then separated;I was anxious to get home, to watch the post, and to write toTrŠves. A CAPTURED FRENCH GENERAL. My reappearance produced no effect upon my hosts : they saw myreturn with the same placid civility that they had seen mydeparture. But even apathy, or equanimity, --which shall I callit?--like theirs was now to be broken; I was seated at my bureauand writing, when a loud "hurrah!" reached my ears from somedistance, while the daughter of my host, a girl of abouteighteen, gently opening my door, said the fortune of the day hadsuddenly turned, and that Bonaparte was taken prisoner. At thesame time the "hurrah!" came nearer. I flew to the window;my host and hostess came also, crying, "Bonaparte est pris! levoil…! le Voil…!"(278) I then saw, on a noble war-horse in full equipinent, a general inthe splendid uniform of France but visibly disarmed, and, Page 355 to all appearance, tied to his horse, or, at least, held on, soas to disable him from making any effort to gallop it off, andsurrounded, preceded, and followed by a. Crew of roaringwretches, who seemed eager for the moment when he should belodged where they had orders to conduct him, that they mightunhorse, strip, pillage him, and divide the spoil. His high, feathered, glittering helmet he had pressed down as lowas he could on his forehead, and I could not discern his face ;but I was instantly certain he was not Bonaparte, on finding thewhole commotion produced by the rifling crew above mentioned, which, though it might be guided, probably, by some subalternofficer, who might have the captive in charge, had left the fieldof battle at a moment when none other could be spared, as all theattendant throng were evidently amongst the refuse of the armyfollowers. I was afterwards informed that this unfortunate general was theCount Lobau. He met with singular consideration during hiscaptivity in the Low Countries, having thence taken to himself awife. That wife I had met when last in Paris, at a ball given byMadame la Princesse de Beauvau. She was quite young and extremelypretty, and the gayest of the gay, laughing, chatting the wholeevening, chiefly with the fat and merry, good-humoured Duchessede Feltre (Madame la Mar‚chale Clarke) - and her husband, high inoffice, in fame, and in favour, was then absent on some officialduty. THE DEARTH OF NEWS. The dearth of any positive news from the field of battle, even inthe heart of Brussels, at this crisis, when everything that wasdear and valuable to either party was at stake, was at oneinstant nearly distracting in its torturing suspense to the wrungnerves, and at another insensibly blunted them into a kind ofamalgamation with the Belgic philosophy. At certain houses, aswell as at public offices, news, I doubt not, arrived; but nomeans were taken to - promulgate it - no gazettes, as in London, no bulletins, as in Paris, were cried about the streets ; we wereall left at once to our conjectures and our destinies. The delusion of victory vanished into a merely passing advantage, as I gathered from the earnest researches into which it led me;and evil only met all ensuing investigation; retreat and defeatwere the words in every mouth around me!Page 356 The Prussians, it was asserted, were completely vanquished on the15th, and the English on the 16th, while on the day just passed, the 17th, a day of continual fighting and bloodshed, drawnbattles on both sides left each party Proclaiming what neitherparty could prove--success. It was Sunday ; but church service was out of the question thoughnever were prayers more frequent, more fervent, Form, indeed, they could not have, nor union, while constantly expecting theenemy with fire and sword at the gates, Who could enter a placeof worship, at the risk of making it a scene of slaughter? Butwho, also, in circumstances so awful, could require theexhortation of a priest or the example of a congregation, tostimulate devotion? No! in those fearful exigencies, where, inthe full vigour of health, strength, and life's freshestresources, we seem destined to abruptly quit this mortal coil, weneed no spur--all is spontaneous; and the soul is unshackled. RUMOURS OF THE FRENCH COMING. Not above a quarter of an hour had I been restored to my soleoccupation of solace, before I was again interrupted and startled; but not as on the preceding occasion by riotous shouts ; thesound was a howl, violent, loud, affrighting, and issuing frommany voices. I ran to the window, and saw the March‚ aux Boissuddenly filling with a populace, pouring in from all itsavenues, and hurrying on rapidly, and yet as if unconscious inwhat direction; while women with children in their arms, orclinging to their clothes, ran screaming out of doors - andcries, though not a word was ejaculated, filled the air, and fromevery house, I saw windows closing, and shutters fastening ; allthis, though long in writing, was presented to my eyes in asingle moment, and was followed in another by a burst into myapartment, to announce that the French were come! I know not even who made this declaration; my head was out of thewindow, and the person who made it scarcely entered the room andwas gone. How terrific was this moment ! My perilous situation urged me toinstant flight; and, without waiting to speak to the people ofthe house, I crammed my papers and money into a basket, andthrowing on a shawl and bonnet, I flew down stairs and out ofdoors. My intention was to go to the Boyds, to partake, as I hadengaged, their fate, but the crowd were all issuing from thePage 357 way I must have turned to have gained the Rue d'Assault, and Ithought, therefore, I might be safer with Madame de Maurville, who, also, not being English, might be less obnoxious to theBonapartists. To the Rue de la Montagne I hurried, inconsequence, my steps crossing and crossed by an affrightedmultitude ; but I reached it in safety, and she received me withan hospitable welcome. I found her calm, and her good humourundisturbed. Inured to revolutions, under which she had smartedso as she could smart no more, from the loss of all those who hadbeen the first objects of her solicitude, a husband and threesons! she was now hardened in her feelings upon public events, though her excellent heart was still affectionate and zealous forthe private misfortunes of the individuals whom she loved. What a dreadful day did I pass! dreadful in the midst of itsglory! for it was not during those operations that sent detailspartially to our ears that we could judge of the positive stateof affairs, or build upon any permanency of success. Yet here Isoon recovered from all alarm for personal safety, and lost thehorrible apprehension of being in the midst of a city that wastaken, sword in hand, by an enemy-an apprehension that, while itlasted, robbed me of breath, chilled my blood, and gave me ashuddering ague that even now in fancy returns as I seek tocommit it to paper. FRENCH PRISONERS BROUGHT IN. The alerte(279) which had produced this effect, I afterwardslearnt, though not till the next day, was utterly false ; butwhether it had been produced by mistake or by deceit I neverknew. The French, indeed, were coming; but not triumphantly . , they were prisoners, surprised and taken suddenly, ,and broughtin, being disarmed, by an escort ; and, as they were numerous, and their French uniform was discernible from afar, the almostuniversal belief at Brussels that Bonaparte was invincible, mightperhaps, without any intended deception, have raised the reportthat they were advancing as conquerors. NEWS OF WATERLOO. I attempt no description of this day, the grandeur of which wasunknown, or unbelieved, in Brussels till it had taken itsPage 358 flight, and could only be named as time past. The Duke ofWellington and Prince Blcher were too mightily engaged inmeriting fame to spare an instant for either claiming orproclaiming it. I was fain, therefore, to content myself with the intelligencethat reached Madame de Maurville fortuitously. The crowds in thestreets, the turbulence, the inquietude, the bustle the noise, the cries, the almost yells, kept up a perpetual expectation ofannoyance. The door was never opened, but I felt myself pale andchill with fear of some sanguinary attack or military surprise. It is true that as Brussels was not fortified and could, initself, offer no resistance, it could neither b' besieged nortaken by storm ; but I felt certain that the Duke of Wellingtonwould combat for it inch by inch, and that in a conflict betweenlife and death, every means would be resorted to that could besuggested by desperation. Madame de Maurville now told me that an English commissary wasjust arrived from the army, who had assured her that the tide ofsuccess was completely turned to the side of the Allies. Sheoffered to conduct me to his apartment, which was in the samehotel as her own, and in which he was writing and transactingbusiness gravely assuring me, and I really believe, herself, thathe could not but be rejoiced to give me, in person, everyparticular I could wish to hear. I deemed it, however, butprudent not to put his politeness to a test so severe. Urgent, nevertheless, to give me pleasure, and not easily setaside from following her own conceptions, she declared she wouldgo down stairs, and inform Mr. Saumarez that she had acountrywoman of his in her room, whom he would be charmed tooblige. I tried vainly to stop her; good humour, vivacity, curiosity, and zeal were all against my efforts; she went, and tomy great surprise returned escorted by Mr. Saumarez himself. Hisnarration was all triumphant and his account of the Duke ofWellington might almost have seemed an exaggerated panegyric ifit had painted some warrior in a chivalresque romance. . . . Icould not but be proud of this account: independent from itsglory; my revived imagination hung the blessed laurels of peace. But though Hope was all alive, Ease and Serenity were not hercompanions: Mr. Saumarez could not disguise that there was stillmuch to do, and consequently to apprehend; and he had never, hesaid, amongst the many he had viewed, seen a field Page 359 of battle in such excessive disorder. Military carriages of allsorts, and' multitudes of groups unemployed, occupied spaces thatought to have been left for manoeuvring or observation. Iattribute this to the various nations who bore arms on that greatday in their own manner; though the towering generalissimo of allcleared the ground, and dispersed what was unnecessary at everymoment that was not absorbed by the fight. When the night of this memorable day arrived, I took leave ofMadame de Maurville to join the Boyds, according to myengagement: for though all accounts confirmed the victory of theDuke of Wellington, we had so little idea of its result, that westill imagined the four days already spent in the work of carnagemust be followed by as many more, before the dreadful conflictcould terminate. Madame de Maurville lent me her servant, with whom I now made myway tolerably well, for though the crowd remained, it was nolonger turbulent. A general knowledge of general success to theAllies was everywhere spread ; curiosity therefore began to besatisfied, and inquietude to be removed. The concourse werecomposedly--for no composure is like that of the Flemings--listening to details of the day in tranquil groups, and I had nointerruption to my walk but from my own anxiety to catch, as Icould, some part of the relations. As all these have since beenpublished, I omit them, though the interest with which I heardthem was, at the moment, intense. Three or four shocking sights intervened during my passage, ofofficers of high rank, either English or Belge, and either dyingor dead, extended upon biers, carried by soldiers. The view oftheir gay and costly attire, with the conviction of theirsuffering, or fatal state, joined to the profound silence oftheir bearers and attendants, was truly saddening ; and if myreflections were morally dejecting, what, oh what were mypersonal feelings and fears, in the utter uncertainty whetherthis victory were more than a passing triumph! In one place wewere entirely stopped by a group that had gathered round a horse, of which a British soldier was examining one of the knees. Theanimal was a tall war-horse, and one of the noblest of hisspecies. The soldier was enumerating to his hearers its highqualities, and exultingly acquainting them it was his ownproperty, as he had taken it, if I understood right, from thefields He produced also a very fine ring, which was all he hadtakenPage 360 of spoil, Yet this man gravely added that pillage had beenforbidden by the commander-in-chief! I found the Boyds still firm for departure. The news of thevictory of the day, gained by the Duke of Wellington and PrinceBlcher, had raised the highest delight; but further intelligencehad just reached them that the enemy, since the great battle, wasworking to turn the right wing of the Duke of Wellington, who wasin the most imminent danger; and that the capture of Brussels wasexpected to take place the next morning, as everything indicatedthat Brussels was the point at which Bonaparte aimed, to retrievehis recent defeat. Mr. Boyd used every possible exertion toprocure chaises or diligence, or any sort of land conveyance, forAntwerp, but every horse was under military requisition - eventhe horses of the farmers, of the nobility and gentry, and oftravellers, The hope of water-carriage was all that remained. Wewere to set off so early, that we agreed not to retire to rest. THE VICTORY DECLARED TO BE COMPLETE. A gentleman, however, of their acquaintance, presently burst intothe room with assurances that the enemy was flying in alldirections, his better news reanimated my courage for Brusselsand my trust in the Duke of Wellington; and when the Boyd familysummoned me the next morning at four or five o'clock to set offwith them for Antwerp, I permitted my repugnance to quitting theonly spot where I could receive letters from TrŠves to conquerevery obstacle, and begged them to excuse my changed purpose. They wondered at my temerity, and probably blamed it ; but therewas no time for discussion, and we separated. It was not till Tuesday, the 20th, I had certain and satisfactoryassurances how complete was the victory. At the house of Madamede Maurville I heard confirmed and detailed the matchless triumphof the matchless Wellington, interspersed with descriptions ofscenes of slaughter on the field of battle to freeze the blood, and tales of woe amongst mourning survivors in Brussels to rendthe heart. While listening with speechless avidity to theserelations, we were joined by M. De la Tour du Pin, who is acousin of Madame de Maurville, and who said the Duke ofWellington had galloped to Brussels from Wavre to see the Princeof Orange and inquire in person after his wounds. PrincePage 361 Blcher was in close pursuit of Bonaparte, who was totallydefeated, his baggage all taken, even his private equipage andpersonals, and who was a fugitive himself, and in disguise! Theduke considered the battle to be so decisive, that while princeBlcher was posting after the remnant of the Bonapartian army, hedetermined to follow himself as convoy to Louis XVIII. ; and hetold M. De la Tour du Pin and the Duke de Fitzjames, whom he metat the palace of the King of Holland, to acquaint their king withthis his proposal, and to beg his majesty to set forward withoutdelay to join him for its execution. The Duke de Fitzjames wasgone already to Gand with his commission. How daring a plan was this, while the internal state of Francewas so little known, while les places fortes(280) were alloccupied, and while the corps of Grouchy was still intact, andthe hidden and possible resources of Bonaparte were unfathomed! The event, however, demonstrated that the Duke of Wellington hadjudged with as much quickness of perception as intrepidity ofvalour. 'Twas to Tournay he had desired that the King of France wouldrepair. THE WOUNDED AND THE PRISONERS. The duke now ordered that the hospitals, invalids, magazines, etc. , should all be stationed at Brussels, which he regarded assaved from invasion and completely secure. It is not near thescene of battle that war, even with victory, wears an aspect offelicity-no, not even in the midst of its highest resplendence ofglory. A more terrific or afflicting sojourn than that ofBrussels at this period can hardly be imagined. The universalvoice declared that so sanguinary a battle as that which wasfought almost in its neighbourhood, and quite within its hearing, never yet had spread the plains with slaughter; and thoughexultation cannot ever have been prouder, nor satisfaction morecomplete, in the brilliancy of success, all my senses wereshocked in viewing the effects of its attainment. For more than aweek from this time I never approached my window but to witnesssights of wretchedness. Maimed, wounded, bleeding, mutilated, tortured victims of this exterminating contest passed by everyminute: the fainting, the sick, the dying and the dead, onbrancards, (281) In carts, in waggons, succeeded one anotherwithout intermission. There Page 362 seemed to be a whole and a large army of disabled or lifelesssoldiers! All that was intermingled with them bore an aspect ofstill more poignant horror ; for the Bonapartian Prisoners whowere now poured into the city by hundreds, had a mien of suchferocious desperation, where they were marched on, uninjured, from having been taken by surprise or overpowered by numbers - orfaces of such anguish, where they were drawn on in open vehicles, the helpless victims of gushing wounds or horrible dislocations, that to see them without commiseration for their sufferings, oradmiration for the heroic, however misled enthusiasm, to whichthey Were martyrs, must have demanded an apathy dead to allfeeling but what is personal, or a rancour too ungenerous toyield even to the view of defeat. Both the one set and the other of these unhappy warriors enduredtheir calamities with haughty forbearance of complaint, Themaimed and lacerated, while their ghastly visages spoke tortureand death, bit their own clothes, perhaps their flesh ! to savethe loud utterance of their groans; while those of their comradeswho had escaped these corporeal inflictions seemed to be smittenwith something between remorse and madness that they had notforced themselves on to destruction ere thus they were exhibitedin dreadful parade through the streets of that city they had beensent forth to conquer. Others of these wretched prisoners had, to me, as I first saw them, the air of the lowest and mostdisgusting of jacobins, in dirty tattered vestments of all sortsand colours, or soiled carters' frocks; but disgust was soonturned to pity, when I afterwards learnt that these shabbyaccoutrements had been cast over them by their conquerors afterdespoiling them of their own. Everybody was wandering from home; all Brussels seemed living inthe streets. The danger to the city, which had imprisoned all itsinhabitants except the rabble or the military, once completelypassed, the pride of feeling and showing their freedom seemed tostimulate their curiosity in seeking details on what had passedand was passing. But neither the pride nor the joy of victorywas anywhere of an exulting nature. London and Paris render allother places that I, at least, have dwelt in, tame and insipid. Bulletins in a few shop-windows alone announced to the generalpublic that the Allies had vanquished and that Bonaparte was afugitive. I met at the embassy an old English officer who gave mePage 363 most interesting and curious information, assuring me that in thecarriage of Bonaparte, which had been seized, there wereproclamations ready printed, and even dated from the palace ofLachen, announcing the downfall of the Allies and the triumph ofBonaparte ! But no satisfaction could make me hear without deadlydismay and shuddering his description of the field of battle. Piles of dead!--Heaps, masses, hills of dead bestrewed theplains! I met also Colonel Jones; so exulting in success! so eager toremind me of his assurances that all was safe! And I was muchinterested in a narration made to me by a wounded soldier, whowas seated in the courtyard of the embassy. He had been takenprisoner after he was severely wounded, on the morning of the18th, and forced into a wood with many others, where he had beenvery roughly used, and stripped of his coat, waistcoat, and evenhis shoes ; but as the fortune of the day began to turn, therewas no one left to watch him, and he crawled on all-fours till hegot out of the wood, and was found by some of his rovingcomrades. Thousands, I believe I may say without exaggeration, wereemployed voluntarily at this time in Brussels in dressing woundsand attending the sick beds of the wounded. Humanity could becarried no further ; for not alone the Belgians and English werethus nursed and assisted, nor yet the Allies, but the prisonersalso ; and this, notwithstanding the greatest apprehensions beingprevalent that the sufferers, from their multitude, would bringpestilence into the heart of the city. The immense quantity of English, Belgians, and Allies, who werefirst, of course, conveyed to the hospitals and prepared housesof Brussels, required so much time for carriage and placing, thatalthough the carts, waggons, and every attainable or seizablevehicle were unremittingly in motion-now coming, now returning tothe field of battle for more, - it was nearly a week, or at leastfive or six days, ere the unhappy wounded prisoners, who werenecessarily last served, could be accommodated. And though I wasassured that medical and surgical aid was administered to themwherever it was possible, the blood that dried upon their skinsand their garments, joined to the dreadful sores occasioned bythis neglect, produced an effect so pestiferous, that, at everynew entry, eau de Cologne, or vinegar, was resorted to by everyinhabitant, even amongst the shopkeepers, even amongst thecommonest persons, for averting the menaced contagion. Page 364 Even the churches were turned into hospitals, and every house inBrussels was ordered to receive or find an asylum for some of thesick. The Boyds were eminently good in nursing, dressing wounds, makingslops, and administering comfort amongst the maimed, whetherfriend or foe. Madame d'Henin sent her servants, and money, andcordials to all the French that came within her reach ; Madame dela Tour du Pin was munificent in the same attentions; and Madamede Maurville never passed by an opportunity of doing good. M. DeBeaufort, being far the richest of my friends at this place, wasnot spared; he had officers and others quartered upon him withoutmercy. We were all at work more or less in making lint. For me, I wasabout amongst the wounded half the day, the British, s'entend!The rising in France for the honour of the nation now, and forits safety in independence hereafter, was brilliant anddelightful, spreading in some directions from La Manche to LaM‚diterran‚e: the focus of loyalty was Bordeaux. The king leftGand the 22nd. All Alost, etc. , surrounded followed, or precededhim. The noble Blcher entered France at Mortes le Chƒteau. HOSTILITIES AT AN END: TE DEUM FOR THE VICTORY, It was not till June 26th that the blessed news reached me of thecessation of hostilities. Colonel Beaufort was the first whobrought me this intelligence, smiling kindly himself at thesmiles he excited. Next came la Princesse d'Henin, escorted by myand her highly valued M, de Lally Tolendal. With open arms thatdear princess reciprocated congratulations. Madame de Maurvillenext followed, always cordial where she could either give orbehold happiness. The Boyds hurried to me in a body to wish andbe wished joy. And last, but only in time, not in kindness, cameMadame la Vicomtesse de Laval, mother to the justly honouredphilanthropist, or, as others--but not I--call him, bigot, M. Mathieu de Montmorency, who, at this moment, is M. Le Duc deMontmorency. Brussels now, which had seemed for so many days, from theunremitting passage of maimed, dying, or dead, a mere out-doorhospital, revived, or, rather, was invigorated to something aboveits native state ; for from uninteresting tameness it becameelevated to spirit, consequence, and vivacity. Page 365 On the following Sunday I had the gratification of hearing, atthe Protestant chapel, the Te Deum for the grand victory, inpresence of the King and Queen of the Low Countries--or Holland, and of the Dowager Princess of Orange, and the young warrior hergrandson. This prince looked so ill, so meagre, so weak, from hishalf-cured wounds, that to appear on this occasion seemedanother, and perhaps not less dangerous effort of heroism, addedto those which had so recently distinguished him in the field. What enthusiasm would such an exertion, with his pallidappearance, have excited in London or Paris ! even here, a littlegentle huzza greeted him from his carriage to the chapel - andfor the same short passage, back again. After which, he drove offas tranquilly as any common gentleman might have driven away, toreturn to his home and his family dinner. About the middle of July-but I am not clear of the date -the newswas assured and confirmed of the brilliant reenthronement ofLouis XVIII. , and that Bonaparte had, surrendered to the English. Brussels now became an assemblage of all nations, from therapturous enthusiasm that pervaded all to view the field ofbattle, the famous Waterloo, and gather upon the spot, ,detailsof the immortal victory of Wellington. MATERNAL ADVICE. (Madame d'Arblay to her son. )April 26, 1815. At length, my long expecting eyes meet again your hand-writing, after a breach of correspondence that I can never 'recollectwithout pain. Revive it not in my mind by any repetition, and Iwill dismiss it from all future power of tormenting me, byconsidering it only as a dream of other times. Cry "Done!" myAlex, and I will skip over the subject, not perhaps as lightly, but as swiftly as you skip over the hills of Norbury Park. Idelight to think of the good and pleasure that sojourn may doyou; though easily, too easily, I conceive the melancholyreflections that were awakened by the sight of our dear, dearcottage; yet your expressions upon its view lose much of theireffect by being Overstrained, recherch‚s, and designing to bepathetic. We never touch others, my dear Alex, where we study toshow we -, are touched ourselves. I beg you, when you write tome, Page 366 to let your pen paint your thoughts as they rise, not as you seekor labour to embellish them. I remember you once wrote me aletter so very fine from Cambridge, that, if it had not made melaugh, it would certainly have made me sick. Be natural, my dearboy, and you will be sure to please Your mother without wastingyour time. Let us know what you have received, what you have spent, what youmay have still unpaid, and what you yet want. But for this lastarticle, we both desire you will not wait our permission to drawupon your aunt, whom we shall empower to draw upon Mr. Hoare inour names. We know you to have no wanton extravagances, and noidle vanity, we give you, therefore, dear Alex, carte blanche toapply to your aunt, only consulting with her, and begging herkind, maternal advice to help your inexperience in regulatingyour expenses. She knows the difference that must be made betweenour fortune and that of Clement - but she knows our affection forour boy, and our confidence in his honour and probity, and willtreat him with as much kindness, though not with equal luxury. Your father charges you never to be without your purse, and neverto let it be empty. Your aunt will counsel you about yourclothes. About your books we trust to yourself. And pray don'tforget, when you make sleeping visits, to recompense the troubleyou must unavoidably give to servants. And if you join any partyto any public place, make a point to pay for yourself. It willbe far better to go seldom, and with that gentlemanly spirit, than often, with the air of a hanger-on. How infinitelyhospitable has been your uncle James! But hospitality is hischaracteristic. We had only insisted upon your regularity atchapel and at lectures, and we hear of your attention to themcomparatively, and we are fixed to be contented en attendant. Don't lose courage, dear, dear Alex, the second place is thenearest to the first. I love you with all my heart and soul! . . . ABOUT THE GREAT BATTLE. (Madame d'Arblay to General d'Arblay. )Monday, June 19, 1815-The sitting up all night, however little merrily, made me, I knownot how, seem to have lived a day longer than real time, for Ithought to-day the 20th when I finished my letter of thismorning. I have now, therefore, to rectify that Mistake, Page 367 and tell you that there is, therefore, no chasm in the knownhistory of the Duke of Wellington. But, to my infinite regret, with all the great, nay marvellous feats he has performed, he isless, not more, in public favour, from not being approved, orrather, I think, comprehended, in the opening of this tremendousbusiness. As I am sure the subject must be of deeper interest toyou than any other, at such an instant, I will tell you all Iknow-all I have heard and gathered, for I know nothing, and addmy own consequent conjectures, as soon as I have first acquaintedyou that I separated from the Boyds at about half past seven inthe morning, too much satisfied with the news of LordWellington's victory to endure to distance myself still furtherfrom all I love most upon earth. They, therefore, still alarmed, went to Antwerp, and I am again at the little bureau, upon whichmy dearest ami has sometimes written in the March‚ aux Bois. The first news the Duke of Wellington was known to receive of theinvasion of les Pays Bas was at a ball at the Duchess ofRichmond's. He would not break up the party, more than half ofwhich was formed of his officers, nor suffer any interruption. Some time after, however, he went out, and when he returneddistributed cards of orders to the several commanding officers. But he stayed to supper - after which fifty red-coats retiredabruptly. Not so the duke--and he is now much-- Ah, mon ami, two letters arrive at the same instant, that curtailall subjects but what belong to themselves. Nous allonscommencer!--Heaven preserve and prosper the beloved partner of mysoul. I dare enter upon nothing; I can only say the first of thetwo letters, written before the order of commencer was issued, isone of the fullest and dearest I have in my possession; and Ishall read and re-read its interesting contents with heart-feltpleasure. Tell, tell me, my beloved ami, where, when you would have meremove? I will not ask how--I will find that out. To be nearer toyou--to hear more frequently--oh, what a solace! The maimed, wounded, bleeding, fainting, arrive still everyminute. There seems a whole, and a large army of mutilatedSoldiers. Jerome is said to be killed, and Vandamme to have lostboth legs. (282) Our loss is yet incalculable. Page 368 Every creature that was movable is gone to Antwerp, or England, but myself - but my intense desire not to lose ground or time inmy letters made me linger to the last, and now, thank heaven, alldanger here is at an end, and all fugitives are returning. The imperial guard is almost annihilated. They fought likedemons. Napoleon cried out continually to them, the prisonerssay, "A Bruxelles, mes enfans! … Bruxelles! … Bruxelles!" Theywere reported one day to be actually arrived here. I never saw, never, indeed, felt such consternation. Not only money, jewels, and valuables of pecuniary sorts were shut up, but babies fromthe arms of their terrified mothers and nurses. I flew outmyself, to take refuge in the apartments of Madame de Maurville, and I never witnessed such horror and desolation. I have left this for a word at the last minute, This isWednesday, June 21st. . . . Mr Kirkpatrick tells me Murat is dead ofhis wounds;(283) Vandamme lost his two thighs, and is dead also;Jerome died of a cannon-ball at once. Poor M, de Vincent, theAustrian, has a ball still in his arm, which they cannot extract, Lord Fitzroy Somerset has an arm shot off; Lord Uxbridge a leg. Col. Hamilton is killed. Lobau is here a prisoner. I shallcontinue to write all the Page 369 particulars I can gather. It has been the most bloody battle thatever was fought, and the victory the most entire. AN ACCIDENT BEFALLS GENERAL D'ARBLAY. on the 19th of July, 1815, during the ever memorable HundredDays, I was writing to my best friend, when I received a visitfrom la Princesse d'Henin and Colonel de Beaufort, who enteredthe room with a sort of precipitancy and confusion thatimmediately struck me as the effect of evil tidings which theycame to communicate. My ideas instantly flew to the expectationof new public disaster, when Madame d'Henin faintly pronouncedthe name of M. D'Arblay. Alarmed, I turned from one to the otherin speechless trepidation, dreading to ask, while dying to knowwhat awaited me. Madame d'Henin then said, that M. De Beauforthad received a letter from M. D'Arblay: and I listened withsubdued, yet increasing terror, while they acquainted me that M. D'Arblay had received on the calf of his leg a furious kick froma wild horse, which had occasioned so bad a wound as to confinehim to his bed - and that he wished M. De Beaufort to procure mesome travelling guide, that I might join 'him as soon as it wouldbe possible with safety and convenience. But what was my agony when I saw that the letter was not in hisown band! I conjured them to leave me, and let me read it alone. They offered, the one to find me a clever femme de chambre, theother to inquire for a guide to aid me to set out, if able, thenext day; but I rather know this from recollection than fromhaving understood them at the time: I only entreated theirabsence; and having consented to their return in a few hours, Iforced them away. No sooner were they gone, than, calming my spirits by earnest anddevout prayer, which alone supports my mind, and even preservesmy senses, in deep calamity, I ran over the letter, which wasdated the fourth day after the wound, and acknowledged that threeincisions had been made in the leg unnecessarily by an ignorantsurgeon, which had so aggravated the danger, as well as thesuffering, that he was now in bed, not only from the pain of thelacerated limb, but also from a nervous fever! and that no hopewas held Out to him of quitting it in less than a fortnight orthree weeks. Page 370 MADAME D'ARBLAY'S DIFFICULTIES IN REJOINING HER HUSBAND. I determined not to wait, though the poor sufferer himself hadcharged that I should, either for the femme de chambe of Madamed'Henin or the guide of M. De Beaufort, which they could notquite promise even for the next day; and to me the next hourseemed the delay of an age. I went, therefore to order a chaiseat six on the road to Luxembourg. The' answer was, that no horseswere to be had! Almost distracted, I flew myself to the inn; but the answer wasrepeated! The route to Luxembourg, they told me, was infestedwith straggling parties, first, from the wandering army ofGrouchy, now rendered pillagers from want of food ; and next, from the pursuing army of the Prussians, who made themselvespillagers also through the rights of conquest. To travel in achaise would be impracticable, they assured me, without a guard. I now resolved upon travelling in the diligence, and desired tosecure a place in that for TrŠves. There was none to that city ! "And what is the nearest town to TrŠves, whence I might go on ina chaise?" "Luxembourg. " I bespoke a place, but was told that the diligence had set offthe very day before, and that none other would go for six days, as it only quitted Brussels once a week. My friend the Baroness de Spagen next told me that, if travel Iwould, I had but to go by LiŠge, which, though not a direct, wasthe only safe road; that then she would put me under theprotection of her brother-in-law, the Comte de Spagen, who washimself proceeding to that city by the ensuing night- coach. I accepted this kindness with rapture. I flew myself to thebook-keeper I had so abruptly quitted, and instantly secured aplace in the LiŠge diligence for night; and I was taking leave ofmy hosts, a Brussels fiacre being at the door, laden with mylittle luggage, when I was told that Le Roi, the confidentialservant of Madame d'Henin, besought to speak a word to me fromhis mistress. He told me that the Princesse 'was quite miserableat my hazardous plan, which she had gathered from Madame de laTour du Pin, and that shePage 371 supplicated me to postpone my purpose only till the next day, when I should have some one of trust to accompany me. I assured him that nothing now could make me riskprocrastination, but begged him to still the fears of theexcellent Princesse by acquainting her I should be under theprotection of the Comte de Spagen. arrived at the inn after this last unprepared-for impediment, three or four minutes too late ! What was the fermentation of mymind at this news! A whole week I must wait for the nextdiligence, and even then lose the aid and countenance of le Comtede Spagen. Le Roi, who, through some short cut of footpaths and alleys, hadgot to the inn before me, earnestly pressed me, in the style ofthe