SECTION 20.

(1793-6)

LOVE IN A COTTAGE: THE D'ARBLAYS VISIT WINDSOR.

[Never, probably, did Fanny enjoy greater happiness than during

the first few years of her married life, "Love in a cottage" on

an income Of One hundred pounds a year, was exactly suited to her

retiring and affectionate nature. The cottage, too, was within

easy walking distance of Mickleham, where resided her favourite

sister, Susanna, and of Norbury Park, the home of her dearest

friends, the Lockes. Here, then, in this beautiful part of

Surrey, with a devoted husband by her side, and, in due time, a

little son (her only child) to share with him her tenderness and

care ' did Fanny lead, for some.time, a tranquil and, in

the main, a happy life. Her chief excursions were occasional

visits to the queen and princesses-delightful visits now that she

was out of harness. Towards the end, however, of the period of

which the following 'Section contains the history, two melancholy

events, happening in quick succession, brought sorrow to the

little household at Book'ham. The departure for Ireland of Susan

Phillips left a grievous gap in the circle of Fanny's best-loved

friends. We gather from the "Diary" that Captain (now Major)

Phillips had gone to Ireland, with his little son, Norbury, to

superintend the management of his estate at Belcotton, some

months before his wife left Mickleham. In the autumn of 1796 he

returned to fetch his wife and the rest of his family. An absence

of three years was intended, The parting was rendered doubly

distressing 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. Fanny

hastened to Chelsea on receiving the news, and spent some time

there with her father and his Youngest daughter. The

following 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 in

the burying-ground of Chelsea College. On the 27th, I returned to

my melancholy home, disconsolate and stupified, Though long

Page 72

expected, this calamity was very severely felt; I missed her

counsel, converse, and family regulations; and a companion of

thirty years, whose mind was cultivated, whose intellects were

above the general level of her sex, and whose curiosity after

knowledge was insatiable to the last. These were losses that

caused a vacuum in my habitation and in my mind, that has never

been filled up.

"My four eldest daughters, all dutiful, intelligent, and

affectionate, were married, and had families of their own to

superintend, or they might have administered comfort. My youngest

daughter ' Sarah Harriet, by my second marriage, had quick

intellects, and distinguished talents ; but she had no experience

in household affairs. However, though she had native spirits of

the highest gaiety, she became a steady and prudent character,

and a kind and good girl. There is, I think, considerable merit

in her novel, 'Geraldine,' particularly in the conversations; and

I think the scene at the emigrant cottage really touching. At

least it drew tears from me, when I was not so prone to shed them

as I am at present."(95)

During these years Fanny did not suffer her pen to lie idle. Her

tragedy, "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 in

1796, was, at least from a financial point of view, conspicuous

and immediate. Out of an edition of four thousand, three thousand

five hundred copies were sold within three months.

Were we to attempt to rank Madame d'Arblay's novels in order of

merit, we should perhaps feel compelled to place "Camilla" at the

bottom of the list, yet without intending to imply any

considerable inferiority. But it is full of charm and animation

the characters--the female characters especially-are drawn with a

sure hand, the humour is as diverting, the satire as spirited as

ever. Fanny"s fops and men of the ton are always excellent in

their kind, and "Camilla" contains, perhaps, her greatest triumph

in this direction, in the character of Sir Sedley Clarendal.

Lovel. in "Evelina," and Meadows, in "Cecilia," are mere

blockheads, whose distinction is wholly due to the ludicrousness

of their affectations; but in Sir Sedley she has attempted, and

succeeded in the much more difficult task of portraying a man of

naturally good parts and feelings, who, through idleness and

vanity, has allowed himself to sink into the position of a mere

leader of the ton, whose better nature rises at times, in spite

of himself, above the flood of affectation and folly beneath

which he endeavours to drown it. Camilla herself, the

light-hearted, unsuspicious Camilla, however she may differ, in

some points of character, from Fanny's other heroines, possesses

one quality which is common to them all, the power of fascinating

the reader. Perhaps the least satisfactory character in the book

is that of the hero, Edgar Mandlebert, whose extreme caution in

the choice of a wife betrays him into ungenerous suspicions, as

irritating to the impatient reader as they are dis-

Page 73

tressing to pool- Camilla. In fine, whatever faults, as

occasionally of style, the book may have the interest never for

One moment flags from the first page to the last of the entire

five 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 procuring

subscribers, and the printed lists prefixed to the first volume

contains nearly eleven hundred names. Among wthem we notice the

name of Edmund Burke, whose great career was closing in a cloud

of domestic trouble'. Early in 1794 he lost his brother, Richard,

and in August of the same year a far heavier blow fell upon him

in the death, at the age of thirty-six, of his only and promising

son, "the pride and ornament of my existence," as he called him

in a touching letter to Mrs. Crewe. The desolate father, already

worn with the thankless toils of statesmanship, in which his very

errors had been the outcome of a noble and enthusiastic

temperament, never recovered from this blow. But when Mrs. Crewe

sent him, in 1795, the proposals for publishing "Camilla," Burke

roused himself to do a new kindness to an old friend. He

forwarded to Mrs. Crewe a note for twenty pounds, desiring in

return one copy of the book, and justified his generous donation

in 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 as

it is. I am sure that it is a disgrace to the age and nation, if

this be not a great thing for her. if every person in England

who has received pleasure'and instruction from 'Cecilia,' were to

rate 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 respectful

admirers from this house; and this, with Mrs. BUrke's'

subscription and mine, make the paper I send you. One book is as

good as a thousand: one of hers is certainly as good as a

thousand others."

The book, on its Publication 'was sent to Bath, where Burke

was lying ill-too ill to read it. To Mrs. Crewe, who visited him

at 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 and

again disturbed by echoes of the tumult without. The war was

progressing, and the Republic was holding its own against the

combined powers of Europe. Dr. Burney refers to the "sad news"

from Dunkirk. In August, 1793, an English army, commanded by the

Duke of York, had invested that important stronghold: on the

night of September 8, thanks to the exertions of the garrison and

the advance of General Houchard to its relief, the siege was

urriedly abandoned and his royal highness had to beat a retreat,

leaving behind him' his siege-artillery and a large quantity of

aggage and ammunition. Another siege--that of

Page 74

Toulon-seemed likely to prove a matter of nearer concern to

Fanny. The inhabitants of Toulon, having royalist, or at least

anti-jacobin, sympathies, and stirred by the fate of Marseilles,

had determined, in an unhappy hour, to defy the Convention and to

proclaim the dauphin by the title of Louis XVII. They invoked the

protection of the English fleet under Admiral Hood, who

accordingly took possession of the harbour and of the French

ships of war stationed therein, while a force of English and

Spanish soldiers was sent on shore to garrison the forts. In the

course of these proceedings the admiral issued to the townspeople

two proclamations, by the second of which, dated August 28, 1793,

after noticing the declaration of the inhabitants in favour of

monarchy, and Their desire to re-establish the constitution as it

was accepted by the late king, he explicitly declared that he

took possession of Toulon and should keep it solely as a deposit

for Louis XXIII., and that only until the restoration of peace.

This hopeful intelligence did not escape General d'Arblay, busied

among his cabbages at Bookham. A blow to be struck for Louis

XVII. and the constitution! The general straightway flung aside

the "Gardener's Dictionary," and wrote an offer to Mr. Pitt of

his services as volunteer at Toulon, in the sacred cause of the

Bourbons. Happily for Fanny, his offer was not accepted, for some

reason unexplained.(97) In the meantime, General Dugommier and

the republicans, a young artillery-officer named Napoleon

Buonaparte among them, were using their best endeavours to reduce

Toulon, 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 as

ever your friend Mr. DelVile(98) was. So many people to

attend, so many complaints to hear, and so many grievances to

redress, that it has been impossible for me to write to

you sooner. I have been out of town but one Single day, I

believe, since you were here: that was spent at Richmond with my

sisters. But every day

Page 75

produces business for other people, which occupies me as much as

ever I found myself in days of hurry about my own affairs.

I have had a negotiation and correspondence to carry on

for and with Charlotte Smith,(99) of which I believe I told you

the beginning, and I do not see the end myself. Her second

son had his foot shot off before Dunkirk, and has undergone a

very dangerous amputation, which, it is much feared, will be

fatal.

Mrs. Crewe, having seen at Eastbourne a great number of venerable

and amiable French clergy suffering all the evils of banishment

and beggary with silent resignation, has for some time had in

meditation a plan for procuring some addition to the small

allowance 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, but

intends being his own gardener. I suppose the ground allotted to

the garden of your maisonnette is marked out, and probably will

be enclosed and broken up before the foundation of your mansion

is laid ; therefore, to encourage M. d'Arblay in the study of

horticulture, I have the honour to send him Miller's 'Gardeners'

Dictionary,'--an excellent book, at least for the rudiments of

the art. I send you, my dear Fanny, an edition of Milton, which

I can well spare, and which you ought not to live without ; and I

send you both our dear friend Dr. Johnson's 'Rasselas.'

This is sad news from Dunkirk, at which our own jacobins will

insolently triumph. Everything in France seems to move in a

regular 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 country

will be terminated. In the meantime the peace and comfort of

every civilised part of the globe is threatened with similar

calamities.

(Madame dArblay to Dr. Burney)

Bookham, September 29, 1793.

When I received the last letter of my dearest father, and for

some hours after, I was the happiest of all human beings. I make

no exception, for I think none possible : not a wish remained to

me; not a thought of forming one.

Page 76

This was just the period--is it not always so?--for a blow of

sorrow to reverse the whole scene : accordingly, that evening M.

d'Arblay communicated to me his desire of going to Toulon. He had

intended retiring from public life; his services and his

sufferings in his severe and long career, repaid by exile and

confiscation, and for ever embittered to his memory by the murder

of his sovereign, had justly satisfied the claims of his

conscience and honour; and led him, without a single

self-reproach, to seek a quiet retreat in domestic society : but

the second declaration of Lord Hood no sooner reached this little

obscure dwelling,-no sooner had he read the words Louis XVII. and

the constitution to which he had sworn united, than his military

ardour rekindled, his loyalty was all up in arms, and every sense

of duty carried him back to wars and dangers.

I dare not speak of myself, except to say that I have forborne to

oppose him with a single solicitation; all the felicity of this

our chosen and loved retirement would effectually be annulled by

the smallest suspicion that it was enjoyed at the expense of any

duty - and therefore, since he is persuaded it is right to go, I

acquiesce. He is now writing an offer of his services, which I am

to 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 copy

it for him. . . .

