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[Illustration: The Princess Charlotte.
– Sir Tho^s Lawrence pinx^t
– J. A. Vinter, lith.
– Day & Son, Lith^rs. to the Queen]
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AUTOBIOGRAPHY
OF
MISS CORNELIA KNIGHT,
LADY COMPANION TO THE
PRINCESS CHARLOTTE OF WALES.
WITH EXTRACTS FROM HER JOURNALS AND ANECDOTE BOOKS.
IN TWO VOLUMES.
VOL. I.
THIRD EDITION.
LONDON:
W. H. ALLEN AND CO., 7, LEADENHALL STREET.
MDCCCLXI.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
INTRODUCTION.
A BOOK of this kind scarcely needs a sponsor. It carries the impression
of its authenticity on every page. A few words, however, may be said
about the circumstances of its publication. In the expectation that I
should find in them materials for an interesting work, the papers from
which these volumes have been compiled were given to me, some years ago,
by the family into whose hands they passed on Miss Knight’s death. On
examining them, I found that they consisted of a considerable number of
journal-books, the dates of which covered more than half a century, and
an unfinished autobiographical memoir, written principally on loose
sheets of paper. The latter had obviously been commenced at a very late
period of life, and had been interrupted by death. The Journals,
however, supplied all that was needed to complete the Memoir to the very
end of the writer’s life. Indeed, the continuous Memoir had been written
from the Diaries, with only occasional additions supplied by the
recollection of the writer, and was, in many places, little more than a
transcript of them.
As I had no doubt that the Autobiography had been written with a view to
publication, after, if not before, the author’s death, I felt that in
giving it to the world I should only be carrying out the intentions
which, had she lived, Miss Knight would herself have fulfilled. And, on
consideration, I could see nothing to be deprecated in the fulfilment of
those intentions. It is true that a very considerable portion of the
manuscript related to the private concerns of the Royal Family of
England. But, even if the publications of Madame D’Arblay, Lady
Charlotte Campbell, Lord Malmesbury, the Duke of Buckingham, and others,
had not rendered all scruples on this score almost an over-refinement of
delicacy, it was to be considered that nearly half a century had passed
since the principal events recorded by Miss Knight had occurred, and
that really those events, however private and domestic in their origin,
had grown into legitimate history, and might properly be so treated.
Indeed, it might fairly be questioned whether they could ever be
considered as anything else. For, although I cannot subscribe to the
doctrine that there is one Family in England which has no private
history (such being the penalty exacted for its greatness), it is
sometimes in the very nature of things that privacy is impossible, and
that the affairs of royalty, whatsoever may be their delicacy, become
public history before they are a day old. And it is so notorious that
this was especially the case during the years of the Regency and the
early part of the reign of George IV., that if it were not that the
literary tendencies of the age are towards premature revelations,
indicating a total disregard of the sanctity of domestic life, and that
any kind of protest against it may do some good, I should have thought
it altogether a work of supererogation to say a word in defence of the
publication of such a Memoir as this.
Moreover, these volumes, though not the least interesting, are perhaps
the most harmless of their class. Miss Knight was no retailer of
prurient scandal or frivolous gossip; she had too good a heart to
delight in the one, and too good a head to indulge in the other. Some,
therefore, may think that she neglected her opportunities, and that her
Memoirs are wanting in piquancy of revelation and vivacity of style. But
it appears to me that the very simplicity of the narrative greatly
increases its value. There is such an entire absence of everything like
effort to produce effect, that the reader is irresistibly impressed with
the conviction that he has before him the inornate truth, and that he
may confide in every statement of the narrator.
Whilst, therefore, I had no scruples on the score of publication, I had,
on the other hand, a very strong impression that by publishing these
papers, and thus contributing an important addition to existing
materials of history illustrative of the reign of George III. and the
Regency, I should render a service to Literature and to Truth. But my
time was engrossed by other occupations, and I know not when these
volumes might have been prepared for the press if it had not been for
assistance very cordially rendered by my friend, Mr. James Hutton, of
whose intimate acquaintance with the social history of England in the
Georgian era no better proof could be afforded than that which speaks
out from his interesting volume on English Life “A Hundred Years Ago.”
To him, indeed, is to be assigned any praise that may be due for the
editing of these volumes, for his, in a much higher degree than mine,
have been the intelligence, the industry, and the care bestowed upon
them.
The story of Miss Knight’s life is soon told. The daughter of Admiral
Sir Joseph Knight, an officer of well-deserved reputation, she was born
about the year 1757. Her childish years appear to have been spent in
London, where she received an excellent education, and made the
acquaintance, as a girl, of Johnson, Goldsmith, Burke, Reynolds, and
other celebrities of the age. In 1775, Sir Joseph Knight died; and
shortly afterwards, Lady Knight, being in straitened circumstances, and
having failed to obtain a pension from the Crown, turned her back upon
England, and, taking Cornelia with her, travelled through France, and
finally fixed her residence in Italy.
