"At Ventose, year 10, (March 12, 1802).

"You have doubtless communicated to our friends at Norbury Park,

the letters which I have sent you. Did I tell you that I sent a

copy of those letters to M. de Lafayette?(170) M. de Lafayette

came at once to Paris, and requested an interview with Bonaparte,

who granted it immediately. Addressing him, M. de Lafayette said,

' I have come to speak to you of one of my friends and

companions--d'Arblay.' 'I know that business,' said the first

Consul, in a tone which expressed more good-will than I ventured

to hope for, at least, more than I had been given reason to

expect. 'I assure you,' said M. de Lafayette to me, the next

day, 'you have some good friends with the first Consul, who had

already spoken to him on your business. He seemed to me, from

the first instant, rather disposed in your favour than angry with

you. . . . When I told him of your fear lest this business should

have excited his displeasure, he replied positively, that it

should do you no injury whatever, and that he would regard, in

the step you had taken, only the husband of Cecilia.'

"I hope you will not be very displeased at the way this business,

which has caused me much vexation, has terminated. I think I may

even add, in confidence, that I am, perhaps, not without a near

prospect of getting my retiring pension. Come to me, then, my

dearest.

Page 208

ON THE EVE OF MADAME D'ARBLAY'S JOURNEY To FRANCE.

(Madame d'Arblay to Doctor Burney.)

March 30, 1802.

Now, indeed, my dearest father, I am in an excess of hurry not to

be exceeded by even any of yours. I have a letter from M.

d'Arblay, to tell me he has already taken us an apartment, and he

dates from the 5th of April, in Paris, where he has reasons for

remaining some time, before we go to his good uncle, at Joigny.

I am to take the little sweet child with me you saw here one day,

Mlle. de Chavagnac, whose father, le Comte de Chavagnac, has

desired her restoration. My kind Mrs: Locke is almost in

affliction at parting with her though glad of an opportunity of

sending her with friends the poor thing knows and loves. I fear,

I have so very much to do here, that I shall have a very, very

short enjoyment of my beloved father at Chelsea but I shall get

there as soon as possible, and stay there to my last moment.

I have a thousand things, and very curious ones, to tell you; but

I must defer them for vive voix. I am really bewildered and

almost trembling with hurry, and with what I am going to

undertake! Yet through all, i bless God every moment of my life

that M. d'Arblay went not to that pestilential climate I do all--

all I can to keep up my courage--or rather to make up; and when I

feel faltering, I think of St Domingo! Every body that knows St

Domingo now owns that he had hardly a chance for safety,

independent of tempests in the voyage, and massacres in the

mountains. May I but be able to console him for all he has

sacrificed to my peace and happiness ! and no privation will be

severe, so that at our stated period, Michaelmas twelvemonth, we

return to my country, and to my dearest father, whom heaven bless

and preserve, prays his dutiful, affectionate and grateful, and

devoted daughter, F. d'A.

DIARY: (Addressed to Dr. Burney).

IN FRANCE DURING THE PEACE AND SUBSEQUENTLY.

April, 1802-I seize, at length, upon the largest paper I can

procure, to begin to my beloved father some account of our

journey, and if I am able, I mean to keep him a brief

Page 209

journal of my proceedings during this destined year or eighteen

months' separation,-secure of his kindest interest in all that I

may have to relate, and certain he will be anxious to know how I

go on in a strange land : 'tis my only way now of communicating

with him, and I must draw from it one of my dearest worldly

comforts, the hopes of seeing his loved hand with some return.

April 15.-William and John conducted my little boy and me in

excellent time to the inn in Piccadilly, where we met my kind

Mrs. Locke and dear little Adrienne de Chavagnac. The parting

there was brief and hurried; and I set off on my grand

expedition, with my two dear young charges, exactly at five

o'clock. . . .

Paris, April 15, 1802.-The book-keeper came to me eagerly, crying

"vite, vite, madame, prenez votre place dans la diligence, car

voici un Monsieur Anglais, qui surement va prendre la meileure!"

En effet, ce Monsieur Anglais did not disappoint his

expectations, or much raise mine - for he not only took the best

place, but contrived to ameliorate it by the little scruple with

which he made every other worse, from the unbridled expansion in

which he indulged his dear person, by putting out his elbows

against his next, and his knees and feet against his opposite

neighbour. He seemed prepared to look upon all around-him with a

sort of sulky haughtiness, pompously announcing himself as a

commander of distinction who had long served at Gibraltar and

various places, who had travelled thence through France, and from

France to Italy, who was a native of Scotland, and -of proud,

though unnamed genealogy '; and was now going to Paris purposely

to behold the first Consul, to whom he meant to claim an

introduction through Mr. Jackson. His burnt complexion, Scotch

accent, large bony face and figure, and high and distant

demeanour, made me easily conceive and believe him a highland

chief. I never heard his name, but I think him a gentleman born,

though not gently bred.

Page 210

The next to mention is a Madame Raymond or Grammont, for I heard

not distinctly which, who seemed very much a gentlewoman, and who

was returning to France, too uncertain of the state of her

affairs to know whether she might rest there or not. She had only

one defect to prevent my taking much interest in her ; this was,

not merely an avoidance, but a horror of being touched by either

of my children ; who, poor little souls, restless and fatigued by

the confinement they endured, both tried to fling themselves upon

every passenger in turn ; and though by every one they were sent

back to their sole prop, they were by no one repulsed with such

hasty displeasure as by this old lady, who seemed as fearful of

having the petticoat of her gown, which was stiff, round, and

bulging, as if lined with parchment, deranged, as if she had been

attired in a hoop for Court.

The third person was a Madame Blaizeau, who seemed an exceeding

good sort of a woman, gay, voluble, good humoured, and merry. All

we had of amusement sprung from her sallies, which were uttered

less from a desire of pleasing others, her very natural character

having none of the high polish bestowed by the Graces, than from

a jovial spirit of enjoyment which made them produce pleasure to

herself. She soon and frankly acquainted us she had left France

to be a governess to some young ladies before the Revolution, and

under the patronage, as I think, of the Duke of Dorset - she had

been courted, she told us, by an English gentleman farmer, but he

would not change his religion for her, nor she for him, and so,

when every thing was bought for her wedding, they broke off the

connexion ; and she afterwards married a Frenchman. She had seen

a portrait, set richly in diamonds, of the king, prepared for a

present to the first Consul ; and described its superb ornaments

and magnificence, in a way to leave no doubt of the fact. She

meant to stop at St. Denis, to inquire if her mother yet lived,

having received no intelligence from or of her, these last ten

eventful years !

At Canterbury, while the horses were changed, my little ones and

I went to the cathedral; but dared merely seize sufficient time

to view the outside and enter the principal aisle. I was glad

even of that much, as its antique grandeur gave me a pleasure

which I always love to cherish in the view of fine old

cathedrals, those most permanent monuments Of what our ancestors

thought reverence to God, as manifested in munificence to the

place dedicated to his worship.

Page 211

At Dover we had a kind of dinner-supper in one, and my

little boy and girl and I retired immediately after it, took some

tea in our chamber, and went to rest.

April 16.-As we were not to sail till twelve, I had hoped to have

seen the castle and Shakspeare's cliff, but most unfortunately it

rained all the morning, and we were confined to the inn, except

for the interlude of the custom-house, where, however, the

examination was so slight, and made with such civility, that we

had no other trouble with it than a wet walk and a few shillings.

Our passports were examined; and we then ' went to the port, and,

the sea being perfectly smooth, were lifted from the quay to the

deck of our vessel with as little difficulty as we could have

descended from a common chair to the ground.

ARRIVAL AT CALAIS.

The calm which caused our slow passage and our sickness, was now

favourable, for it took us into the port of Calais so close and

even with the quay, that we scarcely accepted even a hand to aid

us from the vessel to the shore.

The quay was lined with crowds of people, men, women, and

children, and certain amphibious females, who might have passed

for either sex, or anything else in the world, except what they

really were, European women! Their men's hats, men's jackets, and

men's shoes - their burnt skins, and most

savage-looking petticoats, hardly reaching, nay, not reaching

their knees, would have made me instantly believe any account I

could have heard of their being just imported from the wilds of

America.

The vessel was presently filled with men, who, though dirty and

mean, were so civil and gentle, that they could not displease,

and who entered it so softly and quietly, that, neither hearing

nor seeing their approach, it seemed as if they had availed

themselves of some secret trap-doors through which they had

mounted to fill the ship, without sound or bustle, in a single

moment. When we were quitting it, however, this tranquillity as

abruptly finished, for in an instant a part of them rushed round

me, one demanding to carry

Alex, another Adrienne, another seizing my ‚critoire, another my

arm, and some one, I fear, my parasol, as I have never been able

to find it since.

We were informed we must not leave the ship till Monsieur

Page 212

le commissaire arrived to carry us, I think, to the Municipality

of Calais to show our passports. Monsieur le commisSaire in white

with some red trappings, soon arrived, civilly hastening himself

quite out of breath to save us from waiting' We then mounted the

quay, and I followed the rest of the passengers, who all followed

the commissary, accompanied by two men carrying the two children,

and two more carrying one my ‚critoire, and the other insisting

on conducting its owner. The quantity of people that surrounded

and walked with us, surprised me ; and their decency, their

silence their quietness astonished me. To fear them was

impossible: even in entering France with all the formed fears

hanging upon its recent though past horrors. But on coming to the

municipality, I was, I own, extremely ill at ease, when upon our

gouvernante's desiring me to give the commissary my passport, as

the rest of the passengers had done, and my answering it was in

my ‚critoire, she exclaimed, "Vite! Vite! cherchez-le, ou vous

serez arrˆt‚e!"(172) You may be sure I was quick enough, or at

least tried to be so, for my fingers presently trembled, and I

could hardly put in the key.