confidential old servants of the French nobility, to go andcompose myself chez la princesse. Even my host and hostess hadpursued to wish me again good-bye, and now expressed their warmhopes I should return to them. But the book-keeper alone spoke alanguage to snatch me from despair, by saying my fiacre mightperhaps catch the diligence two miles off, in the All‚e Verte, where it commonly stopped for fresh passengers or parcels. Eagerly I promised the coachman a reward if he couldsucceed, and off he drove. The diligence was at the appointedplace, and that instant ready to proceed ! I rushed into it withtrepidation of hurry, and when more composed, I was eager to findout which of my fellow- travellers might be the Comte de Spagen;but I dared risk no question. I sat wholly silent. We arrived atLiŠge about nine in the morning I now advanced to thebook-keeper, and made inquiries about the Comte de Spagen. He had arrived in the earlier coach, and was gone on in someother to his estates. As calmly as was in my power, I then declared my purpose to go toTrŠves, and begged to be put on my way. I was come wrong, the book-keeper answered; the road was byLuxembourg. And how was I to get thither? By Brussels, he said, and a week hence, the diligence having setoff the day before. Alas, I well knew that! and entreated some other means to forwardme to TrŠves, Page 372 He replied that he knew of none from Li…ge; but that if I wouldgo to Aix, I might there, perhaps, though it was out of the road, hear of some conveyance; but he asserted it was utterlyimpossible I could leave Li…ge without a passport from thePrussian police-office, where I should only and surely bedetained if I had not one to show from whence I came. Thishappily, reminded me of the one I had from M. De jaucourt' inParis, and which was fortunately, though accidentally, in myhand-basket. Arrived at Aix, I earnestly inquired for a conveyance to TrŠves;none existed! nor could I hear of any at all, save a diligence tojuliers, which was to set out at four o'clock the next morning. To lose thus a whole day, and even then to go only more northinstead of south, almost cast me into despair. But redress therewas none, and I was forced to secure myself a place to juliers, whence, I was told, I might get on. At any more tranquil period I should have seized this intervalfor visiting the famous old cathedral and the tomb ofCharlemagne; but now I thought not of them; I did not evenrecollect that Aix-la-Chapelle had been the capital of thatemperor. I merely saw the town through a misty, mizzling rain, and that the road all around it was sandy and heavy, or that allwas discoloured by my own disturbed view. I laid down, in a scarcely furnished apartment, withoutundressing. I suffered no shutter or curtain to be closed, lest ishould lose my vehicle ; and such was my anxiety, that at threeo'clock, by my own watch, I descended to inquire if we were notto set off. I wandered about by the twilight of a season that isnever quite dark, but met no one. I returned to my chamber, but, always in terror of being forgotten, descended again in a quarterof an hour, though still without success. An hour, says Dr. Johnson, may be tedious, but it cannot be long : four o'clock atlast struck, and I ran into a vehicle then ready in the courtyardof the auberge. (284) I found myself alone, which, at first, was a great relief to mymind, that was overburthened with care and apprehension, and gladof utter silence. Ere long, however, I found it fed mymelancholy, which it was my business rather to combat and I wasnot, therefore, sorry when a poor woman with a child was admittedfrom the outside through the charity of the coachman, as the raingrew heavier. Page 373 At juliers we stopped at a rather large inn, at the head of animmensely long market-place. It was nearly empty, except whereoccupied by straggling soldiers, poor, lame, or infirm labourers, women, and children. The universal war of the Continent leftscarcely a man unmaimed to be seen in civil life. The women whomet my eyes were all fat, with very round and very brown faces. Most of them were barefooted, nay, barelegged, and had on oddsmall caps, very close round their visages. The better sort, Ifancy, at that critical time, had hidden themselves or fled thetown. We entered Cologne through an avenue, said to be seven miles inlength, of lime-trees. It was evening, but very light, andCologne had a striking appearance, from its magnitude and fromits profusion of steeples. The better sort of houses were whiteand looked neat, though in an old-fashioned style, andelaborately ornamented. But, between the ravages of time and ofwar, the greater part of them seemed crumbling away, if nottumbling down. A FRIENDLY RECEPTION AT COLOGNE. But while I expected to be driven on to some auberge, a policeofficer, in a Prussian uniform, came to the coach-door, anddemanded our passports. My companion made herself known as anative, and was let out directly. The officer, having cast hiseye over my passport, put his head through the window of thecarriage, and, in a low whisper, asked me whether I were French? French by marriage, though English by birth, I hardly knew whichto call myself; I said, however, "Oui. " He then, in a voice yetmore subdued, gave me to understand that he could serve me. Icaught at his offer, and told him I earnestly desired to gostraight to TrŠves, to a wounded friend. He would do for me whathe could, he answered, for he was French himself, though employedby the Prussians. He would carry my passport for me to themagistrate of the place and get it signed without my having anyfurther trouble though only, he feared, to Bonn, or, at farthest, to Coblenz, whence I might probably proceed unmolested. He knewalso, and could recommend me to a most respectable lady andgentleman, both French, and under the Prussian hard gripe, whereI might spend the evening en famille, and be spared entering anyauberge. Page 374He conducted me, in silence, passing through the cloisters to ahouse not far distant, and very retired in its appearance'. Arrived at a door at which he knocked or rang, he still spoke nota word, but when an old man came to open it, in a shabby dress, but with a good and lively face, be gave him some directions inGerman and in a whisper, and then entrusted with my passport, hebowed to me and hurried away. The old man led me to a very large room, scarcely at allfurnished. He pulled out of a niche a sort of ebony armchair, very tottering and worn, and said he would call madame, for whomhe also placed a fauteuil, at the head of an immense and clumsytable. I was then joined by an elderly gentlewoman, who was ledin ceremoniously by a gentleman still more elderly. The lattermade me three profound obeisances, which I returned with dueimitation, while the lady approached me with good breeding, andbegged me to take my seat. The old man then, who I found was their domestic, served the tea. I know not whether this was their general custom, or acompliment to a stranger. But when we had all taken some, theyopened into a little conversation. It was I, indeed, who beganby apologising for my intrusion, and expressing at the same timemy great relief in being spared going to an auberge, alone as Iwas; but I assured them that the gentleman who had brought me totheir dwelling had acted entirely by his own uninfluencedauthority. They smiled or rather tried to smile, for melancholy was seatedon their countenances in its most fixed colours and they told methat person was their best friend, and lost no opportunity tooffer them succour or comfort. He had let them know mysituation, and had desired they would welcome and cheer me. Welcome me, the lady added in French, they did gladly, since Iwas in distress; but they had little power to cheer me, involvedas they were themselves in the depths of sorrow. Sympathy of compassion soon led to sympathy of confidence; andwhen they heard to whom I belonged, and the nature of my terriblehaste, they related their own sad history. Death, misfortune, andoppression had all laid on them their iron hands ; they had losttheir sons while forcibly fighting for a usurpation which theyabhorred; they had lost their property by emigration; and theyhad been treated withPage 375 equal harshness by the revolutionists because they were suspectedof loyalty, and by the royalists because their children hadserved in the armies of the revolutionists. They were now livingnearly in penury, and owed their safety and peace solely to theprotection of the officer who had brought me to them. With communications such as these, time passed so little heavily, however sadly, that we were ill-disposed to separate; and eleveno'clock struck, as we sat over their economical but well servedand well cooked little supper, ere the idea of retiring wasmentioned. They then begged me to go to rest, as I must be at thediligence for Coblenz by four o'clock the next morning. To another large room, nearly empty except the old, high, andnarrow bed, the domestic now conducted me, promising to call meat half-past three o'clock in the morning, and to attend me tothe diligence. I did not dare undress; I tied my watch, whichwas a small repeater, round my wrist, and laid down in myclothes-but to strike my watch, and to pray for my belovedinvalid, and my safe restoration to him, filled up, without, Ibelieve, three minutes of repose, the interval to my conductor'sreturn. At half-past three we set out, after I had safely deposited all Idurst spare, where my disinterested, but most poor host wouldinevitably find my little offering, which, if presented to him, he would probably have refused. I never heard his name, which heseemed studious to hold back; but I have reason to think he wasof the ancient provincial noblesse. His manners, and those ofhis wife, had an antique etiquette in them that can only accordwith that idea. The walk was immensely long; it was through the scraggy and hillystreets I have mentioned, and I really thought it endless. Thegood domestic carried my luggage. The height of the houses madethe light merely not darkness ; we met not a creature; and thepainful pavement and barred windows, and fear of being too late, made the walk still more dreary. I was but just in time; the diligence was already drawn out ofthe inn-yard, and some friends of the passengers were takingleave. I eagerly secured my place - and never so much regrettedthe paucity of my purse as in my inability to recompense as Iwished the excellent domestic whom I now quitted. Page 376 FROM COLOGNE TO COBLENZ AND TREVES. I found myself now in much better society than I had yet been, consisting of two gentlemen, evidently of good education, and alady. They were all, German, and spoke only that language one toanother, though they addressed me in French as often as myabsorption in my own ruminations gave any opening for theircivility. And this was soon the case, by my hearing them speak of the Rhine; my thoughts were so little geographical that it had notoccurred to me that Cologne was upon that river - I had not, therefore, looked for or perceived it the preceding evening: butupon my now starting at the sound of its name and expressing myStrong -curiosity to behold it, they all began to watch for thefirst point upon which it became clearly visible, and all fivewith one voice called out presently after, "Ah, le voil…!"(285)But imagination had raised expectations that the Rhine, at thispart of its stream, would by no means answer. It seemed neitherso wide, so deep, so rapid, nor so grand as my mind had depictedit nor yet were its waters so white or bright as to suit my ideasof its fame. At last my heart became better tuned. I was now onmy right road; no longer travelling zig-zag, and as I couldprocure any means to get on, but in the straight road, byCoblenz, to the city which contained the object of all mysolicitude. And then it was that my eyes opened to the beauties of nature;then it was that the far-famed Rhine found justice in those poorlittle eyes, which hitherto, from mental preoccupation, or fromexpectations too high raised, had refused a cordial tribute toits eminent beauty, unless indeed its banks, till after Bonn, areof inferior loveliness. Certain it is, that from this time tillmy arrival at Coblenz, I thought myself in regions ofenchantment. >From Coblenz to TrŠves I was two days travelling, though it mightwith ease have been accomplished in less than half that time. Weno longer journeyed in any diligence that may be compared withone of France or of England, but in a queer German carriage, resembling something mixed of a coach, a chaise, and a cart. Page 377 MEETING WITH GENERAL D'ARBLAY. At TrŠves, at length, on Monday evening, the 24th of July, 1815, I arrived in a tremor of joy and terror indescribable. But myfirst care was to avoid hazarding any mischief from surprise; andmy first measure was to obtain some intelligence previously torisking an interview. It was now six days since any tidings hadreached me. My own last act in leaving Brussels had been to writea few lines to M. De Premorel, my General's aide-de-camp, toannounce my journey, and prepare him for my arrival. I now wrote a few lines to the valet of Monsieur d'Arblay, anddesired he would come instantly to the inn for the baggage ofMadame d'Arblay, who was then on the road. Hardly five minuteselapsed ere Fran‡ois, running like a race-horse, though inhimself a staid and composed German, appeared before me. How Ishook at his sight with terrific suspense ! The good-naturedcreature relieved me instantly though with a relief that struckat my heart with a pang of agony--for he said that the danger wasover, and that both the surgeons said so. He was safe, I thanked God ! but danger, positive danger hadexisted! Faint I felt, though in a tumult of gratefulsensations: I took his arm, for my tottering feet would hardlysupport me; and M. De Premorel, hastening to meet me at thestreet-door, told me that the general was certain I was alreadyat TrŠves; I therefore permitted myself to enter his apartment atonce. Dreadfully suffering, but still mentally occupied by the dutiesof his profession, I found him. Three wounds had been inflictedon his leg by the kick of a wild horse, which he had bought atTrŠves, with intent to train to military service. He was felledby them to the ground. Yet, had he been skilfully attended, hemight have been completely cured! But all the best surgeons, throughout every district, had been seized upon for the armies :and the ignorant hands into which he fell aggravated the evil, byincisions hazardous, unnecessary, and torturing. WAITING FOR LEAVE TO RETURN To FRANCE. The adjoint of M. D'Arblay, M. Le Comte de Mazancourt, had beensent to Paris by M. D'Arblay, to demand leave andPage 378 passports for returning to France, the battle and peace ofWaterloo having ended the purpose for which he had been appointedby Louis XVIII. , through the orders of the Mar‚chal Duc deFeltre, minister at war, to raise recruits from the faithful whowished to quit the usurper. My poor sufferer had been quartered upon M. Nell, a gentleman ofTrŠves; but there was no room for me at M. Nell's, and I wasobliged-most reluctantly-to be conducted to an hotel at somedistance. But the next day M. D'Arblay entered into an agreementwith Madame de la Grange, a lady of condition who resided atTrŠves, to admit me to eat and lodge at her house, upon thepicnic plan, of paying the overplus of that expense I shouldcause her, with a proper consideration, not mentioned, but addedby my dear general, for my apartment and incidental matters. Thissort of plan, since their ruin by the Revolution, had become socommon as to be called fashionable amongst the aristocraticnoblesse, who were too much impoverished to receive their friendsunder their roofs but by community of fortune during theirjunction. Every morning after breakfast one of the familyconducted me back to M. Nell's, where I remained till the hour ofdinner, when M. Godefroy de Premorel commonly gave me le bras forreturning, and Fran‡ois watched for me at the end of the repast. This was to me a cruel arrangement, forcing my so frequentabsences; but I had no choice. It was not till after reiterated applications by letter, and byMM. De Mazancourt and Premorel in person, that my poor generalcould obtain his letters of recall; though the re-establishmentof Louis XVIII. On his throne made the mission on the frontiersnull, and though the hapless and helpless state of health of M. D'Arblay would have rendered him incapable of continuing tofulfil its duties if any yet were left to perform. The mightychange of affairs so completely occupied men's minds, as well astheir hands, that they could work only for themselves and thepresent : the absent were utterly forgotten. The Duc deLuxembourg, however, at length interfered, and procuredpassports, with the ceremonies of recall. DEPARTURE FOR PARIS. On the morning of our departure from TrŠves, all the families ofNell and La Grange filled the courtyard, and surrounded thelittle carriage in which we set out, with others, Page 379 unknown to me, but acquainted with the general, and lamenting tolose sight of him-as who that ever knew him failed doing? M. DeMazancourt and the De Premorels had preceded us. The difficultyof placing the poor wounded leg was great and grievous, and ourjourney was anything but gay; the cure, alas, was so much worsethan incomplete! The spirits of the poor worn invalid were sunk, and, like his bodily strength, exhausted; it was so new to him tobe helpless, and so melancholy ! After being always the mostactive, the most enterprising, the most ingenious in difficultyand mischance, and the most vivacious in conquering evils, andcombating accidents;-to find himself thus suddenly bereft notonly of his powers to serve and oblige all around him, but evenof all means of aiding and sufficing to himself, was profoundlydejecting ; nor, to his patriot-heart, was this all: farotherwise. We re-entered France by the permission of foreigners, and could only re-enter at all by passports of all the Allies!It seemed as if all Europe had freer egress to that country thanits natives! Yet no one more rejoiced in the victory of Waterloo--no one wasmore elated by the prospect of its glorious results: for therestoration of the monarchy he was most willing to shed the lastdrop of his blood. But not such was the manner in which he hadhoped to see it take place ; he had hoped it would have been morespontaneous, and the work of the French themselves to overthrowthe usurpation. He felt, therefore, severely shocked, when, atthe gates of Thionville, upon demanding admittance by giving hisname, his military rank, and his personal passport, he wasdisregarded and unheard by a Prussian sub-officer--a Prussian torepulse a French general, in the immediate service of his king, from entering France! His choler rose, in defiance of sicknessand infirmity; but neither indignation nor representation were ofany avail, till he condescended to search his portefeuille for apassport of All the Allies, which the Duc de Luxembourg hadwisely forwarded to TrŠves, joined to that of the minister atwar. Yet the Prussian was not to blame, . Save for his uncourteousmanners : the King of France was only such, at that moment, through Blcher and Wellington. Three or four days, I think, we passed at Metz, where the generalput himself Into the hands of a surgeon of eminence, who did whatwas now to be done to rectify the gross mismanagement at TrŠves. In this time I saw all that was mostPage 380 worth remark in the old and famous city of Metz. But it lookeddrear and abandoned- as everywhere during my journey. Nothingwas yet restored, for confidence was wanting in the state ofthings. Wellington and Blcher, the lords of the ascendant, seemed alone gifted with the Power of foreseeing, as they hadbeen instrumentally of regulating, events. A CHANCE VIEW OF THE EMPEROR OF RUSSIA. Not long after, I forget exactly where, we came under new yetstill foreign masters--the Russians ; who kept Posts, likesentinels, along the high road, at stated distances. They weregentle and well-behaved, in a manner and to a degree that wasreally almost edifying. On the plains of Chalons there was agrand Russian encampment. We stopped half a day for rest at somesmall place in its neighbourhood and I walked about, guarded bythe good Fran‡ois, to view it. But, on surveying a large oldhouse, which attracted my notice by a group of Russian officersthat I observed near its entrance, how was I struck on being toldby Fran‡ois, that the Emperor of all the Russias was at thatmoment its inhabitant! At the entrance of the little gate thatopened the palisade stood a lady with two or three gentlemen. There was no crowd, and no party of guards, nor any sign ofcaution or parade of grandeur, around this royally honoureddwelling. And, in a few minutes, the door was quietly opened andthe emperor came out, in an undress uniform, wearing no stars nororders, and with an air of gay good humour, and unassuming ease. There was something in his whole appearance of hilarity, freedom, youthfulness, and total absence of all thought of state andpower, that would have led me much sooner to suppose him a jocundyoung Lubin, or country esquire, than an emperor, warrior, or astatesman. The lady curtsied low, and her gentlemen bowed profoundly as hereached the group. He instantly recognised them, and seemedenchanted at their sight. A sprightly conversation ensued, inwhich he addressed himself chiefly to the lady, who seemedaccustomed to his notice, yet to receive it with a species ofrapture. The gentlemen also had the easy address of consciouswelcome to inspirit them, and I never followed up a conversationI could not hear, with more certainty of its being agreeable toall parties. They all spoke French, and I was restrained only bymy own sense of propriety from advancing Page 381 within hearing 'of every word; for no sentinel, nor guard of anykind, interfered to keep the few lookers on at a distance; This discourse over, be gallantly touched his bat and leaped intohis open carriage, attended by a Russian officer, and was out ofsight in a moment. How far more happy, disengaged, and to hisadvantage, was this view of his imperial majesty, than that whichI had had the year before in England, where the crowds thatsurrounded, and the pressure of unrestrained curiosity andforwardness, certainly embarrassed, if they did not actuallydisplease him! ENGLISH TROOPS IN OCCUPATION. At Meaux I left again my captive companion for a quarter of anhour to visit the cathedral of the sublimely eloquent Bossuet. In happier moments I should not have rested Without discoveringand tracing the house, the chamber, the library, the study, thegarden which had been as it were sanctified by his virtues, hispiety, his learning, and his genius and oh, how eagerly, if not acaptive, would my noble-minded companion have been my conductor! A new change again of military control soon followed, at which Igrieved for my beloved companion. I almost felt ashamed to lookat him, though my heart involuntarily, irresistibly palpitatedwith emotions which had little, indeed, in unison with eithergrief or shame; for the sentinels, the guards, the camps, becameEnglish. All converse between us now stopped involuntarily, and as if bytacit agreement. M. D'Arblay was too sincere a loyalist to besorry, yet too high-spirited a freeman to be satisfied. I coulddevise nothing; to say that might not cause some painfuldiscussion or afflicting retrospection, and we travelled manymiles in pensive silence-each nevertheless intensely observant ofthe astonishing new scene presented to our view, on re-enteringthe capital of France, to see the vision of Henry V. Revived, andParis in the hands of the English! I must not omit to mention that notwithstanding this completevictory over Bonaparte, the whole of the peasantry and commonpeople, converse with them when or where or how I might duringour route, with one accord avowed themselves utterly incredulousof his defeat. They all believed hePage 382 had only given way in order that he might come forward with newforces to extirpate all opposers, and exalt himself on theirashes to permanent dominion. LEAVETAKING: M. DE TALLEYRAND. On the eve of setting out for England, I went round to all Icould reach of my intimate acquaintance, to make--as it hasproved--a last farewell! M. De Talleyrand came in to Madame deLaval's drawing-room during my visit of leavetaking. He was namedupon entering; but there is no chance he could recollect me, as Ihad not seen him since the first month or two after my marriage, when he accompanied M. De Narbonne and M. De Beaumetz to ourcottage at Bookham. I could not forbear whispering to Madame deLaval, how many souvenirs his sight awakened! M. De Narbonne wasgone, who made so much of our social felicity during the periodof our former acquaintance; and Mr. Locke was gone, who made itshighest intellectual delight; and Madame de Stael, (286) who gaveit a zest of wit, deep thinking, and light speaking, of almostunexampled entertainment; and my beloved sister Phillips, whosesweetness, intelligence, grace, and sensibility won every heart:these were gone, who all, during the sprightly period in which Iwas known to M. Talleyrand, had almost always made our society. Ah! what parties were those! how select, how refined thoughsportive, how investigatingly sagacious though invariablywell-bred! Madame de Laval sighed deeply, without answering me, but I leftM. De Talleyrand to Madame la Duchesse de Luynes, and a sister ofA le Duc de Luxembourg, and another lady or two, while I engagedmy truly amiable hostess, till I rose to depart: and then, inpassing the chair of M. De Talleyrand, who gravely and silently, but politely, rose and bowed, I said, "M. De Talleyrand m'aoubli: mais on n'oublie pas M. De Talleyrand. "(287) I left theroom with quickness, but saw a movement of surprise by no meansunpleasant break over the habitual placidity, the nearlyimperturbable composure of his made-up countenance. Page 383 our journey was eventless, yet sad; sad, not solely, thoughchiefly, from the continued sufferings of my wounded companion, but sad also, that I quitted so many dear friends, who hadwrought themselves, by innumerable kindnesses, into myaffections, and who knew not, for we could not bring ourselves toutter words that must have reciprocated so much pain, that ourintended future residence was England. The most tender andgenerous of fathers had taken this difficult resolution for thesake of his son, whose earnest wish had been repeatedly expressedfor permission to establish himself in the land of his birth. That my wishes led to the same point, there could be no doubt, and powerfully did they weigh with the most disinterested andmost indulgent of husbands. All that could be suggested tocompromise what was jarring in our feelings, so as to save allparties from murmuring or regret, was the plan of a yearlyjourney to France. (273) Minister of war. (274) About the close of the year 1813, when Napoleon's star wassetting, and his enemies were pressing hard upon him, the Dutchthrew off the yoke of France, recalled the Prince of Orange, andproclaimed him at Amsterdam King of the United Netherlands, bythe title of William I. -ED. (275) On the first floor. (276) Lady Caroline Lamb (born in 1785) was the wife of the Hon. William Lamb, afterwards Lord Melbourne and prime minister ofEngland. A year or two before Fanny saw her, she was violently inlove with Lord Byron: "absolutely besieged him, " Rogers said. Byron was not unwilling to be besieged, though he presently grewtired of the lady, and broke off their correspondence, to hergreat distress, with an insulting and rather heartless letter. But it was more than a mere flirtation on Lady Caroline's part. She fainted away on meeting Byron's funeral (1824); "her mindbecame more affected; she was separated from her husband and died26 January, 1828, generously cared for by him to the last. "(Dict. Of National Biography. ) She was the author of two or threenovel. -ED. (277) Son of the Duke of Brunswick who invaded France in 1792, and who died in 1806 of the wounds which he received in thebattle of Jena. His son was killed at Quatre Bras, June 16, 1815. -ED. (278) "Bonaparte is taken! there he is!" (279) Alarm. (280) Fortresses. (281) Litters. (282) Both reports were false. Jerome Bonaparte, Napoleon'syoungest brother, formerly King of Westphalia, was wounded in thegroin at Quatre Bras, two days before the battle of Waterloo. His wound, however, was not so severe as to prevent him fromserving at Waterloo, and, after the flight of the Emperor toParis, Jerome remained to conduct the retreat and rally thefugitives. General Vandamme was not at Waterloo at all, nor washe wounded. He was attached to the army commanded by MarshalGrouchy, and was engaged in a useless conflict with the Prussianrear-guard at Wavres on the day of the decisive battle. -ED. (283) Another false rumour. Murat was in France during the wholeof the Waterloo campaign. This distinguished soldier had marriedCaroline Bonaparte, the youngest sister of Napoleon, by whom hewas made King of Naples. In December, 1813, Murat was ungratefulenough to join the allied powers against the Emperor, but, afterNapoleon's return from Elba, he threw himself into the war withcharacteristic precipitation. Marching from Naples with an armyof 50, 000 men, he occupied Rome and Florence, but was soon aftertotally defeated by the Austrians, and escaped with difficulty toFrance. The Emperor refused to see him. After the finalabdication of Napoleon, Murat made a desperate attempt, with ahandful of men, to regain his kingdom of Naples. He was takenprisoner, tried by a military commission, condemned to death, andimmediately shot. At St. Helena Napoleon said of him, "It was hisfate to ruin us every way; once by declaring against us, andagain by unadvisedly taking our part. "-ED. (284) Inn. (285) "Ah! there it is!" (286) This was a misapprehension. Madame de Stael died at Paris, July 14, 1817. The above narrative was written at a period someyears later than that of the events to which it relates, andhence, in all probability, the mistake arose. -ED. (287) "M. De Talleyrand has forgotten me; but one does not forgetM. De Talleyrand. " Page 384 SECTION 26. (1815-8) AT BATH AND ILFRACOMBE: GENERAL D'ARBLAY'S ILLNESS ANDDEATH. ARRIVAL IN ENGLAND. (Madame d'Arblay to Mrs. Locke and Mrs. Angerstein. )Dover, Oct. 18, 1815. Last night, my ever dear friends, we arrived once more in oldEngland. I write this to send the moment I land in London. I cannot boastof our health, our looks, our strength, but I hope we may recovera part of all when our direful fatigues, mental and corporeal, cease to utterly weigh upon and wear us. We shall winter in Bath. The waters of PlombiŠres have beenrecommended to my poor boiteux, (288) but he has obtained a cong‚that allows this change. Besides his present utter incapacityfor military service, he is now unavoidably on the retraite(289list, and the King of France permits his coming over, not alonewithout difficulty, but with wishing him a good journey, throughthe Duc de Luxembourg, his captain in the gardes du corps. Adieu, dearest both--Almost I embrace you in dating from Dover. Had you my letter from TrŠves? I suspect not, for my melancholynew history would have brought your kind condolence: or, otherwise, that missed me. Our letters were almost allintercepted by the Prussians while we were Page 385 there. Not one answer arrived to us from Paris, save by privatehands. . . . December 24, 1815. My heart has been almost torn asunder, oflate, by the dreadful losses which the newspapers havecommunicated to me, of the two dearest friends(290) of my absentpartner ; both sacrificed in the late sanguinary conflicts. Ithas been with difficulty I have forborne attempting to return tohim ; but a winter voyage might risk giving him another loss. Thedeath of one of these so untimely departed favourites, how willMadame de Stael support? Pray tell me if you hear any thing ofher, and what. . . . [With the year 1816 a new section of Madame d'Arblay'scorrespondence may be said to commence in her letters to her son, the late Rev. A. D'Arblay, who was then pursuing his studies atCaius college, Cambridge. It has been thought advisable to bemore sparing in publication from this, than from the earlierportions of Madame d'Arblay's correspondence. Without, however, a few of these letters to her son, "the child of many hopes, "this picture of her mind, with all its tenderness, playfulness, and sound sense, would scarcely be complete. ] ALEXANDER D'ARBLAY: SOME OLD BATH FRIENDS. (Madame d'Arblay to Mrs. Locke)Bath, February 15, 1816. Incredible is the time I have lost without giving in that claimwhich has never been given in vain for news of my own, dearfriend - but I have been-though not ill, so continually unwell, and though not, as so recently, in disordered and disorganizingdifficulties, yet so incessantly occupied with small, butindispensable occupations, that the post hour has always gone byto-day to be waited for to-morrow. Yet my heart has never beensatisfied-I don't mean with itself, for with that it can neverquarrel on this subject, -but with my pen-my slack, worn, irregular, fugitive, fatigued, yet ever faithful, though neverpunctual pen. My dearest friend forgives, I know, even that; buther known and unvarying lenity is the very cause I cannot forgiveit myself. We have had our Alexander for six weeks; he left us three\ Page 386 days ago, and I won't tell my dear friend whether or not we misshim. He is precisely such as he was--as inartificial in hischaracter, as irregular in his studies. He cannot bring himselfto conquer his disgust of the routine of labour at Cambridge; andwhile he energetically argues upon the innocence of a preferenceto his own early practice, (291) which he vindicates, I believeunanswerably, with regard to its real superiority, he isinsensible, at least forgetful, of all that can be urged of themischiefs to his prospects in life that must result from his notconquering his inclinations, "- I have nearly lost all hope of histaking the high degree A judged to him by general expectation atthe University, from the promise of his opening. Of old friends here, I have found stationary, Mrs. Holroyd, andMrs. Frances. And Harriet Bowdler. Mrs. Holroyd still givesparties, and tempted me to hear a little medley music, as shecalled it. Mrs. F. Bowdler lives on Lansdowne-crescent, andscarcely ever comes down the hill. Mrs. Harriet I have missed, though we have repeatedly sought a meeting on both sides ; butshe left Bath for some excursion soon after my arrival. Anothernew resident here will excite, I am sure, a more animatedinterest ' Mrs. Piozzi. The Bishop of Salisbury, my old friend, found me out, and came tomake me a long and most amiable visit, which was preceded by Mrs. I-, and we all spent an evening with them very sociably andpleasantly. FRENCH AFFAIRS. GENERAL D'ARBLAY'S HEALTH. (Madame d'Arblay to her Son. )Bath, Friday, April 2, 1816. . . . . . . The Oppositionists, and all their friends, have now a dreadof France, and bend their way to Italy. But the example nowgiven at Paris, in the affair of Messrs. Wilson and Co. (292) thatEnglishmen are as amenable to the laws and customs of thecountries which they inhabit, as foreigners while in England areto ours, will make them more careful, both in spirit and conduct, than heretofore they have deemed it necessary to be, all over theglobe. It is a general opinion Page 387that there will be a great emigration this summer, because JohnBull longs to see something beyond the limited circumference ofhis birthright - but that foreign nations will be now so watchfulof his proceedings, so jealous of his correspondence, and soeasily offended by his declamation or epigrams, that he will beglad to return here, where liberty, when not abused, allows areal and free exercise of true independence of mind, speech, andconduct, such as no other part of the world affords. I am truly happy not to be at Paris at such a juncture ; foropinions must be cruelly divided, and society almost out of thequestion. Our letters all confess that scarcely one family isd'acord even with itself. The overstraining royalists makemoderate men appear jacobins. The good king must be torn topieces between his own disposition to clemency, and the vehemenceof his partisans against risking any more a general amnesty. All that consoles me for the length of time required for the cureof your padre's leg is the consequence, in its keeping off hispurposed visit. A cold has forced him to relinquish the pumptill to-day, when he is gone to make another essay. He is sopopular in Bath, that he is visited here by everybody that canmake any pretext for calling. I have this moment beeninterrupted by a letter to invite me with my " bewitching husband" to a villa near Prior Park. He is not insensible to thekindness he meets with - au contraire, it adds greatly to hiscontentment in the steadiness of a certain young sprig that isinducing him here to plant his final choux; and the more, as wefind that, as far as that sprig has been seen here, he, also, hasleft so favourable an impression, that we are continually desiredto introduce him, on his next arrival, wherever we go. Your kind father, upon your last opening of "All here is well, "instantly ran down stairs, with a hop, skip, and a jump, andagreed to secure our pretty lodgings for a year. THE ESCAPE OF LAVALETTE. THE STREATHAM PORTRAITS. (Madame d'Arblay to her Son. )Bath, April 30, 1816. The three chevaliers have all been condemned as culpable ofaiding a state-criminal to escape, but not accused of anyconspiracy against the French government. TheyPage 388are therefore, sentenced merely to three months'imprisonment. (293) Certainly, if their logic were irrefutable, and if the treaty of Paris included the royal pardon with theamnesty accorded by the allied generals, then, to save those whoought not to have been tried would have been meritorious ratherthan illegal; but the king had no share in that treaty, whichcould only hold good in a military sense, of security frommilitary prosecution or punishment from the Allies. These Allies, however, did not call themselves conquerors, nor take Paris, norjudge the Parisians ; but so far as belonged to a capitulation, meant, on both sides, to save the capital and its inhabitantsfrom pillage and the sword. Once restored to its rightfulmonarch, all foreign interference was at an end. Having beenseated on the throne by the nation, and having never abdicated, though he had been chased by rebellion from his kingdom, he hadnever forfeited his privilege to judge which of his subjects werestill included in his original amnesty, and which had incurredthe penalty or chances of being tried by the laws of the land -and by them, not by royal decree, condemned or acquitted. A false idea seems encouraged by all the king's enemies, that hisamnesty ought to have secured pardon to the condemned: theamnesty could only act up to the period when it was granted andaccepted; it could have nothing to do with after-offences. I am grieved to lose my respect and esteem for a character I hadconsidered so heroical as that of Sir R. Wilson: but to find, through his intercepted correspondence, that the persecution Page 389 of the Protestants was to be asserted, true or false, to blackenthe reigning dynasty. . . To find this truly diabolic ideapresented to him by a brother of whom he speaks as the partner ofall his thoughts, etc. , has consumed every spark of favour inwhich he was held throughout the whole nation, except, perhaps, in those whom party will make deaf and blind for ever to whatopposes their own views and schemes. I do not envy Lord Grey forbeing a third in such an intercourse, an intercourse teeming withinventive plots and wishes for new revolutions ! Your uncle has bought the picture of my dearest father atStreatham. (294) I am truly rejoiced it will come into ourfamily, since the collection for which it was painted is brokenup. Your uncle has also bought the Garrick, which was one of themost agreeable and delightful of the set. To what recollections, at once painful and pleasing, does this sale give birth! In thelibrary, in which those pictures were hung, we alwaysbreakfasted; and there I have had as many precious conversationswith the great and good Dr. Johnson as there are days in theyear. Dr. Johnson sold the highest of all! 