My dearest father, before this tremendous project broke into our

domestic economy, M, d'Arblay had been employed in a little

composition, which, being all in his power, he destined to lay at

your feet, as a mark of his pleasure in your attention to his

horticultural 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 to

me the only present he accepts entirely without pain. He has just

requested me to return to Mrs. Locke herself a cadeau she had

brought us. If it had been an old Courtcalendar, or an almanac,

or anything in the shape of a brochure, he would have received it

with his best bow and smile.

This Toulon business finally determines our deferring the

maisonnette till the spring. Heaven grant it may be deferred no

longer!(100) Mr Locke says it will be nearly as soon ready as if

begun in the autumn, for it will be better to have it

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aired and inhabited before the winter seizes it,

If the memoire which M. d'Arblay is now writing is finished in

time, it shall accompany the little packet; if not, we will send

it by the first opportunity.

Meanwhile, M. d'Arblay makes a point of our indulging ourselves

with the gratification of subscribing one guinea to your

fund,(101) and Mrs. Locke begs you will trust her and insert her

subscription in your list, and Miss Locke and Miss Amelia Locke.

Mr. Locke is charmed with your plan. M. d'Arblay means to obtain

you Lady Burrel and Mrs. Berm. If you think I can write to any

purpose, tell me a little hint how and of what, dearest sir; for

I 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 Your

plan.(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 an

occasion, and you for giving way to what seems an indispensable

duty. Common-place reflections on the vicissitudes of human

affairs would afford you little consolation. The stroke is new to

your situation, and so will be the fortitude necessary on the

occasion. However, to military men, who, like M. d'Arblay, have

been but just united to the object of their choice, and begun to

domesticate, it is no uncommon tbing for their tranquillity to be

disturbed by " the trumpet's loud clangor." Whether the offer is

accepted or not, the having made it will endear him to those

embarked in the same cause among his countrymen, and elevate him

in the general opinion of the English public. This consideration

I am sure will afford you a satisfaction the most likely to

enable you to support the anxiety and pain of absence.

I have no doubt of the offer being taken well at Windsor, and of

its conciliating effects. If his majesty and the ministry

Page 78

have any settled plan for accepting or rejecting similar offers I

know not; but it seems very likely that Toulon will be regarded

as the rallying point for French royalists of all sects and

denominations. . . .

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 in

a stout man of war ; and that M. de Narbonne will be of the

party, being so united in friendship and political principles.

Has M. d'Arblay ever been at Toulon ? It is supposed to be so

well fortified, both by art and nature, on the land side, that;

if not impregnable, the taking it by the regicides will require

so much time that it is hoped an army of counterrevolutionists

will be assembled from the side of Savoy, sufficient to raise the

siege, if unity of measures and action prevail between the

Toulonnais and their external friends. But even if the assailants

should 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 and

inhabitants in time, but to destroy such ships as cannot be

brought away, and ruin the harbour and arsenal for many years to

come.'

I have written to Mrs. Crewe all you have said on the subject of

writing something to stimulate benevolence and commiseration in

favour of the poor French ecclesiastics, amounting to six

thousand now in England, besides four hundred laity here and

eight hundred at Jersey, in utter want. The fund for the laity

was totally exhausted the 27th of last month, and the beginning

of the next that raised by former subscriptions and briefs will

be wholly expended!

The expense, in only allowing the clergy 8 shillings a-week,

amounts

Page 79

to about 7500 pounds a-month, which cannot be supported long by

private subscriptions, and must at last be taken up by

Parliament; but to save the national disgrace of suffering these

excellent people to die of hunger, before the Parliament meets

and agrees to do something for them, the ladies must work hard.

You and M. d'Arblay are very good in wishing to contribute your

mite ; but I did not intend leading you into this scrape. If you

subscribe your pen, and he his sword, it will best answer Mr.

Burke's idea, who says, "There are two ways by which people may

be charitable-the one by their money, the other by their

exertions."

(Madame d'Arblay to Dr. Burney.)

Sunday noon, October 21, 1793.

My dearest father will think I have been very long in doing

the little I have done; but my mind is so anxiously discom-fited

by the continued suspense with regard to M. d'Arblay's

proposition and wish, that it has not been easy to me to weigh

completely all I could say, and the fear of repeating what had

already been offered upon the subject has much restrained me, for

I have seen none of the tracts that may have appeared. However,

it is a matter truly near my heart ; and though I have not done

it rapidly, I have done it with my whole mind, and, to own the

truth, with a species of emotion that has greatly affected me,

for I could not deeply consider the situation of these venerable

men without feeling for them to the quick. If what I have written

should have power to procure them one more guinea, I shall be

paid.

If you think what I have drawn up worth printing, I should

suppose it might make a little sixpenny paper, and be sold for

the same purpose it is written. Or will it only do to be printed

at the expense of the acting ladies, and given gratis? You must

judge of this.

(Madame d'Arblay to Dr. Burney.)

Bookham, October 27, 1793.

My most dear father,--The terrible confirmation of this last act

of 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 milder

thoughts of the barbarous rulers of his unhappy country, but from

seeing that the death of the queen could answer no purpose,

helpless as she was to injure them, while her life might answer

some as a hostage with the emperor. Cruelty, however, such as

theirs, seems to require no incitement whatever; its own horrible

exercise appears sufficient both to prompt and to repay it. Good

heaven! that that wretched princess should so finish sufferings

so unexampled!

With difficulties almost incredible, Madame de Stael has

contrived, a second time, to save the lives of M. de Jaucourt and

M, de Montmorenci, who are just arrived in Switzerland. We know

as yet none of the particulars; simply that they are saved is

all: but they write in a style the most melancholy to M. de

Narbonne, of the dreadful fanaticism of licence, which they dare

call liberty, that still reigns unsubdued in France, And they

have preserved nothing but their persons ! of their vast

properties they could secure no more than pocket-money, for

travelling in the most penurious manner. They are therefore in a

state the most deplorable. Switzerland is filled with gentlemen

and ladies of the very first families and rank, who are all

starving, but those who have had the good fortune to procure, by

disguising their quality, some menial office!

No answer comes from Mr. Pitt ; and we now expect none till Sir

Gilbert Elliot makes his report of the state of Toulon and of the

Toulonnese till which, probably, no decision will be formed

whether the constitutionals in England will be employed or not.

[M. d'Arblay's offer of serving in the expedition to Toulon was

not accepted, and the reasons for which it was declined do not

appear.]

MADAME D'ARBLAY ON HER MARRIAGE.

(Madame d'Arblay to mrs.----.)

The account of your surprise, my sweet friend, was the last thing

to create mine: I was well aware of the general astonishment, and

of yours in particular. My own, however, at my very extraordinary

fate, is singly greater than that of all my friends united. I had

never made any vow against marriage, but I had long, long been

firmly persuaded it was for me a state of too much hazard and too

little promise to draw me from my

Page 81

individual plans and purposes. I remember, in playing -at

questions and commands, when I was thirteen, being asked when I

intended to marry? and surprising my playmates by solemnly

replying) "When I think I shall be happier than I am in being

single." It is true, I imagined that time would never arrive -

and I have pertinaciously adhered to trying no experiment upon

any other hope - for, many and mixed as are the ingredients which

form what is generally considered as happiness, I was always

fully convinced [hat social sympathy of character and taste could

alone have any chance with me; all else I always thought, and now

know, to be immaterial. I have only this peculiar,--that what

many contentedly assert or adopt in theory, I have had the

courage to be guided by in practice.

We are now removed to a very small house in the suburbs of a very

small village called Bookham. We found it rather inconvenient to

reside in another person's dwelling, though our own apartments

were to ourselves. Our views are not so beautiful as from

Phenice farm, but our situation is totally free from neighbours

and intrusion. We are about a mile and a half from Norbury Park,

and two miles from Mickleham. I am become already so stout a

walker, by use, and with the help of a very able supporter, that

I go to those places and return home on foot without fatigue,

when the weather is kind. At other times I condescend to accept

a carriage from Mr. Locke ; but it is always reluctantly, I so

much prefer walking where, as here, the country and prospects are

inviting.

I thank you for your caution about building: we shall certainly

undertake nothing but by contract - however, it would be truly

mortifying to give up a house in Norbury Park we defer the

structure till the spring, as it is to be so very slight, that

Mr. Locke says it will be best to have it hardened in its first

stage by the summer's sun. It will be very small,

merely an habitation for three people, but in a situation truly

beautiful, and within five minutes of either Mr. Locke or my

sister Phillips: it is to be placed just between those two loved

houses.

My dearest father, whose fears and drawbacks have been my Sole

subject of regret, begins now to see I have not judged rashly, or

with romance, in seeing my own road to my own felicity. And his

restored cheerful concurrence in my constant principles, though

new station, leaves me, for myself,

Page 82

without a wish. L'ennui, which could alone infest our retreat, I

have ever been a stranger to, except in tiresome company, and my

companion has every possible resource against either feeling or

inspiring it.

As my partner is a Frenchman, I conclude the wonder raised by the

connexion may spread beyond my own private circle; but no wonder

upon earth can ever arrive near my own in having found such a

character from that nation. This is a prejudice certainly,

impertinent and very John Bullish, and very arrogant but I only

share it with all my countrymen, and therefore must needs forgive

both them and myself. I am convinced, however, from your tender

solicitude for me in all ways, that you will be glad to hear that

the queen and all the royal family have deigned to send me wishes

for my happiness through Mrs. Schwellenberg, who has written me

what you call a very kind congratulation.

[In the year 1794, the happiness of the "Hermitage" was increased

by the birth of a son,(105) who was christened Alexander Charles

Louis Piochard d'Arblay; receiving the names of his father, with

those 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, and

reconcile this retirement daily more and more to my chevalier-

-chevalier every way, by birth, by his order, and by his

character; for to-day he has been making his first use of a

restoration to his garden in gathering snowdrops for his fair

Dulcinea--you know I must say fair to finish the phrase with any

effect.