In the hall to which we now repaired, our passports were taken

and deposited, and we had new ones drawn up and given us in their

stead. On quitting this place we were accosted by a new crowd,

all however as gentle, though not as silent, as our first

friends, who recommended various hotels to us, one begging we

would go to Grandsire, another to Duroc, another to Meurice--and

this last prevailed with the gouvernante, whom I regularly

followed, not from preference, but from the singular horror my

otherwise worthy and wellbred old lady manifested, when, by being

approached by the children, her full round coats risked the

danger of being modernised into the flimsy, falling drapery of

the present day.

At Meurice's our goods were entered, and we heard that they would

be examined at the custom-house in the afternoon. We breakfasted,

and the crowd of fees which were claimed by the captain, steward,

sailors, carriers, and heaven knows who, besides, are

inconceivable. I gave whatever they asked, from ignorance of what

was due, and from fear of offending those of whose extent, still

less of whose use, of power I could form no judgment. I was the

only one in this predicament; the rest refusing or disputing

every demand. They all, but us

Page 213

Went out to walk - but I stayed to write to my dearest father, to

Mrs. Locke, and my expecting mate.

"GOD SAVE THE KING!" ON FRENCH SOIL.

We were all three too much awake by the new scene to try for any

repose, and the hotel windows sufficed for our amusement till

dinner; and imagine, my dearest sir, how my repast was seasoned,

when I tell you that, as soon as it began, a band "of music came

to the window and struck up "God save the king." I can never

tell you what a pleased emotion was excited in my breast by this

sound on a shore so lately hostile, and on which I have so many,

so heartfelt motives for wishing peace and amity perpetual!

A RAMBLE THROUGH THE TOWN.

This over, we ventured out of the hotel to look at the street.

The day was fine, the street was clean, two or three people who

passed us, made way for the children as they skipped out of' my

hands, and I saw such an unexpected appearance of quiet, order

and civility, that, almost without knowing it, we strolled from

the gate, and presently found ourselves in the market-place,

which was completely full of sellers, and buyers, ,and booths,

looking like a large English fair.

The queer, gaudy jackets, always of a different colour from the

petticoats of the women, and their immense wing-caps, which

seemed made to double over their noses, but which all flew back

so as to discover their ears, in which 1 regularly saw -large and

generally drop gold ear-rings, were quite as diverting ...to

myself as to Alex and Adrienne. Many of them, also, had gold

necklaces chains, and crosses; but ear-rings all: even maids who

were scrubbing or sweeping, ragged wretches bearing burdens on

their heads or shoulders, old women selling fruit or other

eatables, gipsy-looking creatures with children tied to their

backs--all wore these long, broad, large, shining ear-rings.

Beggars we saw not--no, not one, all the time we stayed or

sauntered; and for civility and gentleness, the poorest and most

ordinary persons we met or passed might be compared with the best

dressed and best looking walkers in the streets of our

metropolis, and still to the disadvantage of the latter. I cannot

say how much this surprised me, as I had conceived a horrific

idea of the populace of this country, imagining em all

transformed into bloody monsters.

Page 214

Another astonishment I experienced equally pleasing, though not

equally important to my ease; I saw innumerable pretty women and

lovely children, almost all of them extremely fair. I had been

taught to expect nothing but mahogany complexions and hideous

features instantly on crossing the strait of Dover. When this,

however, was mentioned in our party afterwards, the Highlander

exclaimed, "But Calais was in the hands of the English so many

years, that the English -race there is not yet extinct."

The perfect security in which I now saw we might wander about,

induced us to walk over the whole town, and even extend our

excursions to the ramparts surrounding it. It is now a very clean

and pretty town, and so orderly that there was no more tumult or

even noise in the market-place, where the people were so close

together as to form a continual crowd, than in the by-streets

leading to the country, where scarcely a passenger was to be

seen. This is certainly a remark which, I believe, could never

be made in England.

When we returned to the hotel, I found all my fellow travellers

had been to the custom house! I had quite forgotten, or rather

neglected to inquire the hour for this formality, and was

beginning to alarm myself lest I was out of rule, when a young

man, a commissary, I heard, of the hotel, came to me and asked if

I had anything contraband to the laws of the Republic. I answered

as I had done before, and he readily undertook to go through the

ceremony for me without my appearing. I was so much frightened,

and so happy not to be called upon personally, that I thought

myself very cheaply off in his after-demand of a guinea and a

half. I had two and a half to pay afterwards for additional

luggage..

We found reigning through Calais a general joy and satisfaction

at the restoration of Dimanche and abolition of d‚cade.(173) I

had a good deal of conversation with the maid of the inn, a tall,

fair, extremely pretty woman, and she talked much upon this

subject, and the delight it occasioned, and the obligation all

France was under to the premier Consul for restoring religion and

worship.

Page 215

SUNDAY ON THE ROAD TO PARIS.

Sunday, April 18. --We set off for Paris at five o'clock in the

morning. The country broad, flat, or' barrenly steep --Without

trees, without buildings, and scarcely inhabited-- exhibited a

change from the fertile fields, and beautiful woods ,band

gardens, and civilisation of Kent, so sudden and unpleasant that

I only lamented the fatigue of my position, which regularly

impeded my making use of this chasm of 'pleasure and observation

for repose. This part of France must certainly be the least

frequented, for we rarely met a single carriage, and the

villages, few and distant, seemed to have no intercourse with

each other. Dimanche, indeed, might occasion this stiffness, for

we saw, at almost all the villages, neat and clean peasants going

to or coming from mass, and seeming indescribably elated and

happy by the public permission of divine worship on its

originally appointed day.

I was struck with the change in Madame Raymond, who joined us in

the morning from another hotel. Her hoop was no more visible; her

petticoats were as lank, or more so, than her neighbours'; and

her distancing the children was not only at an end, but she

prevented me from renewing any of my cautions to them, of not

incommoding her - and when we were together a few moments, before

we were joined by the rest, she told me, with a significant

smile, not to tutor the children about her any more, as she only

avoided them from having something of consequence to take care

of, which was removed. I then saw she meant some English lace or

muslin, which she had carried in a petticoat, and, since the

customhouse examination was over, had now packed in her trunk.

Poor lady! I fear this little merchandise was all her hope of

succour on her arrival! She is amongst the emigrants who have

twice or thrice returned, but not yet been able to rest in their

own country.

What most in the course of this journey struck me, was the

satisfaction of all the country people, with whom I could

converse at the restoration of the Dimanche; and the boasts they

now ventured to make of having never kept the d‚cade, except

during the dreadful reign of Robespierre, when not to oppose any

of his severest decrees was insufficient for safety, ,"it was

essential even to existence to observe them with every parade of

the warmest approval.

Page 216

The horrible stories from every one of that period of wanton as

well as political cruelty, I must have judged exaggerated, either

through the mist of fear or the heats of resentment but that,

though the details had innumerable modifications' there was but

one voice for the excess of barbarity.

At a little hamlet near Clermont, where we rested some time, two

good old women told us that this was the happiest day (twas

Sunday) of their lives; that they had lost le bon Dieu for these

last ten years, but that Bonaparte had now found him! In another

cottage we were told the villagers had kept their own cur‚ all

this time concealed, and though privately and with fright, they

had thereby saved their souls through the whole of the bad times!

And in another, some poor creatures said they were now content

with their destiny, be it what it might, since they should be

happy, at least, in the world to come - but that while denied

going to mass, they had all their sufferings aggravated by

knowing that they must lose their souls hereafter, besides all

that they had to endure here!

O my dearest father! that there can have existed wretches of such

diabolical wickedness as to have snatched, torn, from the toiling

indigent every ray even of future hope! Various of these little

conversations extremely touched me nor was I unmoved, though not

with such painful emotion, on the sight of the Sunday night

dance, in a little village through which we passed, where there

seemed two or three hundred peasants engaged in that pastime all

clean and very gaily dressed, yet all so decent and well behaved,

that, but for the poor old fiddlers, we might have driven on, and

not have perceived the rustic ball.

Here ends the account of my journey, and if it has amused my

dearest father, it will be a true delight to me to have scribbled

it. My next letter brings me to the capital, and to the only

person who can console me for my always lamented absence from

himself.

ENGAGEMENTS, OCCUPATIONS, AND FATIGUE

(Madame d'Arblay to Miss Planta.)

Paris, April 27, 1802.

A week have I been here, my dear Miss Planta, so astonishingly

engaged, so indispensably occupied, or so suffering from fatigue,

that I have not been able till now to take up

Page 217

pen, except to satisfy my dear father of our safe arrival.

To give you some idea of these engagements, occupations, and

fatigues, I must begin with the last. We were a whole long,

languid day, a whole restless, painful night, upon the sea; my

little Alex sick as death, suffering if possible yet more than

myself, though I had not a moment of ease and comfort. My little

Adrienne de Chavagnac was perfectly well all the time, singing

and skipping about the cabin, and amusing every one by her

innocent enjoyment of the novelty of the scene. . . .

As to my occupations;-my little apartment to arrange, my trunks

and baggage to unpack and place, my poor Adrienne to consign to

her friends, my Alex to nurse from a threatening malady; letters

to deliver, necessaries to buy; a femme de chambre to engage;

and, most important of all! my own sumptuous wardrobe to refit,

and my own poor exterior to reorganise! I see you smile,

methinks, at this hint; but what smiles would brighten the

countenance of a certain young lady called Miss Rose, who amused

herself by anticipation, when I had last the honour of seeing

her, with the changes I might have to undergo, could she have

heard the exclamations which followed the examination of my

attire: "This won't do! That YOU can never wear! This you can

never be seen in! That would make you stared at as a curiosity!--

Three petticoats! no one wears more than one!-- Stays? everybody

has left off even corsets!--Shift sleeves? not a soul now wears

even a chemise!" etc. In short, I found all I possessed seemed

so hideously old fashioned, or so comically rustic, that as soon

as it was decreed I must make appearance in the grand monde,

hopeless of success in exhibiting myself in the' costume

Fran‡ais, I gave over the attempt, and ventured to come forth as

a gothic Anglaise, who never heard of, or never heeded the

reigning metamorphosis.