'tis an honour to ourage, that!--360 pounds! My dear father would have been mountedhigher, but that his son Charles was there to bid for himself, and, everybody must have seen, was resolved to have it. Therewas besides, I doubt not, a feeling for his lineal claim andpious desire. REGARDING HUSBAND AND SON. (Madame d'Arblay to a Friend. )Bath, August 17, 1816. I have been in a state of much uncertainty and disturbance sinceI wrote last with respect to one of the dearest possibleinterests of life, the maternal: the uncertainty, however, forthis epoch is over, and I will hasten to communicate to you itsresult, that I may demand further and frequent accounts of yourown plans, and of their execution or change, success Page 390 or failure. All that concerns you, must to me always be near anddear. General d'Arblay is gone to France, and here at Bath rest safemme et son fils. (295) There was no adjusting the excursion butby separation. Alexander would have been wilder than ever for hisFrench mathematics in re-visiting Paris ; and, till his degree istaken, we must not contribute to lowering it by feasting hisopposing pursuits with fresh nourishment, M. D'Arblaynevertheless could by no means forego his intention which athousand circumstances led him to consider as right' He couldnot, indeed, feel himself perfectly … sa place without paying hisdevoirs to his king, notwithstanding he has been put by hismajesty himself, not by his own desire, en retraite. Theexigencies of the treasury demand this, for all who are not youngenough for vigorous active service; but his wounded leg preventedhis returning thanks sooner for the promotion with which the kingfinished and recompensed his services;(296) and therefore hedeems it indispensable to present himself at the foot of thethrone for that purpose now that he is able to "bear his bodymore seemly" (like Audrey) in the royal presence. He hopes alsoto arrange for receiving here his half-pay, when sickness oraffairs or accident may prevent his crossing the Channel. Choiceand happiness will, to his last breath, carry him annually toFrance ; for, not to separate us from his son, or in the bud oflife, to force that son's inclination in fixing his place or modeof residence, alone decides his not fixing there his own laststaff. But Alexander, young as he left that country, has seenenough of it to be aware that no line is open there to ambitionor importance, but the military, most especially for the son ofan officer so known and marked for his military character: and Ineed not tell you that, with my feelings and sentiments, to seehim wield a sword that could only lead him to renown by beingdrawn against the country of his birth and of mine, woulddemolish my heart, and probably my head; and, to believe in anywar in which England and France will not be rivals, is toentertain Arcadian hopes, fit only for shepherds andshepherdesses of the drama. Page 391 MATERNAL ANXIETIES. (Madame d'Arblay to General d'Arblay. )Bath, October 28th, 1816. Certainement, et trŠs certainement, mon bien cher ami, yourbeautiful strictures upon la connoissance et l'usage du mondewould have given "un autre cours … mes id‚es"(297) were theobject of our joint solicitude less singular; but our Alexander, mon ami, dear as he is to us, and big as are my hopes pourl'avenir, (298) our Alexander is far different from what you wereat his age. More innocent, I grant, and therefore highlyestimable, and worthy of our utmost care, and worthy of the wholeheart of her to whom he shall permanently attach himself. But O, how far less aimable! He even piques himself upon the difference, as if that difference were to his advantage. He is a medley ofgood qualities and of faults the most extraordinary and the mostindescribable. Enfin, except in years, in poetry, and inmathematics, il n'est encore qu'un enfant. (299) Were he so only as to la connoissance, et mˆme l'usage du monde, I should immediately subscribe to the whole of your reallyadmirable dissertation upon the subject in the letter now beforeme, for I should then sympathise in your idea that a lovely youngcompanion might mould him to her own excellence, and polish himto our wishes; but O, nous n'en sommes pas l…!(300) When he iswholly at his ease, as he is at present, with his mother, and ashe would soon inevitably be with his wife, he is so uncouth, sonegligent, and absent, that his frightened partner would eitherleave him in despair to himself, or, by reiterated attempts toreason with him, lose her bridal power, and raise the mostdangerous dissensions. He exults rather than blushes inconsidering himself ignorant of all that belongs to common life, and of everything that is deemed useful. Even in mathematics hedisdains whatever is not abstract and simply theoretical. "Trouble I hate" he calls his motto. You will easily conceivethat there are moments, nay, days, in which he is morereasonable; I should else be Page 392 hopeless : nor will he ever dare hold such language to you. Butit is not less the expression of his general mind. Sometimes, too, he wishes for wealth, but it is only that he might besupine. Poor youth ! he little sees 'how soon he would thenbecome poor ! Yet, while thus open to every dupery andprofessedly without any sense of order, he is so fearful ofridicule, that a smile from his wife at any absurdity would fillhim with the most gloomy indignation. It does so now from hismother. A wife, I foresee you will reply, young and beautiful, sera bienautre chose; mais je crois que vous Vous trompez:(301) amistress, a bride, --oui! a mistress and a bride would see him herdevoted slave ; but in the year following year, when ardentnovelty is passed away, a mother loved as I am may form muchjudgment what will be the lot of the wife, always allowing forthe attractions of reconciliation which belong exclusively to themarriage state, where it is happy. Nevertheless, I am completely of your opinion, that a good andlovely wife will ultimately soften his asperity, and give him anew taste for existence, by opening to him new sources offelicity, and exciting, as you justly suggest, new emulation toimprovement, when he is wise enough to know how to appreciate, totreat, and to preserve such a treasure. But will four months fithim for beginning such a trial? Think of her, mon ami, as well asof him. The "responsibility" in this case would be yours forboth, and exquisite would be your agony should either of them beunhappy. A darling daughter-an only child, nursed in the lap ofsoft prosperity, sole object of tenderness and of happiness toboth her parents. Rich, well-born, stranger to all care, andunused to any control; beautiful as a little angel, and (be verysure) not unconscious she is born to be adored ; endowed withtalents to create admiration, independently of the ‚clat of herpersonal charms, and indulged from her cradle in every wish, every fantaisie. --Will such a young creature as this be happywith our Alexander after her bridal supremacy, when the ecstasyof his first transports are on the wane? That a beauty such asyou describe might bring him, even from a first interview, to herfeet, notwithstanding all his present prejudices against a Frenchwife, I think probable enough, though he now thinks his taste inbeauty different from yours; for he has never, he says, beenstruck but by a commanding air. All beauty, "Page 393 however, soon finds its own way to the heart. But could anypermanent amendment ensue, from working upon his errors onlythrough his passions? Is it not to be feared that as they, thepassions, subside, the errors would all peep up again ? And she, who so prudently has already rejected a nearly acceptedpr‚tendant for his want of order!!!(302) (poor Alexander!) howwill she be content to be a monitress, where she will findeverything in useful life to teach, and nothing in return tolearn? And even if he endure the perpetual tutoring, will not shesicken of her victories ere he wearies of his defeats? And will Alexander be fit or willing to live under the eye, whichhe will regard as living under the subjection, of his wife'srelations? In this country there is no notion of that mode ofmarried life -, and our proud Alexander, the more he may wantcounsel and guidance, will the more haughtily, from fearing topass for a baby, resent them. Let me add, that nothing can beless surprising than that he should have fixed his ownexpectation of welfare in England. Recollect, mon ami, it is nownearly three years ago since you gave him, in a solemn andbeautiful letter, his choice between Cambridge and la compagniede -Luxembourg, into which you had entered him saying that yourposition exacted that you should take your son back to serve, ornot at all. You have certainly kept his definite answer, fromwhich he has never wavered. And again, only at your lastdeparture, this August, you told us positively that you could nottake your son to France at twenty-one years of age with anyhonour or propriety but to enter him in the army. I would else, you know, have shut myself up with him in some cottage au lys, merely for the great pleasure of accompanying you. Alexander, therefore, now annexes an idea of degradation to aresidence non-military in France. He would deem himself humbledby the civil place at which you hint, even if you could bringhim, which I doubt above all, to submit to its duties. Heregards himself, from peculiar circumstances, as an establishedEnglishman (though born of a French father), with your own fullconsent, nay, by your own conditions. I by no means believe hewill ever settle out of England, though he delights to think oftravelling. And such, mon ami, appeared to be your own sentiments Page 394 when we parted, though they are changed now, or overpowered bythe new view that is presented to you of domestic felicity, forAlexander. I have written thus fully, and after the bestmeditation in my power, according to your desire ; an(] everyreflection and observation upon the subject, and upon Alexander, unites in making me wish, with the whole Of my judgment andfeeling at once, to keep back, not to forward, any matrimonialconnection, for years, not months, unless month, ,; first producethe change to his advantage that I dare only expect from years. ADVANTAGES OF BATH: YOUNG D'ARBLAY's DECREE. (Madame d'Arblay to Mrs. Locke. )Bath, November 10, 1816. I wish to live at Bath, wish it devoutly ; for at Bath we shalllive, or no longer in England. London will only do for those whohave two houses, and of the real country I may say the same; fora cottage, now Monsieur d'Arblay cannot, as heretofore, brave allthe seasons, to work, and embellish his wintry hours, byembellishing anticipatingly his garden, would be too lonely, inso small a family, for the long evenings of cold and severeweather; and would lose us Alexander half the year, as we couldneither expect nor wish to see him begin life as a recluse fromthe world. Bath, therefore, as it eminently agrees with us all, is, in England, the only place for us, since here, all the yearround, there is always town at command, and always the countryfor prospect, exercise, and delight. Therefore, my dear friend, not a word but in favour of Bath, ifyou love me. Our own finishing finale will soon take root here, or yonder; for Alex will take his degree in January, and then, his mind at liberty, and his faculties in their full capacity formeditating upon his lot in life, he will come to a decision whatmountain he shall climb, upon which to fix his staff; for allthat relates to worldly prosperity will to him be up-hill toil, and labour. Never did I see in youth a mind so quiet, sophilosophic, in mundane matters, with a temper so eager, soimpetuous, so burningly alive to subjects of science andliterature. The Tancred scholarship is still in suspense. Thevice-chancellor is our earnest friend, as well as our faithfulDr. Davy, but the trustees have come to no determination - andAlex is my companion-or rather, I am Alex'sPage 395 flapper-till the learned doctors can agree. At all events, hewill not come out in Physic; we shall rather enter him at anothercollege, with all the concomitant expenses, than let him, fromany economy, begin his public career under false colours. When heentered this institution, I had not any notion of thisdifficulty; I was ignorant there would be any objection againsthis turning which way he pleased when the time for taking thedegree should arrive. I am now in almost daily hope of the return of my voyager. Hislast letter tells me to direct no more to Paris. [After this time General d'Arblay made frequent journeys toParis. ] PLAYFUL REPROACHES AND SOBER COUNSEL. (Madame d'Arblay to her Son. )Bath, Friday, April 25, 1817. Why, what a rogue you are! four days in town! As there can be noscholarship--h‚las! it matters not; but who knew thatcircumstance when they played truant? Can you tell me that, hey!Mr Cantab? Why, you dish me as if I were no more worth than Paleyor Newton, or such like worthies! Your dear padre is very considerably better, surtout in looks, but by no means re-established ; for cold air--too much exertion--too little--and all sorts of nourishment or beverage that arenot precisely adapted to the present state of the poor shatteredframe, produce instant pain, uneasiness, restlessness, andsuffering. Such, however, is the common condition ofconvalescence, and therefore I observe it with much more concernthan surprise - and Mr. Hay assures me all is as well as canpossibly be expected after so long and irksome an illness. "The scholarship is at an end--So much for that!" pretty cool, my friend! Will it make you double your diligence for what is not at an end?hey, mon petit monsieur? But I am sorry for your disappointment in the affair you mention, my dear Alex : though your affections were not so far engaged, methinks, but that your amour propre(303) is still morebless‚(304) than your heart! hey? However, 'tis a real loss, Page 396 though little more than of an ideal friend, at present. But noidea is so flattering and so sweet, as that which opens toexpectation a treasure of such a sort. I am really, therefore, sorry for you, my dear Alex. Your determination to give way to no sudden impulse in future isquite right. Nothing is so pleasant as giving way to impulse;nothing so hazardous. But this history must double your value for Messrs. JonesMusgrave, Jacobs, Ebden, Theobald, and Whewell. "Cling to thosewho cling to you!" said the immortal Johnson to your mother, whenshe uttered something that seemed fastidious relative to a personwhose partiality she did not prize. Your padre was prevailed upon to go to the play. We were bothvery well pleased with H. Payne in certain parts; in someinstances I even thought him excellent, especially in thenatural, gentlemanly, and pensive tones in which he went throughthe gravedigger's and other scenes of the last act. But, for thesoliloquies, and the grand conference with the mother! oh, there, Garrick rose up to my remembrance with an ‚clat of perfectionthat mocks all approach of approbation for a successor. But you, M. Keanite, permit a little hint against those looksthat convey your resentment. They may lead to results that maybe unpleasant. It is best to avoid displaying a susceptibilitythat shows the regret all on your own side ! Let the matter dieaway as though it had never been. Assume your cool air; your "somuch for that!" but do not mark a d‚pit that will rather flatterthan vex. At first, it was well ; you gave way to Nature and totruth, and made apparent you had been sincere : but there, foryour dignity's sake, let all drop ; and be civil as well as cool, if you would keep the upper hand. PREPARATIONS FOR LEAVING BATH. (Madame d'Arblay to General d'Arblay. )1817. . . . . . June 18. -I made a morning visit to Mrs. Piozzi, whom I foundwith +Dr. Minchin, an informed, sensible physician. She wasstrange, as usual, at first; but animated, as usual, afterwards. The sisters, Mrs. Frances and Mrs Harriet Bowdler, called uponme, and were admitted, for I heard their names in time; and wehad much good old talk), Page 397 that is, Frances and I; for Harriet is ever prim and demure andnearly mute before her elder sister. June 25. -Fixing the last day of the month for my journey, I setseriously to work to hasten my preparations. What a business itwas! You have no conception how difficult, nor how laborious, itis to place so many books, such a quantity of linen, such awardrobe, and such a mass of curiosities, in so small a compass. How fagged and fatigued I retired to rest every night, you mayimagine. Alex vigorously carried heavy loads at a time from thestudy to the garret, but only where he might combine and arrangeand order all for himself. However, he was tolerably useful forgreat luggages. June 26. -We spent the afternoon at Larkhall place, to meet thereMaria and Sophy. My dear sister(305) was all spirit and vivacity. Mr. Burney, all tranquil enjoyment--peace, rest, leisure, books, music, drawing, and walking fill up hisserene days, and repay the long toils of his meritorious life. And my sister, who happily foresees neither sickness nor ennui, is the spirit and spring of the party. June 28. -I devoted all day to leave-taking visits, for so manyhouses were opened, and claimed long confabulations, from theirrarity, that I had not finished my little round till past teno'clock at night. Yet of these hosts, Mrs. Frances Bowdler, Mrs. Piozzi, Mrs. Morgan, and Mrs. Andr‚ were out. Two of the threelatter ladies are now in France, and they have written word, thatthe distress in their province exceeds all they have left in thiscountry! Madame do Sourches has written a similar melancholyaccount; and Mrs. Holroyd, who received my longest call thismorning, read me a letter from Lady B. With words yet stronger ofthe sufferings in the Low Countries! O baleful effects of "Bella, horrida bella!" I sat an hour also with Mrs. Harriet Bowdler, insober chat and old histories. She has not--il s'en faut--theexhilaration and entertainment of her clever sister; but there isall the soft repose of good sense, good humour, urbanity, andkindness. One cannot do better than to cultivate with both; forif, after the spirited Frances, the gentle Harriet seems dull, one may at least say that after the kind Harriet, the satiricalFrances seems alarming. But my longest visit was to the excellent Mrs. Ogle, who is theoldest acquaintance with whom I have any present connection inthe world. It was at her house I first saw Mrs, Page 398 Chapone, who was her relation; I visited her, with my dearfather, my mother-in-law, and my sisters ; though fromcircumstances we lost sight of each other, and met no more till Ihad that happy encounter with her at Cheltenham, when I broughther to the good and dear king. My respect for her age, hervirtues, and this old connection, induced me to stay with hertill it was too late to present myself elsewhere. I merelytherefore called at the door of Madame de Sommery to inquirewhether they Could receive me sans c‚remonie for half an hour inthe evening. This was agreed to, and Alex accompanied or ratherpreceded me to Madame de Sommery, who had her two joliesdaughters, Stephanie and Pulch‚rie, at work by her side, thetea-table spread … l'Anglaise, and four of your th‚ƒtre(306)Iupon the table, with Alex just beginning "Lido" as I entered. Iwas never so pleased with them before, though they have alwayscharmed me; but in this private, comfortable style they were allten times more easy, engaging, and lively than I had ever yetseen them. INSTALLED AT ILFRACOMBE. (Madame d'Arblay to General d'Arblay. )Ilfracombe, Devonshire, June 31, (sic) 1817. . . . This very day of our arrival, before Alex had had time tosearch out Mr. Jacob, somebody called out to him in the street, "Ah, d'Arblay!" who proved to be his man. They strolled about thetown, and then Jacob desired to be brought to me. Unluckily, Iwas unpacking, and denied. He has appointed Alex for a lessonto-morrow. May he put him a little en train! July 5. --I must now give you some account of this place. We arelodged on the harbour. The mistress of our apartments is widow tosome master of a vessel that traded at Ilfracombe, with Irelandchiefly. She has three or four children: the eldest, but twelveyears old, is the servant of the lodgers, and as adroit as if shewere thirty. Our situation is a very amusing one; for the quayis narrow, and there are vessels just on its level, so close thateven children walk into them all day long. When the sea is up, the scene is gay, busy, and interesting; but on its ebb the sandshere are not Page 399 clean and inviting, but dark and muddy, and the contrary ofodoriferous. But the entrance and departure of vessels, thelading, unlading, and the management of ships and boats, offerconstantly something new to an eye accustomed only to land viewsand occupations. A CAPTURED SPANISH SHIP. But chiefly I wish for you for the amusement you would find froma Spanish vessel, which is close to the quay, immediatelyopposite to our apartments, and on a level with the parlour ofthe house. It has been brought in under suspicion of piracy, orsmuggling, or aiding the slave trade. What the circumstances ofthe accusation are I know not - but the captain is to be tried atExeter on the ensuing western circuit. Meantime, his goods areall sequestered, and he has himself dismissed all his sailors andcrew to rejoin him when the trial is over. He is upon his parole, and has liberty to go whithersoever he will; but he makes no useof the permission, as he chooses not to leave his cargo solelyunder the inspection of the excisemen and custom officers here, who have everything under lock and key and seal. He is agood-looking man, and, while not condemned, all are willing totake his word for his innocence. Should that be proved, whatcompensation will be sufficient for repairing his confinement? Hehas retained with him only his physician, his own servant hiscook, and a boy, with another lad, who is an American. I see himall day long, walking his quarter-deck, and ruminating upon hissituation, with an air of philosophy that shows strong character. His physician, who is called here the " doctor, " and is verypopular, is his interpreter; he speaks English and French, has aspirited, handsome face, and manners the most courteous, thoughwith a look darkly shrewd and Spanish. THE SPANISH CAPTAIN'S COOK. But the person who would most entertain you is the cook, whoappears the man of most weight in the little coterie ; for helets no one interfere with his manoeuvres. All is performed forthe table in full sight, a paˆle(307) being lighted with aburning fierce fire upon the deck, where he officiates. He wearsa complete white dress, and has a pail of water by his side, inPage 400 which he washes everything he dresses, and his Own hand, to boot, with great attention. He begins his pot au feu soon after sevenevery morning, and I watch the operation from my window; it isentirely French, except that he puts in more meat, and has itcut, apparently, into pounds; for I see it all carved into squaremorsels, seemingly of that weight, which he inserts bit by bit, with whole bowls, delicately cleaned, washed and prepared, ofcabbages, chicory, turnips, carrots celery, and small herbs. Thensome thick slices of ship ham and another bowl of onions andgarlic; salt by a handful, and pepper by a wooden spoon full. This is left for many hours; and in the interval he prepares aporridge of potatoes well mashed, and barley well boiled, withsome other ingredient that, when it is poured into a pan, bubblesup like a syllabub. But before he begins, he employs the two ladsto wash all the ship. To see all this is the poor captain's only diversion ; but thecook never heeds him while at his professional operations; heeven motions to him to get out of the way if he approaches toonear, and is so intent upon his grand business that he shakes hishead without answering, when the captain speaks to him, with anair that says, "Are you crazy to try to take off my attention?"And when the doctor, who often advances to make some observation, and to look on, tries to be heard, he waves his hand in disdain, to silence him. Yet, when all is done, and he has taken off hiswhite dress, he becomes all obsequiousness, respectfully standingout of the way, or diligently flying forward to execute anycommand. SHIPS IN DISTRESS. July 6. -Alex and I went to church this morning, and heard atolerable sermon. In the evening there was a storm, that towardsnight grew tremendous. The woman of the house called us to seetwo ships in distress. We went to the top of the house for aview of the sea, which was indeed frightful. One ship wasendeavouring to gain the harbour; the other, to steer furtherinto the main ocean ; but both appeared to be nearly swamped bythe violence of the winds and waves. People mounted to thelighthouse with lights ; for at this season the lantern is notilluminated ; and a boat was sent out to endeavour to assist, andtake any spare hands or passengers, if such there were, from thevessel ; but the sea was so boisterousPage 401 that they could not reach the ship, and were nearly lost in theattempt. Alex ran up to the lighthouse, to see what was doing ;but was glad to return, as he could with difficulty keep hisfeet, and was on the point of being lifted off them down theprecipice into the sea. I never was so horrified as when, fromthe top of the house, I perceived his danger. Thank God, he feltit in time, and came back in safety. It requires use to sustainthe feet in such a hurricane, upon a rock perpendicularlystanding in the ocean. YOUNG D'ARBLAY's TUTOR. July 7. -We have heard that one of the vessels got off; but notidings whatsoever have been received of the other. It issuspected to be a passage vessel from Bristol to Ireland. I havehad Mr. Jacob to tea; I could not yet arrange a dinner, and hewas impatient for an introduction. I like him extremely: he haseverything in his favour that can be imagined ; sound judgmentwithout positiveness, brilliant talents without conceit, authority with gentleness, and consummate knowledge of sciencewith modesty. What a blessing that such a character shouldpreside over these inexperienced youths ! Mr. Jacob has aided usto remove. Time is a plaything to the diligent and obliging, though a thief to the idle and capricious ; the first find it, inthe midst of every obstacle, for what they wish, while the latterlose it, though surrounded by every resource, for all that theywant. I had such success that I now write from my new dwelling, which I will describe to-morrow. July 9. -Quelle joie! this morning I receive a welcome to my newhabitation, to make it cheer me from the beginning. 'Tis begunJune 28th, and finished July 2nd. How … propos is what I had justwritten of time in the hands of the diligent and obliging! yethow it is you can bestow so much upon me is my admiration. I have not mentioned a letter I have received from Mrs. FrancesBowdler. She tells me of the marriage of Miss---- to a Prussiangentleman, and expresses some vexation at it, but adds, "PerhapsI ought not to say this to you, " meaning on account of theobjection to a foreigner; and then elegantly adds, "but oneperson's having gained the great prize in the lottery does notwarrant another to throw his whole wealth into the wheel. " Notvery bad English that? Page 402 GENERAL D'ARBLAY'S ILL-HEALTH. (Madame d'Arblay to Mrs. Broome. )Ilfracombe, Post Office, July 23, 1817. . . . . . I have letters very frequently from Paris, all assuring meM. D'A. Is re-establishing upon the whole; yet all letting mesee, by collateral accounts, anecdotes, or expressions, that heis constantly in the hands of his physician, and that adifficulty of breathing attacks him from time to time, as it didbefore his journey: with a lassitude, a weakness, and arestlessness which make him there, as here they made him sincehis illness, unfit for company, and incapable, but by starts andfor moments to have any enjoyment of mixed society! I do nottherefore, feel comfortable about him, though, thank heaven, notalarmed. And at all events I am glad he tries the change of air. Change of scene also was advised for him by all * but he is tookind to find that beneficial when we are separated; and he writesme frequent avowals of seizures of dejection and sadness thatreduce him to a state of great suffering. The parting, while hewas in a situation so discouraging, was very cruel but Alexanderhad, and has, no chance of taking a tolerable degree without afriend constantly at hand to remind him of the passage of time. He never thinks of it: every day seems a day by itself, which hemay fill up at pleasure, but which opens to him no prospect ofthe day that will succeed! So little reflection on the future, with so good capacity for judging the present, were never beforeunited. PARTICULARS OF ILFRACOMBE. We are very well lodged for pleasantness, and for excellentpeople. We have a constant view of the sea from our drawing room, which is large and handsome - our bedrooms also are good; but ourminor accommodations, our attendance, dinner equipage, cooking, etc. , would very ill have contented my general had he been here. The best men, the most moderate and temperate, are difficult, nay, dainty, compared with women. When he comes, if I am so happyas to see him return while we are here, I must endeavour toameliorate these matters. Ilfracombe is a long, narrow town, consisting of only one regularstreet, though here and there small groups of houses hang uponits skirts, and it is not destitute of lanes and alleys. Page 403 The town part or side Is ugly, ill paved and ill looking: but thebacks of the habitations offer, on one side the street, prospectsof fine hills, and on the other, noble openings to the sea. Thetown is built upon a declivity, of which the church is at thesummit, and the harbour makes the termination. It was in theharbour, that is upon the quay, that we were at first lodged ;and our apartments were by no means without interest oramusement; but just as we were comfortably settled in them, wewere told the ebbs and flows, etc. , of the tides leftoccasionally, or brought, odours not the most salubrious. Tothis representation I thought it right to yield so implicitly, that I sought a new abode, and changed my quarters instantly. YOUNG D'ARBLAY's AVERSION TO STUDY. (Madame d'Arblay to General d'Arblay. )Friday, September 12, 1817. I have so much to say to my dearest friend, that I open my newsheet at the moment of finishing the old one, though I shall notsend it for a week - and let me begin by quieting your poornerves relative to La Chapelle, in assuring you I neglect nopossible means to follow, substantially and effectually, yourinjunctions, though I dare not tell him that you would neverpardon the smallest infraction of our new treaty. He is notcapable, mon ami, of an exactitude of that undeviating character. To force further solemn promises from so forgetful, sounreflecting, yet so undesigning and well-meaning a youngcreature, is to plunge him and ourselves into the culpability ofwhich we accuse him. To attempt in that manner to coupercourt, (308) etc. , instead of frightening him into right, wouldharden him into desperation. His disgust to his forced study isstill so vehement, that it requires all I can devise ofexhortation, persuasion, menace, and soothing, tour … tour, todeter him from relinquishing all effort! The times, mon ami, are"out of joint:" we must not by exigeance precipitate him to hisruin, but try patiently and prudently, every possible means, torescue him from the effects of his own wilful blindness andunthinking, idle eccentricity. If we succeed, how will he blessus when his maturer judgment opens his eyes to the evils he willhave escaped! but if we fail why should we lie down and diebecause he Page 404 might have obtained fame and riches, yet obstinately preferredobscurity with a mere competence? Put not Your recovery and yourhappiness upon such a cast! My own struggles to support thedisappointment for which I am forced to prepare myself, in themidst of all my persevering, unremitting efforts to avert it, aresufficiently severe ; but the manner in which I see youragitation threaten your health, makes his failure but secondaryto my apprehensions! Oh, mon ami, ought we not rather to unite incomforting each other by sustaining ourselves? Should we not havedone so mutually, if the contagious fever at Cambridge hadcarried him off? And what is the mortification of a bad degreeand a lessened ambition, with all the mundane humiliationbelonging to it, compared with the total earthly loss of so dearan object, who may be good and happy in a small circle, if hemisses, by his own fault, mounting into a larger? Take courage, my dearest ami, and relieve me from the double crush that elsemay wholly destroy mine. Let us both, while we yet venture tohope for the best, prepare for the worst. Nothing on my partshall be wanting to save this blow; but should his perversitymake it inevitable, we must unite our utmost strength, not aloneto console each other, but to snatch from that "sombred‚couragement"(309) you so well foresee, the wilful, but everfondly-loved dupe of his own insouciance. . . . (310) A VISIT FROM THE FIRST CHESS PLAYER IN ENGLAND. And now to lighter matters. I hope I have gained a smile from youby my disclosure that I lost my journal time for my usualpost-day by successive dissipation ? What will you haveconjectured ? That I have consented at last to listen to Mr. Jacob's recommendation for going to the Ilfracombe ball, anddanced a fandango with him! or waltzed, au moins! or that I havecomplied with his desire of going to the cricket-ground, justarranged by the Cantabs and some officers who are here, insubscribing three guineas for the use of a field? Vous n'ˆtespas;(311) for though I should like, in itself, to see acricket-match, in a field which Mr. Jacob says is beautifullysituated, and where the Bishop of Ossory and his lady, Mrs. Fowler, go frequently, as two of their sons are amongst thePage 405 players; yet, as Jacob evidently thinks our poor Alexander oughtnot to spare time for being of the party, I cannot bear to quitmy watchful place by his side, and go thither without him. Mais--Vous vous rendez, n'est-ce-pas?