I am very sorry for the sorrow I am sure Mr. Burke will feel for

the loss of his brother, announced in Mr. Coolie's paper

yesterday. Besides, he was a comic, good-humoured, entertaining

man, 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 told

Mr. Fox came to Eton purposely to engage to himself that young

man, from the already great promise of his rising abilities - and

he made dinners for him and his nephew, Lord Holland, to teach

them 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 or

three days ; he cannot quicker, as his own household readers are

so numerous. I see almost nothing of Mr. Windham in them ; which

vexes 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 ce

matin 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 je

pouvois avoir en Europe. Permettez moi, madame, de vous remercier

encore une fois do toutes vos bont‚s, de vous demander un peu de

part dans votre souvenir, et laissez moi vous dire que mes voeux

se porteront dans tous les terns de ma vie vers vous, vers le

capitaine, vers vos enfans. Vous allez avoir en Am‚rique un

serviteur bien zˆl‚; je ne reviendrai pas en Europe sans arriver

dans le Surrey: tout ce qui, pour mon esprit et pour mon coeur, a

quelque 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'y

reviendrai; non, en v‚rit‚, pour m'occuper d'affaires, car il y a

long tems que je les ai abandonn‚es pour jamais; mais pour voir

les excellens habitans du Surrey, J'espŠre savoir assez d'Anglais

pour entendre Madame d'Arblay; d'ici

quatre mois je ne vais

faire autre chose que l'‚tudier: et pour apprendre le beau et bon

langage, c'est "Evelina" et "Cecilia" qui sont mes livres d'‚tude

et de plaisir. Je vous souhaite, mon cher ami, toute espŠce de

bonheur, et vous ˆtes on position de remplir tous mes souhaits.

je ne sais combien de tems je resterai en Am‚rique: s'il se

r‚f‚roit quelque chose de raisonnable et de stable pour notre

malheureux pays, je reviendrois; si l'Europe s'abŒme dans la

campagne prochaine, je pr‚parerai en Am‚rique des asyles

tous

nos amis.

Page 85

Adieu: mes hommages

Madame d'Arblay et

Madame

phillips, 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 most

welcome and kind letter at our Susanna's. The account of your

better health gives me a pleasure beyond all words; and it is the

more essential to my perfect contentment on account of your

opinion of our retreat. I doubt not, my dearest father, but you

judge completely right, and I may nearly say we are both equally

disposed to pay the most implicit respect to your counsel. We

give up, therefore, all thoughts of our London excursion for the

present, and I shall write to that effect to our good intended

hostess very speedily. I can easily conceive far more than you

enlarge upon in this counsel: and, indeed, I have not myself been

wholly free from apprehension of possible embarras, should we, at

this period, visit London; for though M. d'Arblay not only could

stand, but would court, all personal scrutiny, whether

retrospective or actual, I see daily the extreme susceptibility

which attends his very nice notions of honour, and how quickly

and deeply his spirit is wounded by whatever he regards as

injustice. Incapable, too, of the least trimming or

Page 86

disguise, he could not, at a time such as this, be in London

without suffering or risking perhaps hourly, something

unpleasant. Here we are tranquil, undisturbed and undisturbing.

Can life, he often says, he more innocent than ours, or happiness

more inoffensive? He works in his garden, or studies English and

mathematics, while I write. When I work at my needle, he reads

to me; and we enjoy the beautiful country around us in long and

romantic strolls, during which he carries under his arm a

portable garden chair, lent us by Mrs. Locke, that I may rest as

I proceed. He is extremely fond, too, of writing, and makes, from

time to time, memorandums of such memoirs, poems, and anecdotes

as he recollects, and I wish to have preserved. These resources

for sedentary life are certainly the first blessings that can be

given to man, for they enable him to be happy in the extremest

obscurity, even after tasting the dangerous draughts of glory and

ambition.

The business of M. de Lafayette(111) has been indeed extremely

bitter to him. It required the utmost force he could put upon

himself not to take some public part in it. He drew up a short

but most energetic defence of that unfortunate general, in a

letter, which he meant to print and send to the editors of a

newspaper which had traduced him, with his name at full length.

But after two nights' sleepless deliberation, the hopelessness of

serving his friend, with a horror and disdain of being mistaken

as one who would lend any arms to weaken government at this

crisis, made him consent to repress it. I was dreadfully uneasy

during the conflict, knowing, far better than I can make him

conceive, the mischiefs that might follow any interference at

this moment, in matters brought before the nation, from a

foreigner. But, conscious of his own integrity, I plainly see he

must either wholly retire, or come forward to encounter whatever

he thinks wrong. Ah--better let him accept your motto, and

cultiver son jardin! He is now in it, notwithstanding our long

walk to Mickleham, and working hard and fast to finish some

selfset task that to-morrow, Sunday, must else impede.

page 87

M. d'Arblay, to my infinite satisfaction, gives up all thoughts

of building, in the present awful state of public affairs. To

show you, however, how much he is " of your advice " as to son

jardin, he has been drawing a plan for it, which I intend to beg,

borrow, or steal (all one), to give you some idea how seriously

he studies to make his manual labours of some real utility.

This sort of work, however, is so totally new to him, that he

receives every now and then some of poor Merlin's "disagreeable

compliments;" for, when Mr. Locke's or the captain's gardeners

favour our grounds with a visit, they commonly make known that

all has been done wrong. Seeds are sowing in some parts when

plants ought to be reaping, and plants are running to seed while

they are thought not yet at maturity. Our garden, therefore, is

not 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 toil

in planting and transplanting strawberries round our hedge, here

at Bookham, he has just been informed they will bear no fruit the

first year, and the second we may be "over the hills and far

away!" Another time, too, with great labour, he cleared a

considerable compartment of weeds, and, when it looked clean and

well, and he showed his work to the gardener, the man said he had

demolished an asparagus-bed! M. d'A. protested, however, nothing

could look more like des mauvaises herbes.

His greatest passion is for transplanting. Everything we possess

he moves from one end of the garden to another, to produce better

effects. Roses take place of jessamines, jessamines of

honeysuckles, and honeysuckles of lilacs, till they have all

danced round as far as the space allows; but whether the effect

may not be a general mortality, summer only can determine.

Such is our horticultural history. But I must not omit that we

have had for one week cabbages from our own cultivation every

day! O, you have no idea how sweet they tasted! We agreed they

had a freshness and a go–t we had never met with before. We had

them for too short a time to grow tired of them, because, as I

have already hinted, they were beginning to run to seed before we

knew they were eatable. . .

April. Think of our horticultural shock last week, when Mrs.

Bailey, our landlady, "entreated M. d'Arblay not to Spoil

Page 88

her fruit-trees!"--trees he had been pruning with his utmost

skill and strength. However, he has consulted your "Millar"

thereupon, and finds out she is very ignorant, which he has

gently 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 full

of interesting anecdote and enlivening detail! The meeting with

Mrs. Thrale, so surrounded by her family, made me breathless; and

while you were conversing with the Signor, and left me in doubt

whether you advanced to her or not, I almost gasped with

impatience and revived old feelings, which, presently, you

reanimated to almost all their original energy How like my

dearest father to find all his kindness rekindled when her ready

hand once more invited it! I heard her voice in, "Why here's Dr.

Burney, as young as ever!" and my dear father in his parrying

answers.(112) No scene could have been related to me more

interesting or more welcome. My heart and hand, I am sure, would

have met her in the same manner. The friendship was too pleasant

in its first stage, and too strong in its texture, to be ever

obliterated, though it has been tarnished and clouded. I wish few

things 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 its

kind I ever, I think, experienced :---so kind a thought, so

Page 89

sweet a surprise as was my dearest father's visit! How softly

and soothingly it has rested upon my mind ever since!

"Abdolomine"(114) has no regret but that his garden was not in

better order; he was a little piqu‚, he confesses, that you said

it was not very neat--and, to be shor!-0-but his passion is

to do great works: he undertakes with pleasure, pursues with

energy, and finishes with spirit; but, then, all is over! He

thinks the business once done always done; and to repair, and

amend, and weed, and cleanse--O, these are drudgeries

insupportable to him!

However, you should have seen the place before he began his

operations, to do him justice ; there was then nothing else but

mauvaises herbes; now, you must at least allow there is a mixture

of flowers and grain! I wish you had seen him yesterday, mowing

down our hedge--with his sabre, and with an air and attitudes so

military, that, if he had been hewing down other legions than

those he encountered--ie., of spiders--he could scarcely have had

a mien more tremendous, or have demanded an arm more mighty.

Heaven knows, I am "the most contente personne in the world" to

see his sabre so employed!

A NOVEL AND A TRAGEDY.

You spirited me on in all ways; for this week past I have taken

tightly 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 a

new shelf for arranging it! which is already in his rumination

for Metastasio;(116) I imagine you now .,Seriously resuming that

work; I hope to see further sample ere long.

We think with very great pleasure of accepting my mother's and

your kind invitation for a few days. I hope and mean, if

possible, to bring with me also a little sample of something less

in the dolorous style than what always causes your poor shoulders

a little Shrug.(117) . . .

How truly grieved was I to hear from Mr. Locke of the death of

young Mr. Burke!(118) What a dreadful blow upon his

Page 90

father and mother ! to come at the instant of the son's highest

and most honourable advancement, and of the father's retreat to

the bosom of his family from public life ! His brother, too,

gone so lately! I am most sincerely sorry, indeed, and quite

shocked, as there seemed so little suspicion of such an event's

approach, by your account of the joy caused by Lord Fitzwilliam's

kindness. Pray tell me if you hear how poor Mr. Burke and his

most 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, measure

my regard of heart by my remissness of hand? Let me give you the

short history of my tragedy,(119) fairly and frankly. I wrote it

not, as your acquaintance imagined, for the stage, nor yet for

the press. I began it at Kew palace, and, at odd moments, I

finished it at Windsor; without the least idea of any species of

publication.

Since I left the royal household, I ventured to let it be read by

my father, Mr. and Mrs. Locke, my sister Phillips, and, of

course, M. d'Arblay, and not another human being. Their opinions

led to what followed, and my brother, Dr. Charles, showed it to

Mr. Kemble while I was on my visit to my father last October. He

instantly and warmly pronounced for its acceptance, but I knew

not when Mr. Sheridan would see it, and had not the smallest

expectation of its appearing this year. However, just three days

before my beloved little infant came into the world, an express

arrived from my brother, that Mr. Kemble wanted the tragedy

immediately, in order to show it to Mr. Sheridan, who had just

heard of it, and had spoken in the most flattering terms of his

good will for its reception.

Still, however, I was in doubt of its actual acceptance till

three weeks after my confinement, when I had a visit from my

brother, who told me he was, the next morning, to read the piece

in the green-room. This was a precipitance for which I was every

way unprepared, as I had never made but one copy of the play, and

had 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 short

letters, 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 the

subject of it was already in all the newspapers! I was extremely

chagrined at this intelligence; but, from that time, thought it

all too late to be the herald of my own designs. And this, added

to my natural and incurable dislike to enter upon these

egotistical details unasked, has caused my silence to my dear M-

-, and to every friend I possess. Indeed, speedily after, I had

an illness so severe and so dangerous, that for full seven weeks

the tragedy was neither named nor thought of by M. d'Arblay or

myself.