During a space of some twenty years after their departure from England,
they appear to have oscillated between Rome and Naples, mixing in the
best society of those cities, and seeing much both of the political and
prelatical sides of Italian life. That in spite of these environments,
Cornelia Knight remained both a good Protestant and a loyal Englishwoman
we have the best possible proof in her Memoirs and Journals. Living in a
revolutionary period, she had a hatred of revolutions, and was a Tory
and a Bourbonite in every pulse of her heart.
At Naples, Lady Knight and her daughter became the familiar friends of
Sir William and Lady Hamilton; and when, after the victory of the Nile,
Nelson sailed into the Bay and delivered the Royal Family from the
dangers which beset them, it was only consistent with the general
kindliness of the hero’s nature that he should have taken a deep
personal interest in the welfare of the widow and daughter of a brother
officer. In return, Miss Knight celebrated his victories in patriotic
verse, and was called by the naval officers of the time “Nelson’s poet
laureate.”
In 1799, Lady Knight died, at Palermo, and Cornelia, in fulfilment of
her mother’s dying injunctions, placed herself under the protection of
the Hamiltons. In the following year she accompanied them and Lord
Nelson to England—being then about forty-two years of age.
In England she found many friends, with whom she had first become
acquainted on the Continent, and the circle was soon widened, including
in it some of the most distinguished persons of the age. In this society
she did not move merely on sufferance. Miss Knight enjoyed at this time
considerable reputation as a lady of extensive learning and manifold
accomplishments. She had written some books, which, being in the stately
classical style, hit the taste of the age;[1] and she was celebrated for
her extensive acquaintance with ancient and modern languages. Being a
person of high principle, of a blameless life, and altogether a
gentlewoman, it was not strange that, possessing also those intellectual
gifts, and having numerous influential friends, she should have
recommended herself, or been recommended by others, to the favourable
notice of the Royal Family of England. Among her friends was Mr. Pitt,
whose opinion it was that the education of the young Princess Charlotte
of Wales could be entrusted to no fitter person.
Other arrangements were made for the early instruction of the Princess;
but Miss Knight had been marked out for a Court life, and in 1806 she
became one of the attachées of Queen Charlotte, and took up her
residence at Windsor.
There she remained during a period of about seven years, at the end of
which, having been included in some new arrangements which were being
made for the household of the Princess Charlotte, then growing into
womanhood, she left the Court of the Queen (who never forgave her for
the desertion) and settled at Warwick House, which was then the domicile
of the young Princess, adjoining the residence of her father.
Here Miss Knight sojourned, in attendance upon the Princess, until the
eventful July of 1814. The papers had called her, and she is still
called in contemporary memoirs, the governess of the Princess Charlotte.
But she repudiated this title, and claimed her right official
nomenclature of “lady companion” to the Princess. That she had a
difficult part to play at Warwick House is certain; that she did not
pass the ordeal unscathed is not surprising. Her conduct in the trying
circumstances in which she was thrown appears to have been
straightforward and honourable; but the Prince Regent, not understanding
it at the time, resented it, and Miss Knight was dismissed.
Throughout the year 1815 and the early part of 1816, Miss Knight resided
principally in London. In the spring of the latter year she went abroad,
and the record of the next twenty years is one of almost continuous
wandering. In France, Italy, and Germany she spent the greater part of
her remaining life. The restoration of the Bourbons made Paris a point
of attraction to her, and there she appears to have been greatly
esteemed by the Royal Family, especially by Charles X., who had a high
opinion of her learning, and was wont to ask her, after any interval of
absence from his capital, what new language she had learnt. In Germany
she spent some time at the Court of Würtemberg, and also at that of the
petty principality of Hesse-Homburg—both of which were connected by
marriage with our own Royal Family. And so her wanderings were continued
into the year 1837, in the December of which she died, after a short
illness, at Paris, in the eighty-first year of her age.
In her later years she devoted herself more to Society than to
Literature, and she gave nothing to the world beyond a few fugitive
pieces. But she seems to have contemplated some more extended works, of
which some fragments remain among her papers. These are principally
chapters of Italian or German romances, suggested by the scenes of her
travels. But it appears to me that the very qualities which impart so
much value to her narration of facts incapacitated her for the
achievement of success as a writer of fiction. She was, in truth,
anything but an imaginative person. The works which she published have
little in them to attract the present generation, but in that respect
they do not differ much from the writings of most of her contemporaries.
No one reads “Dinarbas” now-a-days; but is “Rasselas” a popular work
with the rising generation?