(312) Eh bien--to go backto Sept. 2nd. Alexander and I were nearly finishing our evening, tea being over, and nine o'clock having struck, while he wasreading the "Spiritual Quixote"(313) for a little relaxation;when Miss Elizabeth Ramsay came to tell me that a gentleman wasjust arrived at Ilfracombe who begged leave to wait upon me, if Iwould admit him; and she gave me a card with the name of Mr. Bowdler. Of course I complied, and Alexander was wild with joy atthe thought of such an interview, as Mr. Bowdler is acknowledgedthe first chess-player in England, and was the only man, whenPhilidor was here, who had the honour of a drawn battle with him:a thing that Philidor has recorded by printing the whole of thegame in his treatise on chess. I was not glad to bring back hisideas to that fascination, yet could not be sorry he should haveso great a pleasure. Mr. Bowdler presented himself very quickly, though not till hehad made a toilette of great dress, such as would have suited thefinest evening assembly at Bath. He was always a man of muchcultivation, and a searcher of the bas bleus(314) all his life. He is brother to our two Mrs. Bowdlers, and was now come toescort Mrs. Frances from his house in Wales, where she has spentthe summer, to Ilfracombe. I had formerly met this gentlemanvery often, at bleu parties, and once at a breakfast at his ownhouse, given in honour of Mrs. Frances, where I met SophyStreatfield, then a great beauty and a famous Greek scholar, ofwhom the " Literary Herald says:-- "Lovely Streatfield's ivory neck, Nose and notions … la Grecque. " He was extremely civil to Alex, whom he had longed, he said, tosee, and Alex listened to every word that dropped from him, as ifit would teach some high move at chess. We had much talk of old times. We had not met since we parted inSt. James's-place, in the last illness of my dear Mrs. Page 406 Delany, whom he then attended as a physician. He stayed till pastten, having left his sister at the hotel, too tired with a seapassage to come out, or to receive chez elle. But he entreatedme to dine with them next day, the only day he should spend atIlfracombe, with such excess of earnestness and Alex seconded therequest with so many "Oh, mamma's!" that he overpowered allrefusal, assuring me it could not interfere with my Bathmeasures, as it was a dinner, pour ainsi dire, (315) on the road, for he and his sister were forced to dine at the hotel. He alsodeclared, in a melancholy tone that he might probably never seeme more, unless I made a tour of Wales, as -he began to feelhimself too old for the exertion of a sea voyage. The next morning, immediately after breakfast, I waited upon myold friend and namesake, Fanny Bowdler, and sat with her twohours tˆte-…-tˆte, for her brother was unwell, and she isadmirable in close dialogue. I had hardly got home ere shefollowed me, and stayed till it was time to dress for dinner;when again we met, and only parted for our downy pillows. Herstrong sense, keen observation, and travelled intelligence andanecdotes, made the day, thus devoted to her, from ten in themorning to ten at night, pass off with great spirit andliveliness: but Alex, oh! he was in Elysium. Mr. Bowdler took agreat fancy to him, and indulged his ardent wish of a chess talkto the full; satisfying him in many difficult points, and goingover with him his own famous game with Philidore - and, in short, delivering himself over to that favourite subject with himentirely. It will not, however, be mischievous, for Mr. Bowdler's own enthusiasm is over, and he has now left the gamequite off, not having played it once these seven years. THE DIARY CONTINUED. A COAST RAMBLE IN SEARCH OF CURIOSITIES. The term for Alexander's studies with Mr. Jacob was justfinishing, and a few days only remained ere the party was. To bedispersed, when I determined upon devoting a morning to thesearch of such curiosities as the coast produced. . I marchedforth, attended only by M. D'Arblay's favourite little dog, Diane, with a large silk bag to see what I could Page 407 find that I might deem indigenous, as a local offering to thecollection of my general, who was daily increasing hismineralogical stores, under the skilful direction of his friend, -the celebrated naturalist, M. De Bournon. I began my perambulation by visiting the promontory called "theCapstan"--or rather attempting that visit; for after mounting tonearly its height, by a circuitous path from the town, by whichalone the ascent is possible, the side of the promontory being amere precipice overlooking the ocean, a sudden gust of winddashed so violently against us, that in the danger of being blowninto the sea, I dropped on the turf at full length, and saw Dianedo the same, with her four paws spread as widely as possible, toflatten her body more completely to the ground. This opening to my expedition thus briefly set aside, I repairedto the coast, where there are pebbles, at least, in great beautyas well as abundance. The coast of Ilfracombe is broken by rocks, which bear evident marks of being fragments of some one immenserock, which, undermined by the billows in successive storms, hasbeen cast in all directions in its fall. We went down to the edgeof the sea, which was clear, smooth, and immovable as a lake, thewind having subsided into a calm so quiet, that I could not tellwhether the tide were in or out. Not a creature was in sight;but presently a lady descended, with a book in her hand, andpassed on before us to the right, evidently to read alone. Satisfied by this circumstance that the tide was going out, andall was safe, I began my search, and soon accumulated acollection of beautiful pebbles, each of which seemed to meritbeing set in a ring. The pleasure they afforded me insensibly drew me on to theentrance of the Wildersmouth, which is the name given to a seriesof recesses formed by the rocks, and semicircular, open at thebottom to the sea, and only to be entered from the sands at lowtide. I coasted two or three of them, augmenting my spoil as Iproceeded; and perceiving the lady I have- already mentionedcomposedly engaged with her book, I hurried past to visit thelast recess, whither I had never yet ventured. I found it a sortof chamber, though with no roof but a clear blue sky. The top wasa portly mountain, rough, steep and barren - the left side wasequally mountainous, but consisting of layers of a sort of slate, intermixed with moss ; the right side was the elevated Capstan, Page 408 which here was perpendicular; and at the bottom were, the sands, by which I entered it, terminated by the ocean. The whole wasaltogether strikingly picturesque, wild and original. There wasnot one trace of art, or even of any previous entrance into it ofman. I could almost imagine myself its first human inmate. My eye was presently caught by the appearance, near the top, of acavern, at the foot of which I perceived something of sobrilliant a whiteness that, in hopes of a treasure for my bag, Ihastened to the spot. What had attracted me proved to be thejawbone and teeth of some animal. Various rudely curious thingsat the mouth of the cavern invited investigation; Diane, however, brushed forward, and was soon out of sight, but while I wasbusily culling, hoarding, or rejecting whatever struck my fancy, she returned with an air so piteous, and a whine so unusual, that, concluding she pined to return to a little puppy of a weekold that she was then rearing, I determined to hasten; but stillwent on with my search, till the excess of her distress leadingher to pull me by the gown, moved me to take her home; but when Idescended, for this recess was on a slant, how was I confoundedto find the sands at the bottom, opening to the recess, whence Ihad entered this marine chamber, were covered by the waves;though so gentle had been their motion, and so calm was the sea, that their approach had not caught my ear. I hastily remounted, hoping to find some outlet at the top by which I might escape, but there was none. This was not pleasant but still I was notfrightened, not conceiving or believing that I could becompletely enclosed: the less, as I recollected, in my passage tothe cavern, having had a glimpse of the lady who was reading inthe neighbouring recess. I hastily scrambled to the spot to lookfor her, and entreat her assistance ; but how was I then startledto find that she was gone, and that her recess, which was on lesselevated ground than mine, was fast filling with water! CAUGHT BY THE RISING TIDE. I now rushed down to the sea, determined to risk a wet jerkin, bywading through a wave or two, to secure myself from being shut upin this unfrequented place : but the time was past! The weathersuddenly changed, the lake was gone, and billows mounted oneafter the other, as if with enragedPage 409 pursuit of what they could seize and swallow. I eagerly ran upand down, from side to side, and examined every nook and corner, every projection and hollow, to find any sort of opening throughwhich I could pass-but there was none. Diane looked scared; she whined, she prowled about - her dismaywas evident, and filled me with compassion-but I could notinterrupt my affrighted search to console her. Soon after, however, she discovered a hole in the rock at the upper part, which seemed to lead to the higher sands. She got through it, and then turned round to bark, as triumphing in her success, andcalling upon me to share its fruits. But in vain !-the hollow wastoo small for my passage save of my head, and I could only haveremained in it as if standing in the pillory. I still, therefore, continued my own perambulation, but I made a motion tomy poor Diane to go, deeming it cruel to detain her from herlittle one. Yet I heard her howl as if reduced to despair, thatI would not join her. Anon, however, she was silent--I lookedafter her, but she had disappeared. This was an alarming moment. Alone, without the smallest aid, orany knowledge how high the sea might mount, or what was theextent of my danger, I looked up wistfully at Capstan, andperceived the iron salmon; but this angle of that promontory wasso steep as to be utterly impracticable for climbing by humanfeet; and its height was such as nearly to make me giddy inconsidering it from so close a point of view. I went from it, therefore, to the much less elevated and less perpendicular rockopposite; but there all that was not slate, which crumbled in myhands, was moss, from which they glided. There was no holdwhatsoever for the feet. "I ran therefore to the top, where a large rock, by reaching fromthe upper part of this slated one to Capstan, formed the chamberin which I was thus unexpectedly immured. But this was so rough, pointed, sharp, and steep that I could scarcely touch it. Thehole through which Diane had crept was at an accidentally thinpart, and too small to afford a passage to anything bigger thanher little self. The rising storm, however, brought forward the billows withaugmented noise and violence; and my wild asylum lessened everymoment. Now, indeed, I comprehended the fulness of my danger. Ifa wave once reached my feet, while coming upon me with thetumultuous vehemence of this storm, I hadPage 410 nothing I could hold by to sustain me from becoming its prey andmust inevitably be carried away into the ocean. EFFORTS TO REACH A PLACE OF SAFETY. I darted about in search of some place of safety, rapidly, andall eye; till at length I espied a small tuft of grass on thepinnacle of the highest of the small rocks that were scatteredabout my prison; for such now appeared my fearful dwelling-place. This happily pointed out to me a spot that the waves had neveryet attained; for all around bore marks of the visits. To reachthat tuft would be safety, and I made the attempt with eagerness; but the obstacles I encountered were terrible. The roughness ofthe rock tore my clothes - its sharp points cut, now my feet, andnow my fingers - and the distances from each other of the holesby which I could gain any footing for my ascent, increased thedifficulty. I gained, however, nearly a quarter of the height, but I could climb no further and then found myself on a ledgewhere it was possible to sit down - and I have rarely found alittle repose more seasonable. But it was not more sweet thanshort : for in a few minutes a sudden gust of wind raised thewaves to a frightful height, whence their foam reached the baseof my place of refuge, and threatened to attain soon the spot towhich I had ascended. I now saw a positive necessity to mount yethigher, co–te qui co–te, and, little as I had thought itpossible, the pressing danger gave me both means and fortitude toaccomplish it: but with so much hardship that I have ever sincemarvelled at my success. My hands were wounded, my knees werebruised, and my feet were cut for I could only scramble up byclinging to the rock on all fours. When I had reached to about two-thirds of the height of my rock, I could climb no further. All above was so sharp and soperpendicular that neither hand nor foot could touch it withoutbeing wounded. My head, however, was nearly on a level with thetuft of grass, and my elevation from the sands was veryconsiderable. I hoped, therefore, I was safe from being washedaway by the waves; but I could only hope; I had no means toascertain my situation; and hope as I might, it was as painful asit was hazardous. The tuft to which I had aimed to rise, andwhich, had I succeeded, would have been security, was a merepoint, as unattainable as it was unique, Page 411 not another blade of grass being anywhere discernible. I wasrejoiced, however, to have reached a spot where there wassufficient breadth to place one foot at least without cutting it, though the other was poised on such unfriendly ground that itcould bear no part in sustaining me. Before me was an immenseslab, chiefly of slate, but it was too slanting to serve for aseat-and seat I had none. My only prop, therefore, was holding bythe slab, where it was of a convenient height for my hands. Thissupport, besides affording me a little rest, saved me frombecoming giddy, and enabled me from time to time to alternate thetoil of my feet. A SIGNAL OF DISTRESS. Glad was I, at least, that my perilous clambering had finished bybringing me to a place where I might remain still ; for withaffright, fatigue, and exertion I was almost exhausted. The windwas now abated, and the sea so calm, that I could not be surewhether the tide was still coming in. To ascertain this wasdeeply necessary for my tranquillity, that I might form some ideawhat would be the length of my torment. I fixed my eyes, therefore, upon two rocks that stood near the sea entrance intomy recess, almost close to the promontory, from which they hadprobably been severed by successive storms. As they were alwaysin the sea I could easily make my calculation by observingwhether they seemed to lengthen or shorten. With my near-sightedglass I watched them ; and great was my consternation when, little by little, I lost sight of them. I now looked wistfullyonward to the main ocean, in the hope of espying some vessel, orfishing-boat, with intention of spreading and waving my parasol, in signal of distress, should any one come in sight. But nothingappeared. All was vacant and vast ! I was wholly alone-whollyisolated. I feared to turn my head lest I should become giddy, and lose my balance. LITTLE DIANE. In this terrible state, painful, dangerous, and, more than all, solitary, who could paint my joy, when suddenly, reentering bythe aperture in the rock through which she had quitted me, Iperceived my dear little Diane ! For the instant I felt as ifrestored to safety-I no longer seemed Page 412 abandoned. She soon leaped across the flat stones and the sandswhich separated us, but how great was the difficulty to make herclimb as I had climbed! Twenty times she advanced only to retreatfrom the sharp points of the rock, till ultimately she pickedherself out a passage by help of the slate, and got upon theenormous table, of which the upper part was my support ; but theslant was such, that as fast as she ascended she slipped down, and we were both, I believe almost hopeless of the desiredjunction, when, catching at a favourable moment that had advancedher paws within my reach, I contrived to hook her collar by thecurved end of my parasol and help her forward. This I did withone hand, and as quick as lightning, dragging her over the slaband dropping her at my feet, whence she soon nestled herself in asort of niche of slate, in a situation much softer than mine, butin a hollow that for me was impracticable. I hastily recovered myhold, which I marvel now that I had the temerity to let go; butto have at my side my dear little faithful Diane was a comfortwhich no one not planted, and for a term that seemed indefinite, in so unknown-a solitude, can conceive. What cries of joy thepoor little thing uttered when thus safely lodged! and with whattenderness I sought to make her sensible of my gratitude for herreturn ! I was now, compared with all that had preceded, in Paradise : soenchanted did I -feel at no longer considering myself as if alonein the world. O, well I can conceive the interest excited in theFrench prisoner by a spider, even a spider! Total absence of all. Of animation in a place of confinement, of which the term isunknown, where volition is set aside, and where captivity is thework of the elements, casts the fancy into a state of solemn awe, of fearful expectation, which I have not words to describe; whilethe higher mind, mastering at times that fancy, seeks resignationfrom the very sublimity of that terrific vacuity whence all seemsexiled, but self: seeks, and finds it in the almost Visiblesecurity of the omnipresence of God. To see after my kind little companion was an occupation that forawhile kept me from seeing after myself, but when I had done whatI could towards giving her comfort and assistance, I again lookedbefore me, and saw the waters at the base of my rock of refuge, still gradually rising on, while both my rocks of mark werecompletely swallowed up!Page 413 the INCREASING DANGER, My next alarm was one that explained that of Diane when she cameback so scared from the cavern ; for the waves, probably fromsome subterraneous passage, now forced their way through thatcavern, threatening inundation to even the highest part of mychamber. This was horrific. I could no longer even speak toDiane; my eyes were riveted upon this unexpected gulf, and in afew moments an immense breaker attacked my rock, and, impeded byits height from going straight forward, was dashed in twodirections, and foamed onward against each side. I did not breathe--I felt faint--I felt even sea-sick. On, then, with added violence came two wide-spreading waves, and, beingparted by my rock, completely encompassed it, meeting each otheron the further and upper ground. I now gave up my whole soul toprayer for myself and for my Alexander, and that I mightmercifully be spared this watery grave, or be endowed withcourage and faith for meeting it with firmness. The next waves reached to the uppermost end of my chamber, whichwas now all sea, save the small rock upon which I was mounted!How I might have been subdued by a situation so awful at once, and so helpless, if left to unmixed contemplation, I know not --had I not been still called into active service in sustaining mypoor Diane. No sooner were we thus encompassed than she wasseized with a dismay that filled me with pity. She trembledviolently, and rising and looking down at the dreadful sight ofsea, sea, sea all around, and sea still to the utmost extent ofthe view beyond, she turned up her face to me, as if appealingfor protection and when I spoke to her with kindness, she creptforward to my feet, and was instantly taken with a shivering fit. I could neither sit nor kneel to offer her any comfort, but Idropped down as children do when they play at hunt the slipper, for so only could I loose my hold of the slab without falling, and I then stroked and caressed her in as fondling a way as ifshe had been a child; and I recovered her from her ague-fit byrubbing her head and back with my shawl. She then looked up atme somewhat composed, though still piteous and forlorn, andlicked my hands with gratitude. Page 414 THE LAST WAVE OF THE RISING TIDE. While this passed the sea had gained considerably in height, and, a few minutes afterwards all the horrors of a tempest seemedimpending. The wind roared around me, pushing on the waves with afrothy velocity that, to a bystander, not to an inmate amidstthem, would have been beautiful. It whistled with shrill andvarying tones from the numberless crevices in the three immenserocky mountains by whose semicircular adhesion I was thus immured- and it burst forth at times in squalls, reverberating fromheight to height or chasm to chasm, as if "the big-mouthedthunder" "Were bellowing through the vast and boundless deep. " A wave, at length, more stupendous than any which had precededit, dashed against my rock as if enraged at an interception ofits progress, and rushed on to the extremity of this savagechamber, with foaming impetuosity. This moment I believed to bemy last of mortality ! but a moment only it was ; for scarcelyhad I time, with all the rapidity of concentrated thought, torecommend myself, my husband, and my poor Alexander, humbly butfervently to the mercy of the Almighty, when the celestial joybroke in upon me of perceiving that this wave, which had boundedforward with such fury, was the last of the rising tide ! In itsrebound, it forced back with it, for an instant, the whole bodyof water that was lodged nearest to the upper extremity of myrecess, and the transporting sight was granted me of an openingto the sands but they were covered again the next instant, and asno other breaker made a similar opening, I was still, for aconsiderable length of time, in the same situation: but I losthope no more. The tide was turned: it could rise therefore nohigher; the danger was over of so unheard-of an end; of vanishingno one knew how or where--of leaving to my kind, deploringfriends an unremitting uncertainty of my fate--of myre-appearance or dissolution. I now wanted nothing but time, andcaution, to effect my deliverance. The threat of the tempest, also, was over ; the air grew asserene as my mind, the sea far more calm, the sun beautifullytinged the west, and its setting upon the ocean was resplendent. By remembrance, however, alone, I speak of its glory, not fromany pleasure I then experienced in its sight: it toldPage 415 me of the waning day; and the anxiety I had now dismissed formyself redoubled for my poor Alexander. . . . With my bag of curiosities I made a cushion for Diane, which, however little luxurious, was softness itself compared with herthen resting-place. She, also, could take no repose, but fromthis period I made her tolerably happy, by caresses and continualattentions. But no sooner had the beams of the sun vanished from the broadhorizon, than a small, gentle rain began to fall, and the lightas well as brightness of the day became obscured by darklingclouds. This greatly alarmed me, in defiance of my joy and my philosophy;for I dreaded being surprised by the night in this isolatedsituation. I was supported, however, by perceiving that the seawas clearly retrograding, and beholding, little by little, thedry ground across the higher extremity of my apartment. How didI bless the sight ! the sands and clods of sea-mire were morebeautiful to my eyes than the rarest mosaic pavement ofantiquity. Nevertheless, the return was so gradual, that Iforesaw I had still many hours to remain a prisoner. ARRIVAL OF SUCCOUR. The night came on--there was no moon - but the sea, by itsextreme whiteness, afforded some degree of pale light, whensuddenly I thought I perceived something in the air. Affrighted, I looked around me but nothing was visible; yet in another momentsomething like a shadow flitted before my eyes. I tried to fixit, but could not develop any form : something black was all Icould make out; it seemed in quick motion, for I caught and lostit alternately, as if it was a shadow reflected by the waters. I looked up at Capstan: nothing was there, but the now hardlydiscernible Iron salmon. I then looked at the opposite side. . . . Ah, gracious heaven, what were my sensations to perceive twohuman figures! Small they looked, as in a picture, from theirdistance, the height of the rock, and the obscurity of the night;but not less certainly from their outline, human figures. Itrembled--I could not breathe--in another minute I was espied, for a voice loud, but unknown to my ears, called out "Holloa!" Iunhesitatingly answered, "I am safe!" "Thank God!" was the eager reply, in a voice hardlyPage 416 articulate, "Oh, thank God!" but not in a Voice unknown thoughconvulsed with agitation--it was the voice of my dear son! Ohwhat a quick transition from every direful apprehension to' joyand delight! yet knowing his precipitancy, and fearing a rashdescent to join me, in ignorance of the steepness and dangers ofthe precipice which parted us, I called out with all the energyin my power to conjure him to await patiently, as I would myself, the entire going down of the tide. He readily gave me this promise, though still in sounds almostinarticulate. I was then indeed in heaven while upon earth. Another form then appeared, while Alex and the first companionretired. This form, from a gleam of light on her dress, I soonsaw to be female. She called out to me that Mr. Alexander and hisfriend were gone to call for a boat to come round for me by sea. The very thought made me shudder, acquainted as I now was withthe nature of my recess, where, though the remaining sea lookedas smooth as the waters of a lake, I well knew it was but asurface covering pointed fragments of rock, against which a boatmust have been overset or stranded. Loudly, therefore, as I couldraise my voice, I called upon my informant to fly after them, andsay I was decided to wait till the tide was down. She repliedthat she would not leave me alone for the world. The youths, however, soon returned to the top of the mountain, accompanied by a mariner, who had dissuaded them from theirdangerous enterprise. I cheerfully repeated that I was safe, andbegged reciprocated patience. They now wandered about on theheights, one of them always keeping in view. Meanwhile, I had now the pleasure to descend to the sort ofhalfway-house which I had first hoped would serve for my refuge. The difficulty was by no means so arduous to come down as tomount, especially as, the waters being no longer so high as myrock, there was no apprehension of destruction should my footingfail me. Some time after I descried a fourth figure on the summit, bearinga lantern. This greatly rejoiced me, for the twilight now wasgrown so obscure that I had felt much troubled how I might atlast grope my way in the dark out of this terrible Wildersmouth. Page 417 They all now, from the distance and the dimness, looked likespectres : we spoke no more, the effort being extremelyfatiguing. I observed, however, with great satisfaction, anincrease of figures, so that the border of the precipice seemedcovered with people. This assurance that if any accidenthappened, there would be succour at hand, relieved many a freshstarting anxiety. Not long after, the sea wholly disappeared, and the man with thelantern, who was an old sailor, descended the precipice on thefurther part, by a way known to him ; and placing the lanternwhere it might give him light, yet allow him the help of both hishands, he was coming to me almost on all fours - when Dianeleaped to the bottom of the rock, and began a barking so loud andviolent that the seaman stopped short, and I had the utmostdifficulty to appease my little dog, and prevail with her, between threats and cajolements, to suffer his approach. . . . MEETING BETWEEN MOTHER AND SON. My son no sooner perceived that the seaman had found footing, though all was still too watery and unstable for me to quit myrock, than he darted forward by the way thus pointed out, andclambering, or rather leaping up to me, he was presently in myarms. Neither of us could think or care about the surroundingspectators-we seemed restored to each other, almost miraculously, from destruction and death. Neither of us could utter a word, butboth, I doubt not, were equally occupied in returning the mostardent thanks to heaven. Alexander had run wildly about in every direction; visited hill, dale, cliff, by-paths, and public roads, to make and instigateinquiry-but of the Wildersmouth he thought not, and never, Ibelieve, had heard; and as it was then a mere part of the sea, from the height of the tide, the notion or remembrance of itoccurred to no one. Mr. Jacob, his coolheaded and excellenthearted friend, was most unfortunately at Barnstaple, but he atlength thought of Mr. John Le Fevre, a young man who waseminently at the head of the Ilfracombe students, and hadresisted going to the ball at Barnstaple, not to lose an hour ofhis time. Recollecting this, Alex went to his dwelling, andbursting into his apartment, called out, "My mother is missing!"Page 418 The generous youth, seeing the tumult of soul in which he wasaddressed, shut up his bureau without a word, and hurried offwith his distressed comrade, giving up for that benevolentpurpose the precious time he had refused himself to spare for amoment's recreation. Fortunately, providentially, Mr. Le Fevre recollectedWildersmouth, and that one of his friends had narrowly escapeddestruction by a surprise there of the sea. He no sooner namedthis than he and Alexander contrived to climb up the rockopposite to Capstan, whence they looked down upon my recess. Atfirst they could discern nothing, save one small rock uncoveredby the sea : but at length, as my head moved, Le Fevre sawsomething like a shadow--he then called out, "Holloa!" etc. ToMr. Le Fevre, therefore, I probably owe my life. Two days after, I visited the spot of my captivity, but it hadentirely changed its appearance. A storm of equinoctial violencehad broken off its pyramidal height, and the drift of sand andgravel, and fragments of rocks, had given a new face to the wholerecess. I sent for the seaman to ascertain the very spot: thishe did; but told me that a similar change took place commonlytwice a year - and added, very calmly, that two days later Icould not have been saved from the waves. GENERAL D'ARBLAY'S RETURN TO ENGLAND. (Madame d'Arblay to a Friend. )Bath, November 9, 1817. Can I still hope, my dear friend, for that patient partialitywhich will await my tardy answer ere it judges my irksomesilence? Your letter Of Sept. 27th I found upon my table when Ireturned, the 5th of October, from Ilfracombe. I returned, withAlexander, to meet General d'A. From Paris. You will be sorry, Iam very sure, and probably greatly surprised, to hear that hecame in a state to occupy every faculty of my mind and thoughts--altered--thin--weak--depressed--full of pain--and disappointed inevery expectation of every sort that had urged his excursion! I thank God the fever that confined him to his bed for three daysis over, and he yesterday went down stairs and his repose now isthe most serene and reviving. The fever, Mr. Hay assured me, wasmerely symptomatic ; not of inflammation Page 419 or any species of danger, but the effect of hissufferings. Alas! that is heavy and severe enough, but still, where fever comes, 'tis of the sort the least cruel, because noways alarming. Nov. 15-I never go out, nor admit any one within - nor shall I, till a more favourable turn will let me listen to his earnestexhortations that I should do both. Mr. Hay gives me stronghopes that that will soon arrive, and then I shall not vex him bypersevering in this seclusion: you know and can judge how littlethis part of my course costs me, for to quit the side of those weprize when they are in pain, would be a thousand times greatersacrifice than any other privation. THE PRINCESS CHARLOTTE'S DEATH. You are very right as to Lady Murray, not only, of course, I amhonoured by her desire of intercourse, but it can never be as anew acquaintance I can see the daughter of Lord and LadyMulgrave. I have been frequently in the company of the former, who was a man of the gayest wit in society I almost ever knew. Hespread mirth around him by his sprightly ideas and sallies, andhis own laugh was as hearty and frank as that he excited inothers ; and his accomplished and attaching wife was one of thesweetest creatures in the world. Alas ! how often this latetragedy in the unfortunate royal family has called her to myremembrance!