As to my engagements;--when should I finish, should I tell all

that have been made or proposed, even in the short space of a

single week? The civilities I have met with, contrary to all my

expectations, have not more amazed me for myself, than gratified

me for M. d'Arblay, who is keenly alive to the kind, I might say

distinguished, reception I have been favoured with by those to

whom my arrival is known.

Your favourite hero is excessively popular at this moment from

three successive grand events, all occurring within the

Page 218

short time of my arrival,--the ratification of the treaty of

peace--the restoration of Sunday, and Catholic worship--and the

amnesty of the emigrants. At the Opera buffa, the loge in which

I sat was exactly opposite to that of the first Consul but he and

his family are all at Malmaison.

DIARY RESUMED: (Addressed to Dr. Burney.)

ARISTOCRATIC VISITORS.

Paris, April 1, 1802.(174)-Almost immediately after my arrival in

Paris, I was much surprised by a visit from the ci-devant Prince

de Beauvau, madame his wife, and Mademoiselle de Mortemar her

sister, all brought by Madame d'Henin. if gratified in the first

instance by a politeness of attention so little my due and so

completely beyond my expectations, how was my pleasure enhanced

when I found they all three spoke English with the utmost ease

and fluency, and how pleased also at the pleasure I was able to

give them in reward of their civility, by a letter I had brought

from Mrs. Harcourt, which was received with the warmest delight

by Mademoiselle de Mortemar and a message from a young lady named

Elizabeth, with the profoundest gratitude.

April 24-This morning Madame d'Henin was so kind as to accompany

us, in making our visit to Madame de Beauvau her niece, and

Mademoiselle de Mortemar. We found them at home with M. de

Beauvau, and they indulged me with the sight of their children,

who are the most flourishing and healthy possible, and dressed

and brought up with English plainness and simplicity. The visit

was very pleasant, and Madame d'Henin made a party for us all to

meet again the next day, and go to the Opera buffa.

ANXIETY TO SEE THE FIRST CONSUL.

I have heard much of the visit of Mrs. Damer and the Miss Berrys

to Paris, and their difficulty to get introduced to the first

Consul.(175) A lady here told us she had been called upon

Page 219

by Miss Berry, who had complained with much energy upon this

subject, saying, "We have been everywhere--seen everything--heard

every body--beheld such sights! listened to such discourse!

joined such society! and all to obtain his notice! Don't you

think it very extraordinary that he should not himself desire to

see Mrs. Damer?

"Madame," replied the lady, "perhaps if you had done but half

this, the first Consul might have desired to see you both."

"But you don't imagine," answered she, laughing, "we came over

from England to see you ci-devants ? We can see such as you at

home!"

She was gone before our arrival ; and, as I understand, succeeded

at last in obtaining an introduction. They were both, Mrs. Damer

and Miss Berry, as I am told, very gay and agreeable, as well as

enterprising, and extremely well r‚pandues.

AT THE OPERA-BOUFFE.

April 25.-I was not much better in the evening, but the party for

the Opera buffa being formed by Madame d'Henin on my account, my

going was indispensable. She had borrowed the loge of M. de

Choiseul, which, being entailed upon the family

perp‚tuit‚, has

in a most extraordinary manner continued unalienated through the

whole course of massacres and proscriptions to the present day,

when the right owner possesses it. It is the largest and best

box, except that which is opposite to it, in the theatre. . . .

The opera was "Le Nozze di Dorina," by Sarti, and extremely

pretty; though I wished it had been as new to M. C-- de P-- as to

myself, for then he would not have divided my attention by

obligingly singing every note with every performer. In truth, I

was still so far from recovered from the fatigue of my journey,

that I was lulled to a drowsiness the most distressing before the

end of the second act, '

page 220

which being but too obvious, Madame d'Henin and M. d'Arblay took

me away before I risked a downright nap by waiting for the third.

DIFFICULTIES RESPECTING MADAME DE STAEL.

April 26-The assembly at Madame d'Henin's was one of the most

select and agreeable at which I was ever present. Assembly,

however, I ought not to call a meeting within the number of

twenty. But I was uneasy for my poor Alex, and therefore stole

away as soon as possible; not, however, till Madame de Tess‚ made

a party for us for the following Thursday at her house, nor till

I had held a private discourse with Mademoiselle de -- upon my

embarrassment as to Madame de Stael, from the character she held

in England; which embarrassment was not much lightened by her

telling me it was not held more fair in France ! Yet, that

everywhere the real evil is highly exaggerated by report, envy,

and party-spirit, all allow. She gives, however, great

assemblies at which all Paris assist, and though not solicited or

esteemed by her early friends and acquaintance, she is admired,

and pitied, and received by them. I would she were gone to

Copet!(176)

What most perplexed me at this period was the following note from

Madame de Stael.

"je voudrois vous t‚moigner mon empressement, madame, et je

crains d'ˆtre indiscrette. j'espŠre que vous aurez la bont‚ de

me faire dire quand vous serez assez remise des fatigues de votre

voyage pour que je puisse avoir l'honneur de vous voir sans vous

importuner.

"Ce 4 florial. (177)

"Necker Stael de H."(178)

How is it possible, when even the common civility of a card for

her card is yet unreturned, that she can have brought herself

thus to descend from her proud heights to solicit the

Page 221

renewal of an acquaintance broken so abruptly in England, and so

palpably shunned in France ? Is it that the regard she appeared

to conceive for me in England was not only sincere but constant?

If so, I must very much indeed regret a waste of kindness her

character and conduct make it impossible for me to repay, even

though, on this spot, I am assured all her misfortunes are

aggravated, nay caricatured, by report, and that she exerts her

utmost influence, and calls forth her best talents, upon every

occasion which presents itself for serving those who have been

her friends ; and that, notwithstanding circumstances and

disunion, either in politics or morals, may have made them become

her enemies. Her generosity is cited as truly singular upon this

head, and I have heard histories of her returning, personally,

good for evil that would do honour to any character living.

After much deliberation and discussion, my French master composed

the following answer:--

\"Madame d'Arblay ne peut qu'ˆtre infiniment flatt‚e de l'extrŠme

bont‚ de Madame la Comtesse de Stael. Elle aura trŠs

certainement l'honneur de se pr‚senter chez Madame de Stael

aussit“t que possible."(179)

Cooler than this it was not easy to write, and the ne peut

qu'ˆtre is a tournure that is far enough from flattering. I

hope, however, it will prepare her for the frozen kind of

intercourse which alone can have place between us.

MADAME DE LAFAYETTE.

As I wished much to see the parade, or review, which was to take

place on the 5th, and is only once a month, we were forced to

devote the preceding day to visits, as it was decreed in our

council of etiquette that I could not appear in a place where I

might be seen by those who had shown me the civility of beginning

an acquaintance, till I had acknowledged my debt to them. . . . I

was so thoroughly tired when I returned from all these visits,

that I was forced to rest upon a bed for the remainder of the

day, to my no small discomposure before the evening was closed;

for, in a close cap, my feet in their native, undraperied state,

hidden by a large, long, wrapping morning

Page 222

gown, your daughter, my dearest sir, lay reclined on a bed when,

rather late in the evening, I was told Madame d'Henin was in the

salon. I was going to send in my excuses, while I rose to get

ready for waiting upon her - but Alex flung open the door, and

seeing where I was, and how fatigued, she insisted on my keeping

still, and came to my bedside, and sat in friendly converse,

listening to the history of my morning excursion, till a ring at

the bell of our ante-room made me desire to have nobody admitted.

Alex again, however, frisking about, prevented Pauline, my little

femme de chambre, from hearing me, and she announced Madame de

Lafayette!

You may easily believe this name, and my present situation, put

me into no small commotion. I was beseeching Madame d'Henin to go

to the saloon with my apologies, when Alex, whose illness, though

it has diminished his strength and his flesh, has left his

spirits as wild as ever, called out to proclaim where I was, and

while Madame Lafayette was gently moving on, flung the bedroom

door wide open, saying, "Mamma is here! " Madame Lafayette,

concluding, I suppose, that I received du monde in the French

manner, immediately presented herself at the door, where I had no

resource but to entreat Madame d'Henin, who is her intimate

friend, to receive her, for I was wholly powerless, with my

unsandaled feet, from rising. Madame d'Henin now brought her to

my bedside, where nothing could have been more awkward than my

situation : but that the real reverence I had conceived for her

character and her virtues made the sight of so singular a person,

her condescension in the visit, and her goodness, though lame, in

mounting three pair of stairs, give me a sensation of pleasure,

that by animating my spirits, endowed me with a courage that

overcame all difficulties both of language and position, and

enabled me to express my gratitude for her kindness and my

respect for her person, with something far nearer to fluency and

clearness than anything in speech I have yet attempted. My mind

instantly presented her to me, torn from her beloved family, and

thrown into the death-impending prison of Robespierre ; and then

saved by his timely destruction from the scaffold, and then using

her hardly-recovered liberty only by voluntarily sacrificing it

to be immured with her husband in the dungeon of Olmtz.(180)

Various as may be the opinions of

Page 223

the politics of M. de Lafayette, all Europe, I believe,'concur in

admiration of the character and conduct of his virtuous and

heroic wife. Indeed, nothing since my arrival has so sensibly

gratified me, from without, as this visit.

Madame Lafayette is the daughter of the ci-devant Duc d'Ayen, and

consequently niece of Madame de Tess‚, the duke's sister. She was

married to M. de Lafayette when she was only seventeen years of

age. By some cold or mismanagement, and total want of exercise in

the prison of Olmtz, some humour has fallen into one of her

ankles, that, though it does not make her absolutely lame, causes

walking to be so painful and difficult to her that she moves as

little as possible, and is always obliged to have a stool for her

foot. She now resides with M. de Lafayette and their three

children entirely in the country, at a chateau which has

descended to her since the revolutionary horrors and therefore

has not been confiscated, called "La Grange." They never come to

Paris but upon business of positive necessity. She had arrived

only this morning on a visit to her aunt, Madame de Tess‚, to

make some preparations for the approaching marriage of her only

son.

