Chapter 41

_Nov. 8._--This was the birth-day of the Princess Augusta, now eighteen. I could not resist this opportunity of presenting her one of my fairings, though I had some little fear she might think herself past the age for receiving birth-day gifts, except from the royal family: however they had arrived so seemingly a propos, and had been so much approved by the queen, that I determined to make the attempt. I took one of the work-boxes, and wrote with a pencil, round the middle ornament, “Est-il permis?”--and then I sent for Miss Makentomb, the princess's wardrobe woman, and begged her to place the box upon her royal highness's table.

At the queen's dressing-time, as I opened the door, her majesty said, “O, here she is!--Est-il permis?--Come, come in to Augusta!” and made me follow her into the next room, the door of which was open, where the princess was seated at a writing-desk, probably answering some congratulatory letters.

Immediately, in a manner the most pleasing, she thanked me for the little cadeau, saying, “Only one thing I must beg, that you will write the motto with a pen.”

The queen seconded this motion, smilingly repeating “Est-il permis?”

And afterwards, in the evening, the Princess Augusta came to the parlour, to fetch Mrs. Delany and Mrs. Smelt, and again said, “Now, will you, Miss Burney--will you write that for me with a pen?”

THE PLUMP PROVOST AND HIS LADY.

_Nov. 23._-In the evening I had a large party of new acquaintance; the provost of Eton, Dr. Roberts, his lady, Mr. Dewes, Miss Port, the Duke of Montagu, General Bude, Colonel Goldsworthy, and Madame de la Fite. The party had the royal sanction, I need not tell you. The king and queen are always well disposed to shew civility to the people of Eton and Windsor, and were therefore even pleased at the visit.

The provost is very fat, with a large paunch and gouty legs. He is good-humoured, loquacious, gay, civil, and parading. I am told, nevertheless, he is a poet, and a very good one. This, indeed, appears not, neither in a person such as I have described, nor in manners such as have drawn from me the character just given.

Mrs. Roberts is a fine woman, though no longer very young; she is his second wife, and very kind to all his family. She seems good-natured and sensible.

The evening turned out very well: they were so delighted with making a visit under the royal roof, that everything that passed pleased them: and the sight of that disposition helped me to a little more spirit than usual in receiving them.

The king came into the room to fetch Mrs. Delany, and looked much disappointed at missing her; nevertheless, he came forward, and entered into conversation with the provost, upon Eton, the present state of the school, and all that belongs to its establishment. His majesty takes a great interest in the welfare and prosperity of that seminary.

The provost was enchanted by this opportunity of a long and private conference, and his lady was in raptures in witnessing it. She concluded, from that time, that the door would never open, but for the entrance of some of the royal family; and when the equerries came, she whispered me, “Who are they?” And again, on the appearance of a star on the Duke of Montagu., she said, “Who can that be, Miss Burney?”

THE EQUERRIES VIOLATE THE RULES.

_Dec. 10._--Mrs. Delany, upon her recovery,[227] had invited the general and colonel to come to tea any evening. For them to be absent from the Lodge was contrary to all known rules; but the colonel vowed he would let the matter be tried, and take its course. Mrs. Delany hoped by this means to bring the colonel into better humour with my desertion of the teatable, and to reconcile him to an innovation of which he then must become a partaker.

On the day when this grand experiment was to be made, that we might not seem all to have eloped clandestinely, in case of inquiry, I previously made known to the queen my own intention, and had her permission for my visit. But the gentlemen, determining to build upon the chance of returning before they were missed, gave no notice of their scheme, but followed me to Mrs. Delany's as soon as they quitted their own table. I had sent to speak with General Bude in the morning, and then arranged the party: he proposed that the colonel and himself should esquire me, but I did not dare march forth in such bold defiance; I told him, therefore, I must go in a chair.

Mrs. Delany received us with her usual sweetness. We then began amusing ourselves with surmises of the manner in which we should all be missed, if our rooms were visited in our absence; and the colonel, in particular, drew several scenes, highly diverting, of what he supposed would pass,--of the king's surprise and incredulity, of the hunting up and down of the house in search of him, and of the orders issued throughout the house to examine to what bed-post he had hanged himself,--for nothing less than such an act of desperation could give courage to an equerry to be absent without leave!