(316) She, however, left the living consolation of alovely babe to her disconsolate survivor ;-the poor PrinceLeopold loses in one blow mother and child. The royal visit here has been a scene of emotion:--first of joyand pleasure, next of grief and disappointment. The queen Ithought looked well till this sudden and unexpected blow; afterwhich, for the mournful day she remained, she admitted no one toher presence, but most graciously sent me a message to consoleme. She wrote instantly, with her own hand, to PrinceLeopold-that prince who must seem to have had a vision ofcelestial happiness, so perfect it was, so exalted, and sotransitory. The poor Princess Charlotte's passion for him hadabsorbed her, yet was so well placed as only to form her toexcellence, and it had so completely won his return, that likeherself he coveted Page 420 her alone. . . . . . Princess Elizabeth is much altered personally, tomy great concern; but her manners, and amiability, and talents, Ithink more pleasing and more attaching than ever, How delighted Iwas at their arrival ! THE QUEEN AND PRINCESSES AT BATH. (Madame d'Arblay to her Son. )Bath, November 9, 1817. We have here spent nearly a week in a manner the mostextraordinary, beginning with hope and pleasure, proceeding tofear and pain, and ending in disappointment and grief. The joy exhibited on Monday, when her majesty and her royalhighness arrived, was really ecstatic ; the illumination wasuniversal. The public offices were splendid; so were thetradespeople's who had promises or hopes of employment; thenobles and gentles were modestly gay, and the poor eagerly putforth their mite. But all was flattering, because voluntary. Nothing was induced by power, or forced by mobs. All was left toindividual choice. Your padre and I patrolled the principalstreets, and were quite touched by the universality of the homagepaid to the virtues and merit of our venerable queen, upon thisher first progress through any part of her domains by herself. Hitherto she has only accompanied the poor king, as at Weymouthand Cheltenham, Worcester and Exeter, Plymouth and Portsmouth, etc. ; or the prince regent, as at Brighthelmstone. But here, called by her health, she came as principal, and in her owncharacter of rank and consequence. And, as Mr. Hay told me, theinhabitants of Bath were all even vehement to let her see thelight in which they held her individual self, after so many yearswitnessing her exemplary conduct and distinguished merit. ::Shewas very sensible to this tribute; but much affected, nay, dejected, in receiving it, at the beginning; from coming withoutthe king where the poor king had always meant himself to bringher - but just as he had arranged for the excursion, and even hadthree houses taken for him in the Royal-crescent, he wasafflicted by blindness. He would not then come; for what, hesaid, was a beautiful city to him who could not look at it? Thiswas continually in the remembrance of the queen during thehonours of her reception ; but she had recovered from themelancholy recollection, and wasPage 421 cheering herself by the cheers of all the inhabitants, when thefirst news arrived of the illness of the Princess Charlotte. At that moment she was having her diamonds placed on her head forthe reception of the mayor and corporation of Bath, with anaddress upon the honour done to their city, and upon their hopesfrom the salutary spring she came to quaff. Her first thoughtwas to issue orders for deferring this ceremony but when sheconsidered that all the members of the municipality must beassembled, and that the great dinner they had prepared to give tothe Duke of Clarence could only be postponed at an enormous anduseless expense, she composed her spirits, finished her regaldecorations, and admitted the citizens of Bath, who were highlygratified by her condescension, and struck by her splendour, which was the same as she appeared in on the greatest occasionsin the capital. The Princess Elizabeth was also a blaze ofjewels. And our good little Mayor (not four feet high) andaldermen and common councilmen were all transported. NEWS ARRIVES OF THE PRINCESS CHARLOTTE'S DEATH. The Duke of Clarence accepted their invitation, and was joined bythe Marquis of Bath and all the queen's suite. But the dinnerwas broken up. The duke received an express with the terribletidings: he rose from table, and struck his forehead as he readthem, and then hurried out of the assembly with inexpressibletrepidation and dismay. The queen also was at table when the sameexpress arrived, though only with the princess and her own party:all were dispersed in a moment, and she shut herself up, admitting no one but her royal highness. She would have left Baththe next morning; but her physician, Sir Henry Halford, said itwould be extremely dangerous that she should travel so far, inher state of health, just in the first perturbation ofaffliction. She would see no one but her suite all day, and setout the next for Windsor Castle, to spend the time previous tothe last melancholy rites, in the bosom of her family. All Bath wore a face of mourning. The transition from gaiety andexultation was really awful. What an extinction of youth andhappiness ! The poor Princess Charlotte had never known amoment's suffering since her marriage. Her lot seemed perfect. Prince Leopold is, indeed, to be pitied. Page 422 (Madame d'Arblay to Mrs. Broome. )Bath, November 25, 1817. . . . . . We are all here impressed with the misfortunes of the royalhouse, and chiefly with the deadly blow inflicted on the perfectconjugal happiness of the first young couple in the kingdom. Thefirst couple not young bad already received a blow yet, perhaps, more frightful : for to have, yet lose-to keep, yet never toenjoy the being we most prize, is surely yet more torturing thanto yield at once to the stroke which we know awaits us, and bywhich, at last, we must necessarily and indispensably fall. Thequeen supports herself with the calm and serenity belonging toone inured to misfortune, and submissive to Providence. ThePrincess Elizabeth has native spirits that resist all woe afterthe first shock, though she is full of kindness, goodness, andzeal for right action. AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE. SERIOUS ILLNESS OF GENERAL D'ARBLAY. (Mrs. Piozzi to Madame d'Arblay. )Bath, Thursday, February 26, 1818. I had company in the room when Lady K-'s note arrived, desiring Iwould send you some papers of hers by the person who should bringit. I had offered a conveyance to London by some friends of myown, but she preferred their passing through your hands. Acceptmy truest wishes for the restoration of complete peace to a mindwhich has been SO long and so justly admired, loved, and praisedby, Dear madam, --Your ever faithful, H. L. P. Who attends the general? and why do you think him SO very bad? (Madame d'Arblay to Mrs. Piozzi. )Bath, February 26, 1818. There is no situation in which a kind remembrance from you, mydear madam, would not awaken me to some pleasure; but my poorsufferer was so very ill when your note came, that it was notpossible for me to answer it. That I think him so very bad, isthat I see him perpetually in painPage 423 nearly insupportable ; yet I am assured it is local andunattended with danger while followed up with constant care andcaution. This supports my spirits, which bear me and enable meto help him through a malady of anguish and difficulty. It is ayear this very month since he has been in the hands of Mr. Hay asa regular patient. Mr. Hay was recommended to us by Mrs. Lockeand Mrs. Angerstein, whom he attends as physician, from theirhigh opinion of his skill and discernment. But, alas ! all hasfailed here ; and we have called in Mr. Tudor, as the caseterminates in being one that demands a surgeon. Mr. Tudor givesme every comfort in prospect, but prepares me for long suffering, and slow, slow recovery. Shall I apologise for this wordy explanation? No - you will seeby it with what readiness I am happy, to believe that ourinterest in each other must ever be reciprocal. Lady K- by no means intended to give me the charge of the papers;she only thought they might procure some passing amusement to myinvalid. I must, on the contrary, hope you will permit me toreturn them you, in a few days, for such conveyance as you maydeem safe; I am now out of the way of seeking any. I hope you were a little glad that my son has been among the highWranglers. NARRATIVE OF THE ILLNESS AND DEATH OF GENERAL D'ARBLAY. THE GENERAL'S FIRST ATTACK: DELUSIVE HOPES. Bolton Street, Berkeley Square. It is now the 17th of November, 1819. A year and a half havepassed since I was blessed with the sight of my beloved husband. I can devise no means to soothe my lonely woe, so likely ofsuccess as devoting my evening solitude to recollections of hisexcellences, and of every occurrence of his latter days, till Ibring myself up to the radiant serenity of their end. I think itwill be like passing with him, with him himself, a few poorfleeting but dearly-cherished moments. I will call back thehistory of my beloved husband's last illness. Ever present as itis to me, it will be a relief to set it down. In Paris, in the autumn Of 1817, he was first attacked withPage 424 the deadly evil by which he was finally consumed. I suspected nothis danger. He had left me in June, in the happy but mostdelusive persuasion that the journey and his native air wouldcomplete his recovery from the jaundice, which had attacked himin February, 1817. Far from ameliorating, his health went ondaily declining. His letters, which at first were the delight andsupport of my existence, became disappointing, dejecting, afflicting. I sighed for his return ! I believed. He was tryingexperiments that hindered his recovery; and, indeed, I ampersuaded he precipitated the evil by continual changes ofsystem. At length his letters became so comfortless, that Ialmost expired with desire to join him - but he positivelyforbade my quitting our Alexander, who was preparing for hisgrand examination at Cambridge. On the opening of October, 1817, Alex and I returned fromIlfracombe to Bath to meet our best friend. He arrived soonafter, attended by his favourite medical man, Mr. Hay, whom hehad met in Paris. We found him extremely altered-not in mind, temper, faculties--oh, no!--but in looks and strength: thin andweakened so as to be fatigued by the smallest exertion. Hetried, however, to revive; we sought to renew our walks, but hisstrength was insufficient. He purchased a garden in the Crescentfields, and worked in it, but came home always the worse for theeffort. His spirits were no longer in their state of nativegenial cheerfulness : he could still be awakened to gaiety, butgaiety was no longer innate, instinctive with him. GENERAL D'ARBLAY PRESENTED TO THE QUEEN. In this month, October, 1817, I had a letter from the PrincessElizabeth, to inform me that her majesty and herself were comingto pass four weeks in Bath. The queen's stay was short, abruptlyand sadly broken up by the death of the Princess Charlotte. Intwenty-four hours after the evil tidings, they hastened toWindsor to meet the prince regent and almost immediately afterthe funeral, the queen and princess returned, accompanied by theDuke of Clarence. I saw them continually, and never passed a daywithout calling at the royal abode by the queen's expresspermission ; and during the whole period of their stay, myinvalid appeared to be stationary in his health. I never quittedhim save for this royal visit, and that only of a morning. Page 425 He had always purposed being presented to her majesty inthe pump-room, and the queen herself deigned to say "she shouldbe very glad to see the general. " Ill he was! suffering, emaciated, enfeebled! But he had always spirit awake to everycall; and just before Christmas, 1817, we went together, betweenseven and eight o'clock in the morning, in chairs, to thepump-room. I thought I had never seen him look to such advantage. His fine brow so open, his noble countenance so expressive, hisfeatures so formed for a painter's pencil! This, too, was thelast time he ever wore his military honours--his three orders of"St. Louis, " "the Legion of Honour, " and "Du Lys, " or "De laFidŠlit‚;" decorations which singularly became him, from hisstrikingly martial port and character. The queen was brought to the circle in her sedan-chair, and ledto the seat prepared for her by her vice-chamberlain, making agracious general bow to the assembly as she passed. Dr. Gibbs andMr. Tudor waited upon her with the Bath water, and she conversedwith them, and the mayor and aldermen, and her own people, forsome time. After this she rose to make her round with a graceindescribable, and, to those who never witnessed it, inconceivable ; for it was such as to carry off age, infirmity, sickness, diminutive stature and to give her, in defiance of suchdisadvantages, a power of charming that rarely has been equalled. Her face had a variety of expression that made her features soonseem agreeable; the intonations of her voice so accorded with herwords, her language was so impressive, and her manner so engagingand encouraging, that it was not possible to be the object of herattention without being both struck with her uncommon abilitiesand fascinated by their exertion. Such was the effect which she produced upon General d'Arblay, towhom she soon turned. Highly sensible to the honour of herdistinction, he forgot his pains in his desire to manifest hisgratitude;--and his own smiles--how winning they became! Hermajesty spoke of Bath, of Windsor, of the Continent; and whileaddressing him, her eyes turned to meet mine with a look thatsaid, "Now I know I am making you happy!" She asked me, archly, whether I was not fatigued by coming to the pump-room so early?and said, "Madame d'Arblay thinks I have never seen you before !but she is mistaken, for I peeped at you through the window asyou passed to the Terrace at Windsor. " Alas! the queen noPage 426 sooner ceased to address him than the pains he had suppressedbecame intolerable, and he retreated from the circle and sankupon a bench near the wall - he could stand no longer, and wereturned home to spend the rest of the day in bodily misery. GLOOMY FOREBODINGS. Very soon after the opening of this fatal year 1818, expressionsdropped from my beloved of his belief of his approaching end :they would have broken my heart, had not an incredulity --now myeternal wonder, --kept me in a constant persuasion that he washypochondriac, and tormented with false apprehensions. Fortunate, merciful as wonderful, was that incredulity, which, blinding me to my coming woe, enabled me to support my courage bymy hopes, and helped me to sustain his own. In his occasionalmournful prophecies, which I always rallied off and refused tolisten to, he uttered frequently the kind words, "Et jamais jen'ai tant aim‚ la vie! Jamais, jamais, la vie ne m'a ‚t‚ pluschŠre!"(317) How sweet to me were those words, which I thought--alas, how delusively--would soothe and invigorate recovery! The vivacity with which I exerted all the means in my power tofly from every evil prognostic, he was often struck with, andnever angrily; on the contrary, he would exclaim, "Comme j'admireton courage!"(318) while his own, on the observation, alwaysrevived. "My courage?" I always answered, "What courage? Am Inot doing what I most desire upon earth--remaining by your side?When you are not well, the whole universe is to me, there!" Soon after, nevertheless, recurring to the mournful idea everuppermost, he said, with a serenity the most beautiful, "Jevoudrois que nous causassions sur tout cela aveccalme, ---doucement, --cheerfully mˆme(319) as of a future voyage--as of a subject of discussion--simply to exchange our ideas andtalk them over. " Alas, alas ! how do I now regret that I seconded not thisproject, so fitted for all pious Christian minds, whether theirpilgrimage be of shorter or longer duration. But I saw him Page 427 I, oh, how ill! I felt myself well ; it was, therefore, apparentwho must be the survivor in case of sunderment; and, therefore, all power of generalizing the subject was over. And much andardently as I should have rejoiced in treating such a theme whenhe was well, or on his recovery, I had no power to sustain itthus situated. I could only attend his sick couch; I could only'live by fostering hopes of his revival, and seeking to make themreciprocal. During this interval a letter from my affectionate sisterCharlotte suggested our taking further advice to aid Mr. Hay, since the malady was so unyielding. /On January the 24th Mr. Tudor came, but after an interview and examination, his lookswere even forbidding. Mr. Hay had lost his air of satisfactionand complacency, Mr. Tudor merely inquired whether he should comeagain? "Oh, yes, yes, yes!" I cried, and they retired together. And rapidly I flew, not alone from hearing, but from forming anyopinion, and took refuge by the side of my beloved, whom I soughtto console and revive. And this very day, as I have since found, he began his Diary for the year. It contains these words:-- "Jamais je n'ai tant aim‚ la vie que je suis en si grand dangerde perdre; malgr‚ que je n'aye point de fiŠvre, ni le moindre mal… la tˆte; et que j'aye non seulement l'esprit libre, mais lecoeur d'un contentement Parfait. La volont‚ de Dieu soit faite!J'attends pour ce soir ou demain le resultat d'uneconsultation. "(320) PRESENTS FROM THE QUEEN AND PRINCEss ELIZABETH. On this same day Madame de Soyres brought me a packet from hermajesty, and another from the Princess Elizabeth. The kind andgracious princess sent me a pair of silver camp candlesticks, with peculiar contrivances which she wrote me word might amusethe general as a military man, while they might be employed bymyself to light my evening researches among the MSS. Of my dearfather, which she wished me to collect and to preface by amemoir. Her mother's offering was in the same spirit of benevolence - itwas a collection of all the volumes of "L'Hermite de Page 428 la Chauss‚e d'Antin, " with Chalmers's Astronomical Sermons, andDrake's two quartos on Shakespeare; joined to a small work ofdeeper personal interest to me than them all, which was a book ofprayers suited to various circumstances, and printed at hermajesty's own press at Frogmore. In this she had condescended towrite my name, accompanied by words of peculiar kindness. My poorami looked over every title-page with delight, feeling as I didmyself that the gift was still more meant for him than for me--orrather, doubly, trebly for me in being calculated to be pleasingto him!--he was to me the soul of all pleasure on earth. What words of kindness do I find, and now for the first timeread, in his Diary dated 2nd February! After speaking--h‚las, h‚las!--"de ses douleurs inouies, " (321) he adds, "Quelle ‚trangemaladie! et quelle position que la mienne! il en est une, peutˆtre plus ficheuse encore, c'est celle de ma malheureusecompagne; avec quelle tendresse elle me soigne! et avec quelcourage elle supporte ce qu'elle a … souffrir! Je ne puis quer‚p‚ter, La volont‚ de Dieu soit faite!"(322) Alas! the last words he wrote in February were most melancholy:--"20 F‚vrier, Je sens que je m'afaiblis horriblement--je ne croispas que ceci puisse ˆtre encore bien long. (323) ChŠre Fanny, cherAlex! God bless you! and unite us for ever, Amen!" Oh my beloved! Delight, pride, and happiness of my heart! May heaven in itsmercy hear this prayer! . . . THE GENERAL RECEIVES THE VISIT OF A PRIEST. In March he revived a little, and Mr. Tudor no longer denied mehope; on the 18th Alex came to our arms and gratulations on hisfellowship; which gave to his dearest father a delight the mosttouching. I have no Diary in his honoured hand to guide my narrative inApril; a few words only he ever wrote more, and these, afterspeaking of his sufferings, end with "Pazienza! "Page 429 Pazienza!"--such was his last written expression! 'Tis on the 5thof April. . . . On the 3rd of May he reaped, I humbly trust, the fair fruit ofthat faith and patience he so pathetically implored and sobeautifully practised. At this critical period in April I was called down one day toMadame la Marquise de S-, who urged me to summon a priest of theRoman catholic persuasion to my precious sufferer. I was greatlydisturbed every way; I felt in shuddering the danger sheapprehended, and resisted its belief; yet I trembled lest Ishould be doing wrong. I was a protestant, and had no faith inconfession to man. I had long had reason to believe that mybeloved partner was a protestant, also, in his heart ; but he hada horror of apostasy, and therefore, as he told me, would notinvestigate the differences of the two religions; he had besidesa tie which to his honour and character was potent andpersuasive; he had taken an oath to keep the catholic faith whenhe received his Croix de St. Louis, which was at a period whenthe preference of the simplicity of protestantism was notapparent to him. All this made me personally easy for him, yet, as this was not known, and as nothing definite had ever passedbetween us upon this delicate subject, I felt that he apparentlybelonged still to the Roman catholic church; and after manypainful struggles I thought it my absolute duty to let him judgefor himself, even at the risk of inspiring the alarm I so muchsought to save him! . . . I compelled myself therefore to tellhim the wish of Madame de S-, that he should see a priest. "Ehbien, " he cried, gently yet readily, "je ne m'y oppose pas. Qu'en penses tu?" I begged to leave such a decision wholly tohimself. Never shall I forget the heavenly composure with which my belovedpartner heard me announce that the priest, Dr. Elloi, was come. Cheerfully as I urged myself to name him, still he could butregard the visit as an invitation to make his last preparationsfor quitting mortal life. With a calm the most gentle andgenuine, he said he had better be left alone with him, and theyremained together, I believe, three hours. I was deeply disturbedthat my poor patient should be so long without sustenance ormedicine - but I durst not intrude, though anxiously I kept athand in case of any sudden summons. When, at length, the priestre-appeared, I foundPage 430 my dearest invalid as placid as before this ceremony, thoughfully convinced it was meant as the annunciation of his expectedand approaching departure. THE LAST SACRAMENT ADMINISTERED. Dr. Elloi now came not only every day, but almost every hour ofthe day, to obtain another interview; but my beloved, thoughpleased that the meeting had taken place, expressed no desire forits repetition. I was cruelly distressed ; the fear of doingwrong has been always the leading principle of my internalguidance, and here I felt incompetent to judge what was right. Overpowered, therefore, by my own inability to settle that point, and my terror lest I should mistake it, I ceased to resist ; andDr. Elloi, while my patient was sleeping from opium, glided intohis chamber, and knelt down by the bedside with his prayer bookin his hand. Two hours this lasted; but when the doctor informedme he had obtained the general's promise that he shouldadminister to him the last sacrament, the preparations were madeaccordingly, and I only entreated leave to be present. This solemn communion, at which I have never in our own churchattended with unmoistened eyes, was administered the sameevening. The dear invalid was in bed: his head raised withdifficulty, he went through this ceremony with spirits calm, anda countenance and voice of holy composure. FAREWELL WORDS OF COUNSEL. Thenceforth he talked openly, and almost solely, of hisapproaching dissolution, and prepared for it by much silentmental prayer. He also poured forth his soul in counsel forAlexander and myself. I now dared no longer oppose to him myhopes of his recovery - the season was too awful. I heard himonly with deluges of long-restrained tears, and his generousspirit seemed better satisfied in thinking me now --awakened to asense of his danger, as preparatory for supporting itsconsequence. "Parle de moi. " He said, afterwards, "Parle--et souvent. SurtoutÒ Alexandre; qu'il ne m'oublie pas!"(325) "Je ne parlerai pas d'autre chose!"(326) I answered . . . AndPage 431 I felt his tender purpose. He knew how I forbore ever to speak ofmy lost darling sister, and he thought the constraint injuriousboth to my health and spirits : he wished to change my mode withregard to himself by an injunction of his own. "Nous ne parleronspas d'autre chose!" I added, "mon ami!--mon ami!--je ne survivraique pour cela!"(327) He looked pleased, and with a calm thattaught me to repress my too great emotion. He then asked for Alexander, embraced him warmly, and halfraising himself with a strength that had seemed extinct but theday before, he took a hand of Alexander and one of mine, andputting them together between both his own, he tenderly pressedthem, exclaiming, "How happy I am! I fear I am too happy!" Kindest of human hearts! His happiness was in seeing us togetherere he left us his fear was lest he should too keenly regret thequitting us! At this time he saw for a few minutes my dear sister Esther andher Maria, who had always been a great favourite with him. Whenthey retired, he called upon me to bow my knees as he droppedupon his own, that he might receive, he said, my benediction, andthat we might fervently and solemnly join in prayer to AlmightyGod for each other. He then consigned himself to uninterruptedmeditation : he told me not to utter one word to him, even ofreply, beyond the most laconic necessity. He desired that when Ibrought him his medicine or nutriment, I would give it withoutspeech and instantly retire; and take care that no human beingaddressed or approached him. This awful command lasted unbrokenduring the rest of the evening, the whole of the night, andnearly the following day. So concentrated in himself he desiredto be!--yet always as free from irritation as from despondence--always gentle and kind even when taciturn, and even when intorture. When the term of his meditative seclusion seemed to be over, Ifound him speaking with Alexander, and pouring into the bosom ofhis weeping son the balm of parental counsel and comfort. Ireceived at this time a letter from my affectionate sisterCharlotte, pressing for leave to come and aid me to nurse mydearest invalid. He took the letter and pressed it to his lips, saying, "Je l'aime bien; dis le lui. Et Page 432 elle M'aime. "(328) But I felt that she could do me no good. Wehad a nurse whose skill made her services a real blessing ; andfor myself, woe, such as he believed approaching, surpassed allaid but from prayer and from heaven--lonely meditation. When the morning dawned, he ordered Payne to open the shuttersand to undraw the curtains. The prospect from the windows facinghis bed was picturesque, lively, lovely: he looked at it with abright smile of admiration, and cast his arm over his noble brow, as if hailing one more return of day' and light, and life withthose he loved. But when, in the course of the day, somethingbroke from me of my reverence at his heavenly resignation, "R‚sign‚?" he repeated, with a melancholy half smile; "mais comme‡ah!" and then in a voice of tenderness the most touching, headded, "Te quitter!" I dare not, even yet, hang upon my emotionat those words! That night passed in tolerable tranquillity, and without alarm, his pulse still always equal and good, though smaller. On Sunday, the fatal 3rd of May, my patient was still cheerful, and sleptoften, but not long. This circumstance was delightful to myobservation, and kept off the least suspicion that my miserycould be so near. THE END ARRIVES. My pen lingers now!-reluctant to finish the little that remains. About noon, gently awaking from a slumber, he called to me forsome beverage, but was weaker than usual, and could not hold thecup. I moistened his lips with a spoon several times. He lookedat me with sweetness inexpressible, and pathetically said, "Qui?"He stopped, but I saw he meant "Who shall return this for you?" Iinstantly answered to his obvious and most touching meaning, by acheerful exclamation of "You! my dearest ami! You yourself! Youshall recover, and take your revenge. " He smiled, but shut hiseyes in silence. After this, he bent forward, as he was supportednearly upright by pillows in his bed, and taking my hand, andholding it between both his own, he impressively said, "Je nesais si Page 433 ce sera le dernier mot--mais ce sera la derniŠre pens‚e--notrer‚union!"(329) Oh, words the most precious that ever thetenderest of husbands left for balm to the lacerated heart of asurviving wife! I fastened my lips on his loved hands, but spokenot. It was not then that those words were my blessing! Theyawed--they thrilled--more than they solaced me. How little knew Ithen that he should speak to me no more ! Towards evening I sat watching in my arm-chair, and Alex remainedconstantly with me. His sleep was so calm, that an hour passed inwhich I indulged the hope that a favourable crisis was arriving;that a turn would take place by which his vital powers would berestored; but when the hour was succeeded by another hour, when Isaw a universal stillness in the whole frame, such as seemed tostagnate all around, I began to be strangely moved. "Alex!" Iwhispered, "this sleep is critical! a crisis arrives! Pray God--Almighty God!--that it be fav--. " I could not proceed. Alex looked aghast, but firm. I sent him to call Payne. Iintimated to her my opinion that this sleep was important, butkept a composure astonishing, for when no one would give meencouragement, I compelled myself to appear not to want it, todeter them from giving me despair. Another hour passed ofconcentrated feelings, of breathless dread. His face had still its unruffled serenity, but methought thehands were turning cold; I covered them - -I watched over thehead of my beloved; I took new flannel to roll over his feet; thestillness grew more awful; the skin became colder. Alex, my dear Alex, proposed calling in Mr. Tudor, and ran offfor him. I leant over him now with sal volatile to his temple, hisforehead, the palms of his hands, but I had no courage to feelhis pulse, to touch his lips. Mr. Tudor came - he put his hand upon the heart, the noblest ofhearts, and pronounced that all was over! How I bore this is still marvellous to me! I had always believedsuch a sentence would at once have killed me. But his sight--thesight of his stillness, kept me from distraction! Sacred heappeared, and his stillness I thought should be mine, and beinviolable. I suffered certainly a partial derangement, for I cannot to thismoment recollect anything that now succeeded, with truth Page 434 or consistency; my memory paints things that were necessarilyreal, joined to others that could not possibly have happened, yetso amalgamates the whole together as to render it impossible forme to separate truth from indefinable, unaccountable fiction. Even to this instant I always see the room itself charged with amedley of silent and strange figures grouped against the walljust opposite to me, Mr. Tudor, methought, was come to drag me byforce away; and in this persuasion, which was false, I remembersupplicating him to grant me but one hour, telling him I hadsolemnly engaged myself to pass it in watching. . . . But why go back to my grief? Even yet, at times, it seems asfresh as ever, and at all times weighs on me with a feeling thatseems stagnating the springs of life. But for Alexander, ourAlexander!--I think I could hardly have survived. His tendersympathy, with his claims to my love, and the solemn injunctionsgiven me to preserve for him, and devote to him, my remnant oflife--these, through the Divine mercy, sustained me. May that mercy, with its best blessings, daily increase hisresemblance to his noble father. March 20, 1820. (288) M. D'Arblay, who was, it appears, still lame (boiteux) fromthe kick which he had received from a horse. -ED, (289) Half-pay. (290) The Comte de Narbonne and Comte F. De la Tour Maubourg. (291) He had studied mathematics in Paris according to theanalytical method, instead of the geometrical, which was at thattime exclusively taught at Cambridge. (292) See infra, p. 387-8. -ED. (293) It is not without pain that we find Fanny, in this letterdefending the harsh treatment accorded by the Bourbon king toLavalette and others of the partisans of the emperor. Lavalettehad served Napoleon both as soldier and diplomatist. At therestoration of the Bourbons in 1814 he retired from public life, but on the return of Napoleon he again entered the service of hisold master. He was arrested after the downfall of the emperor, tried for treason, and condemned to death. His wife implored theking's mercy in vain, Lavalette was confined in the Conciergerie, and December 21, 1815, was the day fixed for his execution. Theevening before that day his wife visited him in the prison. Heexchanged clothes with her, and thus disguised, succeeded inmaking his escape. His safety was secured by three Englishgentlemen, one of whom, Sir Robert Wilson, conveyed Lavalette, inthe disguise of an English officer, across the Belgian frontier. For this generous act the three Englishmen were tried in Paris, and sentenced, each, to three months' imprisonment. -ED. (294) At the sale of the collection, formed by Mr. Thrale, ofportraits of his distinguished friends, painted by one of themost distinguished of them-Sir Joshua Reynolds. The collectioncomprised portraits of Johnson, Burke, Dr. Burney, Reynolds, etc. Reynolds painted two portraits of Johnson for Mr. Thrale. Thatreferred to by Fanny is probably the magnificent portrait paintedabout 1773, and now in the National Gallery, for which Thralepaid thirty-five guineas. -ED. (295) "His wife and son. " (296) M. D'Arblay had been promoted by Louis XVIII. To the rankof Lieutenant-General. -ED. (297) "Certainly, and very certainly, my dearest, your beautifulstrictures upon the knowledge and the customs of the world wouldhave given another current to my ideas. " (298) "For the future. " (299) "He is still but a child. " (300) "That is not our case. "(301) "Will be quite another thing; but I think you aremistaken. " (302) This paragon of perfection, then, was an actual person, whom General d'Arblay was thinking of as a wife for his son!-ED. (303) Self-love. (304) Wounded. (305) Esther Burney. -ED. (306) Volumes of plays. -ED. (307) Stove. (308) "Make short work. " (309) "Gloomy discouragement. " (310) "Apathy. " (311) "You are quite mistaken. " (312) "You give it up, don't you?" (313) An interesting and humorous novel by the Rev. RichardGraves, the friend of Shenstone. -ED. (314) Blue stockings. (315) "So to speak. " (316) The Princess Charlotte, only child of the prince andprincess of Wales, was married at the age of twenty (May 2, 1816)to Prince Leopold of SaxeCoburg. On the 5th of November, 1817, she was delivered of a still-born child, and died a few hourslater. -ED. (317) "I have never loved life so much! Never, never has lifebeen dearer to me!" (318) "How I admire your courage!" (319) "I should like us to talk of all that with calmness, --mildly, --even cheerfully. " (320) "Never have I so much loved life as now that I am in sogreat danger of losing it ; notwithstanding that I have no fever, nor is my head in the least affected ; and not only is my mine]clear, but my heart perfectly at ease. God's will be done! Iawait the result of a consultation this evening or to-morrow. " (321) "Of his unheard-of sufferings. " (322) "What a strange malady! and what a position is mine! thereis one perhaps more grievous yet, that of my unhappy companion--with what tenderness she cares for me! and with what courage shebears what she has to suffer! I can only repeat, God's will bedone!" (323) "February 20. I feel that I am getting horribly weak--I donot think this can last much longer. "(324) "Well, I have no objection. What do you think of it?" (325) "Speak of me! Speak--and often. Especially to Alexander;that he may not forget me!" (326) "I shall speak of nothing else!" (327) "We shall speak of nothing else! my dear!--my dear!--Ishall survive only for that!" (328) "I love her well; tell her so. And she loves me. " (329) "I do not know if this will be my last word--but it will bemy last thought--our reunion. " Page 435 SECTION 27. (1818-40) YEARS OF WIDOWHOOD. DEATH OF MADAME D'ARBLAY'S SON. HER OWN DEATH. (Extracts from Pocket-book Diary. ) MOURNFUL REFLECTIONS. May 17, 1818. This melancholy second Sunday since Myirreparable loss I ventured to church. I hoped it might calm mymind and subject it to its new state--its lost--lost happiness. But I suffered inexpressibly; I sunk on my knees, and couldscarcely contain my sorrows--scarcely rise any more! but Iprayed--fervently--and I am glad I made the trial, howeversevere. Oh mon ami! mon tendre ami! if you looked down! if thatbe permitted, how benignly will you wish my participation in yourblessed relief! Sunday, May 31. -This was the fourth Sunday passed since I haveseen and heard and been blessed with the presence of my angelhusband. Oh loved and honoured daily more and more! Yet how canthat be? No! even now, in this cruel hour of regret andmourning it cannot be! for love and honour could rise no higherthan mine have risen long, long since, in my happiest days. June 3. -This day, this 3rd of June, completes a calendar monthsince I lost the beloved object of all my tenderest affections, and all my views and hopes and even ideas of happiness on earth. . . . June 7. -The fifth sad Sunday this of earthly separation! ohheavy, heavy parting! I went again to church. I think Page 436 it right, and I find it rather consolatory-rather only, for theeffort against sudden risings of violent grief at peculiarpassages almost destroys me; and no prayers do me the service Ireceive from those I continually offer up in our apartment by theside of the bed on which he breathed forth his last blessing. Ohwords for ever dear! for ever balsamic! "Je ne sais si ce sera ledernier mot--mais ce sera bien la derniŠre pens‚e--notrer‚union. " VISITS RECEIVED AND LETTERS PENNED. June 18. -My oldest friend to my knowledge living, Mrs. FrancesBowdler, made a point of admission this morning, and stayed withme two hours. She was friendly and good, and is ever sensible anddeeply clever. Could I enjoy any society, she would enliven andenlighten it, but I now can only enjoy sympathy!--sympathy andpity! Alex and I had both letters from M. De Lafayette. June 23. -To-day I have written my first letter since myannihilated happiness-to my tenderly sympathising Charlotte. Icovet a junction with that dear and partial sister for endingtogether our latter days. I hope we shall bring it to bear. With Alex read part of St. Luke. June 29. -To-day I sent a letter, long in writing and painfullyfinished, to my own dear Madame de Maisonneuve. She will be gladto see my hand, grieved as she will be at what it has written. With Alex read part of St. Luke. June 30-I wrote--with many sad struggles--to Madame Beckersdorff, my respectful devoirs to her majesty, with the melancholy apologyfor my silence during the royal nuptials of the Dukes ofClarence, Kent, and Cambridge; and upon the departure of dearPrincess Eliza, ' and upon her majesty's so frequent and alarmingattacks of ill health. With Alex read the Acts of the Apostles. . . . July 8. -I have given to Alex the decision of where we shalldwell. Unhappy myself everywhere, why not leave unshackled hisdawning life? To quit Bath--unhappy Bath!--he had long desired:and, finally, he has fixed his choice in the very capital itself. I cannot hesitate to oblige him. August 28. -My admirable old friend, Mrs. FrancesPage 437 Bowdler, spent the afternoon with me. Probably we shall meet nomore but judiciously, as suits her enlightened understanding, andkindly, as accords with her long partiality, - she forbore anyhint on that point. Yet her eyes swam in tears, not ordinary toher, when she bade me adieu. August 30. -The seventeenth week's sun rises on my deplorablechange! A very kind, cordial, brotherly letter arrives from mydear James. An idea of comfort begins to steal its way to mymind, in renewing my intercourse with this worthy brother, whofeels for me, I see, with sincerity and affection. Sept. 5. -A letter from dowager Lady Harcourt, on the visiblyapproaching dissolution of my dear honoured royal mistress !written by desire of my beloved Princess Mary, Duchess ofGloucester, to save me the shock of surprise, added to that ofgrief. Sunday, Sept. 6. -A fresh renewal to me of woe is every returningweek ! The eighteenth this of the dread solitude of my heart ;and miserably, has it passed, augmenting sorrow weighing it inthe approaching loss of my dear queen! Again I took the Sacrament at the Octagon, probably for the lasttime. Oh, how earnest were my prayers for re-union in a purerworld! Prayers were offered for a person lying dangerously ill. Ithought of the queen, and prayed for her fervently. Sunday, Sept. 27-This day, the twenty-first Sunday of mybereavement, Alexander, I trust, is ordained a deacon of theChurch of England. Heaven propitiate his entrance! I wrote to thegood Bishop of Salisbury to beseech his pious wishes on thisopening of clerical life. REMOVAL FROM BATH TO LONDON. Sept. 28. -Still my preparations to depart from Bath take up allof time that grief does not seize irresistibly; for, oh! whatanguish overwhelms my soul in quitting the place where last hesaw and blessed me!