But even by her own generation it is probable that Miss Knight herself
was held in greater esteem than her works. Madame Piozzi called her the
“far-famed Cornelia Knight.” Everybody, indeed, knew her. There was
scarcely a city of any note in Southern Europe in which she was not well
known—and to know was to esteem and admire her for all her fine
qualities of head and heart. How many friends she had, and in how many
parts of the world, these volumes pleasantly indicate; and, although
they are remarkably free from every kind of egotism, it is impossible
not to gather from them that Miss Ellis Cornelia Knight was an amiable
and accomplished person, of high principles and a blameless way of life,
worthy to be held in remembrance as a bright exemplar of that best of
all womanhood, an English gentlewoman.
J. W. KAYE.
Norwood. Whitsuntide, 1861.
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CONTENTS TO VOL. I.
-------
CHAPTER I.
PAGE
Parentage of Miss Knight—Anecdotes of her 1
Father—Her early Days—Education—Society—Sir
Joshua Reynolds—Burke—Goldsmith—Baretti—Anecdote
of Dr. Johnson—Death of Admiral Knight
CHAPTER II.
Paris—Lalande and Boscovich—Toulouse—Archbishop de 23
Brienne—His Character and Conduct—The Emperor
Joseph II.—Floral Games—A Philosophical Knight
of Malta
CHAPTER III.
Montpellier—The Archbishop of Narbonne—Liberal 34
Views of Commercial Policy—Society at
Montpellier—Departure for Italy
CHAPTER IV.
Rome—Cardinal de Bernis—Roman Society—Roman 49
Morals—Anecdotes of Cardinal de Bernis, M. de
Choiseul, the Duc de Crillon, and others
CHAPTER V.
Residence at Rome—Ceremony at St. 61
Peter’s—Midsummer Madness—Anecdote of M.
Clermont—The Ambassador and the Actress—Pope
Ganganelli
CHAPTER VI.
Naples—The King and Queen—Nismes—Vienne—The 91
Embassy from Tippoo Sahib—Genoa—Rome—The
Revolution and the Papacy—Arrival of the French
Troops
CHAPTER VII.
Sir William Hamilton—Expected Arrival of a British 105
Squadron—State of Feeling at Naples—The King and
Queen—Arrival of Nelson—His Reception—Excitement
at Naples
CHAPTER VIII.
Palermo and the Sicilians—Events at Naples—Death 132
of Lady Knight—The Hamiltons and Lord
Nelson—Execution of Caraccioli—Arrival of Sir
Arthur Paget—Departure for Malta
CHAPTER IX.
Departure from Palermo—Leghorn—Journey 146
homewards—Alfieri—Haydn—Klopstock—Reception of
Nelson—England—Society there—Lord and Lady
Nelson
CHAPTER X.
Society in England—Elizabeth Carter—Arrangements 164
at Court—Miss Knight enters the Queen’s
Service—State of the King’s Health—Death of the
Princess Amelia
CHAPTER XI.
State of the Court—The Regency—Princess of 179
Wales—Princess Charlotte—Arrangements for the
Education of the Princess—Miss Knight becomes
Lady Companion
CHAPTER XII.
Life at Warwick House—A Royal 199
Dinner-party—Princess Charlotte’s
Companions—Dinner at the Duke of York’s—Ball at
Carlton House—Treatment of the Princess
Charlotte
CHAPTER XIII.
The Letter in the Morning Chronicle—The Prince and 216
Princess of Wales—Painful Position of the
Princess Charlotte—Father and Daughter—The
Princess in Retirement—The Delicate
Investigation—Behaviour of the Princess
Charlotte
CHAPTER XIV.
Life at Warwick House—The Princess Charlotte’s 231
Establishment—Her Wardrobe—The Duchess
d’Angoulême—A Dinner at Carlton House—The Duke
of Gloucester—The Duke of Devonshire
CHAPTER XV.
Festivities at Carlton House—Complaints and 244
Accusations—Letter to Lady Liverpool—Visit to
Sandhurst—Arrival of the Prince of Orange—A
Suitor for the Princess Charlotte—Royal
Match-Making—Letter to the Princess Charlotte
CHAPTER XVI.
Return to Warwick House—The Prince of 263
Orange—Manœuvring—The Princess Charlotte
Betrothed—Feelings of the Princess—The Great
Frost
CHAPTER XVII.
The Great Frost—Domestic Amusements of the 272
Princess Charlotte—Projected Marriage with the
Prince of Orange—The Question of
Residence—Anxieties of the Princess—Tortuous
Negotiations
CHAPTER XVIII.
The Allied Sovereigns—Rupture with the Prince of 295
Orange—Prince Leopold—Family Scenes—Letter of
the Princess Charlotte—Her Escape from Warwick
House—Scene at Carlton House—The Princess in
Durance
FOOTNOTES. 342
------------------------------------------------------------------------
APPENDIX.