Her youngest daughter, Mademoiselle de Lafayette, accompanied

her. She is a blooming young creature of English fairness-as we

English choose to say-with a bright native colour, and beautiful

light hair ; otherwise with but indifferent features, and not

handsome : yet her air, though modest even to the extreme that

borders upon bashfulness, is distinguished, and speaks her to be

both sensible and well brought up.

Madame de Lafayette, also, is by no means handsome; but has eyes

so expressive, so large, and so speaking, that it is not easy to

criticise her other features, for it is almost impossible to look

at them. Her manner is calm and mild, yet noble. She is

respected even by surrounding infidels for her genuine piety,

which, in the true character of true religion, is severe only for

herself, lenient and cheerful for all others. I do not say this

from what I could see in the hour she was so good as to pass with

me, but from all I have heard.

She warmly invited me to La Grange, and requested me to name an

early day for passing some time there. I proposed

Page 224

that it might be after the marriage had taken place,"as till then

all foreign people or subjects might be obtrusive. She paused a

moment, and then said, "AprŠs?--c'est vrai we could then more

completely enjoy Madame d'Arblay' society; for we must now have

continual interruptions, surrounded as we are by workmen, goods,

chattels, and preparations; so that there would be a nail to

hammer between almost every word; and yet, as we are going to

Auvergne, after the ceremony, it will be so long before a meeting

may be arranged, that I believe the less time lost the better."

I know M. d'Arblay desired this acquaintance for me too earnestly

to offer any opposition; and I was too much charmed with its

opening to make any myself: it was therefore determined we should

go the following week to La Grange.

SIGHT-SEEING AT THE TuILERIES.

May 5-Again a full day. M. d'Arblay had procured us three tickets

for entering the apartments at the Tuileries to see the parade of

General Hulin, now high in actual rank and service, but who had

been a sous-officier under M. d'Arblay's command; our third

ticket was for Madame d'Henin, who had never been to this sight--

nor, indeed, more than twice to any spectacle since her return to

France--till my arrival; but she is so obliging and good as to

accept, nay to seek, every thing that can amuse, of which I can

profit. We breakfasted with her early, and were appointed to join

the party of M. le Prince de Beauvau, who had a general in his

carriage, through whose aid and instructions we hoped to escape

all difficulties.

Accordingly the coach in which they went was desired to stop at

Madame d'Henin's door, so as to let us get into our fiacre, and

follow it straight. This was done, and our precursor stopped at

the gate leading to the garden of the Tuileries. The De Beauvaus,

Mademoiselle de Mortemar, and their attending general, alighted,

and we followed their example and joined them, which was no

sooner done than their general, at the sight of M. d'Arblay,

suddenly drew back from conducting Madame de Beauvau, and flew up

to him. They had been ancient camarades, but had not met since M.

d'A.'s emigration.

The crowd was great, but civil and well -dressed ; and we met

with no impediment till we came to the great entrance. Alas, I

had sad recollections of sad readings in mounting the

Page 225

steps! We had great difficulty, notwithstanding our tickets, in

making our way--I mean Madame d'Henin and ourselves, for Madame

de Beauvau and Mademoiselle de Mortemar having an officer in the

existing military to aid them, were admitted and helped by all

the attendants; and so forwarded that we wholly lost sight of

them, till we arrived, long after, in the apartment destined for

the exhibition. This, however, was so crowded that every place at

the windows for seeing the parade was taken, and the row formed

opposite to see the first Consul as he passes through the room to

take horse, was so thick and threefold filled, that not a

possibility existed of even a passing peep. Madame d'Henin would

have retired, but as the whole scene was new and curious to me, I

prevailed with her to stay, that I might view a little of the

costume of the company; though I was sorry I detained her, when I

saw her perturbed spirits from the recollections which, I am

sure, pressed upon her on re-entering this palace : and that her

sorrows were only subdued by her personal indignation, which was

unconscious, but yet very prominent, to find herself included in

the mass of the crowd in being refused all place and distinction,

where, heretofore, she was amongst the first for every sort of

courtesy. Nothing of this, however, was said and you may believe

my pity for her was equally unuttered.

We seated ourselves now, hopeless of any other amusement than

seeing the uniforms of the passing officers, and the light

drapery of the stationary ladies, which, by the way, is not by

any means so notorious nor so common as has been represented ; on

the contrary, there are far more who are decent enough to attract

no attention, than who are fashionable enough to call for it.

During this interval M. d'Arblay found means, by a ticket lent

him by M. de Narbonne, to enter the next apartment, and there to

state our distress, not in vain, to General Hulin; and presently

he returned, accompanied by this officer, who is, I fancy, at

least seven feet high, and was dressed in one of the most showy

uniforms I ever saw. M. d'Arblay introduced me to him. He

expressed his pleasure in seeing the wife of his old comrade, and

taking my hand, caused all the crowd to make way, and conducted

me into the apartment adjoining to that where the first Consul

receives the ambassadors, with a flourish of manners so fully

displaying power as well as courtesy, that I felt as if in the

hands of one of the seven champions who meant to mow down all

before him, should

Page 226

any impious elf dare dispute his right to give me liberty, or to

show me honour.

A GOOD PLACE IS SECURED,

He put me into the first place in the apartment which was sacred

to general officers, and as many ladies as could be accommodated

in two rows only at the windows. M. d'Arblay, under the sanction

of his big friend, followed with Madame d'Henin , and we had the

pleasure of rejoining Madame de Beauvau and Mademoiselle de

Mortemar, who were at the same windows, through the exertions of

General Songis.

The scene now, with regard to all that was present, was

splendidly gay and highly animating. The room was full, but not

crowded, with officers of rank in sumptuous rather than rich

uniforms, and exhibiting a martial air that became their attire,

which, however, generally speaking, was too gorgeous to be noble.

Our window was that next to the consular apartment, in which

Bonaparte was holding a levee, and it was close to the steps

ascending to it; by which means we saw all the forms of the

various exits and entrances, and had opportunity to examine every

dress and every countenance that passed and repassed. This was

highly amusing, I might say historic, where the past history and

the present office were known.

Sundry footmen of the first Consul, in very fine liveries, were

attending to bring or arrange chairs for whoever required them ;

various peace-officers, superbly begilt, paraded occasionally up

and down the chamber, to keep the ladies to their windows and the

gentlemen to their ranks, so as to preserve the passage or lane

through which the first Consul was to walk upon his entrance,

clear and open; and several gentlemanlike looking persons, whom

in former times I should have supposed pages of the back stairs,

dressed in black, with gold chains hanging round their necks, and

medallions pending from them, seemed to have the charge of the

door itself, leading immediately to the audience chamber of the

first Consul.

M. D'ARPLAY'S MILITARY COMRADES.

But what was most prominent in commanding notice, was the array

of the aides-de-camp of Bonaparte, which was so

Page 227

almost furiously striking, that all other vestments, even the

most gaudy, appeared suddenly under a gloomy cloud when

contrasted with its brightness. We were long viewing them before

we could discover what they were to represent, my three lady

companions being as new to this scene as myself; but afterwards

M. d'Arblay starting forward to speak to one of them, brought him

across the lane to me, and said "General Lauriston,"

His kind and faithful friendship to M. d'Arblay, so amiably

manifested upon his late splendid embassy to England, made me see

him with great pleasure. It was of course but for a moment, as he

was amongst those who had most business upon their hands. General

d'Hennezel also came to me for a few minutes, and three or four

others, whom M. d'Arblay named, but whom I have forgotten.

Indeed, I was amazed at the number of old friends by whom he was

recognised, and touched far more than I can express, to see him

in his old coat and complete undress, accosted by his fine

(former) brethren, in all their new and beautiful costume, with

an eagerness of regard that, resulting from first impulse, proved

their judgment, or rather knowledge of his merits, more forcibly

than any professions, however warm, could have done. He was

indeed, after the aides-de-camp, the most striking figure in the

apartment, from contrasting as much with the general herd by

being the plainest and worst dressed, as they did by being the

gayest and most showy.

General Lauriston is a very handsome man, and of a very pleasing

and amiable countenance; and his manly air carried off the

frippery of his trappings, so as to make them appear almost to

advantage.

ARRIVAL OF THE TROOPS.

While this variety of attire, of carriage, and of physiognomy

amused us in facing the passage prepared for the first Consul, we

were occupied, whenever we turned round, by seeing from the

window the garden of the Tuileries filling 'with troops.

In the first row of females at the window where we stood, were

three ladies who, by my speaking English with Mademoiselle de

Mortemar and Madame de Beauvau, discovered .my country, and, as I

have since heard, gathered my name; and here I blush to own how

unlike was the result to what "One of this nation might have

experienced from a similar

Page 228

discovery in England; for the moment it was buzzed "C'est Une

‚trangŠre, c'est une Anglaise," (181) every one tried to Place,

to oblige, and to assist me, and yet no one looked curious, or

stared at me. Ah, my dear padre, do you not a little fear, in a

contrasted situation, no one would have tried to place oblige, or

assist, yet every one would have looked curious, and stared?

Well, there are virtues as well as defects of all classes, and

John Bull can fight so good a battle for his share of the former,

that he need not be utterly cast down in acknowledging now and

then a few of the latter.

AN IMPORTANT NEW ACQUAINTANCE.

The best view from the window to see the marching forwards of the

troops was now bestowed upon me, and I vainly offered it to the

ladies of my own party, to whom the whole of the sight was as new

as to myself. The three unknown ladies began conversing with me,

and, after a little general-talk, one of them with sudden

importance of manner, in a tone slow but energetic, said,

"Avez-vous vu, madame, le premier Consul?"

"Pas encore, madame."

"C'est sans doute ce que vous souhaitez le plus, madame?"

"Oui, madame."

"Voulez-vous le voir parfaitement bien, et tout

fait

votre

aise?"