--the room, the spot on which so softly, soholily, yet so tenderly, he embraced me and breathed his last! Sept. 30. -This morning I left Bath with feelings of profoundaffliction - yet, reflecting that hope was ever open-- thatfuture union may repay this laceration--oh, that my torn soulcould more look forward with sacred aspiration! Then better wouldit support its weight of woe. Page 438 My dear James received me with tender pity; so did his good wife, son, and daughter. Oct. 6. -My dear Alexander left me this morning for Cambridge. Howshall I do, thus parted from both! My kind brother, and hisworthy house, have softened off the day much; yet I sigh forseclusion--my mind labours under the weight of assumedsociability. Oct. 8. I came this evening to my new and probably last dwelling, No. 11, Bolton-street, Piccadilly. My kind James conducted me. Oh, how heavy is my forlorn heart ! I have made myself very busyall day ; so only could I have supported this first opening to mybaleful desolation ! No adored husband! No beloved son ! Butthe latter is only at Cambridge. Ah! let me struggle to thinkmore of the other, the first, the chief, as also only removedfrom my sight by a transitory journey! Oct. 14. -Wrote to my--erst--dearest friend, Mrs. Piozzi. I cannever forget my long love for her, and many obligations to herfriendship, strangely as she had been estranged since hermarriage. Oct. 30. -A letter from my loved Madame de Maisonneuve, full offeeling, sense, sweetness, information to beguile me back tolife, and of sympathy to open my sad heart to friendship. Nov. 7. -A visit from the excellent Harriet Bowdler, who gave mean hour of precious society, mingling her commiserating sympathywith hints sage and right of the duty of revival from everystroke of heaven. Oh, my God, Saviour! To thee may I turn more and more. DEATH OF THE QUEEN: SKETCH OF HER CHARACTER. (331) Nov. 17-This day, at one o'clock, breathed her last theinestimable Queen of England. (332) Heaven rest and bless hersoul! Her understanding was of the best sort ; for while it endued herwith powers to form a judgment of all around her, it pointed outto her the fallibility of appearances, and thence kept her alwaysopen to conviction where she had been led by circumstances intomistake. >From the time of my first entrance into her household her mannerto me was most kind and encouraging, for she had Page 439 formed her previous opinion from the partial accounts of mybeloved Mrs. Delany. She saw that, impressed with real respectfor her character, and never-failing remembrance of her rank, shemight honour me with confidence without an apprehension ofimprudence, invite openness without incurring freedom, andmanifest kindness without danger of encroachment. . . . When I was alone with her she discarded all royal constraint, allstiffness, all formality, all pedantry of grandeur, to lead me tospeak to her with openness and ease; but any inquiries which shemade in our tˆte-…-tˆtes never awakened an idea of prying intoaffairs, diving into secrets, discovering views, intentions, orlatent wishes, or amuses. No, . She was above all such minorresources for attaining intelligence; what she desired to knowshe asked openly, though cautiously if of grave matters, andplayfully if of mere news or chit-chat, but always beginningwith, "If there is any reason I should not be told, or any thatyou should not tell, don't answer me. " Nor were these words ofcourse, they were spoken with such visible sincerity, that I haveavailed myself of them fearlessly, though never without regret, as it was a delight to me to be explicit and confidential inreturn for her condescension. But whenever she saw a questionpainful, or that it occasioned even hesitation, she promptly andgenerously started some other subject. Dec. 2. -The queen, the excellent exemplary queen, was this dayinterred in the vault of her royal husband's ancestors, (133) tomoulder like his subjects, bodily into dust; but mentally, notso! She will live in the memory of those who knew her best, andbe set up as an example even by those who only after her deathknow, or at least acknowledge her virtues. I heard an admirable sermon on her departure and her characterfrom Mr. Repton in St. James's church. I wept the whole time, asmuch from gratitude and tenderness to hear her thus appreciatedas from grief at her loss--to me a most heavy one! for she wasfaithfully, truly, and solidly attached to me, as I to her. Dec. 12. -A letter from the Duchess of Gloucester, (134) to Myequal gratification and surprise. She has deigned to answer mypoor condolence the very moment, as she says, that she Page 440 received it. Touched to the heart, but no longer with pleasurein any emotion, I wept abundantly. MADAME D'ARBLAY'S SON IS ORDAINED. Sunday, April 11, 1818. -This morning my dearest Alexander wasordained a priest by the Bishop of Chester in St. James's church. I went thither with my good Eliz. Ramsay, and from the gallerywitnessed the ceremony. Fifty-two were ordained at the same time. I fervently pray to God that my son may meet this his decidedcalling with a disposition and conduct to sanction its choice !and with virtues to merit his noble father's name and exemplarycharacter! Amen Amen! WITH some ROYAL HIGHNESSES. July 15-A message from H. R. H. Princess Augusta, with whom Ipassed a morning as nearly delightful as any, now, can be! Sheplayed and sang to me airs of her own composing-unconscious, medley reminiscences, but very pretty, and prettily executed. Imet the Duke of York, who greeted me most graciously- saying, asif with regret, how long it was since he had seen me. In coming away, I met, in the corridor, my sweet Duchess ofGloucester, who engaged me for next Sunday to herself. July 26. -Her royal highness presented me to the duke, whom Ifound well-bred, Polite, easy, unassuming, and amiable; kind, notcondescending. QUEEN CAROLINE. (Madame d"Arblay to Mrs. Locke. )Wednesday, June 7, 1820. . . . All London now is wild about the newly arrived royaltraveller. (135) As she is in this neighbourhood, our part of thePage 441 town is surprised and startled every other hour by the arrival ofsome new group of the curious rushing on to see her and her'squire the alderman, at their balcony. Her 'squire, also, nownever comes forth unattended by a vociferous shouting multitude. I suppose Augusta, who resides still nearer to the dame and the'squire of dames, is recreated in this lively way yet moreforcibly. The 15th of this month is to be kept as king's birthday at Court. Orders have been issued to the princesses to that effect, and totell them they must appear entirely out of mourning. They hadalready made up dresses for half mourning, of white and black. Ishould not marvel if the royal traveller should choose to enterthe apartments, and offer her congratulations upon the festival. (Madame d'Arblay to Mrs. Locke. )Elliot Vale, London, August 15, 1820. How long it seems--"Seems, madam! nay, it is!since I have heard from my most loved friend!--I have had, Page 442 however, I thank heaven, news of her, and cheering news, though Ihave lost sight of both her dear daughters. . . . We are all, and of all classes, all opinions, all ages, and allparties, absolutely absorbed by the expectation of Thursday. Thequeen has passed the bottom of our street twice this afternoon inan open carriage, with Lady Ann(336) and Alderman Wood!-How veryinconceivable that among so many adherents, she can find thatonly esquire!-And why she should have any, in her own carriageand in London, it is not easy to say. There is a universal alarmfor Thursday. (337) the letter to the king breathes battle directto both Houses of Parliament as much as to his majesty. Mr. Wilberforce is called upon, and looked up to, as the only man inthe dominions to whom an arbitration should belong. Lord JohnRussell positively asserts that it is not with Lord Castlereaghand the ministers that conciliation or non-conciliation hangs, but with Mr. Wilberforce and his circle. If I dared hope such wasthe case, how much less should I be troubled by the expectanceawakened for to-morrow--it is now Wednesday that I finish my poorshabby billet. Tremendous is the general alarm at this moment forthe accused turns accuser, public and avowed, of King, Lords, andCommons, declaring she will submit to no award of any of them. What would she say should evidence be imperfect or wanting, andthey should acquit her? It is, however, open war, and very dreadful, She really invokes arevolution in every paragraph of her letter to her sovereign andlord and husband. I know not what sort of conjugal rule will belooked for by the hitherto lords and masters of the world, ifthis conduct is abetted by them. . . . The heroine passed by the bottom of our street yesterday, in fullpomp and surrounded with shouters and vociferous admirers. Shenow dresses superbly every day, and has always six horses and anopen carriage. She seems to think now she has no chance but frominsurrection, and therefore all her harangues invite it. Oh Dr. Parr!--how my poor brother would have blushed for him! he makesthose orationsPage 443 with the aid of Cobbett!--and the council, I suppose. Of course, like Croaker in "The Good-natured Man" I must finish with "I wishwe may all be well this day three months!" GOSSIP FROM AN OLD FRIEND, AND THE REPLY. (From Mrs. Piozzi to Madame d'Arblay. )Bath, October 20. It was very gratifying, dear madam, to find myself so kindlyremembered, and with all my heart I thank you for your letter. Myfamily are gone to Sandgate for the purpose of bathing in thesea, this wonderfully beautiful October ; and were you notdetained in London by such a son as I hear you are happy in, Ishould wish you there too, Apropos to October, I have not yourfather's admirable verses upon that month ; those upon June, Isaw when last in Wales could you get me the others ? it would besuch a favour and you used to like them best. How changed is the taste of verse, prose, and painting since lebon vieux temps, dear madam! Nothing attracts us but whatterrifies, and is within--if within--a hair's breadth of positivedisgust. The picture of Death on his Pale Horse, however, is verygrand certainly-and some of the strange things they write remindme of Squoire Richard's visit to the Tower Menagerie, when hesays "Odd, they are pure grim devils, "--particularly a wild andhideous tale called Frankenstein. Do you ever see any of thefriends we used to live among? Mrs. Lambert is yet alive, and inprosperous circumstances ; and Fell, the bookseller inBond-street, told me a fortnight or three weeks ago, that MissStreatfield lives where she did in his neighbourhood, --Clifford-street, S. S. Still. Old Jacob and his red night-cap are the only live creatures, asan Irishman would say, that come about me of those you remember, and death alone will part us, -he and I both lived longer with Mr. Piozzi than we had done with Mr. Thrale. Archdeacon Thomas is, I think, the only friend you and I have nowquite in common : he gets well ; and if there was hope of hisgetting clear from entanglement, he would be young again, -he is avaluable mortal. Adieu! Leisure for men of business, you know, and business formen of leisure, would cure many complaints. Page 444Once more, farewell ! and accept my thanks for your good-naturedrecollection of poor H. L. P. (Madame d'Arblay. To Mrs. Piozzi-)Bolton-street, December 15, 1820. Now at last, dear madam, with a real pen I venture to answer yourkind acceptance of my Bath leave-taking address, of a date Iwould wish you to forget-but the letter is before me, and has noother word I should like to relinquish. But more of grief at theconsequence of my silence, namely your own, hangs upon thecircumstance than shame, for i have been so every wayunwell, -unhinged, shattered, and unfitted for any correspondencethat could have a chance of reciprocating pleasure, that perhapsI ought rather to demand your thanks than your pardon for thisdelay. I will demand, however, which you please, so you will buttell me which you will grant, for then I shall hear from youagain. I must, nevertheless, mention, that my first intention, uponreading the letter with which you favoured me, was to forward toyou the verses on October, of my dear father, which you honouredwith so much approbation . - but I have never been able to findthem, unless you mean the ode, written in that month, on theanniversary of his marriage with my mother-in-law, beginning:-- Hail, eldest offspring of the circling year, October! bountiful, benign, and clear, Whose gentle reign, from all excesses free, Gave birth to Stella--happiness to me. " If it be this, I will copy it out with the greatest alacrity, forthe first opportunity of conveyance. So here, again, like the dun of a dinner card, I entitle myselfto subjoin "An answer is required. " . . . You inquire if I ever see any of the friends we used to liveamongst :-almost none; but I may resume some of those old tiesthis winter, from the ardent desire of my son. I have, till verylately, been so utterly incapable to enjoy society, that I haveheld it as much kindness to others as to myself, to keep whollyout of its way. I am now, in. Health, much better, andconsequently more able to control the murmuring propensities thatwere alienating me from the purposes of life while yetliving, -this letter, indeed, will show that I amPage 445*restored to the wish, at least, of solace, and that the nativecheerfulness of my temperament is opening from the weight ofsadness by which I had long believed it utterly demolished. ButTime, " uncalled, unheeded, unawares, "-works as secretly uponour spirits as upon our years, and gives us as little foresightinto what we can endure, as into how long we shall exist. . . . MORE Gossip. (From Mrs. Piozzi to Madame d'Arblay. )Penzance, Thursday, January 18, 1821. Dear Madame d'Arblay was very considerate in giving me somethingto answer, for something original to say would be difficult tofind at Penzance; but your letter has no date, and I am not surethat Bolton-street is sufficient. Poor Mrs. Byron, who used toinhabit it, would have enjoyed her grandson's(338) reputation, would not she? had it pleased God to lengthen her life like thatof Mrs. Lambart, who died only last week, but a few days short ofher expected centenary-as did Fontenelle. You are trulyfortunate, dear madam, so was your father, in leaving thosebehind who knew and could appreciate your merits--every scrapwill properly be valued--but those verses belong not to theOctober I meant. . . . Mrs. Bourdois and her sisters--all true Burneys--will be angry Idon't live wholly at Bath, and their society would prove a strongtemptation; but Bath is too much for me, who am now unwilling toencounter either crowds or solitude: I feared neither forthree-score years of my life, and earnestly now join my toodisinterested solicitations to those of your son, that you willno longer bury your charming talents in seclusion. Sorrow, asDr. Johnson said, is the mere rust of the soul. Activity willcleanse and brighten it. You recollect the --'s; Fanny married Sir Something --, and is awidowed mother. The young man, of whom high expectations wereformed, took to the gaming table, forged for 5000 pounds, and wassaved out of prison by the dexterity of his servant:--a completecoup de th‚ƒtre. That I call sorrow scarce possible to be borne. You saw the story in the newspapers, but possibly were not awarewho was the sufferer. Will it amuse you to hear that "fine Mr. Daniel, " as you Page 446 used to call my showy butler, died an object of disgust andhorror, whilst old Jacob, with whose red nightcap you comicallythreatened the gay dandy--lived till the other day, and dying, left 800 pounds behind him! Such stuff is this world made of! The literary world is to me terra incognita, far more deservingof the name (now Parry and Ross are returned) than any part ofthe polar region; but the first voyage amused me most and when Ihad seen red snow, and heard of men who wanted our sailors tofly, because they perceived they could swim, I really thought ittime to lie down and die; but one cannot die when one will, so Ihave hung half on, half off, society this last half year; andbegin 1821 by thanking dear Madame d'Arblay for her good-naturedrecollection of poor H. L. Piozzi. ILL-HEALTH OF THE REV. A. D'ARBLAY. DR. BURNEY'S MSS. (Madame d'Arblay to Mrs. Piozzi. )Bolton-street, Berkeley-square, Feb. 6, 1821. You would be repaid, dear madam, if I still, as I believe, knowyou, for the great kindness of your prompt answer, had youwitnessed the satisfaction with which it was received ; even at atime of new and dreadful solicitude; for my son returned fromCambridge unwell, and in a few days after his arrival at home wasseized with a feverish cold which threatened to fasten upon thewhole system of his existence, not with immediate danger, butwith a perspective to leave but small openings to any future viewof health, strength, or longevity. I will not dwell upon thisperiod, but briefly say, it seems passed over. He is now, I thankheaven, daily reviving, and from looking like-not a walking, buta creeping spectre, he is gaining force, spirit, and fleshvisibly, and almost hour by hour; still, however, he requires theutmost attention, and the more from the extreme insouciance, frombeing always absorbed in some mental combinations, with which heutterly neglects himself. I am therefore wholly devoted towatching him. I am quite vexed not to find the right October. However, I do notyet despair, for in the multitude of MSS. That have fallen to mymournfully surviving lot to select, or destroy, etc. , chaos seemscome again; and though I have worked at them during the last yearso as to obtain a little light, it is scarcelyPage 447 more than darkness visible. To all the vast mass left to mydirection by my dear father, who burnt nothing, not even aninvitation to dinner, are added not merely those that devolved tome by fatal necessity in 1818, but also all the papers possessedfrom her childhood to her decease of that sister you so well, dear madam, know to have been my heart's earliest darling. Whenon this pile are heaped the countless hoards which my own nowlong life has gathered together, of my personal property, such asit is, and the correspondence of my family and my friends, andinnumerable incidental windfalls, the whole forms a body thatmight make a bonfire to illuminate me nearly from hence toPenzance. And such a bonfire might perhaps be not only theshortest, but the wisest way to dispose of such materials. Thisenormous accumulation has been chiefly owing to a long unsettledhome, joined to a mind too deeply occupied by immediate affairsand feelings to have the intellect at liberty for retrospectiveinvestigations. . . . A LAST GOSSIPING LETTER. (From Mrs. Piozzi to Madame d'Arblay. )Sion Row, Clifton, near Bristol, March 15, 1821. I feel quite happy in being able to reply to dear Madamed'Arblay's good-natured inquiries, from this, the living world. Such we cannot term Penzance--not with propriety--much like Omai, who said to you, "No mutton there, missee, no fine coach, noclock upon the stairs, " etc. ; but en revanche here is no Land'sEnd, no submarine mine of Botallock! What a wonderful thing isthat extensive cavern ! stretching out half a mile forward underthe roaring ocean, from whence 'tis protected only by a slightcovering, a crust of rock, which, if by any accident exploded, "Would let in light on Pluto's dire abodes, Abhorr'd by men, and dreadful ev'n to Gods. " Plutus, however, not Pluto, is professed proprietor - 'tis animmense vacuity filled with the vapours of tin and copper, belonging to Lord Falmouth and a company of miners, where sixtyhuman beings work night and day, and hear the waves over theirheads, sometimes regularly beating the Cornish cliffs, sometimestossing the terrified mariner upon the inhospitable shore; whereshipwreck is, even in these civilized days, considered as aGodsend. Page 448 I am glad I saw it, and that I shall see it no more. You wouldnot know poor Streatham Park. I have been forced to dismantle andforsake it; the expenses of the present time treble those of themoments you remember; and since giving up my Welsh estate, myincome is greatly diminished. I fancy this will be my lastresidence in this world, meaning Clifton, not Sion Row, where Ionly live till my house in the Crescent is ready for me. A highsituation is become necessary to my breath, and this air willagree with me better than Bath did. You ask how the Pitches family went on. Jane married a rough man, quarter-master to a marching regiment, and brought him threesons: the first a prodigy of science, wit, and manners; he diedearly: the second I know nothing of: the third, a model of graceand beauty, married the Duke of Marlborough's sister. Peggy isCountess Coventry, you know, and has a numerous progeny. Emily iswife to Mr. Jolliffe, M. P. For some place, I forget what. Penelope married Sir John Sheffield, but died before he came tothe title. I dined with them all last time I was in London, atCoventry House. Poor old Davies's departure grieved me, so didthat of good Mr. Embry; au reste, the village of Streatham isfull of rich inhabitants, the common much the worse for being sospotted about with houses, and the possibility of avoidingconstant intercourse with their inhabitants (as in Mr. Thrale'stime) wholly lost!. . . . . DEATH OF MRS. PIOZZI. May, 1821. --I have lost now, just lost, my once most dear, intimate, and admired friend, Mrs. Thrale Piozzi, (339) whopreserved her fine faculties, her imagination, her intelligence, her powers of allusion and citation, her extraordinary memory, and her almost unexampled vivacity, to the last of her existence. She was in her eighty-second year, and yet owed not her death toage nor to natural decay, but to the effects of a fall in ajourney from Penzance to Clifton. On her eightieth birthday shegave a great ball, concert, and supper, in the public rooms atBath, to upwards of two hundred persons, and the ball she openedherself. She was, in truth, a most wonderful character fortalents and eccentricity, for wit, genius, generosity, spirit, and powers of entertainment. Page 449 MRS. PIOZZI COMPARED WITH MADAME DE STAEL. She had a great deal both of good and not good, in common withMadame de Stael Holstein. They had the same sort of highlysuperior intellect, the same depth of learning, the same generalacquaintance with science, the same ardent love of literature, the same thirst for universal knowledge, and the same buoyantanimal spirits, such as neither sickness, sorrow, nor eventerror, could subdue. Their conversation was equally luminous, from the sources of their own fertile minds, and from theirsplendid acquisitions from the works and acquirements of others. Both were zealous to serve, liberal to bestow, and graceful tooblige; and both were truly highminded in prizing and praisingwhatever was admirable that came in their way. Neither of them was delicate nor polished, though each wasflattering and caressing; but both had a fund inexhaustible ofgood humour, and of sportive gaiety, that made their intercoursewith those they wished to please attractive, instructive, anddelightful and though not either of them had the smallestreal malevolence in their compositions, neither of them couldever withstand the pleasure of uttering a repartee, let it woundwhom it might, even though each would serve the very person theygoaded with all the means in their power. Both were kind, charitable, and munificent, and therefore beloved; both weresarcastic, careless, and daring, and therefore feared. Themorality of Madame de Stael was by far the most faulty, but sowas the society to which she belonged so were the general mannersof those by whom she was encircled. SISTER HETTY. (Madame d'Arblay to Mrs. Burney. )October 21, 1821. "Your mind, " my dearest Esther, was always equal to literarypursuits, though your time seems only now to let you enjoy them. I have often thought that had our excellent and extraordinary ownmother been allowed longer life, she would have contrived to makeyou sensible of this sooner. I do not mean in a common way, forthat has never failed, but in one striking and distinguished ;for she very early indeed began to form your taste for reading, and delighted Page 450 to find time, amidst all her cares, to guide you to the bestauthors, and to read them with you, commenting and pointing outpassages worthy to be learned by heart. I perfectly recollect, child as I was, and never of the party, this part of your education. At that very juvenile period, thedifference even of months makes a marked distinction in bestowingand receiving instruction. I, also, was so peculiarly backward, that even our Susan stood before me; she could read when I knewnot my letters. But though so sluggish to learn, I was alwaysobservant: do you remember Mr. Seaton's denominating me, atfifteen, "the silent, observant Miss Fanny"? Well I recollectyour reading with our dear mother all Pope's works and Pitt's"AEneid. " I recollect, also, your spouting passages from Pope, that I learned from hearing you recite them before--many yearsbefore I read them myself. But after you lost, so young, thatincomparable guide, you had none left. Our dear -father wasalways abroad, usefully or ornamentally; and, after giving you ayear in Paris with the best masters that could be procured, youcame home at fifteen or sixteen to be exclusively occupied bymusical studies, save for the interludes that were "Sacred to dress and beauty's pleasing cares:" for so well you played, and so lovely you looked, that admirationfollowed alike your fingers and your smiles : and the pianoforteand the world divided your first youth, which, had that exemplaryguide been spared us, I am fully persuaded would have left somefurther testimony of its passage than barely my old journals, written to myself, which celebrate your wit and talents as highlyas your beauty. And I judge I was not mistaken, by all in whichyou have had opportunity to show your mental faculties, i. E. Yourletters, which have always been strikingly good and agreeable, and evidently unstudied. When Alex comes home I will try to get "Crabbe, " and try to hearit with pleasure. The two lines you have quoted are verytouching. Thus much, my dear Etty, i wrote on the day I received your last;but . . . . November. -I write now from Eliot Vale, under the kind and elegantroof of sweet Mrs. Locke, who charges me with her mostaffectionate remembrances. Perhaps I may meet here with yourfavourite Crabbe: as I subscribe to no library, I know not howelse I shall get at him. I thank you aPage 451 thousand times for the good bulletin of your health, my dearestEsther; and I know how kindly you will reciprocate mysatisfaction when I tell you mine is inconceivably ameliorated, moyennant great and watchful care: and Alex keeps me to that withthe high hand of peremptory insistence, according to the taste ofthe times for the "rising generation" expects just as muchobedience to orders as they withhold. If you were to hear theyoung gentleman delivering to me his lectures on health, anddilating upon air, exercise, social intercourse, and gay spirits, you would be forced to seek a magnifying glass to believe thatyour eyes did not deceive you, but that it was really your nephewharanguing his mother. However, we must pass by the exhortingimpetuosity, in favour of the zealous anxiety that fires it up inhis animated breast. OFFICIAL DUTIES TEMPORARILY RESUMED. I was kept in town by a particular circumstance--I might say, like the play-bills, by particular desire; for it was a fairroyal personage who condescended to ask me to remit my visit toEliot Vale, that I might attend her sittings for her picture, hertwo ladies being at that time absent on cong‚. You may believehow much I was gratified, because you know my sincere and trulywarm attachment for all those gracious personages; but you may besurprised Your poor sister could now be pitched upon, where somuch choice must always be at hand, for whiling away thetediousness of what she, the princess, calls the odiousoccupation of sitting still for this exhibition - but the factis, I was able to fulfil her views better than most people could, in defiance of my altered spirits and depressed faculties, byhaving recourse simply to my memory in relating things I saw, orheard, or did, during the long ten years, and the eventful--addedone year more, that I spent abroad. Only to name Bonaparte inany positive trait that I had witnessed or known, was sufficientto make her open her fine eyes in a manner extremely advantageousto the painter. THE Rev. A. D'ARBLAY NAMED LENT PREACHER. (Madame d'Arblay to Mrs. Burney. )February 29, 1823. . . . . . Thanks for that kind jump of joy for the success of Alex atLee, and for my hopes from St. Paul's. You ask whoPage 452 named him preacher for the 5th Sunday in Lent: How could I omittelling you 'twas the Bishop of London himself? -This has beenbrought about by a detail too long for paper, but it is chieflyto my faithful old friends Bishop Fisher of Salisbury and theArchdeacon of Middlesex that we owe this mark of attention; forAlex has never been presented to the Bishop of London. MADAME D'ARBLAY'S HEALTH AND OCCUPATION. You still ask about my health, etc. I thought the good resultwould have sufficed ; but thus stands the detail : I was packingup a board of papers to carry with me to Richmond, many monthsnow ago, and employed above an hour, bending my head over thetrunk, and on my knees -when, upon meaning to rise, I was seizedwith a giddiness, a glare of sparks before my eyes, and atorturing pain on one side of my head, that nearly disabled mefrom quitting my posture, and that was followed, when at last Irose, by an inability to stand or walk. My second threat of seizure was at Eliot Vale, while Alex was atTunbridge. I have been suddenly taken a third time, in themiddle of the night, with a seizure as if a hundred windmillswere turning round in my head: in short, -I had now recourse toserious medical help, and, to come to the sum total, I am now somuch better that I believe myself to be merely in the common roadof such gentle, gradual decay as, I humbly trust, I have beenprepared to meet with highest hope, though with deepest awe--fornow many years back. The chief changes, or reforms, from which I reap benefit are, 1st. Totally renouncing for the evenings all revision orindulgence in poring over those letters and papers whose contentscome nearest to my heart, and work upon its bleeding regrets. Next, transferring-to the evening, as far as is in my power, allof sociality, with Alex, or my few remaining friends, or the fewhe will present to me of new ones. 3rd. Constantly going outevery day-either in brisk walks in the morning, or in briskjumbles in the carriage of one of my three friends who send forme, to a tˆte-…-tˆte tea converse. 4th. Strict attention to diet. . . . I ought to have told you the medical sentence upon which I act. These were the words--"You have a head over-worked, and a heartover-loaded. " This produces a disposition toPage 453 fulness in both that causes stagnation, etc. , with a consequentwant of circulation at the extremities, that keeps them cold andaching. Knowing this, I now act upon it as warily as I am able. The worst of all is, that I have lost, totally lost, my pleasurein reading! except when Alex is my lecturer, for whose sake myfaculties are still alive to what--erst! gave them their greatestdelight. But alone; I have no longer that resource; I havescarcely looked over a single sentence, but some word of itbrings to my mind some mournful recollection, or acute regret, and takes from one all attention--my eyes thence glance vainlyover pages that awaken no ideas. --This is melancholy in theextreme; yet I have tried every species of writing and writer--but all pass by me mechanically, instead Of instructing orentertaining me intellectually. But for this sad deprivation ofmy original taste, my evenings might always be pleasing andreviving--but alas! DESTROYED CORRESPONDENCE. (Madame d'Arblay to Mrs. Burney. )August, 1823. What an interesting letter is this last, my truly dear Hetty 'tisa real sister's letter, and such a one as I am at this timefrequently looking over of old times! For the rest of my life Ishall take charge' and save my own executor the discretionarylabours that with myself are almost endless ; for I now regularlydestroy all letters that either may eventually do mischief, however clever, or that contain nothing of instruction orentertainment, however innocent. This, which I announce to allmy correspondents who write confidentially, occasions myreceiving letters that are real conversations. Were I younger Ishould consent to this condition with great reluctance-or perhapsresist it : but such innumerable papers, letters, documents, andmemorandums have now passed through my hands, and, for reasonsprudent, or kind, or conscientious, have been committed to theflames, that I should hold it wrong to make over to any otherjudgment than My Own, the danger or the innoxiousness of any andevery manuscript that has been cast into my power. To you, therefore, I may now safely copy a charge delivered to me by UPour dear vehement Mr. Crisp, at the opening of my juvenilePage 454 correspondence with him, --"Harkee, you little monkey!--dash awaywhatever comes uppermost; if you stop to consider either what yousay, or what may be said of you, I would not, give one fig foryour letters. "--How little, in those days, did either he or Ifear, or even dream of the press! What became of letters, jadis, I know not; but they were certainly both written and receivedwith as little fear as wit. Now every body seems -obliged totake as much care of their writing desks as of their trinkets orpurses, -for thieves be abroad of more descriptions than belong tothe penniless pilferers. THE PRINCESS AND THE REV. A. D'ARBLAY. (Madame dArblay to Mrs. Locke. )11 Bolton-street, Nov. 1824. Now then for a more cheerful winding-up. I came from Camden Townvery unwillingly, --but Alex was called to Cambridge to an audit, and so I took that opportunity to make a break-up. But the daybefore I quitted it I received the highest resident honour thatcan be bestowed upon me--namely, a visit from one of my dear andcondescending princesses. She came by appointment, -yet herentrance was so quick that Alex had not time to savehimself. -However, she took the incident not only withoutdispleasure but with apparent satisfaction, saying she was veryglad to renew her acquaintance with him. She had not seen himsince the time of his spouting, "The spacious firmament onhigh"--"Ye shepherds so cheerful and gay, " etc. , --all of whichshe remembers hearing. Ah--I have never recollected till thisinstant that I ought to have gone to her the next day !-howshocking!--and now that I have the consciousness, I can donothing, for I am lame from a little accident. --Well!