PAGE
Dr. Johnson and Mrs. Williams 313
Lord Nelson’s Journey Home 319
The Princess Charlotte and her Mother 323
Opening of the Coffin of Charles I 333
The Orange Match 335
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AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF MISS KNIGHT.
-------
CHAPTER I.
PARENTAGE OF MISS KNIGHT—ANECDOTES OF HER FATHER—HER EARLY
DAYS—EDUCATION—SOCIETY—SIR JOSHUA
REYNOLDS—BURKE—GOLDSMITH—BARETTI—ANECDOTE OF DR. JOHNSON—DEATH OF
ADMIRAL KNIGHT.
MY ancestors, on my father’s side, lost a very considerable landed
property from their attachment to the cause of royalty, during the
unfortunate reign of Charles the First. My grandfather had a trifling
employment in Cornwall, where my father, his youngest son, was born. The
latter entered the naval service of the Crown at the age of fourteen, on
board a ship of war, commanded by his brother. He had previously
received a good education, and had attained as much classical knowledge
as could be expected at so early a period of life; and what is very
remarkable, though constantly and almost exclusively engaged in the
duties of his profession, he never forgot his Greek and Latin.[2]
That singular character, Wortley Montagu,[3] was on board my uncle’s
ship, and, of course, became much acquainted with my father, insomuch
that when my uncle was appointed to the command of another ship, and
took his brother with him, Montagu would stay no longer, and suddenly
disappeared. This was the commencement of his wanderings, as I was told
by an old gentleman who had been his tutor, and who was struck by my
resemblance to my father at nearly the same age as that at which he had
known him.
During half a century my father served his king and country with
unremitting zeal and attachment. He was present at most of the memorable
sieges and engagements of his time, and died at the age of sixty-six, a
rear-admiral of the white squadron and a knight.
Unassuming, disinterested, and possessing the nicest sense of honour, he
never received a reprimand from a superior officer, and never injured
the character of one under his command by a complaint to the Board of
Admiralty. Strict in the performance of his own duty, he exacted the
same from others. He was known to be kind, as well as just; he was
beloved, and he was obeyed.
When very young, he had married a lady, by whom he had a son and two
daughters. His son died a captain in the army before my father married
his second wife, my mother, a lady of an Essex family, whose crest was a
_tortoise_, while that of my father was an eagle on a spray. This
contrast of the slow and the swift is not more remarkable than that of
the histories of the two families. As the ancestor of my father, Sir
Joseph Knight, lost his estates in Cheshire and part of Whittleby Forest
on account of his supporting the cause of Charles the First, so Sir
Anthony Dean,[4] one of my mother’s family, a warm partisan of the
Commonwealth, having exchanged one of his Essex estates with Colonel
Sparrow for Hyde Park, was deprived of the latter at the Restoration,
and without receiving what he had given up, was obliged to relinquish
the property belonging to government.
My mother was, however, no friend of revolutions; and her principles in
that respect perfectly agreed with those of my father. She had great
quickness of perception, wit, and vivacity, a happy facility in
conversation, and a singular frankness of temper. I never knew any one
who better combined economy with the most disinterested generosity, or
the most affectionate warmth of heart with the keenest satirical
penetration. She was feared by some, but loved by many. She had read
much, but having lost her mother at her birth, and having been brought
up in the country at a time when education had not made general
progress, she was resolved that I should not labour under the same
disadvantage, and her ideas on the subject were very extensive. Had I
possessed half her acuteness of mind, firmness of character, and
buoyancy of spirits, there is nothing that I might not have attained,
from the pains that she took with my education.
The first event which I can recollect was the return of my father from
the West Indies, where he had been left for some time after the
conclusion of peace, with the command at the Havannah, until that place
was restored to Spain by the new treaty. I remember being carried up the
ship’s side, when I was taken by my mother to Portsmouth to meet him.
The height of the ship and the waves of the sea left a strong impression
on my mind.
My father liked the Spaniards, as I afterwards heard him say, and as my
mother used to tell me in later times. He was friendly and kind to them,
and they are not forgetful of benefits, nor, alas! of injuries.
One of the Judges of the Havannah, hearing Captain Knight called by his
christian as well as his family name at a dinner-party, sprang from his
chair and flew into my father’s arms, calling him his preserver, his
benefactor. It seems, that when this Spaniard was very young, and on his
first voyage to the West Indies, he had been taken prisoner by an
English ship of war, on board of which my father was a lieutenant.
Seeing the distress and fright of the youth, who, having just left his
parents, loaded with valuable gifts, relics, and keepsakes, trembled for
his treasures, and who, having been used to every comfort at home, was
wretched in his present situation, my father gave him up his own cabin,
took care of his property, and made him perfectly easy and happy.