Further conjectures were still starting, and all were engaged in aiding them and enjoying them, when suddenly a violent knocking at the door was followed by the most unexpected entrance of the Queen and the Princess Amelia!

Universal was the start, and most instantaneous and solemn the silence! I felt almost guilty, though not for myself: my own invariable method of avowing all my proceedings saved me from the smallest embarrassment on my own account in this meeting; but I was ashamed to appear the leader in a walk so new as that of leaving the Lodge in an evening, and to have induced any others to follow my example. The queen looked extremely surprised, but not at me, whom she knew she should encounter; and the two gentlemen hardly could settle whether to make humble explanations, or frank ridicule, of the situation in which they were caught. The queen, however, immediately put them at their ease, speaking to them with marked civility, and evidently desirous not to mar what she found intended as a private frolic, by any fears of her disapprobation.

She did not stay long, and they soon followed her to the Lodge. I also returned, and at night the queen owned to me, but very good-humouredly, that she had never been more astonished than at sight of the equerries that evening, and asked me how it came to pass.

“Mrs. Delany, ma'am,” I answered, “as she had taken away their tea-maker, thought she could do no less than offer them tea for once at her own table.”

And here the matter rested. But the enterprise has never been repeated.

MR. TURBULENT ON COURT ROUTINE.

_Dec. 13._--Our dinner was as usual, the Smelts, Messrs. de Luc and Turbulent, and Miss Planta; and the last only was gone when Mr. and Mrs. Hayes arrived. Mrs. Hayes is a really pretty as well as a pretty sort of woman,[228] and modest, well-bred, and sensible--and the afternoon, with the assistance of Mr. Smelt, did very well. They went early home, and both the Smelts were called to the queen's rooms; M. de Luc said he must retire to write down “some thoughts upon an experiment in his head,” and only Mr. Turbulent remained.

I found the partner of my confinement a man of uncommon capacity, but something there was hung about him, or hung about me, that prevented my assimilating-with him in anything. I saw he was endowed with great powers of agreeability; but I thought him obtrusive; and that alone is a drawback to all merit, that I know not how to pass over. He spoke his opinions with great openness, equally upon people and things; but it seemed rather from carelessness than confidence, and I 'know him too little to feel obliged in his trust.

The talk was chiefly upon mere general subjects, till by 'some accident the approaching birth-day of the queen was mentioned. He then inquired of me how I should like the state business of that day?

I told him I knew nothing of what I had to expect from it. He undertook readily to inform me. He said I was to be sumptuously arrayed, to sit in one of the best rooms at St. James's, and there to receive all the ladies of the queen in particular, and to do the honours to all the gentlemen also, belonging to the establishment.

I laughed, and told him he had painted to me a scene of happiness peculiarly adapted to my taste!

He did not concern himself to examine whether or not I was serious, but said he supposed, of course, the dignity of such a matter of state could not be disagreeable to me, and added, he should take the liberty to wish me joy of the day, among the rest, when it arrived, and to see me in my glory. After this he said, “You have now nearly seen the whole of everything that will come before you: in a very short time you will have passed six months here, and then you will know your life for as many, and twice and thrice as many years. You will have seen everybody and everything, and the same round will still be the same, year after year, without intermission or alteration.”

AN EQUERRY ON THE COURT CONCERT.

_Dec. 26_--Colonel Goldsworthy ran on, till General Bude reminded him it was time they should appear in the concert-room.

“Ay,” cried he, reluctantly, “now for the fiddlers! There I go, plant myself against the side of the chimney, stand first on one foot, then on the other, hear over and over again all that fine squeaking, and then fall fast asleep, and escape by mere miracle from flouncing down plump in all their faces.”

“What would the queen say if you did that?”

“O, ma'am, the queen would know nothing of the matter; she'd only suppose it some old double bass that tumbled.”