The piece was represented to the utmost disadvantage, save only

Mrs. Siddons and Mr. Kemble - for it was not written with any

idea of the stage, and my illness and weakness, and constant

absorbment, at the time of its preparation, occasioned it to

appear with so many undramatic effects, from my inexperience of

theatrical requisites and demands, that, when I saw it, I myself

perceived a thousand things I wished to change. The performers,

too, were cruelly imperfect, and made blunders I blush to have

pass for mine,-added to what belong to me. The most important

character after the hero and heroine had but two lines of his

part by heart ! He made all the rest at random, and such

nonsense as put all the other actors out as much as himself; so

that a more wretched Performance, except Mrs. Siddons, Mr.

Kemble, and Mr. Bensley, could not be exhibited in a barn. All

this concurred to make it very desirable to withdraw the piece

for 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, with

the good Hooles. After dinner Mr. Cumberland came in, and was

extremely courteous, and seemingly friendly, about you and your

piece. He took me aside from Mrs. Paradise, who had fastened on

me and held me tight by an account of her own and Mr. paradise's

complaints, so

Page 92

circumstantially narrated, that not a stop so short as a comma

occurred in more than an hour, while I was civilly waiting for a

full period. Mr. Cumberland expressed his sorrow at what had

happened at Drury-lane, and said that, if he had had the honour

of knowing you sufficiently, he would have told you d'avance what

would happen, by what he had heard behind the scenes. The players

seem to have given the play an ill name. But, he says, if you

would go to work again, by reforming this, or work with your best

powers at a new plan, and would submit it to his inspection, he

would, from the experience he has had, risk his life on its

success. This conversation I thought too curious not to be

mentioned. . . .

HASTINGs' ACQUITTAL. DR. BURNEY'S METASTASIO.

Well, but how does your Petit and pretty monsieur do? 'Tis pity

you and M. d'Arblay don't like him, poor thing! And how does

horticulture thrive ? This is a delightful time of the year for

your Floras and your Linnaei: I envy the life of a gardener in

spring, particularly in fine weather.

And so dear Mr. Hastings is honourably acquitted!(120) and I

visited him the next morning, and we cordially shook hands. I had

luckily 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 dined

with 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 St

James's Place, and at the Admiralty, whither the family removed

last 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 are

expected from a character si folƒtre. My lord is not only the

handsomest and the best intentioned man in the kingdom, but at

present the most useful and truly patriotic. And then, he has

written to Vienna for Metastasio's three inedited volumes, which

I so much want ere I advance too far in the press for them to be

of any use.

I am halooed on prodigiously in my Metastasio mania. All the

critics--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 has

ever been written. "Bless my heart!" says Warton, "I, that have

been all my life defending the three unities, am overset." "Ay,"

quoth I, "has not he made you all ashamed of 'em? You learned

folks are only theorists in theatrical matters, but Metastasio

had sixty years' successful practice. There!--Go to." My dear

Fanny, before you write another play, you must read Aristotle and

Horace, as expounded by my dear Metastasio. But, basta. You know

when I take up a favourite author, as a Johnson, a Haydn, or a

Metastasio, I do not soon lay him down or let him be run down. .

. .

Here it strikes three o'clock: the post knell, not bell, tolls

here, and I must send off my scrib: but I will tell you, though I

need not, that, now I have taken up Metastasio again, I work at

him in every uninterrupted moment. I have this morning attempted

his charming pastoral, in "il Re Pastore." I'll give you the

translation, because the last stanza is a portrait:--

To meadows, woods, and fountains

Our tender flocks I'll lead;

In meads beneath the mountains

My love shall see them feed.

Our simple narrow mansion

Will suit our station well;

There's room for heart expansion

And 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 conceived

such an antipathy to the petit monsieur! O if you could see him

now! My mother would be satisfied, for his little cheeks are

beginning to favour of the trumpeter's, and Esther would be

satisfied, for he eats like an embryo alderman. He enters into

all we think, say, mean, and wish ! His eyes are sure to

sympathise in all our affairs and all our feelings. We find some

kind reason for every smile he bestows upon us, and some generous

and disinterested Motive for every grave look.

Page 94

If he wants to be danced, we see he has discovered that his

gaiety is exhilarating to us ; if he refuses to be moved, we take

notice that he fears to fatigue us. If he will not be quieted

without 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 are

edified by the grand sirieux of his dignity and philosophy: if he

makes the house ring with loud acclaim because his food, at first

call, does not come ready warm into his mouth, we hold up our

hands with admiration at his vivacity.

Your conversation with Mr. Cumberland astonished me. I certainly

think his experience of stage effect, and his interest with

players, so important, as almost instantly to wish putting his

sincerity to the proof. How has he got these two characters-

-one, of Sir Fretful Plagiary, detesting all works but those he

owns, and all authors but himself--the other, of a man too

perfect even to know or conceive the vices of the world, such as

he is painted by Goldsmith in "Retaliation?" And which of these

characters is true?(121)

I am not at all without thoughts of a future revise of "Edwy and

Elgiva," for which I formed a plan on the first night, from what

occurred by the representation. And let me own to you, when you

commend my "bearing so well a theatrical drubbing," I am by no

means enabled to boast I bear it with conviction of my utter

failure. The piece was certainly not

Page 95

heard, and therefore not really judged. The audience finished

with an unmixed applause on hearing it was withdrawn for

alterations, and I have considered myself in the publicly

accepted situation of having at my own option to let the piece

die, or attempt its resuscitation,-its reform, as Mr. Cumberland

calls it. However, I have not given one moment to the matter

since 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's

honourable acquittal.

"CAMILLA."

(Madame d'Arblay to Mrs.--.)

Bookham, June 15, '95,

Let me hasten to tell you something of myself that I shall be

very sorry you should hear from any other, as your too

susceptible mind would be hurt again, and that would grieve me

quite to the heart.

I have a long work, which a long time has been in hand, that I

mean to publish soon--in about a year. Should it succeed, like

'Evelina' and 'Cecilia,' it may be a little portion to our

Bambino. We wish, therefore, to print it for ourselves in this

hope; but the expenses of the press are so enormous, so raised by

these late Acts, that it is out of all question for us to afford

it. We have, therefore, been led by degrees to listen to counsel

of some friends, and to print it by subscription. This is in

many--many ways unpleasant and unpalatable to us both; but the

real chance of real use and benefit to Our little darling

overcomes 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, where

books were to be kept by ladies, not booksellers,--the Duchess of

Devonshire, Mrs. Boscawen, and Mrs. Crewe; but I was an

individual then, and had no cares of times to come: now, thank

heaven! this is not the case;--and when I look at my little boy's

dear, innocent, yet intelligent face, I defy any pursuit to be

painful 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 discouraging

calculations, we still mean to hazard the publishing by

subscription. And, indeed, I had previously determined, when I.

changed my state, to set aside all my innate and original

abhorrences, and to regard and use as resources, myself, what had

always been considered as such by others. Without this idea, and

this resolution, our hermitage must have been madness. . . .

I like well the idea of giving no name at all,-why should not I

have my mystery as well as "Udolpho?"(122)--but, " now, don't

fly, Dr. Burney! I own I do not like calling it a novel; it gives

so simply the notion of a mere love-story, that I recoil a little

from it. I mean this work to be sketches of characters and

morals 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's

house; and it was not permitted to be read by the princesses till

sanctioned by a bishop's recommendation,--the late Dr. Ross of

Exeter.

Will you then suffer mon amour Propre to be saved by the

proposals 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) the

prettiest in nature! I remember how many people did not like that

of "Evelina," and called it "affected" and "missish," till they

read the book, and then they got accustomed in a few pages, and

afterwards it was much approved. I must leave this for the

present untouched ; for the force of the name attached by the

idea of the character, in the author's mind, is such, that I

should not know how to sustain it by any other for a long while.

In "Cecilia" and "Evelina" 'twas the same: the names of all the

personages annexed, with me, all the ideas I put in motion with

them. 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 I

can, my dearest father. I will neither be indolent, nor

negligent, nor avaricious. I can never half answer the

expectations that seem excited. I must try to forget them, or I

shall be in a continual quivering.

Mrs. Cooke, my excellent neighbour, came in Just now to read me a

paragraph of a letter from Mrs. Leigh, of Oxfordshire, her

sister. . . . After much of civility about the new work and its

author, it finishes thus:--"Mr. Hastings I saw just now: I told

him what was going forward; he gave a great jump, and exclaimed,

'Well, then, now I can serve her, thank Heaven, and I will! I

will write to Anderson to engage Scotland, and I will attack the

East 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 the

wind 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 has

penetrated us with sorrowing and indignant feelings. Unknown to

M. d'Arblay whose grief and horror are upon point of making him

quite ill, I venture this address to his most beloved friend; and

before I seal it I will give him the option to burn or underwrite

it. I shall be brief in what I have to propose: sincerity need

not be loquacious, and M. de Narbonne is too kind to demand

phrases for ceremony.

Should your present laudable but melancholy plan fail, and should

nothing better offer, or till something can be arranged, will you

dear Sir, condescend to share the poverty of our hermitage? Will

you take a little cell under our rustic roof, and fare as we

fare? What to us two hermits is cheerful and happy, will to you,

indeed, be miserable but it will be some solace to the goodness

of your heart to witness our contentment;--to dig with M. d'A. in

the garden will be of service to

Page 98

your health; to muse sometimes with me in the parlour will be a

relaxation to your mind. You will not blush to own your little

godson. Come, then, and give him your blessing; relieve the

wounded feelings of his father--oblige his mother--and turn

hermit at Bookham, till brighter suns invite you elsewhere. F.

D'ARPLAY.

You will have terrible dinners, alas !--but your godson comes in

for the dessert.(125)

PRESENTATION OF "CAMILLA" AT WINDSOR.

[During the years 1794 and 1795, Madame d'Arblay finished and

prepared for the press her third novel, "Camilla," which was

published partly by subscription in 1796 the dowager Duchess of

Leinster, 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, the

authoress was desirous of presenting the first copy to her

majesty, 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 an

immense letter should I write you ! But I have still so many

book oddments of accounts, examinations, directions, and little

household affairs to arrange, that, with baby-kissing, included,

I expect I can give you to-day only part the first of an

excursion 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-shaking

at the last minute, by appointment; and at about half-past three

we set forward. I had written the day before to my worthy old

friend 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 of

the king's footmen recollecting me, I imagined, came forward, a

volunteer, and walked by the side of the chaise to show the

postilion the house.--N.B. No bad omen to worldly augurers.