Remembering all this with the most grateful feeling, the Spaniard, then
in one of the highest offices of the Havannah, pressed my father to come
to his house, and offered him every attention; but he declined it, for,
as he said, he knew the man would want him to accept valuable presents,
and he might offend him by refusing. He, indeed, constantly refused what
might be called remuneration of any kind; and was of opinion that no man
in a public situation could be just or independent unless he kept clear
of such obligations.
On the day of my completing my fifth year I was taken to the school of
Mesdames Thompets, four sisters from Switzerland, to which I was to go
as a parlour day-boarder, three times a week, for the purpose of
learning to dance and to speak French. This was certainly no hard
injunction, and I had some young friends there; but it was long a great
distress to me, and I dreaded the three unfortunate days to a degree not
to be described.
On the intermediate days I had masters at home. One of these was M.
Petitpierre, who had been a pastor of the Swiss church of Neufchatel,
and had been dismissed by the synod of that place for having preached a
doctrine which was not approved. He, it seems, pleaded that he had only,
when ordained, promised to interpret the Scriptures to the best of his
knowledge and comprehension; but the heads of his Church said that his
doctrine, which implied the non-eternity of punishments, might not be
dangerous for themselves, who were enlightened men, but would be greatly
so for their wives and servants.
Frederick, King of Prussia, as in some measure sovereign of Neufchatel,
interfered in behalf of Petitpierre, but without success; and he is said
to have finished by remarking, “Eh bien! si messieurs de Neufchatel
veulent être damnés à toute éternité, ainsi soit-il!”
M. Petitpierre had a great number of scholars in London, and was
certainly an excellent master. He taught me French, Latin, the elements
of Greek, and of the mathematics, with geography and history. He was a
man of great simplicity of manners, and I had a sincere regard for him.
He was the protector and comforter of all the Swiss who wanted his
assistance, and generally esteemed by those who were settled in our
country.
At length, the sister of one of those, who had chiefly caused his
banishment, happened to be in great difficulties, from which he
extricated her; and she wrote to her brother, saying that the man whom
the synod had exiled was the guardian angel of his countrymen and
countrywomen in England.
Petitpierre was, in consequence of this, and, perhaps, other letters of
similar import, recalled to Neufchatel, by a solemn deputation of the
synod, to his brother’s house. He went and paid a visit to his friends,
but did not settle in his native country till after the death of his
wife.
The too famous Marat was a Swiss physician, and used to visit at the
school. All that I can recollect of him were his person and countenance,
which were very repulsive.
The dancing-master was Novere, brother of the celebrated ballet-master
of that name. It is, I believe, impossible for any one to have been a
more proper instructor—graceful without affectation, a good time-ist,
and, I believe, a good domestic character in private life. As he had
many scholars—he and Gallini being the dancing-masters the most in
fashion—he made some money, and bought, as he said, “an estate for
himself and his _ancestors_.”
* * * * *
Sir Joshua Reynolds was, during my childhood, the painter in fashion,
and his house was the resort of the men of letters most known at that
time. He had living with him an unmarried sister (Miss Frances
Reynolds), for whom my mother had a real friendship. She was an amiable
woman, very simple in her manner, but possessed of much information and
talent, for which I do not think every one did her justice, on account
of the singular _naïveté_ which was her characteristic quality, or
defect, for it often gave her the appearance of want of knowledge. She
was a good painter and musician, and I have seen some of her poetical
compositions, which have appeared to me very pleasing, and in good
taste.
I used often to pass the day with her, when she would give me
instructions in drawing, and as I was very intimate with her younger
niece,[5] we used to pass much time in rooms where the portraits of most
of the celebrated beauties, men of letters, and politicians of the time,
were exposed to view.
Sir Joshua Reynolds was a very popular person. All seemed satisfied with
their portraits, and he had the art of rendering the costume
picturesque, without departing from the mode of the time so as to make
the resemblance less striking. There was in his paintings a fascination
which still, in great measure, prevails, though many are faded; and the
drawing was always correct. I believe he was good, friendly, and
benevolent in a high degree. His pronunciation was tinctured with the
Devonshire accent; his features were coarse, and his outward appearance
slovenly, but his mind was certainly not inelegant, and the graces which
he did not himself possess he could confer on his pictures. Sir Joshua
loved high company, and wished his house to be considered as a Lyceum.
In this he had Rubens and Vandyke in view. He was, indeed, surrounded by
the wits and men of learning, and their society was harmonised by the
goodness of his disposition, and the purity of his sister’s character
and manners.
Johnson, Burke, Goldsmith, Baretti, Langton,[6] Beauclerk,[7] and Mrs.