"je le d‚sire beaucoup, madame."(182)

She then told me to keep my eyes constantly upon her, and not an

instant lose sight of her movements; and to suffer no head, in

the press that would ensue when the first Consul appeared, to

intervene between us. "Faites comme cela, madame," continued

she; "et vous le verrez bien, bien; car," added she, solemnly,

and putting her hand on her breast,--"moi--je vais lui

parler!"(183)

I thanked her very much, but it was difficult to express as

Page 229

much satisfaction as she displayed herself. You may suppose,

however, how curious I felt for such a conversation, and how

scrupulously I followed her injunctions of watching her motions.

A little squat good-humoured lady, with yellow flowers over a mob

cap upon her hair - who had little sunken eyes, concise nose, and

a mouth so extended by perpetual smiling, that, hardly leaving an

inch for the cheek, it ran nearly into the ear, on my other side

now demanded my attention also, and told me she came regularly

every month to the great review, that she might always bring some

friend who wanted to see it. I found by this she was a person of

some power, some influence, at least, and not entirely averse to

having it known. She was extremely civil to me - but as my other

friend had promised me so singular a regale, I had not much

voluntary time to spare for her , this, however, appeared to be

no impediment to that she was so obliging as to determine to

bestow upon me, and she talked satisfied with my acquiescence to

her civility, till a sort of bustle just before us making me look

a little sharp, she cried--

"Vous le voyez, madame!"

"Qui?" exclaimed I, "le premier Consul?"

"Mais non!--pas encore--mais--ce--ce monsieur l

!"(184)

MADAME, C'EST MON MArI.

I looked at her to see whom I was to remark, and her eyes led me

to a tall, large figure, with a broad gold-laced hat, who was

clearing the lane which some of the company had infringed, with a

stentorian voice, and an air and manner of such authority as a

chief constable might exert in an English riot.

"Oui, madame," I answered, not conceiving why I was to look at

him; "je le vois, ce monsieur; il est bien grand."(185)

"Oui, madame," replied she, with a yet widened smile, and a look

of lively satisfaction; "il est bien grand! Vous le voyez bien?"

"O, fort bien!" cried I, quite at a loss what she meant me to

understand, till at last, fixing first him, and then me, she

expressively said--

page 230

"Madame, c'est mon mari!"(186)

The grin now was distended to the very utmost limits of the

stretched lips, and the complacency of her countenance forcibly

said,. "What do you think of me now?" My countenance, however,

was far more clever than my head, if it made her any answer.

But, in the plenitude of her own admiration of a gentleman who

seemed privileged to speak roughly, and push violently whoever,

by a single inch, passed a given barrier, she imagined, I

believe, that to belong to him entitled her to be considered as

sharing his prowess ; she seemed even to be participating in the

merits of his height and breadth, though be could easily have put

her into his pocket.

Not perceiving, as I imagine, all the delight of felicitation in

my countenance that she had expected, her own fell, in a

disappointed pause, into as much of length as its circular form

would admit of; it recovered, however, in another minute its full

merry rotundity, by conjecturing, as I have reason to think, that

the niggardliness of my admiration was occasioned by my doubt of

her assertions; for, looking at me with an expression that

demanded my attention, she poked her head under the arm of a tall

grenadier, stationed to guard our window, and trying to catch the

eye of the object of her devotion, called out in an accent of

tenderness, "M'ami! M'ami!"

The surprise she required was now gratified in full, though what

she concluded to be excited by her happiness, was simply the

effect of so caressing a public address from so diminutive a

little creature to so gigantic a big one. Three or four times the

soft sound was repeated ere it reached the destined ear, through

the hubbub created by his own loud and rough manner of calling to

order; but, when at last he caught the gentle appellation, and

looked down upon her, it was with an eyebrow so scowling, a mouth

so pouting, and an air that so rudely said, "What the d-- do you

want?" that I was almost afraid he would have taken her between

his thumb and finger, and given her a shake. However, be only

grumbled out, "Qu'est-ce que c'est, donc?"(187) A little at a

loss what to say, she gently stammered, "M'ami,--le--le premier

Consul, ne vient-il pas?"(188) "Oui! oui!" was blustered in

reply, with a look that completed the phrase by "you fool you!"

though the voice left it unfinished.

Page 231

Not disconcerted even yet, though rather abashed,, she

turned to me with a pleased grin that showed her proud of his

noble ferociousness, and said, "C'est mon mari, madame!" as if

still fearful I was not fully convinced of the grandeur of her

connexion. "M'ami" having now cleared the passage by ranging all

the company in two direct lines, the officers of highest rank

were assembled, and went in a sort of procession into the inner

apartment to the audience of the first Consul. During the time

this lasted, some relaxation of discipline ensued, and the

gentlemen from the opposite row ventured to approach and peep at

the windows with the ladies; but as soon as the generals

descended from the steps they had mounted, their short conference

being over, "M'ami" again appeared,. to the inexpressible

gratification of his loving little mate, again furiously hustled

every one to his post; and the flags, next, as I think, were

carried in procession to the inner apartment, but soon after

brought back.

ADVENT OF THE FIRST CONSUL.

The Prince of Orange then passed us to enter the audience

chamber, with a look so serious, an air so depressed, that I have

not been at all surprised to hear he was that very night taken

very ill.

The last object for whom the way was cleared was the second

Consul, CambacŠr‚s, who advanced with a stately and solemn pace,

slow, regular, and consequential; dressed richly in scarlet and

gold, and never looking to the right or left, but wearing a mien

of fixed gravity and importance. He had several persons in his

suite, who, I think, but am not sure, were ministers of state.

At length the two human hedges were finally formed, the door of

the audience chamber was thrown wide open with a commanding

crash, and a vivacious officer-sentinel-or I know not what,

nimbly descended the three steps into our apartment, and placing

himself at the side of the door, with one hand spread as high as

possible above his head, and the other extended horizontally,

called out in a loud and authoritative voice, "Le premier

Consul!"

You will easily believe nothing more was necessary to obtain

attention; not a soul either spoke or stirred as he and his suite

passed along, which was so quickly that, had I not been placed so

near the door, and had not all about

Page 232

me facilitated my standing foremost, and being least crowd

obstructed, I could hardly have seen him. As it was, I had a view

so near, though so brief, of his face, as to be very much struck

by it. It is of a deeply impressive cast, pale even to

sallowness, while not only in the eye but in every feature--care,

thought, melancholy, and meditation are strongly marked, with so

much of character, nay, genius, and so penetrating a seriousness,

or rather sadness, as powerfully to sink into an observer's mind.

Yet, though the busts and medallions I have seen are, in general,

such good resemblances that I think I should have known him

untold, he has by no means the look to be expected from

Bonaparte, but rather that of a profoundly studious and

contemplative man, who "o'er books consumes" not only the

"midnight oil" but his own daily strength, "and wastes the puny

body to decay" by abstruse speculation and theoretic plans or

rather visions, ingenious but not practicable. But the look of

the commander who heads his own army, who fights his own battles,

who conquers every difficulty by personal exertion, who executes

all he plans, who performs even all he suggests; whose ambition

is of the most enterprising, and whose bravery is of the most

daring cast:--this, which is the look to be expected from his

situation, and the exploits which have led to it, the spectator

watches for in vain. The plainness, also, of his dress, so

conspicuously contrasted by the finery of all around him,

conspires forcibly with his countenance, so "sicklied o'er with

the pale hue of thought," to give him far more the air of a

student than a warrior.

The intense attention with which I fixed him in this short but

complete view made me entirely forget the lady who had promised

me to hold him in conference. When he had passed, however, she

told me it was upon his return she should address him, as he was

too much hurried to be talked with at the moment of going to the

parade. I was glad to find my chance not over, and infinitely

curious to know what was to follow.

THE PARADE OF TROOPS.

The review I shall attempt no description of. I have no knowledge

of the subject, and no fondness for its object. It was far more

superb than anything I had ever beheld: but while all the pomp

and circumstance of war animated others,

Page 233

it only saddened me ; and all of past reflection, all of future

dread, made the whole grandeur of the martial scene, and all the

delusive seduction of martial music, fill my eyes frequently with

tears, but not regale my poor muscles with one single smile.

Bonaparte, mounting a beautiful and spirited white horse, closely

encircled by his glittering aides-de-camp, and accompanied by his

generals, rode round the ranks, holding his bridle indifferently

in- either hand, and seeming utterly careless of the prancing,

rearing, or other freaks of his horse, insomuch as to strike some

who were near me with a notion of his being a bad horseman. I am

the last to be a judge upon this subject, but as a remarker, he

only appeared to me a man who knew so well he could manage the

animal when he pleased, that he did not deem it worth his while

to keep constantly in order what he knew, if urged or provoked,

he could subdue in a moment.

Precisely opposite to the window at which I was placed, the chief

Consul stationed himself after making his round and thence he

presented some swords of honour, spreading out one arm with an

air and mien which changed his look from that of scholastic

severity to one that was highly military and commanding. . . .

A SCENE.

The review over, the chief Consul returned to the palace. The

lines were again formed, and he re-entered our apartment with his

suite. As soon as he approached our window, I observed my first

acquaintance start a little forward. I was now all attention to

her performance of her promise; and just as he reached us she

stretched out her hand to present him a petition!

The enigma of the conference was now solved, and I laughed at my

own wasted expectation. Lui parler, however, the lady certainly

did; so far she kept her word; for when he had taken the scroll,

and was passing on, she rushed out of the line, and planting

herself immediately before him so as to prevent his walking on,

screamed, rather than spoke, for her voice was shrill with

impetuosity to be heard and terror of failure, "C'est pour mon

fils! vous me l'avez promis!"(189) The first Consul stopped and

spoke; but not loud enough for me to hear his voice: while his

aides-de-camp and the attending generals surrounding him more

closely, all in a

Page 234

breath rapidly said to the lady, "Votre nom, madame, votre

nom!"(190) trying to disengage the Consul from her importunity,

in which they succeeded, but not with much ease, as she seemed

purposing to cling to him till she got his personal answer. He

faintly smiled as he passed on, but looked harassed and worn;

while she, turning to me, with an exulting face and voice,

exclaimed, "Je l'aurai! je l'aurai!" meaning what she had

petitioned for--"car . . . tous ces g‚n‚raux m'ont demand‚s mon

nom!" (191) Could any inference be clearer?