Arrived, Mrs. Agnew came forth with faithful attachment, to

conduct us to our destined lodgings. I wrote hastily to Miss

Planta, to announce to the queen that I was waiting the honour of

her majesty's commands ; and then began preparing for my

appearance the next morning, when I expected a summons - but Miss

Planta came instantly herself from the queen, with orders of

immediate attendance, as her majesty would see me directly! The

king was just gone upon the Terrace, but her majesty did not walk

that evening.

Mrs. Agnew was my maid, Miss Planta my arranger; my

landlord, who was a hairdresser, came to my head, and M. d'Arblay

was general superintendent. The haste and the joy went hand in

hand, and I was soon equipped, though shocked at my own

precipitance in sending before I was already visible. Who,

however, could have expected such prompt admission? and in an

evening?

M. d'Arblay helped to carry the books as far as to the gates. My

lodgings were as near to them as possible. At our first entry

towards the Queen's lodge we encountered Dr. Fisher and his lady:

the sight of me there, in a dress announcing indisputably whither

I was hieing, was such an Astonishment, that they looked at me

rather as a recollected spectre than a renewed acquaintance. When

we 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 as

to the house, till he saw I took part with Miss Planta, and he

was then compelled to let us lug in ten volumes as we could.

The king was already returned from the Terrace, the page told

us." O, then," said Miss Planta, "you are too late!" However, I

went into my old dining-parlour; while she said she would see if

any one could obtain the queen's

commands for another time. I did not stay five minutes

Page 100

ruminating upon the dinners, "gone where the chickens," etc.,

when Miss Planta return and told me the queen would see me

instantly.

The queen was In her dressing-room, and with only the Princess

Elizabeth. Her reception was the Most gracious. yet, when she

saw my emotion in thus meeting her again; she herself was by no

means quite unmoved. I presented my little--yet not small--

offering, upon one knee placing them, as she directed, upon a

table by her side, and expressing, as well as I could, my devoted

gratitude for her invariable goodness to me. She then began a

conversation, in her old style, upon various things and people,

with all her former graciousness of manner, which soon, as she

perceived my strong sense of her indulgence, grew into even all

its former kindness. Particulars I have now no room for ; but

when in about half an hour, she said, "How long do you intend to

stay here, Madame d'Arblay?" and I answered, "We have no

intentions, ma'am," she repeated, laughing, "You have no

intentions!--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 by

all that had passed, I asked if I might presume to put at the

door of the king's apartment a copy of MY little work. She

hesitated, but with smiles the most propitious;. then told me to

fetch the books - and whispered something to the Princess

Elizabeth, who left the room by another door at the same moment

that I retired for the other set. Almost immediately upon my

return to the queen and the Princess Elizabeth, the king entered

the apartment, and entered it to receive himself my little

offering.

"Madame d'Arblay," said her majesty, "tells me that Mrs. Boscawen

is to have the third set; but the first--Your majesty will excuse

me--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 Madame

d'Arblay, the Duchess of Beaufort kept one for Mrs. Boscawen."

This led to a little discourse upon the business, in which the

king's countenance seemed to speak a benign interest; and the

queen 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 You

go?--Did You finish any part? or only form the skeleton?"

"Just that, sir," I answered; "the skeleton

was formed here, but nothing was completed. I worked it up in my

little cottage."

"And about what time did You give to it?"

"All my time, sir; from the Period I planned publishing it, I

devoted myself to it wholly. I had no episode but a little baby.

My subject grew Upon me, and increased my materials to a bulk

that I am afraid will be more laborious to wade through for the

reader 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 fair

sheets Of the last volume only last night. I have, therefore, had

no leisure for fear. And sure I am, happen what May to the book

from the critics, it can never cause me pain in any proportion

with the pleasure and happiness I owe to it." I /am sure I spoke

most sincerely and he looked kindly to believe me.

He asked if Mr. Locke had seen it; and when I said no, he seemed

comically pleased, as if desirous to have it in its first state.

He asked next if Dr. Burney had overlooked it; and, upon the same

answer, looked with the same satisfaction. He did not imagine how

it would have passed Current with my dearest father: he appeared

Only 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; I

should else have been very happy to have consulted my father and

Mr. Locke; but I had so much, to the last moment, to write, that

I literally had not a moment to hear what could be said. The work

is longer by the whole fifth Volume than I had first planned; and

I am almost ashamed to look at its size, and afraid my readers

would have been more obliged to me if I had left so much out than

for putting So much in."

He laughed and inquired who corrected my proofs? 'Only myself," I

answered.

"Why, some authors have told me," cried he, "that they

Page 102

are the last to do that work for themselves. They know so well

by heart what ought to be, that they run on without seeing what

is. They have told me, besides, that a mere plodding head is

best and surest for that work ; and that the livelier the

imagination, 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 call

kindness, was accorded me, though the king came from the concert

to grant it ; and it broke up by the queen saying, "I have told

Madame d'Arblay that, if she can come again to-morrow, she shall

see 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 so

much grown, adding, "She is taller than you!"

I expressed warmly my delight in the permission of Seeing their

royal highnesses, and their majesties returned to the

concert-room. The Princess Elizabeth stayed, -and flew up to me,

crying, "How glad I am to see you here again, my dear Miss

Burney!--I beg your pardon,--Madame d'Arblay I mean -but I always

call all my friends by their maiden names when I first see them

after they are married."

I warmly now opened upon my happiness in this return to all their

sights, and the condescension and sweetness with which it was

granted me - and confessed I could hardly behave prettily and

properly at my first entrance after so long an absence. "O, I

assure you I felt for you!" cried she; "I thought you must be

agitated ; it was so natural to you to come here-to mamma!"

You will believe, my dearest father, how light-hearted and full

of glee I went back to my expecting companion: Miss Planta

accompanied me, and stayed the greatest part of the little

remaining evening, promising to let me know at what hour I should

wait 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 I

should 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 famous

botanist, and lately made gardener to the queen for Frogmore - so

M. d'Arblay consulted him about our cabbages! and so, if they

have not now a high flavour, we are hopeless.

At eleven M. d'Arblay again ventured to esquire me to the rails

round 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 remained

very comfortably till her majesty and the princesses returned

from Frogmore, where they had passed two or three hours. Almost

immediately I was summoned to the queen by one of the pages.

She was just seated to her hair-dresser. She conversed upon

various public and general topics till the friseur was dismissed,

and then I was honoured with an audience, quite alone, for a full

hour and a half. During this, nothing could be more gracious

than her whole manner, and The particulars, as there was no

pause, would fill a duodecimo volume at least. Among them was Mr.

Windham, whom she named with great favour; and gave me the

opportunity of expressing my delight upon his belonging to the

government. We had so often conversed about him during the

accounts I had related of Mr. Hastings's trial, that there was

much to say upon the acquisition to the administration, and my

former round assertions of his goodness of heart and honour. She

inquired how you did, my dearest father, with an air of great

kindness and, when I said well, looked pleased, as she answered,

"I was afraid he was ill, for I saw him but twice last year at

our music."

She then gave me an account of the removal of the concert to the

Haymarket since the time I was admitted to it. She then talked of

some books and authors, but found me wholly in the Clouds as to

all that is new. She then said, "What a very pretty book Dr.

Burney has brought out upon Metastasio! I am very much pleased

with 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 quite

impossible to him to be utterly idle , but, indeed, I know of no

present design being positively formed."

We had then some discourse upon the new connexion at Norbury

park--the Fitzgeralds, etc.; and from this she led to various

topics of our former conferences, both in persons and things, and

gave me a full description of her new house at Frogmore, its

fitting up, and the share of each princess in its decoration.

She spoke with delight of its quiet and ease, and her enjoyment

of its complete retirement. "I spend," she cried, "there almost

constantly all my mornings. I rarely come home but just before

dinner, merely to dress, but to-day I came sooner."

This was said in a manner so flattering, I could scarce forbear

the 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 princess

royal ready?" said the queen. She answered, "Yes:" and her

majesty then told me I might go to her, adding, "You

know the way, Madame d'Arblay." And, thus licensed, I went to the

apartment of her royal highness up stairs. She was just quitting

it, She received me most graciously, and told me she was going to

sit for her picture, if I would come and stay with her while she

sat. Miss Bab Planta was in attendance, to read during this

period. The princess royal ordered me a chair facing her; and

another for Miss Bab and her book, which, however, was never

opened. The painter was Mr. Dupont.(1266) She was very gay and

very charming, full of lively discourse and amiable

condescension.

In about an hour the Princess Augusta came in : she addressed me

with her usual sweetness, and, when she had looked at her

sister's portrait, said, "Madame d'Arblay, when the princess

royal can spare you, I hope you will come to me," as she left the

room. I did not flout her; and when I had been an hour with the

princess royal, she told me she would

Page 105

keep me no longer from Augusta, and Miss Planta came to conduct

me 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. She

has a gaiety, a charm about her, that is quite resistless: and

much of true, genuine, and very original humour. She related to

me the history of all the feats, and exploits, and dangers, and

escapes of her brothers during last year; rejoicing in their

safety, yet softly adding, "Though these trials and difficulties

did them a great deal of good."

We talked a little of France, and she inquired of me what I knew

of the late unhappy queen, through M. d'Arblay ; and spoke of her

with the most virtuous discrimination between her foibles and her

really great qualities, with her most barbarous end. .She then

dwelt upon Madame Royale, saying, in her unaffected manner, "

It's very odd one never hears what sort of girl she is." I told

her all I had gathered from M. d'Arblay. She next spoke of my

Bambino, indulging me in recounting his faits et gestes; and

never moved till the princess royal came to summon her. They were

all to return to Frogmore to dinner. "We have detained Madame

d'Arblay between us the whole morning," said the princess royal,

with a gracious smile. "Yes," cried Princess Augusta, "and I am

afraid I have bored her to death; but when once I begin upon my

poor brothers, I can never stop without telling all my little

bits of glory." She then outstayed the princess royal to tell me

that, when she was at Plymouth, at church, she saw so many

officers' wives, and sisters, and mothers, helping their maimed

husbands, or brothers, or sons, that she could not forbear

whispering to the queen, "Mamma, how lucky it is Ernest is just

come so seasonably with that wound in his face! I should have

been quite shocked, else, not to have had one little bit of glory

among ourselves!"

When forced away from this sweet creature, I went to Mlle.