Montagu, were often his guests. As President of the Royal Academy, the
speeches of Sir Joshua Reynolds were admired for the style, though
probably not for the matter of them. He was, I suppose, assisted by his
literary friends, and more particularly by Johnson. Michael Angelo was
his idol. Sir Joshua had been at Rome while young, but before he left
England he had painted several portraits of sea officers, friends of
Lord Edgecombe, which portraits are, I imagine, still to be seen at that
most beautiful place Mount Edgecombe. I recollect seeing at Devonport
the portrait of an old lady of ninety, of the same date, and I think it
is one of his best performances. The colours, too, had not faded, as in
many of his later works.
I recollect being delighted with the conversation of Mr. Burke, amused
by the buffoonery of Goldsmith, and disgusted with the satirical madness
of manner of Baretti,[8] whose work, entitled “Frusta Literaria,” had, I
believe, been the principal cause of his leaving Piedmont. He was,
however, a great favourite in this society, and was warmly supported
when he had to take his trial for having stabbed a man who insulted him
one night in the street. He was acquitted, because it was considered to
have been done in self-defence. Being a foreigner, he was probably more
frightened than he might have been had he known our country better, and
he used, therefore, a weapon not common with us, though it might be in
Piedmont. I was then a child; but I remember being so shocked at his
shaking hands with me, that I said to my mother at night, “Did I ever
think I should shake hands with a murderer!” It is certain that Baretti
was a man of great learning and information.
Goldsmith was, I feel sure, very good-natured, and though neither his
features, person, nor manners had anything of grace to recommend them,
his countenance, as far as I can recollect, was honest and open, and in
his behaviour there was something easy and natural, removed from
vulgarity no less than from affectation. His buffoonery, of which I have
spoken, was a sort of childish playfulness, such as drinking off a glass
of water reversed on the table without spilling a drop, and similar
tricks. On some occasion—I forget what—he was told that he must wear a
silk coat, and he purchased one second-hand, which had been a
nobleman’s, without observing that there was visible on the breast a
mark showing where a star had been. He was beloved, and his death was
truly lamented.
The observations of so young a child as I then was can be of no
consequence, but of all these personages the one whom I liked best was
Mr. Burke, perhaps because he condescended to notice me. Of Mrs.
Montagu,[9] all that I can remember is that she called me “a stupid
child,” because I did not find out the puzzle of a gold ring which she
wore.
As to Johnson, he was always kind to me, but he was very intimate at our
house, had a high opinion of my father, and conversed willingly with my
mother, who never failed to contradict him when she was not of his way
of thinking, and yet never received from him a disagreeable reply.
An elderly lady, named Williams,[10] who had been a friend of his wife,
lived with him. Though blind, and suffering very much from a pain in the
head, she acted as his housekeeper, and managed all the affairs of his
domestic life. Born in a respectable station, she had been well
educated, but had no fortune. She had high principles, great strength of
mind, and a sound judgment. Her manners were perfectly good, and her
taste in literature correct. She was of a Welsh family, and had lost her
sight irrecoverably when a young woman; but it was wonderful to see how
little trouble she gave; she worked well, and even made her own gowns.
My mother had a great regard for her, and she often passed the day with
us.
I remember going with Mrs. Williams and Mr. and Mrs. Hoole to see the
tragedy of “Cyrus,” written by Mr. Hoole,[11] in imitation of the “Ciro”
of Metastasio, Mrs. Yates taking the part of Mandane.[12]
The King of Denmark[13] was at that time on a visit to England, and gave
a masquerade ball at the Opera House, for which, of course, everybody
was anxious to get tickets. In the epilogue to “Cyrus,” amongst other
satirical strokes, as usual, on the habits and customs of the times,
were the following lines:
With us what griefs from ills domestic rise,
When now a beau, and now a monkey dies!
In this our iron age, still harder lot,
A masquerade—no tickets to be got!
On the following morning, after the first hearing of this epilogue,
tickets were left at the door of Mrs. Yates.
This, I have been told, was the first masquerade given in London after
the death of George the Second, who was very fond of them, and seldom
missed them at the theatre. George the Third did not approve of an
amusement which he thought might lead to much that was wrong. He did
not, however, refuse his brother-in-law, though he endeavoured to
persuade him to give a fête of another description, and all he could
afterwards do was not to encourage masquerades by his presence.
To return to Mr. Hoole. I was captivated by his translation of Tasso’s
“Jerusalem,” which certainly has great merit. To translate from Italian
into any other language is more than difficult; whereas the Italians can
translate any author, not only of the dead but of the living languages,
with the greatest facility, and with a correctness delightfully
intelligible to the readers of their own country—an advantage also
enjoyed by the Germans in a high degree.
When I first knew Dr. Johnson, I was a little afraid of his deep tone of
voice and great wig; but when I had reached my seventh or eighth year, I
was accustomed to all this, and felt grateful for his indulgence.