“Why, could not she see what it was?”

“O no! ma'am, we are never in the room with the queen! that's the drawing-room, beyond, where the queen sits; we go no farther than the fiddling-room. As to the queen, we don't see her week after week sometimes. The king, indeed, comes there to us, between whiles, though that's all as it happens, now Price is gone. He used to play at backgammon with Price.”

“Then what do you do there?”

“Just what I tell you--nothing at all, but stand as furniture. But the worst is, sometimes, when my poor eye-peepers are not quite closed, I look to the music-books to see what's coming; and there I read 'Chorus of Virgins:' so then, when they begin, I look about me. A chorus of virgins, indeed! why, there's nothing but ten or a dozen fiddlers! not a soul beside! it's as true as I'm alive! So then, when we've stood supporting the chimney-piece about two hours, why then, if I'm not called upon, I shuffle back out of the room, make a profound bow to the harpsichord, and I'm off.”

DR. HERSCHFL'S LARGE TELESCOPE.

_Dec. 30._--This morning my dear father carried me to Dr. Herschel. That great and very extraordinary man received us with almost open arms, He is very fond of my father, who is one of the Council of the Royal Society this year, as well as himself, and he has much invited me when we have met at the Lodge or at Mr. de Luc's.

At this time of day there was nothing to see but his instruments: those, however, are curiosities sufficient. His immense new telescope, the largest ever constructed, will still, I fear, require a year or two more for finishing, but I hope it will then reward his labour and ingenuity by the new views of the heavenly bodies, and their motions, which he flatters himself will be procured by it. Already, with that he has now in use, he has discovered fifteen hundred universes! How many more he can find who can conjecture? The moon, too, which seems his favourite object, has already afforded him two volcanoes; and his own planet, the Georgium sidus,[229] has now shewn two satellites. From such a man what may not astronomy expect, when an instrument superior in magnitude to any ever yet made, and constructed wholly by himself or under his own eye, is the vehicle of his observation?

I wished very much to have seen his sister, whose knowledge in his own science is so extraordinary, and who herself was the first discoverer of the last comet; but she had been up all night, and was then in bed.

Mr. Smelt joined us by appointment; and the Bishop of Worcester came afterwards, with Dr. Douglas, to whom I was then introduced. He is the famous editor, who has published and revised and corrected so many works: among them the last voyage round the world.

By the invitation of Mr. Herschel, I now took a walk which will sound to you rather strange: it was through his telescope and it held me quite upright, and without the least inconvenience; so would it have done had I been dressed in feathers and a bell hoop--such is its circumference. Mr. Smelt led the way, walking also upright; and my father followed. After we were gone, the bishop and Dr. Douglas were tempted, for its oddity, to make the same promenade.

ILLNESS, AND SOME REFLECTIONS IT GAVE RISE TO.

_Wednesday, Jan. 10, 1787._--This morning, when I was hurrying to the queen, I met Mr. Fairly, who said he was waiting to see me. Very melancholy he looked-very much changed from what I had seen him. His lady, to whom he is much attached, is suffering death by inches, from the most painful of all complaints, a cancer. His eldest son, who seems about twelve years old, was with him. He was going, he said, to place him at Eton.

The day following I was taken very ill myself; a bilious fever, long lurking, suddenly seized me, and a rheumatism in my head at the same time. I was forced to send to Mr. Battiscombe for advice, and to Miss Planta to officiate for me at night with the queen.

Early the next morning Miss Planta came to me from the queen, to desire I would not be uneasy in missing my attendance, and that I would think of nothing but how to take care of myself. This, however, was not all, for soon after she came herself, not only to my room, but to my bedside, and, after many enquiries, desired me to say sincerely what I should do if I had been so attacked at home.

A blister, I said, was all I could devise; and I had one accordingly, which cured the head, and set me at ease. But the fever had been long gathering, and would not so rapidly be dismissed. I kept my bed this day and the next. The third day I was sufficiently better to quit my bed and bedroom; and then I had not only another visit from the queen, but also from the two eldest princesses.