Jacobi, who said, "But where is M. d'Arblay?" Finding it too late

for me to go to my lodging to dress before dinner I wrote him a

word, which immediately brought him to the Queen's lodge : and

there I shall leave my dear father the pleasure of seeing us,

mentally, at dinner, at my ancient table,-both invited by the

queen's commands. Miss Gomme was asked to meet me, and the repast

was extremely pleasant.

page 106

A PRESENT FROM THE KING AND QUEEN.

just before we assembled to dinner Mlle. Jacobi desired to speak

with me alone, and, taking me to another room, presented me with

a folded little packet, saying, "The queen ordered me to put this

into your hands, and said, 'Tell Madame d'Arblay it is from us

both."' It was a hundred guineas. I was confounded, and nearly

sorry, so little was such a mark of their goodness in my

thoughts. She added that the king, as soon as he came from the

chapel in the morning, went to the queen's dressing-room just

before he set out for the levee, and put into her hands fifty

guineas, saying, "This is for my set!" The queen answered, "I

shall do exactly the same for mine," and made up the packet

herself. "'Tis only,' she said, 'for the paper, tell Madame

d'Arblay, nothing for the trouble!'" meaning she accepted that.

The manner of this was so more than gracious, so kind, in the

words us both, that indeed the money at the time was quite

nothing in the scale of my gratification ; it was even less, for

it almost pained me. However, a delightful thought that in a few

minutes occurred made all light and blithesome. "We will come,

then," I cried, "once a year to Windsor, to walk the Terrace, and

see the king, queen, and sweet princesses. This will enable us,

and I shall never again look forward to so long a deprivation of

their 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 highly

curious to see M. d'Arblay, who was in spirits, and, as he could

address them in French, and at his ease, did not seem much

disapproved of by them. I went to my lodging afterwards to dress,

where I told my monsieur this last and unexpected stroke, which

gave him exactly my sensations, and we returned to tea. We had

hopes of the Terrace, as my monsieur was quite eager to see all

this beloved royal House. The weather, however, was very

unpromising. The king came from the lodge during our absence; but

soon after we were in the levee three royal coaches arrived from

Frogmore: in the first was the queen, the Princesses Royal and

Augusta, and some lady in waiting. M. d'Arblay stood beside me

Page 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 his

croix the whole time he was at Windsor. The princesses bowed

also, and the four younger, who followed, all severally kissed

their hands to me, and fixed their eyes on my companion with an

equal expression of kindness and curiosity ; he therefore saw

them perfectly.

THE KING APPROVES THE DEDICATION OF "CAMILLA."

In a few minutes a page came to say, "The princesses desire to

see Madame d'Arblay," and he conducted me to the apartment of the

Princess Elizabeth, which is the most elegantly and fancifully

ornamented of any in the lodge, as she has most delight and most

taste in producing good effects.

Here the fair owner of the chamber received me, encircled with

the Princesses Mary and Amelia, and no attendant. They were

exactly as I had left them--kind, condescending, open,

and delightful; and the goodness of the queen, in sparing them

all to me thus, without any allay of ceremony, or gˆne of

listening Mutes, I felt most deeply.

They were all very gay, and I not very sad, so we enjoyed A

perfectly easy and even merry half-hour in divers discourses, in

which they recounted to me who had been most anxious about "the

book," and doubted not its great success, as everybody was so

eager about it. "And I must tell you one thing," Cried the

Princess Elizabeth; "the king is very much pleased with the

dedication."

This was, you will be sure, a very touching hearing to me; And

Princess Mary exclaimed, "And he is very difficult!"

"O, yes, he's hardly ever pleased with a dedication," cried one

of 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 in

giving 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, and

charged me to take a chair next her. Princess

Page 108

royal did not stay long, and soon returned to summon her sister

Augusta downstairs, as the concert was begun : but she replied

she could not come yet : and the princess royal went alone. We

had really a most delicious chat then.

They made a thousand inquiries about my book, and when and where

it was written, etc., and how I stood as to fright and fidget. I

answered all with openness, and frankly related my motives for

the publication. Everything of housekeeping, I told them, was

nearly doubled in price at the end of the first year and half of

our marriage, and we found it impossible to continue so near our

friends and the capital with our limited income, though M. d'A.

had accommodated himself completely, and even happily, to every

species of economy, and though my dearest father had capitally

assisted us ; I then, therefore, determined upon adopting a plan

I had formerly rejected, of publishing by subscription. I told

them the former history of that plan, as Mr. Burke's, and many

particulars that seemed extremely to interest them. My garden,

our way of life, our house, our Bambino,-all were inquired after

and related. I repeatedly told them the strong desire M.

d'Arblay had to be regaled with a sight of all their House -a

House to which I stood so every way indebted,-,and they looked

kindly concerned that the weather admitted no prospect of the

Terrace.

I mentioned to the Princess Augusta my recent new obligation to

their majesties, and my amaze and even shame at their goodness.

"O, I am sure," cried she, "they were very happy to have it in

their power."

"Yes, and we were so glad!"

"So glad!" echoed each of the others.

"How enchanted should I have been," cried I, "to have presented

my little book to each of your royal highnesses if I had dared!

or if, after her majesty has looked it over, I might hope for

such a permission, how proud and how happy it would make me!"

"O, I daresay you may," cried the Princess Augusta, eagerly. I

then intimated how deeply I should feel such an honour, if it

might be asked, after her majesty had read it - and the Princess

Elizabeth gracefully undertook the office. She related to me, in

a most pleasant manner, the whole of her own recent transaction,

its rise and cause and progress, in "The

Page 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 they

sweetly seconded. Princess Amelia assured me she had not

forgotten me ; and when another summons came for the concert,

Princess Augusta, comically sitting still and holding me by her

side, 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 longer

was impossible ; and then, in parting, they all expressed the

kindest 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; and

then--increase your family--all ways!"

"The queen," said Princess Elizabeth, "consulted me which way she

should read 'Camilla-' whether quick, at once, or comfortably at

Weymouth: so I answered, 'Why, mamma, I think, as you will be so

much interested in the book, Madame d'Arblay would be most

pleased you should read it now at once, quick, that nobody may be

mentioning the events before You come to them - and then again at

Weymouth, slow and comfortably.'"

In going, the sweet Princess Augusta loitered last but her

youngest sister, Amelia, who came to take my hand when the rest

were 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 not

promise 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 Miss

Planta in our way to the lodge, and took leave; but when we

arrived at Mlle. Jacobi's we found that the queen expected we

should 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 to

good old Mrs. Planta; next to the very respectable

Page 110

Dr. Fisher and his wife. The former insisted upon doing the

honours himself of St. George's cathedral to M. d'Arblay which

occasioned his seeing that beautiful antique building to the

utmost advantage. Dr. Fisher then accompanied us to a spot to

show M. d'Arblay Eton in the best view.

Dinner passed as before, but the evening lowered, and hopes of

the Terrace were weak, when the Duke and Duchess of York arrived.

This seemed to determine against us, as they told us the duchess

never went upon the Terrace but in the finest weather, and the

royal family did not choose to leave her. We were hesitating

therefore whether to set off for Rose Dale, when Mlle. Jacobi

gave an intimation to me that the king, herself, and the Princess

Amelia, would walk on the Terrace. Thither instantly we hastened,

and were joined by Dr. and Mrs. Fisher. The evening was so raw

and cold that there was very little company, and scarce any

expectation of the royal family - and when we had been there

about half an hour the musicians retreated, and everybody was

preparing to follow, when a messenger suddenly came forward,

helter skelter, running after the horns and clarionets, and

hallooing to them to return. This brought back the straggling

parties, and the king, Duke of York, and six princesses soon

appeared.

I have never yet seen M. d'Arblay agitated as at this moment ; he

could scarce keep his steadiness, or even his ground. The

recollections, he has since told me, that rushed upon his mind of

his own king and royal House were so violent and so painful as

almost to disorder him. His majesty was accompanied by the duke,

and Lord Beaulieu, Lord Walsingham, and General Manners; the

princesses were attended by Lady Charlotte Bruce, some other

lady, and Miss Goldsworthy: The king stopped to speak to the

Bishop of Norwich and some others at the entrance, and then

walked on towards us, who were at the further end. As he

approached, the princess royal said, loud enough to be heard by

Mrs. Fisher, "Madame d'Arblay, sir;" and instantly he came on a

step, and then stopped and addressed me, and, after a word or two

of the weather, he said, "Is that M. d'Arblay?" and most

graciously bowed to him and entered into a little conversation;

demanding how long he had been in England, how long in the

country, 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, and

answered 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 the

princesses all came up to speak to me, and to curtsy to him ; and

the Princess Elizabeth cried, "I've got leave! and mamma says she

won't wait to read it first!"

After this the king and duke never passed without taking off

their hats, and the princesses gave me a smile and a curtsy at

every turn: Lord Walsingbam came to speak to me, and Mr. Fairly,

and General Manners, who regretted that more of our old tea-party

were 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 take

leave of Mlle. Jacobi; but, Upon moving towards the passage, the

princess royal appeared, saying, "Madame d'Arblay, I come to

waylay you!" and made me follow her to the dressing-room, whence

the voice of the queen, as the door opened, called out, in mild

accents, "Come in, Madame d'Arblay!"

Her majesty was seated at the upper end of the room, with the

Duchess of York (129) on her right, and the Princesses Sophia and

Amelia on her left. She made me advance, and said, "I have just

been telling the Duchess of York that I find her royal highness's

name the first Upon this list,"--producing "Camilla."

"Indeed," said the duchess, bowing to me, "I was so very

impatient to read it, I could not but try to get it as early as

possible. I am very eager for it, indeed!"

"I have read," said the queen, "but fifty pages yet; but I am in

great uneasiness for that Poor little girl that I am afraid will

get the small-pox! and I am sadly afraid that sweet little other

girl will not keep her fortune! but I won't Peep! I read quite

fair. But I must tell Madame d'Arblay I know a country gentleman,

in Mecklenburg, exactly the very character of that good old man

the Uncle!" She seemed to speak as if delighted to meet him upon

paper.

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 his

goodness! He tried to turn away, but it was smilingly; and I had

courage to pursue him, for I could not help it. He then slightly

bowed it off, and asked the queen to repeat what she had said

upon the book.

"O, your majesty," she cried, "I must not anticipate!" yet told

him of her pleasure in finding an old acquaintance.

"Well!" cried the king archly, " and what other characters have

you 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," he

answered, "but still, if they are not like somebody, how can they

play their parts?"

"O, yes, sir," I cried, "as far as general nature goes, or as

characters belong to classes, I have certainly tried to take

them. But no individuals!"