The moment the chief Consul had ascended the steps leading to the

inner apartment, the gentlemen in black with ,gold chains gave a

general hint that all the company must depart, as the ambassadors

and the ministers were now summoned to their monthly public

audience with the chief Consul. The crowd, however, was so

great, and Madame d'Henin was so much incommoded, and half ill, I

fear, by internal suffering, that M. d'Arblay procured a pass for

us by a private door down to a terrace leading to a quiet exit

from the palace into the Tuileries garden.

WITH M. D'ARBLAY'S RELATIVES AT JOIGNY.

(Madame d'Arblay to Mrs. Burney.)(192)

Paris, 1802.

.....With the nearest relatives now existing of M. d'Arblay I am

myself more pleased than I can tell you. We have spent a

fortnight at joigny,(193) and found them all awaiting us with the

most enthusiastic determination to receive with open arms and

open heart the choice and the offspring of their returned exile.

Their kindness has truly penetrated me; and the heads of the

family, the uncle and the aunt, are so charming as well as so

worthy, that I could have remained with them for months had not

the way of life which their residence in a country town has

forced them to adopt, been utterly at war with all that, to me,

makes peace, and happiness, and cheerfulness, namely, the real

domestic life of living with my own small but all-sufficient

family. I have never loved a dissipated

Page 235

life, which it is no virtue in me, therefore,

to relinquish; but I now far less than ever can relish it, and

know not how to enjoy anything away from home, except by distant

intervals; and then with that real moderation, I am so far from

being a misanthrope or sick of the world, that I have real

pleasure in mixed society. It is difficult, however, in the

extreme, to be able to keep to such terms. M. d'Arblay has so

many friends, and an acquaintance so extensive, that the mere

common decencies of established etiquettes demand, as yet, nearly

all my time; and this has been a true fatigue both to my body and

my spirits.

M. d'Arblay is related, though very distantly, to a quarter of

the town, and the other three-quarters are his friends or

acquaintance; and all of them came, first, to see me; next, to

know how I did after the journey; next, were all to be waited

upon in return ; next, came to thank me for my visit; next, to

know how the air of Joigny agreed with me - next, to make a

little further acquaintance ; and, finally, to make a visit of

cong‚. And yet all were so civil, so pleasant, and so pleased

with my monsieur's return, that could I have lived three lives,

so as to have had some respite, I could not have found fault for

it was scarcely ever with the individual intruder, but with the

continuance or repetition of interruption.

SOME JOIGNY ACQUAINTANCES.

(Madame d'Arblay to Miss Planta, for the queen and princesses.)

Passy, December 19, 1802.

.....Rarely, indeed, my dear Miss Planta, I have received more

pleasure than from your last most truly welcome letter, with

assurances so unspeakably seasonable. I had it here at Passy the

5th day after its date. I thank you again and again, but oh! how

I thank God!

Permit me now to go back to Joigny, for the purpose of giving

some account of two very interesting acquaintances we made there.

The first was Colonel Louis Bonaparte,(194) youngest brother but

one, (Jerome) of the first Consul. His

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regiment was quartered at joigny, where he happened to be upon

our last arrival at that town, and where the first visit he made

was to M. MBazille, the worthy maternal uncle of M. d'Arblay. He

is a young man of the most serious demeanour, a grave yet

pleasing countenance, and the most reserved yet gentlest manners.

His conduct in the small town (for France) of joigny was not

merely respectable, but exemplary; he would accept no distinction

in consequence of his powerful connexions, but presented himself

everywhere with the unassuming modesty of a young man who had no

claims beyond what he might make by his own efforts and merits.

He discouraged all gaming, to which the inhabitants are extremely

prone, by always playing low himself; and he discountenanced

parade, by never suffering his own servant to wait behind his

chair where he dined. He broke up early both from table and from

play - was rigid in his attentions to his military duties, strict

in the discipline of is officers as well as men, -and the first

to lead the way in every decency and regularity. When to this I

add that his conversation is sensible, and well bred, yet

uncommonly diffident, and that but twenty-three summers have yet

rolled over his head, so much good sense, forbearance, and

propriety, in a situation so open to flattery, ambition, or

vanity, obtained, as they merited, high consideration and perfect

good will.

I had a good deal of conversation with him, for he came to sit by

me both before and after his card-party wherever I had the

pleasure to meet him ; and his quiet and amiable manners, and

rational style of discourse, made him a great loss to our

society, when he was summoned to Paris, upon the near approach of

the event which gave him a son and heir. He was very kind to my

little Alex, whom he never saw without embracing, and he treated

M. d'Arblay with a marked distinction extremely gratifying to me.

The second acquaintance to which I have alluded is a lady, Madame

de Souza.(195) She soon found the road to my good will and

regard, for she told me that she, with another lady, had been

fixed upon by M. del Campo, my old sea-visitor, for the high

honour of aiding him in his reception of the first lady of our

land and her lovely daughters, upon the grand fˆte which he gave

upon the dearest and most memorable of occasions(196) and she

spoke with such pleasure and gratitude of

Page 237

the sweet condescension she then experienced, that she charmed

and delighted me, and we struck up an intimacy without further

delay. Our theme was always ready, and I only regretted that I

could see her but seldom, as she lived two or three miles out of

Joigny, at Cesy, in the small chƒteau of la ci-devant Princesse

de Beaufremont, a lady with whom I had had the honour of making

acquaintance in Paris, and who is one of those who suffered most

during the horrors of the Revolution. At the dreadful period when

all the rage was to burn the property and title-deeds of the rich

and high-born, her noble chƒteau, one of the most considerable in

France, was. utterly consumed, and all her papers; that no record

of her genealogy might remain, were committed, with barbarous

triumph, to the flames : yet was this, such is her unhappy fate,

the least of her misfortunes ; her eldest daughter, a beautiful

young creature, upon whom she doted, was in the chƒteau at this

horrible period, and forced to make her escape with such alarm

and precipitance, that she never recovered from the excess of her

terror, which robbed her of her life before she was quite

seventeen years of age !

Around the small and modest chƒteau de Cesy, in which Madame de

Beaufremont and her youngest and now only daughter, Madame de

Listenois, at present reside, the grounds have been cultivated in

the English style; and the walks, now shady, now open, now

rising, now descending, with water, bridges, cascades, and

groves, and occasional fine picturesque views from the banks of

the Yonne, are all laid out with taste and pretty effects. We

strolled over them with a large party, till we came to a little

recess. Madame de Beaufremont then took me by the arm, and we

separated from the company to enter it together, and she showed

me an urn surrounded with cypress trees and weeping willows,

watered by a clear, small, running rivulet, and dedicated to the

memory of her first-born and early-lost lamented daughter. Poor

lady! she seems entirely resigned to all the rest of her

deprivations, but here the wound is incurable ! yet, this subject

apart, she is cheerful, loves society, or rather social

discourse, with a chosen few, and not only accepts with Pleasure

whatever may enliven her, but exerts herself to contribute all

that is in her power to the entertainment of others. She has

still preserved enough from the wreck of her Possessions to live

elegantly, though not splendidly; and her table is remarkably

well served. She has a son-in-law, M.

Page 238

de Listenois, whom I did not see; but her remaining daughter

Madame de Listenois, is a very fine young woman. Madame de Souza

has spent the whole summer with these ladies. She told me she

liked England so very much, and was so happy during the six weeks

she passed there, that she wept bitterly on quitting it. She was

received, she says, at Court in the most bewitching manner, and

she delights in retracing her honours, and her sense of them.

She is still so very handsome, though sickly and suffering,

that I imagine she must then have been exquisitely beautiful. I

am told, by a French officer who has served in Spain, M. de

Meulan, that when she left that country she was reckoned the most

celebrated beauty of Madrid.

I had another new acquaintance at Joigny, also, in a lady who

came from Auxerre, as she was pleased to say, to see me, Madame

La Villheurnois, widow of M. La Villheurnois, who was amongst the

unhappy objects d‚port‚s, by the order of the Directory,

la

Guiane.(197) As soon as the first civilities were over, she

said, "Permettez, madame! connaisseZ-vous Sidney?"(198) I could

not doubt who she meant, though there is no avoiding a smile at

this drolly concise way of naming a man by his nom de

baptˆme.(199) She was extremely surprised when I answered no;

telling me she had concluded "que tout le monde en

Angleterre"(200) must know Sidney! Yes, I said, by character

certainly ; but personally I had never the gratification of

meeting with him. She told me she was intimately acquainted with

him herself, from seeing him continually when he was confined in

the Temple, as she attended there her "malheureux ‚poux,"(201)

and she saw also, she said, "son valet et son jockey,"(202) whom

she never suspected to be disguised emigrants, watching to aid

his escape. "Surtout," she added, "comme le jockey avait des

trous aux bas terribles,")203) which

Page 239

induced her daughter to buy him a new pair of stockings for

charity. A gentleman who accompanied her to Joigny, her

secretary, told me he had played at ball with Sidney every day

for six months, while he also attended upon poor M. La

Vilheurnois......

THE INFLUENZA IN PARIS.

(Madame d'Arblay to Dr. Burney.)

Passy, March 23, 1803.

I have been anxious to write since I received your last kind

inquiries, my dearest padre; but so tedious has been my seizure,

that I have not yet got from its wraps or confinements. I feel,

however, as if this were their last day, and that to-morrow would

have the honour to see me abroad. I have had no fever, and no

physician, and no important malady; but cold has fastened upon

cold, so as utterly to imprison me. La gripe,(204) however, I

escaped, so has Alex, and our maid and helpers--and M. d'Arblay,

who caught it latterly in his excursions to Paris, had it so

slightly that but for the fright attached to the seizure (which I

thought would almost have demolished me at first, from the terror

hanging on its very name at that fatal period) I should have

deemed it a mere common cold. It is now universally over, but

the mischief it has done is grievously irreparable. . . . It was

a disastrous and frightful time. The streets of Paris were said

to be as full of funerals as of cabriolets. For my own part, I

have not once been able to enter that capital since I left it at

the end of October. But I cannot help attributing much of the

mortality which prevailed in consequence of this slight disease,

to the unwholesome air occasioned by the dreadful want of

cleanliness in that city, which, but for the healthiness of the

beautiful and delicious walks around it, i.e., the Boulevards,

must surely have proved pestilential. The air of our house at

Passy is perfectly pure and sweet.