--she is allgoodness-and far more prone to forgive than I, I trust, am tooffend. A VISIT FROM SIR WALTER SCOTT. Although Madame d'Arblay's intercourse with society was nowusually confined to that of her relations and of old andestablished friends, she yet greeted with admiration and pleasureSir Walter Scott, who was brought to her by Mr. Rogers. SirWalter, in his Diary for Nov. 18th, 1826, thusPage 455 describes the visit:--"I have been introduced to Madame d'Arblay, the celebrated authoress of 'Evelina' and 'Cecilia, ' an elderlylady with no remains of personal beauty, but with a simple andgentle manner, and pleasing expression of countenance, andapparently quick feelings. She told me she had wished to see twopersons-myself, of course, being one, the other, George Canning. This was really a compliment to be pleased with--a nice littlehandsome pat of butter made up by a neat-handed Phillis of adairy-maid, instead of the grease fit only for cartwheels whichone is dosed with by the pound. "I trust I shall see this lady again. " MEMOIRS OF DR. BURNEY. >From the year 1828 to 1832 Madame d'Arblay was chiefly occupiedin preparing for the press the Memoirs of her father; and ontheir publication, she had the pleasure to receive letters fromDr. Jebb, Bishop of Limerick, and from Mr. Southey, the poet. Among the less favourable criticisms of her work, the Only onewhich gave Madame d'Arblay serious pain was an attack (in aperiodical publication) upon her veracity--a quality which, inher, Dr. Johnson repeatedly said "he had never found failing, "and for which she had been through life trusted, honoured, andemulated. DEATHS OF HESTER BURNEY AND MRS. LOCKE. (1835 to 1838. ) Madame d'Arblay's letters were now very few. - A complaint in oneof her eyes, which was expected to terminate in a cataract, madeboth reading and writing difficult to her. The number of hercorrespondents had also been painfully lessened by the death ofher eldest sister, Mrs. Burney, and that of her beloved friend, Mrs. Locke ; and she had sympathised with other branches of herfamily in many similar afflictions, for she retained in apeculiar degree not only her intellectual powers, but the warn)and generous affections of her youth. "Though now her eightieth year was past, " she took her wonted andvivid interest in the concerns, the joys, and sorrows of thoseshe loved. Page 456 DEATH OF THE REV. A. D'ARBLAY. At this time her son formed an attachment which promised tosecure his happiness, and to gild his mother's remaining dayswith affection and peace : and at the close of the year 1836 hewas nominated minister of Ely chapel, which afforded herconsiderable satisfaction. But her joy was mournfullyshort-lived. That building, having been shut for some years, wasdamp and ill-aired. The Rev. Mr. D'Arblay began officiating therein winter, and during the first days of his ministry he caughtthe influenza, which became so serious an illness as to requirethe attendance of two physicians. Dr. Holland and Dr. Kingstonexerted their united skill with the kindest interest; but theirpatient, never robust, was unable to cope with the malady, and onthe 19th of January, 1837, in three weeks from his first seizure, the death of this beloved son threw Madame d'Arblay again intothe depths of affliction. Yet she bore this desolating strokewith religious submission, receiving kindly every effort made toconsole her, and confining chiefly to her own private memorandathe most poignant expressions of her anguish and regret, as alsoof the deeply religious trust by which she was supported. The following paragraph is taken from her private notebook:-- "1837. -On the opening of this most mournful--most earthlyhopeless, of any and of all the years yet commenced of my longcareer! Yet, humbly I bless my God and Saviour, not hopeless; butfull of gently-beaming hopes, countless and fraught withaspirations of the time that may succeed to the dread inflictionof this last irreparable privation, and bereavement of my darlingloved, and most touchingly loving, dear, soul--dear Alex. " DEATH OF MADAME D'ARBLAY'S SISTER CHARLOTTE. Much as Madame d'Arblay had been tried by the severest penalty oflengthened days, the loss of those who were dearest to her, *onemore such sorrow remained in her cup of life. Her gentle andtender sister Charlotte, many years younger than herself, was toprecede her in that eternal world for which they were bothpreparing; and in the autumn of the year 1838, a short illnessterminated in the removal of that beloved sister. Page 457 ILLNESS AND DEATH OF MADAME D'ARBLAY. (1839-40. ) Madame d'Arblay's long and exemplary life was now drawing to aclose; her debility increased, her sight and hearing nearlyfailed her; but in these afflictions she was enabled to lookupwards with increasing faith and resignation. In a letter on the5th of March, 1839, she wrote the following paragraph, (340) whichwas perhaps the last ever traced by her pen :-- "March 5, 1839. "Ah, my dearest! how changed, changed I am, since the irreparableloss of your beloved mother! that last original tie to nativeoriginal affections! . . . "Wednesday. -I broke off, and an incapable unwillingness seized mypen; but I hear you are not well, and I hasten--if that be a wordI can ever use again--to make personal Inquiry how you are. "I have been very ill, very little apparently, but with nights ofconsuming restlessness and tears. I have now called in Dr. Holland, who understands me marvellously, and I am now much asusual; no, not that--still tormented by nights without repose--but better. "My spirits have been dreadfully saddened of late by whole days--nay weeks--of helplessness for any employment. They have butjust revived. How merciful a reprieve! How merciful IS ALL weknow! The ways of Heaven are not dark and intricate, but unknownand unimagined till the great teacher, Death, develops them. " In November, 1839, Madame d'Arblay was attacked by an illnesswhich showed itself at first in sleepless nights and nervousimaginations. Spectral illusions, such as Dr. Abercrombie hasdescribed, formed part of her disorder; and though after a timeDr. Holland's skill removed these nervous impressions, yet herdebility and cough increased, accompanied by constant fever. Forseveral weeks hopes of her recovery were entertained; herpatience assisted the remedies of her kind physician, and theamiable young friend, " who was to her as a daughter, " watchedover her with unremitting care and attention but she became moreand more feeble, Page 458 and her mind wandered ; though at times every day she wascomposed and collected, and then given up to silent prayer, withher hands clasped and eyes uplifted. During the earlier part of her illness she had listened withcomfort to some portions of St. John's Gospel, but she now saidto her niece, "I would ask you to read to me, but I could notunderstand one word--not a syllable! but I thank God my mind hasnot waited till this time. " At another moment she charged the same person with affectionatefarewells and blessings to several friends, and with thanks forall their kindness to her. Soon after she said, "I have had somesleep. " "That is well, " was the reply; "you wanted rest. " "Ishall have it soon, my dear, " she answered emphatically: andthus, aware that death was approaching, in peace with all theworld, and in holy trust and reliance on her Redeemer, shebreathed her last on the 6th of January, 1840 ; the anniversaryof that day she had long consecrated to prayer, and to the memoryof her beloved sister Susanna. (330) Her departure for Germany with her husband, the Prince ofHesse-Homburg, to whom she had been recently married. -ED. ' (331) From a Memorandum book of Madame d'Arblays. (332) Queen Charlotte died at the palace at Kew, in theseventy-fifth year of her age, after an illness of sixmonths. -ED. (133) At Windsor. -ED. (134) The Princess Mary, who had married her cousin, the Duke ofGloucester. -ED. (135) Queen Caroline. George IV. Was now king, George III. Havingdied January 29, 1820. A brief account of the life of QueenCaroline may be of assistance to the reader. Her father was theDuke of Brunswick: her mother a sister of George II. She wasborn in 1768, and married her cousin, the Prince of Wales, inApril, 1795, A speedy estrangement followed, brought about by theprince's intrigues, especially with Lady Jersey; and, after thebirth of their daughter, the Princess Charlotte, a totalseparation took place. In 1806 a charge of adultery was broughtagainst the Princess of Wales. The charge was declareddisproved, but colour had been given to it by the undoubtedlevity and imprudence of her conduct. In 1813 she wentabroad, and spent several years in travelling on the continent. Her behaviour during this period gave rise to fresh charges, fromwhich she has never been entirely cleared. She returned toEngland, June 6, 1820, came to London, and took up her residencein South Audley-street, at the house of her friend, AldermanWood, one of the members of Parliament for the city of London. Shortly before her return, the king's ministers had proposed tosettle upon her an annuity of -/'50, 000 for life, subject to theconditions of her continuing to reside abroad, and refrainingfrom assuming the title of queen. This proposal she instantlyrejected. She was received in England by the people withunbounded enthusiasm, to which the general discontent thenprevailing questionless contributed. A secret committee of theHouse of Lords, appointed to examine the charges against thequeen, having made their report, the government brought in a billto deprive her of the title of queen, and to dissolve themarriage. She was defended by counsel before the House of Lords, her leading advocate being Mr. (afterwards Lord) Brougham, TheMotion for the third reading of the bill passed (November 10) bya small majority, but the bill was immediately afterwardsabandoned by the government. This proceeding was generallyconsidered as tantamount to an acquittal, and was celebrated byilluminations and the voting of congratulatory addresses in allparts of the country. Queen Caroline did not long enjoy hertriumph. She presented herself at Westminster Abbey on theoccasion of the king's coronation, July 19, 1821, but was refusedadmission. Less than three weeks later she was dead. -ED. (336) Lady Ann Hamilton, who had formerly belonged to QueenCaroline's household, and had joined her in France, shortlybefore her return to England. -ED. (337) Thursday, August 17, was the day on which the queen's trialcommenced before the House of Lords. -ED. (338) Lord Byron, the poet. -ED. (339) Mrs. Piozzi died at Clifton, May 2, 1821, having survivedher second husband about twelve years. -ED. (340) To her niece Mrs. Barrett. INDEXAddington, Dr. , attends the king, ii. 262. Agujari, Lucrezia, vocalist, i. 162. Aiken, John, M. D. , iii. 179. Akenside, his "Pleasures of Imagination" discussed, ii. 193. Alexander I. Of Russia, iii. 289, 380. Allen, Mrs. S. , marries Dr. Burney, i, xviii. Althorpe, Lord, i. 176, Amelia, Princess, her childish ways and sports, 1. 349, 420, 437; her birthday, 364; 439, 442; ii. 34, 72, 75, 303, 309, 4o6; her AFFECtion for Fanny, 434; iii. 108, 138, 140, 156, 165; at Juniper Hall, 180. Amiens, Fanny's supper at, iii. 319. Ancaster, Duchess of, i. 350 355, 361, 365, 379, 385, 387, 391, 393-4, 396; ii. 10, 39, 85. Andrews, Miles, ii. 32. Angouleme, Duchess d', in London, iii. 276, 281, 291-3; conversation with Fanny, 295. Anstey, Christopher, "Evelina" attributed to, i. Xxv, 63. Anstruther, Mr. M. P. , ii. 97, 145, 345, 352. Antwerp, projected flight to, iii. 352. Arblay, general Alex. D', acount of, i. Xliv; at Juniper Hall, iii. 14, 28-9, 31, 33, 35, 40, 42, 43, 45; he and Fanny in love, 48, 50, 53, 55, 59, 62; named to Fanny, 67; 68, 74; his pursuits, 75, 85; at Windsor, 99, 102, 105-6; noticed by George III. , 109; plans Camilla Cottage, 115, 122-3, 154; his brother's death, 126; 135, 155-6, 171, 192; his French property, 194; goes to France, 198; his military appointment, 203-7; in Paris, 224-5; his old comrades, 227; his relatives, 234; his pension and property, 241-2; 255, 272, 287; returns to France, 289; enters Louis XVIII's bodyguard, 290; reinstated as maréchal de Camp, 291; his loyalty, 298; on the eve of the Hundred Days, 304-8, 311; reaches Belgium, 337; his mission to Luxemburg, 339, 342; his audience with Wellington, 342; his accident, 369; joined by Fanny at Treves, 370-7; returns to England, 383-5; his affairs and plans, 390; his failing health, 07, 400, 418, 422-3; presented to the queen, 424-6; gradually sinking, 426, 428-32; his death, 433. Arblay, Rev. Alexander d', iii. 82, 97, 121, 138, 143, 156-7; at Court, 163; presented to the queen, 167; his precocity, 177, 182, 192, 196; goes to France, 209; at Dunkirk, 252; returns to England, 263; secures a scholarship, 266, 270; at Cambridge, 272, 275, 293; maternal advice to, 365; his waywardness and prospects, 386, 390-6; his tutor, 401; his aversion to study, 403; his alarm for his mother, 415-8; at his father's death-bed, 430-3; at Cambridge, 436; ordained, 437, 440; in ill-health, 446; named Lent preacher, 451; with one Of the princesses, 454; his death, 456. Arblay, Madame d' (Frances Burney), announces her marriage, iii. 67-70; loses her stepmother, 71; her tragedy, "Edwy and Elgiva, " 72, 90-4; her novel, "Camilla, " 72, 89, 95-6, 98-112; birth of her son, 85; meets Mrs. Piozzi, 88; presents "Camilla" to royalty, 99-112; relative success of her novels, 114; her Camilla Cottage, 115, 122-3; her opinion of Burke, 126; visits the queen, 141; chats with the princesses, 138-40, 140, 153-4; indignant with Talleyrand, 153; her little boy at Court, 163; visits old friends, 172; with Princess Amelia, 180-3; her withdrawn comedy, "Love and Fashion, " 193; her anxiety for her husband, 205-7; goes to France, 208; to Paris, 215; her life there, 216; snubs Mdme. DeStael, 220; at the Tuileries, 224; sees Napoleon, 232; at Joigny, 234; at Passy and Paris, 240-7; her dangerous illness, 247, 252; her adventure at Dunkirk, 249; her return to England, 263; regrets Mdme. De Stael, 269; meets S. Rogers, 270; Wilberforce, 271; publishes "The Wanderer, " 272-3-5; loses her father, 273-4; is presented to Louis XVIII. , 276; joined by her husband, 289; returns to France, 292; meets Duchess d'Angouleme, 293; her flight from Paris, 301, 308-27; her efforts to communicate with her husband, 328; converses with Chateaubriand, 330-3; arrives at Brussels, 334; receives news of d'Arblay, 336-7, 338; her projected flight to Antwerp, 352; joins her husband at Treves, 370-7; returns to France, 378; her bon mot to Talleyrand, 382; return to England, 383; at Bath, 385; Ilfracombe, 398, 402; is caught by the rising tide, 4o6-18; at Bath, 418, 422-37; her husband's illness, 423; his death, 432; her years of widowhood, 434; her son ordained, 440; her correspondence with Madame PiOzzi, 443-8; her health and occupations, 452; is visited by Sir Walter Scott, 454; issues the "Memoirs of Dr. Burney, " 455; her son's death, 456; her illness and death, 458. Argand, Aimé, i. 405. Argy, Chevalier d', iii. 346. Arras, Fanny at, iii. 321. Arundel, Lord, i. 198. Auch, Countess d', iii. 313. Augusta, Princess, i. 339, 342, 360, 362; her birthday, 365, 375, 385, 387, 409, 439-40; ii. 9, 10; teased by Turbulent, 26; 32, 34-5, 50, 75, 155, 164, 2o6, 242, 270, 310, 347, 490; iii. 104, 107-8, 138, 146, 156-9, 164, 440. Aylesbury, Lord, ii. 332, 400; iii. 163. Aylsham, Fanny at, iii. 37. Bachmeister, Mlle. , successor to Mrs. Schwellenberg, iii. 142, 162, 163. Baker, Sir George, M. D. , attends the king, ii. 222-3, 231-2, 234-5, 250, 263. Banks, Sir Joseph, ii. 140-1. Bantry Bay Expedition, iii. 124. Barbauld, Mr. And Mrs. (the authoress), iii. 178. Barber, Frank, Johnson's negro, i. 287; iii. 129. Barclay & Perkins, origin of, i. 203. Baretti, Joseph, at Dr. Burney's, i. Xvi; admires "Evelina, " xxvii, 83; teases Charlotte Burney, 302; his wager, 302, 305;attacks Mrs. Piozzi, ii. 167, 176;tried for murder, 176. Barrett, Mrs. , i. Xi; iii. 457. Barrington, Lord, at Dr. Burney's, i. Xvii. Barry, Mr. , R. A. , at Dr. Burney's, i. Xvi; expelled the Academy, iii. 184. Bate, Henry, Rev. , of the Morning Post and Herald, i. 164. Bath, Fanny at, i. 165-197 423-9; iii. 385-98, 418, 422-37 Queen Charlotte at, iii. 420. Bath, Marquis an(l Marchioness of, ii. 330 ; their family, 331. Bath Easton, i. 174, 189. Batt, Mr. , ii. 83, 433. Battiscombe (royal apothecary), i. 293, 446 ; ii. 231, 233. Beauclerk, Topham and Lady Di. , i. 154, 231-2. Beauffiremont, Princess de, iii. 237. Beaufort, Duke of, ii. 291. Beauvau, Prince and Princess de, iii. 218, 224-5. Berry, Agnes and Mary, iii. 219. Bertie, Lady Charlotte, lady of the bedchamber, i. 365, 385, 390-3; ii. 39. Betterton, Miss, actress, iii. 149, 157. Bewley, Mr. , and Johnson's hearthbroom, i. Xvi. Birch, Selina, a prodigy, i. 150-3. Black Brunswickers, the, iii. 347. Blakeney, General, his disposition and conversation, i. 158-164. Blandford, Marquis of, i. 387. Blenheim, royal visit to, i. 397. Bligh, Captain (afterwards Admiral), ii, 350, 358. Blucher, Marshal, iii. 342, 345, 358, 364. Bolt Court, Johnson's home at, i. 95-7, 258, 283-8. Bonaparte, Jerome, iii. 367. Bonaparte, Louis, iii. 235. Bonaparte, Napoleon, and M. D'Arblay, i. , x1v; bon mot of, iii. 200; and d'Arblay, 207; at the Tuileries, 231; returns from Elba, 301, 314; persecutes Chateaubriand, 333; his last campaign, 293, 351, 353, 363, 365. Bookham, Fanny at, iii, 75, et seq. Boscawen, Hon. Mrs. , ii. 83, 291 iii. 98, 100, 133, 173. Boswell, James, i. 234-5, 319; his "Life of Dr. Johnson, " ii. 377, 400-2; his mimicry of Johnson, 432. Bouchier, Captain, i. 179-80, 185-9. Bouffiers-Rouvrel, Countess de, ii. 368. Bourget, Le, Fanny's halt at, iii. 315. Bowdler, Harriet, i. 190-1; iii. 386. Bowdlers, the, i. 194; ii. 424; iii. 386, 396, 401; the first chess-player in England, 405, 406. Boyd, Mr. And Mrs. , at Brussels, iii. 343, 352-3, 360. Boydell, Alderman, ii. 464. Bremyere, Mrs. , iii. 142, 161. Brighthelmstone (Brighton), Fanny at, i. 112, 133-7, 153-64, 197, 236-9-48. Brisvane, Captain, i. 185-8. Broglie, Marshal de, iii. 16; Madame de, iii. 16, 29, 39. Broome, Ralph, author of "Simkins' Letters, " iii. 133, 167, 176. Broome, Mrs. , see Burney, Charlotte. Brown, Fanny, an untidy flirt, i. 85-6, 138-9. Bruce, James, the traveller, i. Xvii; ii. 330. Brudenell, Miss, ii. 126. Brunswick, army of, iii. 347; Duke of, his death, 347, 351. Brussels, Fanny at, iii. 334; "Rule Britannia" at, 341-2; Fete-Dieu at, 344; the inquietude at, 346; plans for quitting, 350; aspect of, before and after Waterloo, 351-65. Bryant, Jacob, i. 402; his eccentric talk, ii. 22-3, 31, 72, 349, 405. Budé, General, i. 353, 355, 358, 365-6, 416-7, 421, 427, 440-1, 444; ii. 36, 47, 51, 213, 218, 224, 226, 228-9, 245, 341. Bulkley, Lord, ii. 347. Buller, Dean, ii. 321. Bunbury, Henry W. , ii. 51, 59, 140, 190-1, 195; Mrs. (Goldsmith's "Little Comedy"), i. 111. Burgoyne, General, ii. 120. Burke, Edmund, praises "Evelina", i. Xxvi, 94; slighted by Fanny, xxxvii; introduced to Fanny, 230; on "Cecilia, " 232, 252-4; on Fanny's Court appointment, 290;/ at the Hastings trial, ii. 92-3, 110, 112, 117; his speech against Hastings, 121, 128, 134; at the trial, 125-7, 129-30, 138, 145, 147, 345, 352, 355, 359-61, 363-4, 392, 438, 440, 445, 452; on the Regency Bill, 351; on the French Revolution, 371, 377; on Fanny's treatment at Court, 429; Reynolds's legacy to, 444; at Mrs. Crewe's with Fanny, 457-63; on Fox, 459; on Windham, 460; subscribes for "Camilla, " iii. 73; his death and funeral, 125. Burke, Mrs. Edmund, i. 252, ii. 457, 461. Burke, Richard, son of Edmund, i. 254, 259; ii. 101, 121, 456; iii. 44, 89. Burke, Richard, brother of Edmund, i. 229; ii. 101, 121, 457; iii. 82. Burke, William, i. 115-9. Burney, Charles, Mus. Doc. , his early life, marriage, position, and friends, i. Xiii-xvii; his second marriage, xviii; authorises the publication of "Evelina, " xxiv; peruses it, xxv, 65-8; appointed organist at Chelsea, xxxvii; takes Fanny to Streatham, 75; visits Reynolds, 115; meets Murpby, 129; visits Mrs. Paradise, 224; dines with Reynolds, 228; Visits Chesington, 233; chides Mrs. Thrale, 237; distressed at Crisp's death, 271; at Johnson's deathbed and funeral, 285-8; is commended by the queen, 295; misses a Court appointment, 323-6; is delighted at Fanny's appointment, xxxiii, 329; takes her to Windsor, 333; alluded to, 370, 415; his verses on the queen's birthday, ii. 9; is incensed at Fanny's condition, 65; is lampooned in the Probationary Odes, 145;George III's opinion of him, 291-2; mentioned, 356; his views respecting Fanny's resignation, 366, 368-70, 374, 376-7, 380, 386-7 [See also i. Xli-ii]; takes her home, 411; chats with Burke, 429; with Fanny, 430-32; meets the Burkes at Mrs. Crewe's, 456-62; Fox at the Literary Club, iii, 44; objects to Mdme. De Stael, 51; to Fanny's marriage, 65; loses his second wife, 71, 117-9; meets the Piozzis, 88; his "Life of Metastasio, " 89, 92, 103; attends Burke's funeral, 125; visits Etruria and Lichfield, 128; visits Herschel, 131, 184; his poetical history of astronomy, 143; his Chelsea apartments, 155, 165; his books, 173; converses with George III, 185, 193; dines with the Prince of Wales, 243; visits Bath, 244; elected a member of the French Institute, 247; is greatly aged, 265; his death, 249, 273; his portrait by Reynolds, 389; his papers, 447; his memoirs, 455. Burney, Mrs. , née Allen, wife of above, I. 60; visits Lowndes with Fanny, 79; dresses badly, 86; visits Reynolds, 113; her death, iii. 71, 117. Burney, Rev. Charles, D. D. , his birth and library, i. 60; attends Johnson's funeral, 288; at the Hastings trial, ii. 95, 100, 103, 391; mentioned, 375, 411; ii. 171; dines with the Prince of Wales, 243; meets Fanny on her return from France, 265; his school, 270, 272; buys his father's portrait, 389. Burney, Charles Rousseau ("Mr. Burney"), his parentage and mariiage, i. 59; toasts the author of "Evelina, " 72; referred to, iii. 397. Burney, Charlotte Anne (Mrs. Francis, afterwards Broome), account of, i. 60; describes her father's perusal of "Evelina, " 65-7, 198, 224; fragments of her journal, 254; teased by Baretti, 302; 415; ii. 102, 108, 145; at the Hastings trial, 345, 375; iii. 17; marries Ralph Broome, 133, 167; her death, 456. Burney, Edward, Fanny's cousin, artist, i. 60, 61, 233. Burney, Esther ("Hetty"), birth and marriage, i. 59; and "Evelina, " 64; ii. 350, 356; iii. 17, 397, 449, 455. Burney, Frances (Madame d'Arblay), Macaulay's acount of:-- her birth and education, i. Xiv-v; surroundings, xvii; appearance and opportunities, xviii; her Writings, first attempts, xviii; her Diary and Letters, xix, xxiii; "Evelina, " xxiii-vii; "The Witlings, " xxviii; "Cecilia, " xxix; "Camilla, " "Edwy and Elgiva, " x1v; "The Wanderers, " and the "Memoirs of Dr. Burney, " xlvi; qualities and blemishes of her writings, xlvii-lvii; her detractors and admirers, xxvi-vii; her presentation to George III. And Queen Charlotte, xxx; her appointment and life at Court, xxxi-v; her account of the royal visit to Oxford, xxxv; of the trial of Warren Hastings, xxxvi; of George III's illness, xxxviii; her last years at Court, illness and resignation, xxxix; her trip through the south-west of England, visit to juniper Hall, and marriage with General d'Ar. Blay, xliv; her departure for France, x1v; return to England and death, xlvi. Diary and Letters:-- Her account of "Evelina, " i. 61-74; visits the Thrales and meets Dr. Johnson and Seward, 75-8; interviews Lowndes, 79; is confused by the praise of Johnson and others, 83-91; meets Sir Joshua Reynolds, 92-5; Mrs. Montagu, 100; husbands suggested for her, 106; is kissed by Johnson, 109; visited by Dr. Francklin, 112; visits Reynolds, 113; meets R. B. Sheridan and his Wife, 123; meets Arthur Murphy, 129; purposes writing a play ("The Witlings"), 129, 133; at Brighton, 133; at Streatham, 137; sends "The Witlings" to Crisp, 145; her views of its fate, 146; visits Tunbridge Wells, 149; Brighton, 153, 236, 239, 248; is badly treated by the Cumberlands, 155; visits Bath, 165; her letters on the Gordon riots, 193; leaves Bath, 197; at Streatham, 203; attends Mrs. Paradise's rout, 224; meets Edmund Burke and Gibbon, 228; sits for her portrait, 233 her account of General Paoli, 234-5; of Miss Monckton's assembly, 248; at Mrs. Walsingham's, 256; meets Mrs. Siddons, 257; visits Johnson, 258; is Praised by Soames Jenyns, 261-2; loses her friend Crisp, 270-1; visits the Cambridges, 273-5;her friendship for Mrs. Locke, 277; her views on Mrs. Thrale's second marriage, 278-9; at Norbury with the Lockes, 280; her stormy interview with Lady F. , 282; her last chat with Johnson, 283; her account of his death, 285; her visits to Mrs. Delany, 265-70, 292; hides from the queen, 297; her first interview with the king and queen, 298; discusses literary matters with the king and queen, 316-21; is presented at Court, 322; is appointed a keeper of the robes, 327-32; her arrival and reception at Windsor, 333-8; looks on at the queen's toilet, 339; is visited by Court officials, 340; her daily routine, 345; prepares the queen's snuff, 348, 361; accompanies the Court to Kew, 349; is visited by Mrs. Warren Hastings, 352; on familiar terms with the princesses, 353; her account of an attempt against the king, 355; her bitter experience of Mrs. Schwellenberg begins, 359; is kissed by Princess Amelia, 365; is promised a gown from the queen, 368; defends Mrs. Hastings, 371; visits Nuneham and Oxford with the Court, 373; worries and difficulties of the excursion, 374, 382, 390, 393-4; her duties at Windsor and Kew, 399; reads to the queen, 403; repines at her Position, 403; discusses Mdme. De Genlis, 4o5; meets W. Herschel, 408, 444; cannot ask: a guest to dinner, 413; invites a wrong guest, 417 receives a lilac tabby from the queen, 421; is entrusted with the queen's jewels, 422; her tea-table worries, 425; obtains a holiday, 433 ; her verses on "The Greatcoat, " 424, 434; romps with Princess Amelia, 437; is too late to attend on the queen, 438; her present to Princess Augusta, 440; is taken ill, 445; in a predicament at St. James's, ii. 10-15; is worried by Turbulent, 16, 24-31, 47, 54, 57, 82, 214-5; is complimented in an epilogue, 32; is disappointed With Mrs. Siddons, 52; her resignation rumoured, 62; is persecuted by Mrs. Schwellenberg, 65; receives a gift from the queen, 72; discusses Johnson and Mrs. Thrale, 74; among her old friends, 82, 85; attends the Warren Hastings trial, 95-136, 143-9, 345-6, 352-5, 357-65, 370-3, 389-95, 437-47, 452, 455; at Egham races, 151; at Cheltenham with the Court, 154-9; her flirtation with Fairly, 159-61, 165, 168-9, 174, 177-87, 193-5, 197-9, 200-3, 204-6; meets Seward, 167, 170; meets Robert Raikes at Gloucester, 171; visits Tewkesbury, 191; is visited by Richard Burney, 192; is attacked with influenza, 195; visits Worcester, 199; is at Windsor again, 207; is twitted about Canon Shepherd, 209, 217; her introduction to Lalande, 210; is eyed curiously by the Prince of Wales, 211; is plagued by Mrs. Schwellenberg, 215-8;begins to write "Edwy and Elgiva, " 222; converses with George III. At the outset of his illness, 225-6; her anxiety for him and the queen, 230-2; attends the public prayers for his recovery, 250; is comforted by Pepys's prognostics, 251; leaves for Kew, 265-6; reports to the queen on the king's health, 270; is chased by the king in Kew Gardens; is kissed by him, 289; his strange talk to her, 290-2; her meetings with Fairly during the king's illness, 237, 239, 242, 244, 246, 248, 251, 253-64, 271, 275, 277, 279, 281, 297-8; Fairly's visits remarked on by the queen, 280, 282; Mrs. Schwellenberg's treatment of her during the king's illness, 246, 272-5, 295; sees the king recovered, 298-9, 300; her verses on his recovery, 303; her parting from Fairly, 303-4; meets Miss Fuzilier, 304; at Lyndhurst, 310; Southampton, 312; Weymouth, 313; Exeter and Saltram, 321; Plymouth, 323; Mount Edgecumbe, 327; meets Fairly again, 329; at Longleat, 330; Tottenham Court, 332; Windsor, 333; hears rumours of Fairly's marriage, 334, 340; in the crush at Covent Garden, 335; visited by Mrs. Fairly, 344, 373; reads Colman's plays to the queen, 347, 350; meets Madame PiOzzi, 355;her servant Columb, 367; meets James Boswell, 377; is mentioned in his "Johnson, " 401; helps the queen to write verses, 388; her desire to resign, 366, 368-70, 374-6, 379, 389; close of her Court duties, 401; her successor and pension, 403; her leave-takings, 4o5-8; travels through the south-west of England, 410; meets Georgiana, Duchess of Devonshire, 426-9; and Bishop Percy, 428; her literary recreation, 430; on Reynolds's blindness, 431; attends the queen, 434-7; chats with her and the king, 448; compliments the king on his birthday, 453; with the Burkes at Mrs. Crewe's, 456; visits Caen Wood, 464; her adventure at the Shakespeare gallery, 465; is invited to Arthur Young's, 468; stays there, iii. 17; at Aylsham, 37; Norbury Park, 43; meets Madame de Stael and other émigrés of juniper Hall, 44-61; falls in love with d'Arblay, 48, 59, 64; marries him, 67 (see Arblay, Madame d'). Burney, James (afterwards Admiral), his birth, voyages, marriage, and death, i. 59, 168, 173, 200; at Chesington, 436; at the Hastings trial, ii. 120, 122, 125, 129-39, 357-8, 438; his interview with the Earl of Chatham, 370; wants a ship, 356; mentioned, 350, 411; iii. 60. Burney, Mrs. James, i. 436. Burney, Richard, Fanny's uncle, i. 60. Burney, Richard, Fanny's cousin, i. 60; "Evelina" read to, 62; visits Fanny at Cheltenham, ii. 192. Burney, Richard Thomas, i. 60. Burney, Sarah Harriet ("Sally"), i. 60, 65, 333; ii. 357, 391, 411; iii. 17, 24, 72, 146. Burney, Susanna Elizabeth (Mrs. Phillips), her birth, marriage, and death, i. 60; 62-6, 65, 224, 270, 278, 280, 344, 403, 411, 415; her acquaintance with the emigres of juniper Hall, iii. 17, 28-38, 54, 56-61, 64; leaves for Ireland, 71, 121, 124; her death, 170, 188-91. Bute, Lady, ii. 69-70. Byron, Augusta, i. 169, 179, 181, 185-8; Captain George, 169, 173; Mrs. , i. 169; ii. 424; iii. 445. Caen-Wood, ii. 464-'Cagliostro, Count, i. 411. Calais, description of, iii. 211. Calvert, Dr. , i. 92-3. Cambaceres, iii. 231. Cambridge, Rev. George Owen, i. 258-9, 261-4, 273, 275. Cambridge, Miss, i. 327-30, 347; ii. 223, 271, 304, 344, 375, 411. Cambridge, Richard Owen, i. 258-9, 261-2, 273-5, 326; ii. 16, 83. "Camilla, " Madame d'Arblay's novel, i. X1v; Macaulay on, li-lv; iii. 72, 89, 95-6, 98-102, 107-12, 114; reviewed, 116. Camilla Cottage, iii. 115, 122-3, 135, 154, 157. Campbell, Lady Augusta, ii. 85. Camperdown, Duncan's victory off, iii. 140-3, 147-50. Campo, Signor del, ii. 36, 47. Canning, George, iii. 82-3. Carmichael, Miss, Johnson's Poll, i. 96-7. Caroline of Brunswick (Queen), iii. 440-3;Carter, Elizabeth, ii. 83, 279. Cator, Mr. , i. 210-13, 221. Cavendish, Ladies Georgiana and Harriet, ii. 425-6. "Cecilia, " Fanny's novel; price paid for, i. Xxiv, 254; its production, xxviii-ix, 202, 228; Macaulay's estimate of, xxxii, l-lv; praised by Burke, 232-3; extolled by the "old wits, " 251-4; eulogised by Soames jenyns, 261-3; discussed at Mrs. Delany's, 268-76; ii. 32, 176; iii. 114. Chamier, Anthony, M. P. , i. 148Chapman, Dr. , Vice- Chancellor at Oxford, ii. 386-7. Chapone, Mrs. (Hester Mulso), account Of, i. 265-70, 288; ii. 83, 321; iii. 172, 398. Charlotte, Princess, anecdotes of, iii. 145, 159, 290; her death, 419, 421. Charlotte, Queen, Macaulay's account of, i. Xxx-xxxii; in favour of Warren Hastings, xxxviii; her treatment of Fanny, xl, xli, xliii; generosity to Mrs. Delany, 291; inquisitive about Fanny, 294-5; meets her, 304-13; her disposition and manners, 314; chats about Mdme. De Genlis, Goethe, Klopstock, Milton, Wickliffe, and Roman Catholic superstitions, 319-21; on the Terrace at Windsor, 325; aPpoints Fanny a keeper of her robes, 327-32; receives her at Windsor, 335; ceremonial in her dressing-room, 339; Fanny's routine with, 345-8; er snuff, 348-9, 361; at a Drawing-room, 350, 369; at Kew, 351; her pet dog, 353; distressed by the attempt against the king, 355, 357-61, 367; promises Fanny a gown, 368; visits Nuneham, 374; Oxford, 385-95; Blenheim, 397; Fanny as her reader, 403; advises her concerning Mdme. De Genlis, 407; 416, 419, 420, 422; praised by Fanny, 424; cautions Fanny, 432; tired of her gewgaws, grants Fanny a holiday, 433; receives some verses from her, 424, 434; rebukes her, 439; 440, 442, 446 Dr. Burney's verses for, ii. 10; 22; at the play, 31; on the king's birthday, 33; with the Polignacs, 39; with the Duke of York, 49; 52, 85; with the Prince of Wales, 61, 63; her New Year gift to Fanny, 72; remarks on Dr. Johnson, 77-8; interested in the Hastings trial, 95, 119, 345, 361, 390-1, 395, 448; chats about Lady Hawke's novel, 150; visits Cheltenham, 155-7; her rooms there, 163; her selfishness, 181; remarks on Fairly, 185-7;visits Worcester, 199; on Fairly, 200, 205-6; returns to Windsor, 206; her Wit, 216; during the king's illness, 224-31, 234-6, 238-40, 242, 244, 246, 248-50, 252, 257-8, 262-3; at Kew with the king, 265, 269, 272, 276; remarks on Fairly's visits to Fanny, 280, 282, 285; her birthday, 281, 361; 292, 295 walks out with the king, 297-8; 300, 302; orders illuminations for the king's recovery, 303; holds a Drawing-room, 304; her poultry, 305; visits Lyndhurst, 310; Weymouth, 313, 315, 320-1, 323; Longleat, 330-3; on Fairly, 335; at the play, 335, 342; employs Fanny as reader, 347, 350; her treatment of Fanny, 366, 379- 89, 390, 401-2; her gift to Lord Harcourt, 388; grants Fanny a pension, 403-4, 405; takes leave of her, 408-9; attended by Fanny, 434-7; chats with Fanny, 447, 454-5; Fanny presents "Camilla: to, iii. 99, 103; gives Fanny fifty guineas, 106; has interviews with her, 141, 154; her bounties, 159; alarmed by a mad woman, 266, 278; visits Bath, 420; receives General d'Arblay, 425; her presents to Fanny, 427; her approaching dissolution, 437; her death, 438-9. Chateaubriand, F. R. De, iii. 330-3, 338; his wife, 331-2. Chatham, Pitt, Earl of, i. Xx; ii. 321; receives James Burney, 370. Chatre, Marchioness de la, iii. 10, 28, 35, 39, 53; Marquis de la, iii. 39. Chavagnac, Adrienne de, iii. 208. Cheltenham, royal visit to, ii. 154; the wells at, 164; the walks at, 173. Chesington, residence of S. Crisp, i. Xxii, 60; Fanny at, 64-75, 200, 233, 266, 270-1, 433 ; iii. 61-5. Chester, Porteus, Bishop of, his sermons, i. 313; his preferment, ii. 82. Chesterfield, Earl of, ii. 317, 346. Cheveley, Mrs. , i. 416, 439; ii. 36, 72. Chimay, Princess de, iii. 254. Cholmondeley, Mrs. , admires "Evelina, " i. Xxvii, 68, 94; meets Fanny, 114-20; her entertainment, 120-6;Cholmondeley, Mr. , i. 114; Fanny, i. 114-Claremont, Lady, ii. 97. Clarence, Duke of, see William, Prince. Clarges, Sir Thomas, i. 344. Clayton, Lady Louisa, i. 325, 342. Clerk, Mr. , apothecary, ii. 195. Clerke, Sir Philip Jennings, i. 127-8, 137-9, 194, 204-5; ii. 312. Clive, Kitty, i- 317. Collumpton Church, ii. 421. Colman, George, at Dr. Burney's, i. Xvi; his comedies, ii. 347-50. Cologne, iii. 373. Columb, Jacob, ii. 367. Condé, prince de, iii. 283, 329-30. Conway, General, ii. 23. Cooke, Kitty, i. 60, 108, 200, 233, 435; iii. 63. Cork, Lord, i. 228-9. Cotton, Captain, i. 173. Court (the), life of an attendant at, i. Xxxi, xxxiv; monotony of, Xxxv; Fanny's treatment at, xl-xliii ; 289-90; presentations at, 322-3;at Windsor, 333-49, 352-66, 400-47; at Kew, 349, 366, 422 at St. James's, 308, 350, 360. Royal birthdays at, 364 visits Nuneham, 374-85, 396;Oxford, 385-95; Blenheim, 397; equerries at, 429; routine at, 443; at St james's, ii. 9-15, 33-5, 62, 65, 85; at Windsor, 16-31, 35-53, 55-61, 72-81 ; at Kew, 50; at the play, 32; New Year's day at, 72; visits Cheltenham, 155; Worcester, 199; during the king's illness, at Windsor, 222-264; at Kew, 265-303; at Windsor, 303; in the New Forest, 311; at Weymouth, 313-21, 329; at Exeter and Saltram, 322-3; Longleat, 330; Tottenham Court, 332; Windsor, 333, 340, 373, 401; Kew, 407; St. James's, 304, 335, 345-73, 382, 396, 408. At Windsor, iii. 99-112, 185-7. Courtenay, Lord, ii, 420. Courtown, Lord, i. 366 ; ii. 155, 159, 162, 164, 165, 191, 199, 314, 323, 399; Lady, ii. 191, 263, 265, 274, 322; iii. 159, Coussmaker, Miss, i. 67. Coventry, Lady, and Crisp's "Virginia, " i. Xx-i. Crawford, Mr. , ii. 51. Crewe, John, first Lord, iii. 266; Mrs. , later Lady, i. 121; ii. 129-30, 138-9, 411, 456-68; iii. 73, 75, 77, 125-6, 129, 266-8, 277-88. Crisp, Anne, i. 26. Crisp, Samuel, his appearance and acquirements, i. Xix; his "Virginia, " xx, xxi; his misanthropy, xxii; his regard for Fanny; he condemns "The Witlings, " xxviii, 145-7; "Evelina" read to him, 64; he guesses the author, 70-1; learns the truth, 74-5; alluded to, 200, 233; his death, xxix, 238, 270-1; his remarks on letter writing, iii. 452. Critics, Macaulay on the, i. Xix. Croker, J. W. , twits Fanny, i. Xxvi. Crutchley, Mr. , M. P. , chats with Fanny, 1. 106-8, 201-23; at the Hastings trial, ii. 101-2, 114, 122; at Egham races, 151. Cumberland, Richard, i. Xxvi, 121, 156-8, 315-6; iii. 91-4; Mrs. , i. 154-6; Richard, the younger, i. 155-7. Cumberland, Ernest, Duke of, ii. 98; iii. 160. Cumberland, Lady Albinia, iii. 181. Cure, Mr. , i. 154-5. Damer, Hon. Mrs. , ii. 328; iii. 218. D'Arblay, see Arblay. Davenant, Mr. And Mrs. , i. 208-9. Delany, Dr. , i. Xxx, 264. Delany, Mrs. , account of, i. Xxx, 64; reads "Cecilia, " 252-3; Fanny's first Visit to, 265-70; royal generosity to, 290; visited by George III. And Queen Charlotte, 293; her intercourse with Fanny and the royal family, 324, 329-30, 334-44, 351-2, 355, 358-9, 363-6, 374, 401, 4o6, 416, 420, 422, 426-7, 439, 441-2; ii. 21, 32, 53, 61, 69, 72, 94; her death, 141-3; her marriage at Longleat, 330; judged by Burke, 460. Delap, Rev. John, D. D. , i. 139, 141, 150, 157, 160-1. Delawarr, Earl, ii. 321. Desmoulins, Mrs. , Johnson's "De Mullin, " i. 95-6, 258. Devonshire, Duke of, i. 248; ii. 410, 426-8; iii. 125; Georgiana, Duchess of, i. 2 15 ; ii. 410, 426-8. Dewes, Bernard, i. 295, 298-9, 440. "Diary and Letters of Madame d'Arblay, " original edition, i. Xi, xii, Xlv; origin of the, xiv, xxxiv. Dickens, Mrs. , i. 154. Digby, Colonel, Hon. Stephen, see Fairly. Dillon, Mdlle. Iii. 338. Dobson, Mrs. , authoress, i. 170. Dorset, Duke of, i. 121, 309. Douai, royalists at, iii. 324. Douglas, Archibald, ii. 222-3. Douglas, Captain, R. N. , ii. 316, 337. Douglas, Dr. , i. 445. Douglas, Lady Frances, ii, 222. D'Oyley, Sir John and Lady, ii. 169, 173-4. Drake, Sir Francis (royal steward), i. 363; ii. 420. Dudley, Sir H. Bate, see Bate. Dumouriez, General, iii. 54. Duncan, Admiral, his victory off Camperdown, iii. 140-3, 147-50. Duncannon, Lady, ii. 424. Dundas, Mr. (Sir David), ii. 375. Dunkirk, Fanny's adventure at, iii, 249; Spanish prisoners at, 257. Duras, Dowager Duchess de, iii. 295. Duras, Duchess de, iii- 336; Duke de, iii. 281-7, "Early Diary of Frances Burney, " i. Xv. "Edwy and Elgiva, " Fanny's tragedy, i. Xiv; ii, 222, 349; iii. 72, 90. Effingham, Lady, lady of the bed-chamber, i. 343, 351-2, 361, 439; ii. 8, 222, 225, 227. Egerton, Mrs Ariana, iii. 69. Egham races, Fanny at, ii. 151. Elizabeth, Princess ; her illness, i. 296-315; her intercourse with Fanny, 339, 355, 362, 365 374, 377-8, 385, 387, 423; ii. 10, 34-5, 39, 155, 164, 201, 205, 211, 296, 347, 404, 409, 436, 447, 454; iii. 100, 108; her marriage, 122 ; 140, 155, 158, 165, 266, 300, 346, 420-2, 427, 436. Ellenborough, Lord (Mr. Law), at the Hastings trial, ii. 437, 439-41, 443-Elliot, Sir Gilbert, ii. 97, 100, 118; iii. 80, 125. Embry, Mr. , i. 109-10. Emigrés, French, at juniper Hall, i. Xliv; iii. 11, 13, 15, 28-61. Erskine, Hon. Thomas, and Mrs. Siddons, i. 257; his egotism, his wife, ii. 462-4. "Evelina, " Fanny's novel ; its publication, i. Xxiv, 59, 61-2; its success, xxv, 115; its admirers, Nxvi; its style, liii, liv; Macaulay's estimate of, lvi; attributed to Anstey, 63; read to Crisp, 64-5; by Dr. Burney, 66-7; by Reynolds, 78; by Burke, 101; praised by Dr. Burney, Mrs. Cholmondeley, and Mrs. Thrale, 68-72; by Dr. Johnson, 71, 73, 76, 103; by Crisp, 74-5; by Seward, 77; by Sheridan, 124; Fanny's copy of, 69; price paid for the NIS. , 69; Reynolds sits up reading, 78; praised to Dr. Lort, 90-1; curiosity respecting its author, 92-5, 224-8; Cumberland's jealousy of, 158; quoted, 165; a child's enquiries about, 191-2; Paoli's View Of, 234; Windham's remarks on, ii. 144; Baretti on, 176; its sale, iii. 114. Exeter, royal visit to, ii. 321. Fairly, Colonel (Hon. Stephen Digby), i. Xxxix; ii. Attacks Mrs. Warren Hastings, 371; at Nuneham, with Fanny, 380, 383; at Oxford, 385, 390, 395-7; embroiled with Mrs. Schwellenberg, 400; looks melancholy, 445; loses his first wife, ii. 53; at Windsor, 75; his conversation, 78; likely to marry Miss Fuzilier, 126, 153, 177; 139; with Fanny, 154; at Cheltenham, 155, 158-9; his téte-a-téte with Fanny, 159-61 ; 162 ; talks, reads, and flirts with her, 165-8, 170, 174, 177-87, 193, 197, 199; ill with the gout, 171, 173; criticises the princes, 189; takes leave of Fanny, 200-3; his note to her, 204; discussed by his brother equerries, 213; with the Gunnings, 224; at Windsor during George III. 