My account must be endless if I do not now curtail. The Duke of

York, the other princesses, General Manners, and all the rest of

the group, made way to the room soon after, upon hearing the

cheerfulness of the voice of the king, whose .graciousness raised

me into spirits that set me quite at my ease. He talked much upon

the book, and then of Mrs. Delany, and then of various others

that my sight brought to his recollection, and all with a freedom

and goodness that enabled me to answer without difficulty or

embarrassment, and that produced two or three hearty laughs from

the Duke of York.

ANECDOTE OF THE DUCHESS OF YORK.

After various other topics, the queen said, "Duchess, Madame

d'Arblay is aunt of the pretty little boy (130) you were so good

to."

The duchess understood her so immediately that I fancy this was

not new to her. She bowed to me again, very smilingly, upon the

acknowledgments this encouraged me to offer; and the king asked

an explanation.

"Sir," said the duchess, "I was upon the road near Dorking, and I

saw a little gig overturned, and a little boy was taken out, and

sat down upon the road. I told them to

Page 113

stop and ask if the little boy was hurt, and they said yes .- and

I asked where he was to go, and they said to a village just a few

miles off; so I took him into my coach, Sir, and carried him

home."

"And the benedictions, madam," cried I, "of all his family have

followed 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 the

duchess liked him."

This again the queen repeated and the duchess again nodded, and

pointedly 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 there

for?"

"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, their

majesties, and sons and daughters, retired to the adjoining room,

the Princess Amelia loitered to shake hands, and the Princess

Augusta returned for the same condescension, reminding me of my

purpose for next year. While this was passing, the princess royal

had repaired to the apartment of Mlle. Jacobi, where she had held

a little Conversation with M. d'Arblay.

A VISIT TO MRS. BOSCAWEN.

We finished the evening very cheerfully with Mlle. Jacobi and

Mlle. Montmoulin, whom she invited to meet us, and the next

morning left Windsor and visited Rose Dale.(131) Mrs. Boscawen

received us very sweetly, and the little offering as if not at

all her due, Mrs. Levison Gower was with her, and showed us

Thomson'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 our

Bambino, and M. d'Arblay had, all this time, only fought off

being ill with his remnant of cold. Nevertheless, when we came to

Twickenham, my good old friend Mr. Cambridge was so cordial and

so earnest that we could not resist him, and were pressed in to

staying dinner. . . .

At a little before eleven we arrived at our dear cottage, and to

our 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's

indulgence of our extreme curiosity and interest in the sight of

the reviews. I am quite happy in what I have escaped of greater

severity, though my mate cannot bear that the palm should be

contested by "Evelina" and "Cecilia;" his partiality rates the

last as so much the highest; so does the newspaper I have

mentioned, of which I long to send you a copy. But those immense

men, whose single praise was fame and security--who established,

by a word, the two elder sisters-are now silent, Johnson and Sir

Joshua are no more, and Mr. Burke is ill, or otherwise engrossed;

yet, even without their powerful influence, to which I owe such

unspeakable 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 four

thousand, and it has appeared scarcely three months.

The first edition of "Evelina" was of eight hundred, the second

of five hundred, and the third of a thousand. What the following

have been I have never heard, The sale from that period became

more flourishing than the publisher cared to announce. Of

"Cecilia" the first edition was reckoned enormous at two thousand

and as a part of payment Was reserved for it, I remember our dear

Daddy Crisp thought it very unfair. It was printed, like this, in

July, and sold in October, to every one's wonder. Here, however,

the sale's increased in rapidity more than a third. Charles

says,--

"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 to

build a little cottage for ourselves. We shall make it as small

and 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 a

property saleable or letable for our Alex, and in Mr. Locke's

park we could not encroach any tenant, if the Youth's

circumstances, profession, or inclination .should make him not

choose the spot for his own residence. M. dArblay, therefore, has

fixed upon a field of Mr. Locke's, which he will rent, and of

which Mr. Locke will grant him a lease of ninety years. By this

means, we shall leave the little Alex a little property, besides

what will be in the funds, and a property likely to rise in

value, as the situation of the field is remarkably beautiful. It

is in the valley, between Mr. Locke's park and Dorking, and where

land is so scarce, that there is not another possessor within

many miles who would part, upon any terms, with half-an-acre. My

kindest father will come and give it, I trust, his benediction. I

am now almost jealous of Bookham for having received it.

Imagine but the ecstasy of M. d'Arblay in training, all his own

way, an entire new garden. He dreams now of cabbage-walks,

potato-beds, bean-perfumes, and peas-blossoms. My mother should

send him a little sketch to help his flower-garden, which will be

his 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 Wurtemberg

has much pleased in the royal House, by his manner and address

upon his interview, but that the poor Princess royal was almost

dead with terror, and agitation, and affright, at the first

meeting.(132) She could not utter a word, The queen was obliged

to speak her answers. The prince said he hoped this first would

be the last disturbance his

page 116

presence would ever occasion her. She then tried to recover, and

so far conquered her tumult as to attempt joining In a general

discourse from time to time. He paid his court successfully, I

am told, to the sisters, who all determine to like him; and the

princess royal is quite revived in her spirits again, now this

tremendous opening sight is over.

You will be pleased, and my dearest Mr. Locke, at the style of my

summons: 'tis so openly from the queen herself, Indeed, she has

behaved like an angel to me, from the trying time to her of my

marriage with a Frenchman. "So odd, you know," as Lady Inchiquin

said.

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 not

satisfy me, or raise my spirits, or anything but my indignation.

James has read the remarks in it on "Camilla," and we are all

dissatisfied. Perhaps a few of the verbal criticisms may be worth

your attention in the second edition; but these have been picked

out 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 at

his most kind and generous indignation with the reviewer. What

censure can ever so much hurt as such compensation can heal? And,

in fact, the praise is so strong that, were it neatly put

together, the writer might challenge my best enthusiasts to find

it insufficient. The truth, however, is, that the criticisms come

forward, and the panegyric is entangled, and so blended with

blame as to lose almost all effect, The reviews, however, as they

have not made, will not, I trust, mar me. "Evelina" made its way

all by itself; it was well spoken of, indeed, in all the reviews,

compared with general novels, but it was undistinguished by any

quotation, and only put in the Monthly Catalogue, and only

allowed

Page 117

short single paragraph. It was

circulated only by the general public till it reached, through

that unbiassed medium, Dr. Johnson and Mr. Burke, and thence it

wanted no patron.

Nov. 14.-Upon a second reading of the Monthly Review upon

"Camilla," I am in far better humour with it, and willing to

confess to the criticisms, if I may claim by that concession any

right to the eulogies. They are stronger and more important,

upon re-perusal, than I had imagined, in the panic of a first

survey and an unprepared-for disappointment in anything like

severity from so friendly an editor. The recommendation, at the

conclusion, of the book as a warning guide to youth, would

recompense me, upon the least reflection, for whatever strictures

Might precede it. I hope my kind father has not suffered his

generous--and to me most cordial--indignation against the

reviewer to interfere with his intended answer to the

affectionate 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 indeed

all-sufficient for some time; nor, indeed, could I even read any

more for many minutes. That, and the single sentence at the end,

"My Norbury is with me"--completely overset ne, though only with

joy. After your actual safety, nothing could so much touch me as

the picture I Instantly viewed of Norbury in Your arms. Yet I

shall hope for more detail hereafter.

The last letter I had from you addressed to myself shows me your

own sentiment of the fatal event(134) which so speedily followed

your departure, and which my dear father has himself announced to

you, though probably the newspapers will anticipate his letter. I

am very sorry, now, I did not write sooner; but while you were

still in England, and travelling so slowly, I had always lurking

ideas that disqualified me from writing to Ireland.

The minute I received, from Sally, by our dearest father's desire

the last tidings I set out for Chelsea. I was much Shocked by

the news, long as it has been but natural to look

Page 118

forward to it. My better part spoke even before myself upon the

propriety of my instant journey, and promised me a faithful

nursing attendance during my absence.

I went in a chaise, to lose no time - but the uncertainty how I

might find my poor father made me arrive with a nervous seizure

upon my voice that rendered it as husky as Mr. Rishton's.

While I settled with the postilion, Sally, James, Charlotte, and

Marianne, came to me. Esther and Charles had been there the

preceding day ; they were sent to as soon as the event had

happened. My dearest father received me with extreme kindness,

but though far, far more calm and quiet than I could expect, he

was much shaken, and often very faint. However, in the course of

the evening, he suffered me to read to him various passages from

various books, such as conversation introduced; and as his nature

is as pure from affectation as from falsehood, encouraged in

himself, as well as permitted in us, whatever could lead to

cheerfulness.

Let me not forget to record one thing that was truly generous in

my poor mother's last voluntary exertions. She charged Sally and

her maid both not to call my father when she appeared to be

dying; and not disturb him if her death should happen in the

night, nor to let him hear it till he arose at his usual time. I

feel sensibly the kindness of this sparing consideration.

Yet not so would I be used! O never should I forgive the

misjudged prudence that should rob me of one little instant of

remaining life in one who was truly dear to me'; Nevertheless, I

shall not be surprised to have his first shock succeeded by a

sorrow it did not excite, and I fear he will require much

watching 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 Lally

have spent a few days at Norbury Park. We went every evening

regularly to meet them, and they yet contrive to grow higher and

higher in our best opinions and affections; they force that last

word; 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-instalment

in their native land, that exceeds in eloquence, argument, taste,

feeling, and every power of oratory and truth united, anything I

ever remember to have read. It is so affecting in many places,

that I was almost ill from restraining My nearly convulsive

emotions. My dear and honoured partner gives me, perhaps, an

interest in such a subject beyond what is mere natural due and

effect, therefore I cannot be sure such will be its universal

success; yet I shall be nothing less than Surprised to live to

see his statue erected in his own country, at the expense of his

own restored exiles. 'Tis, indeed, a wonderful performance. And

he was so easy, So gay, so unassuming, yet free from

condescension, that I almost worshipped him. M. d'Arblay cut me

off a bit of the coat in which he read his pleading, and I shall

preserve it, labelled!

The princess was all that was amiable and attractive, and she

loves my Susanna so tenderly, that her voice was always caressing

when 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, would

be nothing for obstacles. You have made, there, that rare and

exquisite acquisition-an ardent friend for life.

DR. BURNEY'S DEPRESSED STATE.

I have not heard very lately of my dearest father; all accounts

speak of his being very much lower in spirits than When I left

him. I sometimes am ready to return to him, for my whole heart

yearns to devote itself to him - but the babe, and the babe's

father--and there is no going en famille uninvited--and my dear

father does not feel equal to making the invitation.