M. d'Arblay is now making a last effort with respect to his

retraite,(205) which has languished in adjournment above a year.

He has put it into the hands of a faithful and most amiable

friend, now in high esteem with the premier Consul, General

Lauriston, who so kindly renewed an ancient friendship with his

former camarade when he was on his splendid short embassy in

England. If through him it should fail, I shall never think of it

more.

Page 240

RUMOURS OF WAR.

(Madame dArblay to Mrs. Locke)

NO- 54, Rue Basse, Passy, near Paris, April 30, 1803.

How to write I know not, at a period so tremendous-nor yet how to

be silent. My dearest, dearest friends ! if the war indeed prove

inevitable, what a heart-breaking position is ours!-to explain it

fully would demand folios, and yet be never so well done as you,

with a little consideration, can do it for us. Who better than

Mr. Locke and his Fredy-who so well can comprehend, that, where

one must be sacrificed, the other will be yet more to be pitied

?-I will not go on-I will talk only of you, till our fate must be

determined. And M. d'Arblay, who only in the wide world loves his

paternal uncle as well (we always except ourselves at

Westminster! how tenderly does he join in my every feeling! and

how faithfully keep unimpaired all our best and happiest

sympathies!

May 2.--Better appearances in the political horizon now somewhat

recruit my spirits, which have been quite indescribably tortured,

rather than sunk, by the impossibility of any private arrangement

for our mutual happiness in the dread event of war. God Almighty

yet avert it! And should it fall to the lot of Lauriston to

confirm the peace, what a guardian angel upon earth I shall deem

him! How I wish he could meet with you! he is so elegant in his

manners he would immediately give you pleasure; and his

countenance is so true in announcing him amiable, that you might

look at him with trust as well as satisfaction. . . .

May 13--Ah, my dearest friends--what a melancholy end to my hopes

and my letter. I have just heard that Lord Whitworth(206) set

off for Chantilly last night; war therefore seems inevitable; and

my grief, I, who feel myself now of two countries, is far greater

than I can wish to express. While posts are yet open, write to

me, my beloved friend, and by Hamburg. I trust we may still and

regularly correspond, long as the letters may be in travelling.

As our letters never

Page 241

treat but of our private concerns, health and welfare neither

country can object to our intercourse.

(Madame d'Arblay to Dr. Burney).

Passy, May 6, 1803.

if my dearest father has the smallest idea of the suspense and

terror in which I have spent this last fortnight, from the daily

menace of war, he will be glad, I am sure, of the respite allowed

me-if no more--from a visit I have just received from Mrs. Huber,

who assures me the Ambassador has postponed his setting off, and

consented to send another courier.(207) To say how I pray for

his success would indeed be needless. I have hardly closed my

eyes many nights past. My dearest father will easily conceive the

varying conflicts of our minds, and how mutual are our

sufferings. . . .

We were buoyed up here for some days with the hope that General

Lauriston was gone to England as plenipo, to end the dread

contest without new effusion of blood: but Paris, like London,

teems with hourly false reports, and this intelligence,

unhappily, was of the number. The continued kindness and

friendship of that gentleman for M. d'Arblay make me take a warm

interest in whatever belongs to him. About ten days ago, when M.

d'Arblay called upon him, relative to the affair so long

impending of his retraite, he took his hand, and said "Fais-moi

ton compliment!"(208) You are sure how heartily M. d'Arblay

would be ready to comply-"but "what," he demanded, "can be new to

you of honours?" "I have succeeded," he answered, "for you!--the

first Consul has signed your m‚moire." When such delicacy is

joined to warm attachment, my dearest father will not wonder I

should be touched by it. . . .

M. d'Arblay has now something in his native country, where all

other claims are vain, and all other expectations completely

destroyed. He had been flattered with recovering some portion,

at least, of his landed property near Joigny; but those who have

purchased it during his exile add such enormous and unaccountable

charges to what they paid for it at that period, that it is

become, to us, wholly unattainable.

Page 242

" OUR LITTLE CELL AT PASSY."

(Madame d'Arblay to Dr. Burney.)

Passy, April 11, 1804.

We live in the most quiet, and, I think, enviable retired merit.

Our house is larger than we require, but not a quarter furnished.

Our view is extremely pretty from it, and always cheerful; we

rarely go out, yet always are pleased to return. We have our

books, our prate, and our boy--how, with all this, can we, or

ought we to suffer ourselves to complain of our narrowed and

narrowing income? If we are still able to continue at Passy,

endeared to me now beyond any other residence away from you all,

by a friendship I have formed here with one of the sweetest women

I have ever known, Madame de Maisonneuve, and to M. d'Arblay by

similar sentiments for all her family, our philosophy will not be

put to severer trials than it can sustain. And this engages us to

bear a thousand small privations which we might, perhaps, escape,

by shutting ourselves up in some spot more remote from the

capital. But as my deprivation of the society of my friends is

what I most lament, so something that approaches nearest to what

I have lost affords me the best reparation.

(Madame d'Arblay to Dr. Burney.)

Passy, May 29, 1808.

Before I expected it, my promised opportunity for again writing

to my most dear father is arrived. I entirely forget whether,

before the breaking out of the war stopt our correspondence, M.

d'Arblay had already obtained his retraite: and, consequently,

whether that is an event I have mentioned or not. Be that as it

may, he now has it--it is 1500 livres, or 62 pounds, 10

shillings. per annum. But all our resources from England ceasing

with the peace, we had so little left from what we had brought

over, and M. d'Arblay has found so nearly nothing remaining of

his natural and hereditary claims in his own province, that he

determined upon applying for some employment that might enable

him to live with independence, how ever parsimoniously. This he

has, with infinite difficulty, etc., at length obtained, and he

is now a r‚dacteur in the civil department of les Bƒtimens,

etc.(209) This is no sinecure. He

Page 243

attends at his bureau from half-past nine to half-past four

o'clock every day; and as we live so far off as Passy he is

obliged to set off for his office between eight and nine, and

does not return to his hermitage till past five. However, what

necessity has urged us to desire, and made him solicit, we must

not, now acquired, name or think of with murmuring or regret. He

has the happiness to be placed amongst extremely worthy people;

and those who are his chefs in office treat him with every

possible mark of consideration and feeling. We continue steady to

our little cell at Passy, which is retired, quiet, and quite to

ourselves, with a magnificent view of Paris from one side, and a

beautiful one of the country on the other. It is

unfurnished-indeed, unpapered, and every way unfinished; for our

workmen, in the indispensable repairs which preceded our entering

it, ran us up bills that compelled us to turn them adrift, and

leave every thing at a stand, when three rooms only were made

just habitable.

THE PRINCE OF WALES EULOGIZED.

(Dr. Burney to Madame d'Arblay.)

July 12, 1805.

. . . Your brother, Dr. Charles, and I have had the honour last

Tuesday of dining with the Prince of Wales at Lord Melbourne's at

the particular desire of H.R.H. He is so good-humoured and

gracious to those against whom he has no party prejudice, that it

is impossible not to be flattered by this politeness and

condescension. I was astonished to find him, amidst such

constant dissipation, possessed of so much learning, wit,

knowledge of books in general, discrimination of Character, as

well as original humour. He quoted Homer to my son as readily as

if the beauties of Dryden or Pope were under consideration. And

as to music, he is an excellent critic; has an enlarged taste--

admiring whatever is excellent in its kind, of whatever age or

country the composers or performers may be; without, however,

being insensible to the superior genius and learning necessary to

some kinds of music more than others.

The conversation was general and lively, in which several of the

company, consisting of eighteen or twenty, took a share, till

towards the heel of the evening, or rather the toe of the

morning; for we did not rise from table till one

Page 244

o'clock, when Lady Melbourne being returned from the opera with

her daughters, coffee was ordered; during which H.R.H. took me

outside and talked exclusively about music near half an hour, and

as long with your brother concerning Greek literature. He is a

most excellent mimic of well-known characters: had we been in the

dark any one would have sworn that Dr. Parr and Kemble were in

the room. Besides being possessed of a great fund of original

humour, and good humour, he may with truth be said to have as

much wit as Charles II., with much more learning--for his merry

majesty could spell no better than the bourgeois gentilhomme.

DR. BURNEY AT BATH.

(Dr. Burney to Madame dArblay.)

June 12, 1808.

. . . Last autumn I had an alarming seizure In my left hand and,

mine being pronounced a Bath case, on Christmas Eve I set out for

that city, extremely weak and dispirited-put myself under the

care of Dr. Parry, and after remaining there three months, I

found my hand much more alive, and my general health considerably

amended.

During my invalidity at Bath I had an unexpected visit from your

Streatham friend,(210) of whom I had lost sight for more than ten

years. I saw very few people, but none of an evening nor of a

morning, on the days my hand was pumped on. When her name was

sent in I was much surprised, but desired she might be admitted;

and I received her as an old friend with whom I had spent much

time very happily, and never wished to quarrel. She still looks

well, but is grave, and candour itself; though still she says

good things, and writes admirable notes and letters, I am told,

to my granddaughters C. and M., of whom she is very fond. We

shook hands very cordially, and avoided any allusion to our long

separation and its cause; the Caro Sposo still lives, but is such

an object from the gout that the account of his sufferings made

me pity him sincerely; he wished, she told me, "to see his old

and worthy friend," and, un beau matin, I could not refuse

compliance with his wish. She nurses him with great affection

and tenderness, never goes out or has company when he is in pain.

Page 245

AFFECTIONATE GREETINGS To DR. BURNEY.

(Madame d'Arblay to Dr. Burney.)

September, 1808.