_Tuesday, Jan. 16_--Was the day appointed for removing to town for the winter; from which time we were only to come to Windsor for an occasional day or two every week.

I received a visit, just before I set out, from the king. He came in alone, and made most gracious enquiries into my health, and whether I was sufficiently recovered for the journey.

The four days of my confinement, from the fever after the pain, were days of meditation the most useful: I reflected upon all my mental sufferings in the last year; their cause seemed inadequate to their poignancy. In the hour of sickness and confinement, the world, in losing its attractions, forfeits its regrets:--a new train of thinking, a new set of ideas, took possession of all my faculties; a steady plan, calm, yet no longer sad, deliberately formed itself in my mind; my affliction was already subsided; I now banished, also, discontent. I found myself as well off, upon reflection, as I could possibly merit, and better, by comparison, than most of those around me. The beloved friends of my own heart had joined me unalterably, inviolably to theirs--who, in number, who, in kindness, has more?

Now, therefore, I took shame to myself, and resolved to be. And my success has shown me how far less chimerical than it appears is such a resolution. To be patient under two disappointments now no longer recent;--to relinquish, without repining, frequent intercourse with those I love;--to settle myself in my monastery, without one idea of ever quitting it; to study for the approbation of my lady abbess, and make it a principal source of content, as well as spring of action;--and to associate more cheerily with my surrounding nuns and monks;--these were the articles which were to support my resolution.

I thank God I can tell my dearest friends I have observed them all; and, from the date of this illness to the time in which I am now drawing out my memorandums, I can safely affirm I know not that I have made one break with myself in a single promise here projected.

And now, I thank God, the task is at an end;-what I began from principle, and pursued from resolution, is now a mere natural conduct. My destiny is fixed, and my mind is at ease; nay, I even think, upon the whole, that my lot is, altogether, the best that can betide me, except for one flaw in its very vitals, which subjects me at times, to a tyranny wholly subversive of all power of tranquillity.

END OF VOL. 1.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 1: Dr. Arne.--ED.]

[Footnote 2: The lady's maiden name was Esther Sheepe. She was, by the mother's side, of French extraction, from a family of the name of Dubois--a name which will be remembered as that of one of the characters in her daughter Fanny's first novel, “Evelina.”--ED.]

[Footnote 3: She was born on the 13th of June, 1752--ED.]

[Footnote 4: This degree was conferred upon him on Friday, the 23rd of June, 1769.--ED.]

[Footnote 5: The “Early Diary of Frances Burney, from 1768 to 1778,” recently published, throws some new light upon her education. It is her own statement that her father's library contained but one novel--“Amelia”; yet as a girl we find her acquainted with the works of Richardson and Sterne, of Marivaux and Provost, with “Rasselas” and the “Vicar of Wakefield.” in history and poetry, moreover, she appears to have been fairly well read, and she found constant literary employment as her father's amanuensis. As to Voltaire, she notes, on her twenty-first birthday, that she has just finished the “Heoriade”; but her remarks upon the book prove how little she was acquainted with the author. She thinks he “has made too free with religion in giving words to the Almighty. But M. Voltaire, I understand, is not a man of very rigid principles at least not in religion” (!).--ED.]

[Footnote 6: This is not quite accurate. Burney secured the relic in the manner described, not, however, to gratify his own enthusiasm, but to comply with the request of his friend Mr. Bewley, of Massingham, Norfolk, that he would procure for him some memento of the great Dr. Johnson. The tuft of the Doctor's hearth-broom, which Burney sent him, half in jest, was preserved with the greatest care by its delighted recipient. “He thinks it more precious than pearls,” wrote Fanny. (“Early Diary,” vol. i, p. 169.) This incident occurred in 1760.--ED.]

[Footnote 7: The “Early Diary,” however, proves that, in spite of her shyness, Fanny was very much at home in the brilliant society which congregated at her father's house, and occasionally took her full share in the conversation. Nor do we find her by any means avoiding the diversions common to young ladies of her age and station. She goes to dances, to the play, to the Opera, to Ranelagh, and even, on one memorable occasion, to a masquerade--“a very private one,” however.”--ED.]