One of the Tichfield dear girls seems to be constantly with

Sally, to aid the passing hours, but Our poor father wants

something more than cheerfulness and affection, though nothing

without them could do; he wants some one to find out pursuits--to

entice him into reading, by bringing books, or starting subjects;

some one to lead him to talk of what he thinks, or to forget what

he thinks of, by adroitly talking of what may catch other

attention. Even where deep sorrow is impossible, a gloomy void

must rest in the total breaking up such a long and such a fast

connexion.

Page 120

I must always grieve at your absence at such a period. our Esther

has SO much to do in her own family, and fears so much the cold

of Chelsea, that she can be only of day and occasional use, and

it is nights and mornings that call for the confidential

companion that might best revive him, He is more amiable, more

himself, if possible, than ever. God long preserve him to bless

us all!

COVETOUS OF PERSONAL DISTINCTION.

Your old acquaintance, Miss --, has been passing ten days in this

neighbourhood. She is become very pleasingly formed in manners,

wherever she wishes to oblige, and all her roughnesses and

ruggednesses are worn off. I believe the mischief done by her

education, and its wants, not cured, if curable au fond; but much

amended to all, and apparently done away completely to many. What

really rests is a habit of exclusively consulting just what she

likes best, not what would be or prove best for others. She

thinks, indeed, but little of anything except with reference to

herself, and what gives her an air, and will give her a

character, for inconstancy, that is in fact the mere result of

seeking her own gratification alike in meeting or avoiding her

connexions. If she saw this, she has understanding sufficient to

work it out of her; but she weighs nothing sufficiently to dive

into her own self. She knows she is a very clever girl, and she

is neither well contented with others, nor happy in herself, but

where this is evidently acknowledged.

We spent an evening together at Norbury Park ; she was shown all

Mr. William's pictures and drawings. I knew her expectations of

an attention she had no chance of exciting and therefore devoted

myself to looking them over with her yet, though Mr. Locke

himself led the way to see them, and explained several, and

though Amelia addressed her with the utmost sweetness, and Mrs.

Locke with perfect good breeding, I could not draw from her one

word relative to the evening, or the family, except that she did

not think she had heard Mr. William's voice once. A person so

young, and with such good parts, that can take no pleasure but in

personal distinction, which is all her visit can have wanted,

will soon cut all real improvement short, by confining herself to

such society alone as elevates herself. There she will always

make a capital figure, for her conversation is sprightly and

enter-

Page 121

taining, and her heart and principles are both good : she has

many excellent qualities, and various resources in herself; but

she is good enough to make me lament that she is not modest

enough 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: he

has made no further advance but that of calling out, as he saw

our two watches hung on two opposite hooks over the chamber

chimney-piece, "Watch, papa,--watch, mamma;" so, though his first

speech is English, the idiom is French. We agree this is to avoid

any heartburning in his parents. He is at this moment so

exquisitely enchanted with a little penny trumpet, and finding he

can produce such harmony his own self, that he is blowing and

laughing till he can hardly stand. If you could see his little

swelling cheeks you would not accuse yourself of a misnomer in

calling him cherub. I try to impress him with an idea of pleasure

in going to see grandpapa, but the short visit to Bookham is

forgotten, and the permanent engraving remains, and all his

concurrence consists in pointing up to the print over the

chimney-piece, and giving it one of his concise little bows.

Are not people a little revived in the political world by this

unexampled honour paid to Mr. Pitt?(135) Mr. Locke has

subscribed 3000 pounds.

How you rejoiced me by what you say of poor Mr. Burke for I had

seen the paragraph of his death with most exceeding great

concern.

The Irish reports, are, I trust, exaggerated; few things come

quite plainly from Hibernia: yet what a time, in all respects, to

transport 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 SO

satisfied there, at least; but they have all, she says, got the

brogue.

Our building is to be resumed the 1st of March; it will then soon

be done, as it is only of lath and plaster, and the roof and

wood-work are already prepared.' My indefatigable superintendent

goes every morning for two, three, or four hours to his field, to

work at a sunk fence that 'IS to protect his garden from our cow.

I have sent Mrs. Boscawen, through Miss Cambridge, a history of

our plan. The dwelling is destined by M. d'Arblay to be called

the 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 certainly

have been in no hurry to reply; for the memorial was sent to him

about the commencement of October, and Toulon was not evacuated

by 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 contemplated

building, was not actually commenced until after the publication

of "Camilla," in 1796.-ED.

(101) The fund which Mrs. Crewe was exerting herself to raise for

the benefit of the French emigrant clergy.-ED.

(102) Mrs. Crewe had been urging Dr. Burney to engage his

daughter to contribute, by her pen, to the relief of the emigrant

clergy. Fanny accordingly wrote an "Address to the Ladies of

Great Britain," in the form of a short pamphlet, which was

published by Cadell, and which appears to have had the desired

effect.-ED.

(103) Alas for Dr. Burney's hopes! Toulon was successfully

defended until the middle of December, when the vigorous measures

of the besiegers, inspired by the genius Of Young Buonaparte,

resulted in the complete triumph of the Republicans. On the 17th

of December they carried by storm Fort Eguillette and the heights

of Faron. From these positions their artillery commanded the

harbour, and, further defence of the town being thereby rendered

impracticable, its instant evacuation was resolved upon by the

allies. An attempt to burn the French war-ships in the harbour,

before abandoning the place, was only partially successful. On

the 18th and 19th the troops embarked. Vast numbers of fugitives

were taken on board the retreating fleet, but a large proportion

of the unfortunate Toulonnais remained, to experience the cruel

vengeance 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 had

formerly been a Whig and an associate of Fox and Sheridan, but

the 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 a

Tory he remained to the end of his days. Canning's maiden speech,

to which Fanny refers, was delivered January 31, in a debate on

the treaty between Great Britain and the King of Sardinia. By

this treaty, which was signed April 25, 1793, it was agreed that

the two contracting parties should make common cause in the war

against the French Republic; that England should pay to the King

of Sardinia an annual subsidy of 200,000 pounds, to enable him to

maintain the war; and that England should not conclude peace

without providing for the restoration to Sardinia of the

territories which had been torn from it by the Republic. In the

debate of January 31, 1794, Fox vigorously attacked the treaty,

while Canning, who spoke later, defended it in an able and

well-received maiden speech.-ED.

(108) Talleyrand's intrigues had made him an object of suspicion

to both parties. He was detested by the royalists of the first

emigration, had been d‚cr‚t‚ d'accusation by the Convention, and

was regarded by the English government as a dangerous person. In

January 1794, he received an order from the government to quit

England within five days, and he embarked in consequence, for the

United States, February 3.-ED.

(109) "London, 1794.-Madame,--Had it been possible I would have

had the honour of seeing you this morning , but the utter

impossibility of doing so has deprived me of the last pleasure

that I might have had in Europe. Permit me, madame, to thank you

again for all your kindness, and to ask a little place in your

memory, and let me tell you, I shall never cease, while I live,

to offer my vows for your welfare, and for that of the captain

and your children. You will have a very zealous servant in

America; 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 leave

your country till the time when it will no longer be governed by

the petty passions of men. Then I will return; not, indeed, to

busy myself with public affairs, for I have long since abandoned

them for ever; but to see the excellent inhabitants of Surrey. I

hope to know enough English to understand Madame d'Arblay; for

the next four months, I shall do nothing but study it: and, to

acquaint myself with the beauties of the language, I take

'Evelina' and 'Cecilia,' both for study and pleasure. I wish

You, my dear friend, all kinds of happiness, and you are in the

way to fulfil all my wishes.

"I do not know how long I shall remain in America. If there were

a prospect of the re-establishment of reason and stability in our

unhappy country, I should return; if Europe goes to pieces in the

coming campaign, I will prepare a refuge in America for all our

friends.

"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 February

3.-ED.

(111) Lafayette's brilliant services in the cause of liberty had

not secured him from the usual fate of moderate revolutionists at

this period. In the early days of the Revolution, he was the hero

of the French people; in 1792, denounced by RobespiŠrre and the

jacobins, he was compelled to seek safety in flying from France.

He escaped the guillotine, indeed, but fell into the hands of the

Austrians, was cast into prison, and did not gain his liberty

till September, 1797.-ED.

(112) This was Dr. Burney's first meeting with Mrs. Piozzi since

her marriage. It occurred at one of Salomon's celebrated

concerts, where the doctor, with surprise, perceived Piozzi among

the audience, not knowing that he had returned from Italy. He

entered into a cordial conversation with the Signor, and inquired

after his wife. "Piozzi, turning round, pointed to a sofa, on

which, 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 had

been abroad with Mr. and Mrs. Piozzi) having made up their minds

by this time to accept the inevitable, and to be reconciled to

their 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 work

which Dr. Burney was then engaged upon, and which was published

in 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's

portrait 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 care

To 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 crowd

Of virtues and feelings, that Folly grows proud

And 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 view

To 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 of

their popularity. "The Mysteries of Udolpho," perhaps the most

powerful of her works, had recently been published, to the

intense 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 French

Revolution, and answer to a letter expressing bitter

disappointment from repeated losses.

(125) M. de Narbonne, in reply, expressed, in lively terms, his

gratitude for Madame d'Arblay's invitation, and his pleasure in

receiving it. But he declined the proposal. He was not, he said,

wholly without resources, or without hopes for the future, and

circumstances made it desirable that he should reside at present

near 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 after

paintings by Gainsborough. Mr Dupont died in 1797.-ED.

(127) " The Birth of Love;" a poem: with engravings, from designs

by her royal highness the Princess Elizabeth.

(128) i.e., the Duke of York, second son of the king. He had been

appointed 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 the

residence of the poet Thomson, and afterwards became the property

of the Honourable Mrs. Boscawen.

(132) The princess royal was married, May 18, 1797, to Frederick

William, 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 and

carried by Mr Pitt, to meet the expenses of the war. "Pitt

evinced his own Public spirit, when he relied on and appealed to

the public spirit of the People. He announced a loan of

18,000,000 pounds, at five per cent., to be taken at 112 pounds ,

10 shillings, for every 100 pounds stock, and with an option to

the proprietors to he paid off at par within two years after a

treaty 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. Fanny

writes, November 29: "Our cottage building stops now, from the

shortness of the days, till the beginning of March. The

foundation is laid, and it will then be run up with great speed.

The well, at length, is finished, and it is a hundred and odd

feet deep. The water is said to be excellent, but M. d'Arblay

has had it now stopped to prevent accidents from hazardous boys,

who, when the field is empty of owners, will be amusing

themselves there. He has just completed his grand plantations;

part of which are in evergreens, part in firewood for future

time, and part in an orchard."-ED.

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