's illness, 228, 233, 236-7, 239-40; soothes the king, 241; on familiar terms with Fanny, 242-4-6-8; his remarks on the prayers for the king, 249; is anxious about the queen, 251; his intercourse with Fanny, 253-62, 264; arrives at Kew, 267; is concerned for the princesses, 271-2; disliked by Mrs. Schwellenberg, 275-7; with Fanny, 277, 279, 281; the queen remarks on his visits, 280-2; search for him, 285; 293-4; meets Windham, 297-8; takes leave of Fanny, 303-4 at Weymouth, 329; his marriage is rumoured, 334, 340; his strange wedding to Miss Fuzilier, 342-4; meets Fanny again, iii. 111. Fairly, Mrs. , ii. 344, 373; see also Fuzilier. Farnham, ii. 411. Farren, Miss, actresw, ii. 32; iii. 149. Fauconberg Hall, ii. 155, 157; Lord, ii. 155. "Female Quixote, The, " by Charlotte Lenox, i. Lvi. Ferrars, Lady De, i. 243-4; Lord De, i. 243. Ferry, Mr. , i. 178-9. Fielding, Henry, Dr. Johnson on, i. 91. Fielding, Sir John, i. 192-3. Fielding, Mrs. (woman of the bedchamber), i. 341-2, 351, 366; ii. 10, 304. Finch, Lady Charlotte (governess to the princesses), i. 341-2, 355-6; ii. 184, 252, 259, 265, 270, 274, 286. Finch, Miss, i- 06. Fisher, Canon, i. 338, 366, 427, 436-7; ii. 72, 75-6, 212-3, 342, 406; iii. 99, 120. Fisher, Kitty, and Dr. Johnson, i. 89. Fisher, Mrs. , ii. 72, 75; iii. 110. Fite, Madame de la, at Norbury Park, i. 280-1, 311-2; her intercourse with Fanny at Windsor, 337, 342, 355, 405-6, 409-16, 440 ; ii. 35, 405, 451. Fitzherbert, Mrs. , ii. 320. Flint, Bet, and Johnson, i. 87, 8. Foster, Lady Elizabeth, ii- 410, 427-8. Fouche, iii. 250. Fox, Charles James, at the Hastings trial, ii. 92, 93, 97, 125, 127-8, 134-5, 361, 392, 441; and the regency bill, 221; Burke on, 459, 463; and the execution of Louis xvi, iii. 44. France, revolution in, iii. 11, 42-4; Fanny goes to, 203; leaves, 263; returns to, 292-327, 378, 83; foreign occupation Of, 379-81. Francis, Clement, marries Charlotte Burney, i. 332 ; ii. 109, 123, 145, 345, 375, 380-1; iii. 38. Francis, Mrs. , see Burney, Charlotte. Francis, Mr. (Sir Philip), ii. 89, 109, 346. Francklin, Rev. Th. , D. D. , admires "Evelina, " i. Xxvii; interviews Fanny, 112. French Clergy Fund, the, iii. 77, 78. French, Miss, Burke's niece, ii. 457, 461;Fuller, Captain, and his soldiers, i. 135, 136, 137. Fuller, Mr. Rose, at Streatham, i. 92, 109, 139; his conversation, 148, 153. Fuzilier, Miss (Charlotte Gunning), ii. 126, 153, 177, 224, 255, 304, 340, 342-4, see Fairly, Mrs. Gabrielli, Signora, at Dr. Burney's, i. Xvii. Gage, Sir Thomas, ii. 450; iii. 23. Galway, Dowager Lady, i. 248, 254. Gaud (Ghent), Louis xviii. At, iii. 337, 349. Garrick, David, at Dr. Burney's, i. Xvi; his connection with Crisp's "Virginia, " xx, xxi; his love of flattery, 122; 317; reads "Lethe" to a royal audience, 349; his relatives, his monument at Lichfield, iii. 129. Garrick, Mrs. , ii. 82, 432. Garth, Major, ii- 374. Gast, Mrs. Sophia, Crisp's sister, i. 60, 71, 169, 233, 266; ii. 207. Genlis, Madame de, Fanny's acquaintance with, i. 316; her strictures on the English stage, 318 ; Queen Charlotte on her writings, 319;her position discussed, 405-8; in England as Mdme. Brulard, 449; iii. 22-4, 26-7. George III, his generosity to Mrs. Delany, i. 265, 291 ; visits her incog, 293; is inquisitive about Fanny, 294; his first interview with her, XXX, 298; his health, constitution, and diet, 299 ; questions Fanny about her writings, 301-4; is anxious she should continue writing, 310; his views on sermons, 313; his demeanour and character, 314, 318-9; takes tea at Mrs. Delany's, etiquette, 314-5; his opinions of Lord George Sackville, Voltaire, andRousseau, 316; of plays and players, 317; on the Terrace at Windsor, 325-6; in the queen's dressing-room, 339; at Kew, 349-51; an attempt on his life, 355-61; is cheered at Little Kew, 367; visits Nuneham, Oxford, and Blenheim, 373-98; protects Herschel, 408, 420; his equerries and his barley-water, 431 ; with his favourite daughter, Amelia, 437; visits Fanny during her illness, 446; converses with jacob Bryant, ii. 23; at the play, 31; his birthday, 33; plays backgammon, 37; with the Polignacs, 39; is joyful at the Duke of York's return, 49; criticises Goldsworthy's collar, 84; is amused by a caricature, 140; goes to Cheltenham, 155; his rooms there, 163; visits Cirencester, 171; Tewkesbury, 174; is solicitous about Fairly, 181-2, 186, 187-8; lodges the Duke of York in a portable wooden house, 190; has Fanny prescribed for, 196; visits Worcester, 199; returns to Windsor, 206; his illness, 220; is in an uncertain state, 222-4; his want of sleep, 294-6; progress of his illness, 226-8; first outburst of delirium, 228; delirious, 232; refuses to see Dr. Warren, 234; his night watchers, 238; is soothed by Mr. Fairly, 240; public prayers for, 248; is much worse, 250; certainty of his recovery, 251; his charter, 254, 256; reports upon his Condition, 257; requires stricter management, 259; is removed to Kew, 261, 265-6; state of his health, 268, 272, 273; takes his first walk, 274; his varying condition, 276-7; is treated by Dr. Willis, 274, 278; on the queen's birthday, 281; chases Fanny in Kew Gardens, 287-92; his gradual amendment, 294-8; is completely restored, 299; inquires after Fanny, 300; illuminations on his recovery, 303; his reception in the New Forest, 310; at LyDdhurst, 311; at Salisbury, Dorchester, Weymouth, 313; his sea baths, 314-6; his amusements at and excursions from Weymouth, 316-21; at Exeter and Saltram, 322-3; again at Weymouth, 329; at Longleat, 330; at Tottenham Court, 332; returns to Windsor, 333; at Covent Garden Theatre, 335-40; is interested in the Hastings trial, 395. 456 ; his birthday, 395, 399; reads Boswell's "Johnson, " 401-2; takes leave of Fanny, 409; meets her again; 436; chats with her, 448-9, 453-6; "Camilla" presented to him, iii. 100, 106-7; notices M. D'Arblay, 110; remarks on "Camilla, " 111; chats with Fanny, 145; with Dr. Burney, 185-7; is again mad; 252, 267; his death, 440. Ghent, see Gand. Gibbon eulogises Fanny, i. Xxvi; meets her, 228-32; reads "Cecilia, " 254; falls into the Thames, 275; admires Lady Elizabeth Foster, ii. 428. Girardin, Alexandre de, iii. 34. Glastonbury Abbey, ii. 421. Gloucester, Fanny at, ii. 171. Gloucester, Dr. Halifax, bishop of, ii. 173. Gloucester, Princess Sophia of, iii. 151. Gloucester, William Frederick, Duke of, iii. 151. Gloucester, William Henry, Duke of, ii. 98, 311 ; iii. 151. Goethe, his "Sorrows of Werther, " i. Xxxi, 320. Goldsmith, Dr. , his "Good-Natured man" and "The Rambler, " i. 83-4; his love for Mary Horneck, 111; his blundering ways, 232. Goldsworthy, Colonel (equerry), his character andhumour, i. 421; is offended with Fanny, 427; his duties and discomforts, 429-31; 440; his remarks on the Court concerts, 444; ii- 17; character and humour, 36-7; derides Col. Manners, 40-2; his huge coat collar, 84; at Worcester, 199 213 his breach of etiquette, 216, 218; during George III. S illness, 228-9, 231, 233, 235, 239, 261, 268; at Weymouth, 320, 323, 407. Goldsworthy, Miss (governess to the princesses), i. 2o2, 342, 365, 421; ii. 32, 231-5, 238-9, 240, 246, 252, 266; 270, 396, 406-7, 434. Gomme, Miss, Court attendant, ii. 34, 95, too, 270, 283, 295, 342, 405, 434 ; iii. 105. Gordon, Lord George, i. 192-5-7, 411; riots, i. 165, 192-9. Grafton, Duke of, iii. 27. Grattan, Henry, iii. 278, 281. Gregory, Miss, i. 100-3; ii. 424. Grenville, General, ii. 50, 218, 407. Greville, Colonel, equerry, see Wellbred. Greville, Fulk, patron ofDr. Burney, i. Xiii. Grey, Mr. , afterwards Earl, at the Hastings trial, ii. 93, 97; and Reform, 463; alluded to, iii. 389. Grub Street, Fanny's proposed visit to, i. 199. Guibert, M. , iii. 56. Guiche, Countess de, ii. 39. Guiffardiere, Rev. C. De, see "Turbulent. "Gunning, Charlotte, see Fuzilier. Gunning, Sir Robt. , ii. 126, 224, 342. Gwatkin, Mr. , i. 92, 119; ii. 444. Gwynn, Colonel (king's equerry), ii- 45, 47, 51, 155, 158-9, 162, 165, 173, 191, 247, 317, 407 ; Mrs. , see Horneck, Mary. Haggerdorn, Mrs. , keeper of the queen's robes, succeeded by Fanny, i. 329-31; ii. 24, 153. Hagget, Rev. Mr. , i. 379, 383, 385, 390, 396-8. Hales, Lady, on "Evelina, " i. 67. Halifax, Dr. , ii. 173. Hamilton, "Single speech, " i. 164. Hamilton, Sir William, ii. 38. Hamilton, Lady Ann, iii. 442. Hamilton, Mrs. , of Chesington, i. 60, 200, 233 ; iii. 63. Hampden, Mrs. , i. 250. Harcourt, Earl of, i. 122-3, 373-4, 379, 385, 387-8, 390, 400; ii. 185, 191, 388, 399; Countess of, i. 373, 377, 382, 385, 390, 393-4 ii. 185, 191. Harcourt, General, i. 380, 383, 385, 390; ii. 39, 244, 268; Mrs. , i. 396; ii. 39, 281. Harrington, Dr. , i. 171-8, 195. Harrington, Rev. Henry, i. 171-2, 177. Harris, James, i. 198; ii. 355-8. Hartington, Marquis of, ii. 426. Hastings, Warren, Fanny's opinions of, i. Xxxvii; Queen Charlotte and, xxxviii; meets Fanny, 326; his marriage, 327; the storm gathering round, ii. 44; résumé of his career, impeachment, trial, 86-94; Fanny's account of his trial, 95-139, 143-9, 345-6, 352-5, 357-65, 370-3, 389-95, 437-47, 452, 455-6; meets Windham, 373; is acquitted, iii. 92. Hastings, Mrs. Warren, account of, i. 327; visits Fanny, 352; is defended by her, 371, 372; mischief making about, 400; her money, ii. 92; her eccentricities, 451. Hawke, Lady, i. 225-8; ii. 150. Hawkesworth, i. Xvi. Hawkins, Mr. , surgeon of the royal household, ii. 235, 252, 260, 276. Hawkins the, ii. 200. Hayes, Mrs. , i. 443. Heberden, Dr. , king's physician, ii. 38, 226, 232, 234, 250; Mrs. And Miss, i. 360; ii. 39. Henderson, John, actor, i. 317. Henin, Princess d', iii, 56, 119, 136, 218-9, 222, 304-5, 307; her flight from Paris with Fanny, 311, 313-25, 330; at Brussels, 335, 343, 349, 304, 369, 370. Herschel, Miss, her comet, i. 409; ii. 58; iii. 131. Herschel, Dr. (afterwards Sir W. ), his telescope, i. 408-9, 445; discussed, ii. 37, 38, 40, 58; visited by Dr. Burney, iii. 131, 184-7. Hoole, John, i. 259, 285. Horneck, Catherine (Mrs Bunbury), "Little Comedy, " i. 111; ii. 51. Horneck, Mary (Mrs. Gwynn), the Jessamy Bride, i. 111, 114; ii. 45, 140, 317, 319;Mrs. , i. 111, 114. Howard, Lady Frances, i- 343-4, 352, 439 ; ii. 222. Howard, Sir George, i. 344, 352 ii. 222. Howe, Lord, and the I"Vengeur, " iii. 143. Huddisford, Mr. , his libel on Fanny, i. 113, 119. Hulin, General, iii. 224-5. Humphries, Miss, i. 62-3. Hundred Days, the, iii. 292-3. Huntingdon, i. 176, 180. Hurd, Bishop of Worcester, ii. 143, 199. Ilfracombe, Fanny at, iii. 398; her adventure at, 405-18. Illness of George III. , ii. 221-99. Imhoff, Madame, marries Warren Hastings, i. 327. Impey, Sir Elijah, ii. 89, 118. Inchiquin, Lord, iii. 125. Jacobi, Mdlle. , Fanny's successor, ii. 403-9, 434, 447; iii. 102, 106, 109, 142. Jaucourt, M. De, iii. 14, 29-32, 80. Jenyns, Soame, praises "Cecilia, " i. 261-3. Jerningham, his verses, i. Xxvii. Jervis, Admiral, iii. 143. Johnson, Commodore, i. 168. Johnson, Samuel, LL. D. , his friend- ship for Dr. Burney, i. Xvi; his opinion of "Evelina, " xxvi; his last message to Fanny, xxix; assists her with "Cecilia, " lii-lv; "Evelina" read to him, 71, 73;meets Fanny, 77;tails at Langton, 81;praises "Evelina, " 83, 90, 103; abuses the Scotch, 84-5; criticises Mrs. Burney's dress, 86; his stories of Bet Flint and Mrs. Pinkethman, 87-8; his household, 95; his opinion of Mrs. Montagu, 97-9; his compliments and bitter sayings, 104-6; kisses Fanny, 109; disputes with Sir P. J. Clerke, 128-9; advises Fanny respecting her play, 130-2; his account of the Gordon riots, 192; offers to take Fanny to Grub Street, 199; is appointed Thrale's executor, 202; intercedes for Mauritius Lowe, 209; his "Life of Lord Lyttelton, " 211-3; his sportive moods, 215; at Brighton, 238; on Gray and Pope, 240-1; his bluster at Lord de Ferrars, 243; is held in general dread, 247 attends Miss Monckton's assembly, 250-5; his inmates at Bolt Court, 258; is attacked by paralysis, 272; his failing health, 283; his death, 285-8; his letters to Mrs. Thrale, ii. 74; his intercourse with Windham, 103, 136-8; his life by Boswell, 377, 400; his monument at Lichfield, iii. 129; his portrait by Reynolds, 389; his view of sorrow, 445. Joigny, Fanny at, iii. 234. Jones, Colonel, commander at Brussels, iii. 350, 363. Jordan, Mrs. , ii. 79; in "The Country Girl, " 185, 190. Juniper Hall, French émigré's at, i. Xliv; iii. 11, 13, 15, 28, 61. Kaye, Captain, a beau, i. 245-6. Kenyon, Lord, ii. 393. Kew Palace, the Court at, i. 349-51, 367, 422; ii. 50-4; during the king's illness, 265-303; gardens of, Fanny chased by George III. , 287; Fanny's farewell to, 407. Klopstock, his "Messiah, " i. X1xi, 320. L'AEKEN, palace of, iii. 341. Ladd, Sir John, i. 107; Lady, i. 92, 109. Lafayette. Marquis de, iii, 12, 14, 29, 31, 86, 207, 426; Marchioness de, iii. 221; Mdlle. De, iii. 223. Lalande, J. J. De, ii. 208-11. Lally-Tolendol, Count de, iii. 13; his tragedy, 54; at Norbury, 118, 136; his qualities, 196-7; his flight from France, 312-4, 316-25, 328, 364, 369. Lamb, Lady Caroline, iii, 344. Lamballe, Princess de, ii. 50. Lameth, iii. 16, 319-20. Langton, Bennet, admires "Evelina, " i. Xxvii; his children and affairs, 81-2; at Johnson's deathbed, 286-8; his wife, ii. 83; mimics Johnson, 453. Lansdowne, Lord, his connection with Waller and Pope, i. Xxx; iii. 260. Latour-Maubourg, Victor de, iii. 273, 309. Lauriston, General, iii. 171, 227, 241. Lavalette, Marquis de, his escape, iii. 386-8. Law, Mr. , ii. 437, 439-41, 443. Lawrence, Sir Thomas, his precocity, i. 167. Lenox, Charlotte, her novel, "The Female Quixote, " i. Lvi; Johnson on, ii. 401. Lever, Sir Ashton, ii. 319. Levett, Robert, at Dr. Johnson's, i. 96. Liancourt, Duke de, iii. 13, 18-22, 24-8, 37. Lindsay, Lady Anne, i. 144. Linley, Eliza Anne, married to Sheridan, i. 111-12, 344 [see Sheridan, Mrs. ]. Linley, Miss, sister to Mrs. Sheridan, i. 121. Literary Club, The, meeting at, iii. 44. Lobau, Count, iii- 355. Locke, Mr. And Mrs. , of Norbury Park, i. 277, 280-2, 312, 344, 411; ii. 299, 305; iii. 16, 39, 59, 76, 81, 115, 120, 144, 154, 202, 252, 279, 384-5, 394, 441, 450, 455; William, son of, his artistic talent, i. 312-3 ; ii. 60, 141. London, Porteus, Bishop of, ii. 82. Long, Dudley, ii. 97. Longleat, the Court at, ii. 330; paintings at, 331. Lort, Michael, D. D. , and "Evelina, " i. 89, 90. Loughborough, Lord, ii. 462. Louis xvi, his trial and execution, iii. 42-4, 48, 53-4. Louis xviii. , his levee at Grillon's, 276; Fanny presented to, 284-8; his reception in Paris, 291, 310, 318; reaches Ghent, 337, 349; leaves for France, 364-5. "Love and Fashion, " Fanny's comedy, iii. 193. Lowe, Mauritius, painter, i. 209. Lowndes, J. , publishes "Evelina, " i. Xxiv, xxv, 59, 61, 69, 75; is interviewed by Fanny, 79. Luc, M. De, i. 443; ii. 9, 40, 48, 65-8, 70, 243-4, 262, 320, 391, 393, 396, 403, 435-6; Mrs de, i- 353, 363 ; ii. 405. Lucan, Lady, and Mrs. Siddons, i. 257-8. Lulworth Castle, The Court at, ii. 318; Fanny at, 320. Luxembourg, Duke de, iii. 345. Luxemburg, M. D'Arblay's mission to, iii. 339. Lyndhurst, the king at, ii. 311. Lyme, Fanny at, ii. 418. MacBean, Johnson's amanuensis, i. 96. Macartney, Earl, ii. 456. Macburneys, The, i. , xiii. Malesherbes, M. De, iii. 48, 54, Malouet, iii. 37. Manners, colonel, afterwards General (equerry), his eccentric sayings, ii. 36-8; his singing, 40-2; plagues Mrs. Schwellenberg, 42; his election beating, 213; alluded to, 152, 257; mystifies Mrs. Scbwellenberg, 305; as an M. P. , 351; mentioned, 393, 407; iii. 110-2. Mansfield, Lord, i. 192-3; ii. 464. Markham, Archbishop, ii. 105. Marlborough, Duke of, is colour-blind, i. 307; at Oxford, 386-7-9; Duchess of, 386-9. Marlborough, Sarah, Duchess of, anecdote of, i. 169. Mary, Princess, i. 353-4, 365; ii. 34, 39, 296, 396, 4o6, 434; iii. 138, 164, 266, 437-9, 440. Maurville, Mdme. De, iii. 334, 338, 348, 358, 364. Mazancourt, Count de, iii. 339-40, 377. Melbourne, Lord, iii. 243, 344. Menage, Countess de, ii. 413. "Memoirs of Dr. Burney, "'i. Xxiii, lv, 234; iii. 455. "Metastasio, Life of, " Dr. Burney's, iii. 89, 92, 103. Metcalf, Philip, M. P. , i. 244-5, 250. Mhaughendorf, Miss, i- 375-7, 381. Mickleham, Fanny at, iii. 46, 49, 50, 52; her marriage at, 67, 71. Miller, Sir John, i. 174, 180, 190, 221. Miller, Lady, "The Lady of the Vase, " i. Xxvii, 74-5, 180, 189, 221; ii. 424. Milton Abbey, ii. 417. Mithoff, Rev. Mr. , i. 418-20. Molloy, Capt. , R. N. , ii. 324-7. Molyneux, Sir F. , ii. 98. Monckton, Hon. Miss (afterwards Countess of Cork), meets Fanny, i. 248; her assembly, 249-56, 257; ii. 102-3. Monmoulin, Mdlle. , i. 365; ii. 34, 270, 282, 295-6, 342. Montagu, Duke of, i. 365, 440. Montagu, Elizabeth, née Robinson, her writings, conversation, and disposition, i. 97-8; Johnson's opinion of, 99; meets Fanny, 100-3; her opinion of Johnson's "Life of Lord Lyttelton, " 210; praises "Cecilia, " 251-2; Frances Reynolds's letter to, 260; mentioned, ii. 82, 424, 432, 450. Montagu, Frederick, M. P. , ii. 97, 291. Montmorency, Viscount de, iii. 14, 28, 39, 53, 80. Mordaunt, Lord, i. 134. More, Hannah, her flattery, i. 122, 185. Mornington, Lady, ii. 338. Mortemart, Mdlle. De, iii. 218, 224. Mount Edgecumbe, Lordand Lady, i. Xvii ; ii. 323, 327. Mount Edgecumbe, Fanny at, ii. 327. Mountmorres, Lord, ii. 336-9. Mulgrave, Lord, i. Xvii, 168, 172-4-6; ii. 83, 150; Lady, ii. 83, 150. Mulso, Hester, see Chapone. Murat, iii. 368. Murphy, Arthur, offers to assist Fanny Burney in writing a play, i. Xxviii, 130-1, 133, 134. Murray, Lady, iii. 419. Musgrave, Mr. , i. 221. Musters, Mrs. , a beauty, i. 154. Napoleon, see Bonaparte, Narbonne, Count de, in England, i. Xliv; iii. 29-30, 35-7, 40, 43, 45, 52, 54, 57, 82, 97; in France, 253; his death, 273. Necker, M. , iii. 36, 47, 52, 220, Netherlands, King and Queen of the, iii. 339, 365. Newcastle, Duke of, ii. 96. New Forest, the king's reception in the, ii. 310. Ney, Marshal, and his iron cage for Napoleon, iii. 304. Nicholson, Margaret, her attempt against the king, i. 355-61, 367. Nore, the, mutiny at, iii. 139. Norfolk, Duke of, iii. 158. North, Colonel, ii. 97. North, Lord, ii, 392. Nugent, Colonel, reads an address to Louis XVIII. , iii. 286. Nuneham, royal visits to, i. 374-85, 396 ; ii- 156. O'Connor, Arthur, iii. 166. Ogle, Mrs. , ii. 187-8; iii. 397. Omai, at Dr. Burney's, i. Xvii. Orange, Prince (William 1. Of Holland) and Princess of, iii. 147, 231, 339, 365. Orange, Prince of (William II. Of Holland), iii, 365. Ord, Mrs. , a "blue stocking, " i. 259, 261-3, 333-4; ii. 82, 150, 370, 378, 410-29. Orford, Lord, ii. 434-5. "Original Love Letters, " ii. 170, 182. O'Riley, Miss, a flirt, i. 205. Orleans, Mdlle d', ii. 449-50; iii. 23. Orloff, Count, at Dr. Burney's, i. Xvii. Otaheite, rubbing noses at, iii. 60. Owen, Miss, i. 13-5. Oxford, royal visits to, i. Xxxv-vi, 385-95; ii. 156. Pacchierotti, Gasparo, vocalist, i. XVii, 121, 224, 263-4; ii. 356. Paine, Thomas, in Suffolk, ii. 450. Palmer, Miss, and "Evelina, " i. 92-5; at Reynolds's, 113-20, 228-9, 256; at Cheltenham, ii. 169, 173-4, 411, 431; inherits from Reynolds, marries Lord Inchiquin, 444. Palmerston, Lord, i. 115-20. Pamela, Mdme. De Genlis's, ii. 449; iii. 23. Paoli, General Pasquale, pays homage to Fanny, i. Xxvii; her account OF, 23-5. Paradise, Mr. And Mrs. , i. 224-8. Paris, Fanny in, iii. 215; a parade in presence of the first Consul, 224 ; the influenza in, 239; on Napoleon's return from Elba, 305; Fanny's flight from, 308 et seq. ; her return to, 378. Paston Letters, " the, ii. 21-2, 150. Payne and Cadell, publish "Cecilia, " i. 254. Pembroke, Elizabeth, Countess of, i- 135-6, 178. Pepys, Lucas, Dr. , afterwards Sir, i. 239; ii. 83, 126; attends the king, 250-3, 262-4, 276, 284, 287; 432 ; iii. 177, 180. Pepys, W. W. , afterwards Sir, i. 148, 210-3, 239-41 ii. 82; iii. 177. Percy, Bishop, ii. 428; iii. 44. Perkins, Mr. , i. 197. Philidor, iii. 405. Phillips, Captain Molesworth, i. 60, 224, 231 ; ii. 357, 437; iii. 31, 35, 59, 71, 113; Mrs. , see Burney, Susanna. Pinkethman, Mrs. And Dr. Johnson, i. 88. Piozzi, Signor, marries Mrs. Thrale, i. 236-8, 278-9 ; iii. 88. Piozzi, Mrs. (Thrale), leaves England, i. 237; is gay and happy, 288 ; publishes her correspondence with Johnson, ii. 74-8, 101; is attacked by Baretti, ii. 167, 176; meets Fanny, 355; Dr. Burney, iii. 88; at Bath, 386, 396-7, 422; letters from, 443-5-7; her death, 448; compared with Mdme. De Stael, 449. Pitt, William, and the Regency bill, i, XXXi. , ii. 220-1; and the Hastings trial, ii. 93, 108, 135; at Windsor, 263; D'Arblay's application to, iii. 74; his "loyalty loan, " 121. Planta, Miss, English teacher and attendant to the princesses; her intercourse with Fanny, i. 291, 349-51, 361, 365, 374-87, 390-8, 415, 437, 443, 446 ; ii. 18, 30-3, 46, 65-9, 85, 139, 155-9, 161-8, 170, 180-5, 189-94, 200-1, 218, 224, 228, 242, 246, 262, 266-9, 283, 312-4-6, 322-3, 327-9, 335-8, 405, 434; iii. 99, 142, 155, 163. Plymouth dockyard, ii. 323. Polier, Colonel, a gourmand, i. 336, 340, 345. Polignac, Duke and Duchess de, at Windsor, ii. 39; the duchess and the Diamond Necklace scandal, ibid. Port, Miss, account of, i. 293; at Mrs. Delany'S, 293, 298, 300; serves tea to George III. , 315, 318; her intercourse with Fanny, 337-8, 342, 401, 418, 427, 440; ii. 36, 39, 40, 46, 49, 141-2, 150, 184-6, 192. Porteus, Dr. , Bishop of Chester, i. 313 ; ii. 82. Portland, Duchess of, née Harley, inquires after "Cecilia, " i. 251, 253; meets Fanny, 267-70; her death, 290; Duke of, iii. 125. Powderham Castle, ii. 420. Prémorel, M. De, iii. 340, 346, 377-8. Price, Major, equerry to George III, i. 338, 344, 352, 355, 358, 363-6, 371, 380, 383-7, 390, 396-7, 400, 416, 421; ii, 17, 45, 176, 203, 206, 341, 346, 436. Princes, the, see Cumberland, Gloucester, Dukes of, Wales, Prince of, William, Prince (Duke of Clarence), and York, Duke of. Princess Royal, Charlotte (Queen of Wiirtemburg), i. 339, 348, 354, 358, 365, 375, 377-8, 385, 387, 416, 420, 422-3; ii. 10, 35, 199, 216, 266, 340, 347, 409, 447; iii. 104, 107; is presented to her fiancé, 115; 122; her marriage, 138-9. Princesses, the, i- 353, 357, 365, 377, 389, 394; ii. 33, 224, 236, 265, 269-70, 271-2, 409, 455; their births, marriages, deaths, iii. 123; 451, 454; see also Amelia; Augusta, Elizabeth, Mary, Princess Royal, and Sophia. "Probationary Odes, " the, ii. 145. Prussia, King of, iii. 289. Quatre Bras, battle of, iii. 347, 351. Queen, the, see Charlotte, Queen. Raikes, Robert, founder of Sunday schools, ii. 171-3. Ramsden, Colonel, equerry, ii. 36-7, 407. Regency bill, the, i. Xxxix; ii. 220-1, 271, 276, 296-9. Regent, Prince, see Wales. Revolution, the French, résumé of the principal events of, from September 1791 to March 1793, iii. 11-5; the capture of the Bastille, 18; the invasion of the Tuileries, 19; the Duke de Liancourt's efforts at Rouen, 19-22; decrees against the emigres, 33; trial and execution of Louis XVI. , 42-4, 48; sieges of Dunk-irk and Toulon, 73-4, 78; the insurrection of the 18th Fructidor, 136; the "Vengeur" legend, 143; the peace of Amiens, 171; the revolutionary calendar, 214. Reynolds, Mrs. Frances, i. 78, 199, 260. Reynolds, Sir Joshua, at Dr. Burney's, i. Xvi; reads "Evelina, " 78; his meeting and intercourse with Fanny, 92-5, 106, 113, 123, 125-6; is derided by Blakeney, 160; his opinion of Lawrence, 167; his picture of Beattie, 184; introduces Fanny to Burke and Gibbon, 228-32; with Fanny at Miss Monckton's, 29-6, 259-60, 272; ii. 82; at the Hastings trial, 100; his failing eyesight, 333, 377, 411, 431-2; his death, his disposition of his fortune, 444 ; his paintings at Streatham, iii. 389. Rhamus, Mr. , ii. 11, 13. Rhine, scenery of the, iii, 377. Richmond, Reynolds's dinner party at, i. 228. Richmond, Duke of, ii. 321; Duchess of, her ball at Brussels, iii. 367. Riggs, Mrs. , i. 174, 189. Roberts, Dr. , provost of Eton, i. 401, 440. Roche, Mdme. De la, authoress, i. 409-16. Rochefoucault, Duke de la, iii. 22. Rogers, Samuel, iii. 177, 270, 454. Rothes, Lady, ii. 432; iii. 177, 180. Rousseau, J. J. , George III. On, i. Xxx, 316. Rovigo, Duke de, iii. 253. Royal, Princess, see Princess. Rumford, Count, iii. 133. Russia, Alexander 1. Of, iii. 289. Rutland, Mary Isabella, Duchess of, i. 215. Sackville, Lord George, R. Cumberland and George III. On, i. 315-6. St. Asaph's, Bishop of, 1, 229. St. James's Palace, Court drawingrooms at, i. 308, 350, 369 ; ii. 9-15, 33-5, 65-6, 85, 304, 335; the Court at, 345-73, 382, 396, 408 ; attempt against George III. Outside, i. 356. St. Just, de, iii. 35. St. Vincent, Lord, iii. 143. Salisbury, i. 197; Bishop of, i. 338; iii. 386, 437; Marquis of, ii. 292, 399. Saltram, the Court at, ii. 323. Sandwich, Earl of, i. Xvii. Savile, Sir George, i. 193. Saxe-Gotha, Duke of, i. 344. Saye and Sele, Lady, i. 225-8; ii. 151; Lord, i. 227-8. Schwellenberg, -, Mrs. , keeper of the queen's robes, Fanny's life with, i. Xxxiv, X1, x1ii, 290; knows Mrs. Hastings, 327-8; Fanny is introduced to her, 331-2, 335-40, 344-53, 355, 358; Fanny's bitter experience of her begins, 359 ; 360; invites herself to supper, 363 falls ill, 366; offers Fanny a gown from the queen, 367; in a Pet, 371; 373-4; makes mischief about Mrs. Hastings, 400; her tyranny, 404; 4113-5, 418-20 again ill, 421-2, 425; ii. 35; teased by the equerries, 42-6; suspicious of Turbulent, 46, 52, 56; her tyrannical ways, 62, 65-8; her capriciousness, 68-71 72; does Fanny a favour, 74-7; extremely ill, 84, 139; returns to Windsor, 152; Fanny's nickname for, 157; twits Fanny about marriage, 209, 217; rails at her, 215-6; angry with Goldsworthy, 217; again ill, 218; during the king's illness, 246-7, 253, 269, 271; her cruelty to Fanny, 272-4; her aversion for Fairly' 275; 282-3; George III. On her conduct, 290; accuses Fanny of visiting gentlemen, 295; in a temper, 301-2; is mystified, 304; rails at Fairly, 341; with Fanny, 347, 378-9, 381, 384-7; at Prince William's drinking bout, 396-8; is kissed by him, 400; her severity, 4o6; takes leave of Fanny, 407; with her again, 434-7; is all civility, 447; her death, iii. 142. Scott, Major, ii. 92, 105, 108. Scott, Sir Walter, iii- 454-5. "Seduction, " a play, ii. 32. Selwyn, Mr. , banker, i. 161-7. Sercey, Henriette de, ii. 449-50; iii. 23. Seward, William, i. Xxvii; his meetings with Fanny, 77-8, 89, 90, 109-10; and Sophy Streatfield, 132, 137, 142, 144-5; his ennui and suggested play, 142-4, 212-5, 218-22, 272; meets Fanny at Cheltenham, ii. 167, 170, 173; 411 ; iii. 174; his death, 183. Shakespeare, George III. 's opinions of, i. Xxx, 318; gallery, the, ii. 464. Shelley, Lady, i. 242. Shenstone, William, i. 212. Shepherd, Dr. A. , ii. 55, 208-11, 217. Sherborne Castle, ii. 319, 330. Sheridan, R. B. , eulogises Fanny, i. Xxvi; marries Miss Linley, 111-2, 344; meets Fanny, 123, 145; Mrs. Thrale's bon mot on, 223; at the Hastings trial, ii. 93, 139, 438. Sheridan, Mrs. , née Linley, her beauty, talents, marriage, i. 111-2; meets Fanny, 121, 344. Shipley, Georgiana, i. 229. Siddons, Mrs. , meets Fanny, i. 257 ; praised by George III. , 321; disappointing on near acquaintance, ii. 52; 317-9; buys Sadler-, ' Wells, iii. 149. Sidmouth, ii. 419. Sleepe, Esther, mother of Fanny Burney, her marriage and death, i. Xiv; Mr. , i. 199. Smelt, Mr. , Court official, i. 166, 324, 327-31, 437-9, 443-5; ii. 9, 15, 19, 20-2, 50, 83, 241, 243-4, 273, 276-7, 293, 297, 300, 303; Mrs. , i. 437-8, 440; ii. 241. Smith, Mr. Thrale's Cousin, i. 106-7. Smith, Charlotte, iii. 75. Sophia, Princess, and Mr. Webb's nose, 1. 311; 353, 365; ii. 34, 211, 309, 406, 434, 455; iii. 140, 156. Sophia of Gloucester, Princess, see Gloucester. Southwell, Lord, i. 209. Souza, Mdme. De, iii. 236-8. Spanish prisoners at Dunkirk, iii. 259; ship captured, 399. Spencer, Countess, i. 359; ii. 424-9; iii. 92; Earl, 424-7; the Ladies, i. 386-7-9; ii. 23. Stael, Madame de, in England, i. Xliv, iii. 14, 32; her first letters in English, 45; Fanny's admiration for, 46-8, 50; Dr. Burney's disapproval of, 51; defended by Fanny, 52, 55-61 80; snubbed by Fanny, 220; regretted by her, 269, 382; compared with Mrs. Thrale, 449; M. De, iii. 47. Stainsforth, Mrs. , ii. 399. Stanhope, Mr. , ii. 396. Stonehenge, ii. 417. Stormont, Lord, ii. 446. Strange, Sir Robert and Lady, iii. 173; Mary Bruce, i. 288. Streatfield, Mrs. , i. 149-50; Sophia, the weeping beauty, i. 132-3, 137-42, 144-5, 149-53, 219-21, 283; ii. 450; Iii. 405. Streatham, the Thrales' residence at, i. Xxvi; Fanny at, 75-8, 80, 110, 127-33, 137-49, 203-23; the paintings at, iii. 389; dismantled and forsaken, 448. Stuart, Lady, Louisa, ii. 69-70. Sunday schools established, ii. 171. Sydney, Lady, ii. 317. Talleyrand-PérigGord, Charles Maurice de, at juniper Hall, i. Xliv; iii. 14, 39; is found charming, 50; 53, 55; his letters of adieu, 83; Fanny indignant with, 153; her bon mot to, 382. Tallien, iii. 47. Taylor, Michael Angelo, ii. 97, 145, 452. Templetown, Lord and Lady, ii. 151. Tewkesbury, Fanny at, ii. 191. Thackeray, Mrs. , ii. 69. Thielky, Mrs. , i. 340, 345-6, 353, 374, 381-2. Thrale, Mr. , "Evelina" read to, i. 71; his character and acquirements, 75; 82, 86, 89, 90, 92, 96, 127-8, 132-4, 149, 153, 166, 168, 194-7; his death, 200-3. Thrale, Mrs. , hears about "Evelina, " i. Xxv, her character and disposition, xxvi; her second marriage, xxix admires "Evelina, " 68, 71-2; advises Fanny to write for the stage, 74, 129-31; her kindness to Fanny, 76, 80; praises "Evelina" to Dr. Lort, 90-1; to Mrs. Montagu, 102-5; makes sport with Reynolds, 92-5; converses with Johnson, 95-7; her opinions of him, 104-6; suggests some husbands for Fanny, 106-8; mentioned, 109-10; at Brighton with Fanny, 133, 136, 149, 339-48; with Sophy Streatfield, 132, 137-42; meets the Cumberlands, 156-8; converses with Blakeney, 159-63; at Bath with Fanny, 165-97; loses her husband, 200-3; banters Crutchley, 216-9; her opinion of Mrs. Siddons, 257; alluded to, 258, 262, 265; her fascination and Wit, 277; marries PiOzzi, 236-8. See Piozzi, Mrs. Thrale, Hester[" Queenie "], i. 75, 76, 92, 93, 101, 102, 133, 149, 157, 203, 206-8, 224, 240, 243, 284; Susan, i. 133, 240. Thurlow, Lord Chancellor, ii. 99, 104, 263. Tottenham Court, royal visit to, ii. 332; paintings at, 332-3. Toulon, siege of, iii. 73-4, 76, 78, 90. Tour du Pin, M. And Mdme. De la, iii. 335, 343, 349-50, 364. Tournai, Fanny arrives at, iii. 327. Travell, Beau, i. 76. Treves, Fanny's journey to, iii. 370-8. Tryon, Miss, ii. 304. Tucker, Dean, ii. 173. Tuileries, the, invaded, iii. 19; Bonaparte at, 224; Duchess d'Angouleme at, 294. Tunbridge, Fanny at, i. 112, 149. Turbulent, Mr. (Rev. C. De Guiffardi6re), account Of, i. 436; on Court routine, 443-4; introduces Wellbred to Fanny, ii. 16-21, 22; Worries Fanny, 24; teases Princess Augusta, 26-8; meets with a rebuff, 28-31; with the queen, 35; Mrs, Schwellenberg suspicious of, 46; annoys Fanny, 47-8; troublesome again, 54, 56-8; condemns himself, 80, 140-1; his troublesome pleasantries, 151-2, 208; rails at Fanny, 214-5; greatly altered, 222; during the king's illness, 244, 341, 400, 403. Turner, Sir G. P. , i. 227. Twining, Rev. T. , i. Xvi. Valletort, Lord, ii. 327-9. Vandamme, General, iii. 368. "Vengeur, " legend of the, iii. 143, Vernon, the Misses, i. 379, 383-7, 393, 396-8. Vesey, Mrs. , a bluestocking, i. 98, 122, 277. 373 ; ii. 97. Victoire, Madame, daughter of Louis XV. , iii. 36-7. Villiers, Hon. George, ii. 305, 307, 321. Vincent, Count de, iii. 351. Voltaire, George III. On, i. Xxx, 316. Waldegrave, Lady Caroline, i. 340; ii, 238, 322; Lady Elizabeth, i. 340, 365; ii. 39, 230-1, 233, 235, 238, 240, 246, 252, 259, 265-6, 275, 322. Wales, Prince of (George IV. ), i. 360; his good heart but suspicious conduct, 373; his mother's anxiety regarding him, 432; on bad terms with the king, ii. 10; with the Polignacs, 39; reconciled with his father, 40; With the Duke of York at Windsor, 49-51; with the queen, 61, 64; at the Hastings trial, 98; his animal spirits, 189; eyes Fanny curiously, 211; and the Regency bill, 221; at Windsor during the king's illness, 228, 235, 237, 239-41, 242-5, 263-4; goes to Kew, 266; at the play, 436; iii. 160; eulogised by Dr. Burney, 243; by the Duchess d'Angouleme, 299; his matrimonial troubles, 440-1. Wallace, Mr. , attorney-general, i. 205. Waller, Edmund, ii. 204. Wallis, Miss, iii. I49. Walpole, Horace, "Evelina" attributed to, i. 79; chats with Fanny, ii. 85, 411; iii. 219. See Orford. Walsingham, Mrs. , entertains Fanny, i. 256-7, 307; Lord, ii. 126. "Wanderer, The, " Mme. D'Arblay's novel, i. Xlvi, lv; iii. 248-9, 255, 272-3-5. Warren, Dr. , ii. 224-5, 245, 280; Lady, her tale of a dowry hunter, i. 242. Warton, Dr. Joseph, i. 123, 401-2, 422 ; ii. 32 1. Waterloo, battle of, iii, 357-68. Webb, Mr. , his huge nose, i. 311. Wedderburn, Alex. , see Loughborough. Wellbred (Greville), Colonel, king's equerry, introduced to Fanny, ii. 16-21; disposition, 36-8; derides Manners, 40-2, 43-4; Fanny's opinion of, 78-9; his powers of sight, 84, 139, 151-2; accompanies George III. To Kew, 268, 285, 291. Wellesley, Lady Anne, ii. 338. Wellington, Duke of, iii. 291; at Brussels, 341-2, 345, 355 at Waterloo, 360-7. Wells Cathedral, ii. 422. Wells, Mrs. , actress, ii. 318, 464-8. West, Benjamin, R. A. , ii. 35. Wesley, Charles, i. 344; iii. 183. Weston, Miss, i. 179-80. Weymouth, the Court at, ii. 313 Lady, i. 291 ; ii- 39, 155, 157, 162, 164, 185. See Bath, Marchioness of. Whalley, Mr. And Mrs. , i. 171-5, 180. Whitworth, Lord, iii. 240. Wieland, i. 409-10, 412. Wilberforce, W. , iii. 271, 442. Wilkes, John, ii. 339. William, Prince, Duke of Clarence, ii. 98, 189, 308; his partiality for champagne, 395-400; 436, 454; iii- 150, 421, 436. Williams, Anna, and " Evelina, " i. 75; Johnson's account of, 95; befriended by Mrs. Montagu, 98, 258. Willis, Dr. , senior, attends the king, ii. 274, 276-9, 290-1, 293, 296, 298; Dr. John, ii. 274, 278-9, 287, 291; Rev. Thos. , ii. 277, 278-9, 335, 346. Wilton, ii. 417; Lord Grey de, ii. 291. ''Winchester, ii. 413-7. Windham, William, M. P. , eulogises Fanny xxvi ; at the Hastings trial, ii. 102-119, 120-1, 123, 130-8, 144-9, 352-5, 357-65, 370-3, 390, 393, 438-43, 444-6, 447, 452; portrayed by Fairly, 297-8; urges that Fanny should resign, 376; judged by Burke, 460; 463; iii. 38; at the Literary Club, 44; at Burke's funeral, 125; his good breeding, 279. Windsor, Fanny at, i. )2-326, 331, 333; the Court at, 19-49, 352-66, 400-447; ii. 16-31, 35-53, 55-61, 72-81, 139, 207; ' during the king's illness, 222-64; 333, 340, 347, 373, 401; iii. 99-112, 185-7. "Witlings, The, " Fanny's comedy, Macaulay's account of, xviii; praised by Arthur Murphy, 133; its fate, 145-9. Worcester, royal Visit to, ii. 109. Wurtembvirg, Prince of, iii. 115, 156. Wycherley, W, ii. 460. Wynn, Sir Watkin, ii. 291. W---, Miss, a young infidel, i. 180-4, 190-1; ii. 191. York, Archbishop Markham of, ii. 105. York, Duchess of, ii. 436, 454; Iii. 111-2, 145. York, Frederick, Duke of, mentioned, i. 401, 417; returns to England, 49-51, 59, 63; with the queen, 85; at the Hastings trial, 98; his animal spirits, 189; at Cheltenham, 190; at Windsor during the king's illness, 226, 237; his father's favourite, 241, 242, 246, 251; his wife, 436; at the siege of Dunkirk, iii. 73; commander-in-chief, 11-2. Young, Arthur, ii. 449; invites Fanny to Bradfield, 468; with the Duke de Liancourt, iii. 17-28; Mrs. , ii, 449; Mary, ii. 449. Young, Profesor, iii. 176. TURNBULL AND SPEARS, PRINTERS, EDINBURGH,