He was introduced to George the Fourth, then a child, in the library at
St. James’s. He asked the young prince some questions about his studies,
and when he took leave of him, said, “God bless you, sir! and make you
as good a man and as great a king as your father.”
The ideas of Johnson on social order were carried so far, that when he
wanted to send for his favourite cat he would not order his servant, who
was a negro, to procure it, saying that it was not good to employ human
beings in the service of animals; he therefore went himself on the
errand. When I went abroad, Dr. Johnson gave me his blessing, and
exhorted me not to become a Roman Catholic, adding, that “if I extended
my belief, I might at length turn Turk.” I was insensible of the
goodness of the advice, because I knew it to be unnecessary, and was
therefore hurt at the supposition. Indeed, I still think, that if Dr.
Johnson had possessed as much discrimination of character as learning,
he would rather have advised me to remember I was a Christian, and never
allow vanity or the love of pleasure to lead me into follies unworthy of
that sacred character. I should have _felt_ that I wanted such advice,
and, probably, should have often thought of it, _at least_ with
gratitude.
Johnson was a sincere lover of equal justice, and though feeling great
respect for the distinctions of rank and lawful authority, he was far
from being servile, or what is called a courtier.
He had a great respect for men who served their country by sea or land,
and was heard to say that, let a man be ever so distinguished for rank
or abilities, he could not help thinking that he must, when in company
with an officer of long and splendid services, feel himself his
inferior.
He was very curious to see the manner of living and the discipline on
board a ship of war, and when my father was appointed to the command of
the _Ramilies_, of seventy-four guns, and to sail with the command of a
squadron for Gibraltar, at the time when a war with Spain was expected,
Johnson went to Portsmouth, and passed a week on board with my father.
He inquired into everything, made himself very agreeable to the
officers, and was much pleased with his visit.
When he was conveyed on shore, the young officer whom my father had sent
to accompany him, asked if he had any further commands. “Sir,” said
Johnson, “have the goodness to thank the commodore and all the officers
for their kindness to me, and tell Mr. ——, the first lieutenant, that I
beg he will leave off the practice of swearing.”
The young man, willing, if possible, to justify, or at least excuse, his
superior, replied that, unfortunately, there was no making the sailors
do their duty without using strong language, and that his Majesty’s
service required it. “Then, pray, sir,” answered Johnson, “tell Mr. ——
that I beseech him not to use one oath more than is absolutely required
for the service of his Majesty.”
Among the persons of talent whom we knew, I must not forget
Gainsborough. He might be said to be self-taught. I have heard my
mother, who knew all about Essex and Suffolk people, say that his father
kept a shop, and he was obliged to pink shrouds, &c. Every spare moment
he gave to drawing. He studied every tree in the counties in which he
lived, and was never out of England. Had he studied in Italy, he would
not only have been the first of English painters, but probably would
have formed a school in this country. His genius was very great. His
landscapes are Nature itself, and his portraits, though perhaps not so
fascinating as those of Sir Joshua, were correct likenesses. He had an
almost equal talent for music as for painting, and I never saw an artist
who had less presumption or vanity.
* * * * *
My father sailed for Gibraltar with a convoy of troops for that
garrison; but, peace being settled, he brought back others in exchange.
On his return, he was ordered to pay off the ships of war then at
Chatham, and afterwards appointed to the command of the _Ocean_, of
ninety guns, a guard-ship at Plymouth.
Thither we removed, and had a house in the square of what was then
called Plymouth Dock. Admiral Spry commanded the fleet there; but as he
was in Parliament, and often absent, my father, who was senior officer,
had the duty of commander to perform during three-fourths of the year.
Spry had an estate in Cornwall, and was a great friend of my father, in
whom he placed the highest confidence, otherwise I do not believe that
he would have made such frequent and long absences, for he was a
sensible man and a good officer, though not fond of being confined to a
seaport.
Whatever was _duty_ was preferred by my father to every other
consideration; and he not only took the greatest pains to acquit himself
of that which was his portion at Plymouth, but was most hospitable and
kind to the officers under his command, and to all the foreigners who
either came on service or were recommended to him on visits of pleasure
or curiosity. Among the latter were several Russian noblemen, and the
Duc de Guignes, the French ambassador at our Court.
It was my father who despatched a frigate, under the command of Captain
Macbride, to convey the unfortunate Queen Matilda[14] from Copenhagen to
Germany; and on that occasion he acted with a dignity similar to that
shown by our minister Sir Robert Keith; for he would not allow any of
the Danish noblemen to hand the Queen into the barge, saying, “No,
gentlemen, her Majesty is now under the protection of England.”