[Footnote 8: Mrs. Stephen Allen, a widow, of Lynn. She was married to Dr. Burney (not yet Doctor, however) in October, 1767. His first wife died on the 28th of September, 1761.--ED.]

[Footnote 9: There is some difficulty here as to the chronology. “This sacrifice,” says the editor of “The Diary,” “was made in the young authoress's fifteenth year.” This could not be; for the sacrifice was the effect, according to the editor's own showing of the remonstrances of the second Mrs. Burney; and Frances was in her sixteenth year when her father's second marriage took place.]

[Footnote 10: Chesington, lying between Kingston and Epsom.--ED.]

[Footnote 11: The picture drawn by Macaulay of Mr. Crisp's wounded vanity and consequent misanthropy is absurdly overcharged. In the first place, his play of “Virginia,” which was first produced at Drury Lane on the 25th of February, 1754, actually achieved something like a succes d'estime. It ran eleven nights, no contemptible run for those days; was revived both at Drury Lane and at Covent Garden; was printed and reprinted; and all this all in his own lifetime. It had, in fact, at least as much success as it deserved, though, doubtless, too little to satisfy the ambition of its author. In the second place, there is absolutely no evidence whatever that his life was long embittered by disappointment connected with his tragedy. It is clear, from Madame D'Arblay's “Memoirs of Dr. Burney,” that Mr. Crisp's retirement to Chesington, many years after the production of “Virginia,” was mainly due to a straitened income and the gout. Nor was his seclusion unenlivened by friendship. The Burneys, in particular, visited him from time to time; and Fanny has left us descriptions of scenes of almost uproarious gaiety, enacted at Chesington by this gloomy recluse and his young friends. But we shall hear more of Chesington and its inmates hereafter--ED.]

[Footnote 12: Scarcely, we think; when her fame was at its height, Fanny Burney received no more than 250 pounds for her second novel, “Cecilia.” See the “Early Diary,” vol. ii. p. 307.--ED.]

[Footnote 13: Christopher Anstey, the author of that amusing and witty poetical satire, the “New Bath Guide.”--ED.]

[Footnote 14: John Wilson Croker.--ED.]

[Footnote 15: Richard Cumberland's fame as playwright and novelist can hardly be said to have survived to the present day. Sheridan caricatured him as Sir Fretful Plagiary, in the “Critic.” We shall meet with him hereafter in “The Diary.”--ED.]

[Footnote 16: See note ante, p. xxiv.]

[Footnote 17: “Probationary Odes for the Laureateship,” a volume of lively satirical verse published after the appointment of Sir Thomas Warton to that office on the death of William Whitehead, in 1785.--ED.]

[Footnote 18: See “Cecilia,” Book V. chap. 6.--ED.]

[Footnote 19: In “Cecilia.”--ED.]

[Footnote 20: The “Mr. Fairly” of “The Diary.”--ED. [21: Macaulay is mistaken. Fanny did receive the gown, a “lilac tabby,” and wore it on the princess royal's birthday, September 29, 1786.--ED.]

[Footnote 22: The fifth volume of “The Diary” concludes with Fanny's marriage to M. d'Arblay. The seven volumes of the original edition were published at intervals, from 1842 to 1846.---ED.]

[Footnote 23: The rumour was probably not far from correct. “Camilla” was published by subscription, at one guinea the set, and the subscribers numbered over eleven hundred. Four thousand copies were printed, and three thousand five hundred were sold in three months. Within six weeks of its publication, Dr. Burney told Lord Orford that about two thousand pounds had already been realized.--ED.]

[Footnote 24: Fanny's tragedy of “Edwy and Elgiva”, written during the period of her slavery at court, was produced by Sheridan at Drury-lane in March, 1795. It proved a failure, although the leading parts were played by Kemble and Mrs. Siddons. This tragedy, which was never published, is occasionally referred to in her letters of that year. See also an article by Mr. E. S. Shuckburgh, in “Macmillan's Magazine” for February, 1896.---ED.]