Sir Edward Hughes, Captain Barrington, Captain Fielding, and other
officers commanding guard-ships, were constantly at our house. Captain
Vandeput, who commanded a frigate, hearing that my father had a girl who
was learning Italian, lent me his library, during a long cruise. It
consisted of several books in that language, as well as in French.
I had a few lessons in Greek from the chaplain of the dockyard; but, in
most respects, I had not here much assistance in continuing my studies;
and from the circumstances in which we were placed, I was thrown more
into society than was expedient at so early a period of my life; but, at
the time, I was, of course, pleased with it to a certain degree, though
I can now remember little that was interesting during our residence at
Devonport.
No man, I think, was more generally beloved than Captain Barrington. His
eldest brother, Lord Barrington, was long Secretary to the War
Department, and had considerable influence; but Captain Barrington, who
was unassuming and unambitious, seemed never to avail himself of this
circumstance, unless by being the first to get his ship out of dock, or
any other exigency of service, not perhaps being even conscious that his
situation in life gained him this advantage with the persons on whom the
business depended.
He was an enemy to all ostentation, kept a good table on board his ship,
but without magnificence, that he might not hurt the feelings of his
brother officers, who were not in circumstances as easy as his own. He
was very charitable, and he paid for all the letters which came to the
seamen under his command. It was remarked that there never was a dinner
at which eight or ten sea officers were assembled without Barrington’s
health being drunk.
One of his lieutenants, Mr. Blenkett, had been long known to my mother.
He had wit and talent, knowledge of the world, and literary
acquirements. When abroad, he used to correspond with my mother, and his
letters were very amusing.
Bath was at that time a very fashionable place, and Mr. B., having leave
of absence for two or three weeks, sent to my mother from thence the
following lines, which he had composed doubtless in imitation of the
“Bath Guide:”[15]
MISS DOLLY DAPPERLOVE TO MISS BIDDY BLOSSOM.
I am all in a flurry! would you think it, my dear,
That sweet little creature, Bob Jervis, is here?
There is no alteration, except that he’s older,
And has got a small beard, which makes him look bolder.
He’s so smiling and nice, so neat and so trim,
That the ladies can look at no mortal but him;
When he enters the rooms the girls giggle and flirt,
While my hero, Bob Jervis, remains quite unhurt;
For he knows that his figure must charm every fair,
And to conquer their hearts he need only appear.
So ladies no longer your charms try in vain,
’Tis for me that Bob Jervis has come back again.
These lines were inserted in a newspaper, and they were the portrait of
a Mr. D——, chaplain to one of the guard-ships, who was also on leave of
absence at Bath. He was a very little man, and a great dandy. The
officers made a great joke of his attention to his person and dress; and
one evening at the Assembly, when he was about to dance with a very tall
young lady, Captain M—— ran and pushed him a stool, desiring him to
mount on it. He took all this very good naturedly, and, notwithstanding
this little weakness in his character, he was a man of learning and
taste in literature.
On our return to town, my father asked for the Newfoundland command; but
received a very flattering letter from Lord Sandwich, First Lord of the
Admiralty, implying that he deserved everything, but that the
appointment was already promised. He was already in a very indifferent
state of health, and lived but a few months after he was promoted to the
rank of Rear-Admiral of the White. He died at Harwich, whither he had
gone that he might have sea-bathing, and was interred in the family
vault of my mother in the Chapel Royal, where I have since erected an
humble monument to his memory and to that of my mother. His last meal
consisted of a little fruit and a glass of wine, which I gave him, and
which he drank to the health of his king, “wishing him out of all his
trouble,” for the American business was then the theme of all
politicians.
After this he begged my mother to read to him “The Sermon on the
Mount”—a part of Scripture which he particularly loved. While she was
reading, he expired. Nearly all the inhabitants of Harwich followed him
to the grave, and many wore mourning for some days.
After this irreparable loss, we passed the winter in London. My mother
applied for a pension, and a memorial of my father’s services, which she
presented to the king at St. James’s, was drawn up by Dr. Johnson. It
was graciously received, but Lord Sandwich having observed that she was
not in absolute want, the request was not granted.
My mother, then finding that she could not live in London with that
propriety which she had at heart, made up her mind to go abroad, with
the intention of remaining three years on the Continent—a plan very
congenial to my own wishes. She offered to take my sister with us, but
she preferred remaining in England with a very amiable woman, an old
friend of my mother. This lady was the widow of a clergyman, and my
sister had already passed some years with her to finish her education,
as she was not more than twelve years old when my father married for the
second time. She afterwards married the Rev. Maurice Mosely, and died
without children.
My mother’s first cousin, Sir Philip Staples, was at that time Secretary
to the Admiralty. He was a man of talent and information, fond of the
arts, and agreeable in society; but, for some years, we had seen little
of him, on account of a dispute between a sister who lived with him and
my mother. He was always on good terms with my father, and was present
at the opening of his will.
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