After being so long robbed of all means of writing to my beloved

father, I seize, with nearly as much surprise as gratitude, a

second opportunity of addressing him almost before the first can

have brought my hand to his sight. When will some occasion offer

to bring me back-not my revenge, but my first and most coveted

satisfaction ? With how much more spirit, also, should I write,

if I knew what were received of what already I have scrawled !

Volumes, however, must have been told you, of what in other times

I should have written, by Maria. For myself, when once a reunion

takes place, I can scarcely conceive which will be hardest

worked, my talking faculties or my listening ones. O what

millions of things I want to inquire and to know! The rising

generation, me thinks, at least, might keep me some letters and

packets ready for occasional conveyances. I should be grateful

beyond measure. M. d'Arblay writes--"how desired is, how happy

shall be, the day, in which we shall receive your dearest

blessing and embrace! Pray be so kind not to forget the mate

always remembering your kindness for him and his. A thousand

thousand loves to all."

(Madame d'Arblay to Dr. Burney.)

No. 13, Rue d'Anjou, Paris, May 2, 1810.

A happy May-day to my dearest father! Sweet-scented be the

cowslips which approach his nostrils! lovely and rosy the

milkmaids that greet his eyes, and animating as they are noisy

the marrow-bones and cleavers that salute his ears! Dear, and

even touching, are these anniversary recollections where distance

and absence give them existence only in the memory! and, at this

moment, to hear and see them I Would exchange all the Raphaels in

our Museum, and the new and beautiful composition of Paesiello in

the chapel.

Could you but send me a little food for the hope now in private

circulation that the new alliance of the Emperor(211) may perhaps

extend to a general alliance of all Europe, Oh,

Page 246

heaven! how would that brighten my faculties of enjoyment! I

should run about to see all I have hitherto omitted to seek, with

the ardent curiosity of a traveller newly arrived ; and I should

hasten to review and consider all I have already beheld, with an

alertness of vivacity that would draw information from every

object I have as yet looked at with undiscerning tameness. Oh,

such a gleam of light would new-model or re-model me, and I

should make you present to all my sights, and partake of all the

wonders that surround me !

Were not this cruel obscurity so darkening to my views, and so

depressing to my spirits, I could tell my dearest father many

things that might amuse him, and detail to him, in particular, my

great and rare happiness in a point the most essential, after

domestic comforts, to peace of mind and cheerfulness, namely, my

good fortune in my adopted friends in this my adopted country.

The society in which I mix, when I can prevail with myself to

quit my yet dearer fireside, is all that can be wished, whether

for wit, wisdom, intelligence, gaiety, or politeness. The

individuals with whom I chiefly mix, from being admired at first

for their talents or amiability, are now sincerely loved for

their kindness and goodness. Could I write more frequently, or

with more security that I write not to the winds and the waves, I

would characterize the whole set to you, and try to make us yet

shake hands in the same Party. . . .

(Madame d'Arblay to Dr. Burney.)

No. 13, Rue d'Anjou, Paris, ce 16 Sept. 1810.

Can I tell you, my dearest father!-oh, no! I can never tell

you-the pleasure, the rapture with which I received your letter

by Madame Solvyns. It had been so cruelly long since I had heard

from you, so anxious and suffering a space since I had seen your

handwriting, that, when at last it came, I might have seemed, to

one who did not know me, rather penetrated by sudden affliction

than by joy. But how different was all within to what appeared

without! My partner-in-all received it at his bureau, and felt an

impatience so unconquerable to communicate so extreme a pleasure

that he quitted everything to hasten home; for he was incapable

of going on with his business. How satisfactory, also, is all

the intelligence ! how gaily, with what spirit written ! . . .

I do nothing of late but dream of seeing you, my most dear

Page 247

father. I think I dream it wide awake, too; the desire is so

strong that it pursues me night and day, and almost persuades me

it has something in it of reality : and I do not choose to

discourage even ideal happiness.

DR. BURNEY's DIPLOMA.

(Madame d'Arblay to Dr. Burney.)

No. 13, Rue d'Anjou, 14th April, 1811.

.....Have you received the letter in which I related that your

diploma has been brought to me by the perpetual secretary of the

class of the Fine Arts of the Institute of France?(212) I shall

not have it conveyed but by some very certain hand, and that,

now, is most difficult to find. M. Le Breton has given me, also,

a book of the list of your camarades, in which he has written

your name. He says it will be printed in next year's register.

He has delivered to me, moreover, a medal, which is a mark of

distinction reserved for peculiar honour to peculiar select

personages. Do you suppose I do not often--often--often think who

would like, and be fittest to be the bearer to you of these

honours? . . .

How kind was the collection of letters you made more precious by

endorsing! I beseech you to thank all my dear correspondents,

and to bespeak their patience for answers, which shall arrive by

every wind that I can make blow their way; but yet more, beseech

their generous attention to my impatience for more, should the

wind blow fair for me before it will let me hail them in return.

Difficultly can they figure to themselves my joy--my emotion at

receiving letters from such dates as they can give me!

[During this year Madame d'Arblay's correspondence with her

English connexions was interrupted not only by the difficulty of

conveying letters, but also by a dangerous illness and the menace

of a cancer, from which she could only be relieved by submitting

to a painful and hazardous operation. The fortitude with which

she bore this suffering, and her generous solicitude for Monsieur

d'Arblay and those around her, excited the warmest sympathy in

all who heard of her trial, and her French friends universally

gave her the name of l'ange,(213) so touched were they by her

tenderness and Magnanimity.]

(157) " Dr. Orkborne" is the name of one of the characters in

"Camilla," a pedantic scholar, who lives only in his books.-ED.

(158) Widow of Sir Robert Strange, the celebrated engraver, and a

very old friend of the Burney family. She was a Scotchwoman (her

maiden name, Isabel Lumisden), and in her younger days an

enthusiastic Jacobite. She obliged her lover, Strange, to join

the young Pretender in 1745, and afterwards married him against

her father's wish.-ED.

(159) "The other Bell" was the daughter of Sir Robert and Lady

Strange.-ED.

(160) Wife of Sir Lucas Pepys, the physician.-ED.

(161) Anna Letitia Barbauld, the well-known author, and editor of

Richardson's Correspondence, etc.-ED.

(162) John Aiken, M.D., brother to Mrs. Barbauld, and, like his

sister, an author and editor. His "Evenings at Home" is still a

well-known book: many of our readers will probably have pleasant

reminiscences of it, connected with their childhood.-ED.

(163) Barry had published a furious attack upon his

fellow-Academicians in a "Letter to the Dilettanti Society." He

was already, owing chiefly to his own violent temper, on ill

terms with nearly all of them, and the "Letter" prove(I to be the

last straw. Various charges were drawn up against the Professor

of Painting, and he was expelled forthwith from the Academy,

without being permitted to speak in his own defence.

(164) "By the help of a shilling."

(165) "With tears in his eyes."

(166) i.e., Mr. Locke.-ED.

(167) The French minister in England.-ED.

(168) A letter in which M. d'Arblay had acquainted his wife with

the withdrawal of his commission in the French army, in

consequence of his refusal, under any circumstances, to bear arms

against England.-ED.

(169) Miss Cambridge.-ED.

(170) Lafayette was then living in retirement, with his wife and

family, at is chateau of La Grange. -ED.

(171) "Quick, quick, madam, take your seat in the diligence, for

here is an English gentleman who is sure to take the best

place!"--There is evidently some mistake here, in making the

book-keeper in Piccadilly speak French and talk about the

diligence. That the paragraph relates to Fanny's departure from

London is evident from several passages in the text: the mention,

later, of changing horses at Canterbury, the references to her

fellow-travellers at Calais. The date to the above paragraph is

also clearly wrong, as it will be seen that on the 18th of April

they were still on the road to Paris.-ED.

(172) "Quick! quick! look for it, or you will be arrested!"

(173) in the new calendar adopted by the Republic in 1793, a

division of the month into decades, or periods of ten days, was

substituted for the old division into weeks. Every tenth day

(d‚cadi) was a day of rest, instead of every seventh day,

(Sunday, Dimanche). The months were of thirty days each, with

five odd festival days (Sansculottades) in the year, and a sixth

(Festival of the Revolution) in Leap Year. Napoleon restored the

Sunday in place of d‚cadi. The new calendar was discontinued

altogether, January 1, 1806.-ED.

(174) The date is again wrong--probably a misprint for

April 21.-ED.

(175) Mrs. Damer, the sculptor, as an ardent Whig and supporter

of Charles Fox, professed herself at this time an enthusiastic

admirer of the first Consul. She had known jos‚phine de

Beauharnais before her marriage with Napoleon, and, after the

peace of Amiens, visited Paris on Jos‚phine's invitation. She

was there introduced to Napoleon, to whom she afterwards

presented a bust of Charles Fox, executed by herself. Mrs.

Damer's companions on this excursion were Mary Berry, the author

(born 1763-died 1852), and her younger sister, Agnes Berry. These

two ladies were prodigious favourites with Horace Walpole, who

called them his "twin wives," and was, it is said, even desirous,

in his old age, Of marrying the elder Miss Berry. One of his

valued possessions was a marble bust of Mary Berry, the work of

his kinswoman, Mrs. Damer. At his death in 1797 he bequeathed to

the Miss Berrys a house for their joint lives, besides a legacy

Of 4000 pounds to each sister. Mary Berry published an edition

of her old admirer's works the year after his death.-ED.

(176) The Swiss home of her father, 'M. Necker, on the shore of

the lake, and some ten miles north of the town of Geneva. Necker

retired thither after his fall in 1790, and spent there, in

retirement, the remaining years of his life. He died at Geneva,

in April, 1804.-ED.

(177) Madame de Stael's orthography is here preserved.

" I should like to prove to you my zeal, madam, and I am afraid

of being indiscreet. I hope you will have the goodness to let me

know when you are sufficiently recovered from the fatigue of your

journey, that I might have the honour of seeing you without being

tiresome to you."

(178) The 4th Floria (April 23).

(179) "Madame d'Arblay can only be infinitely flattered by the

extreme goodness of Madame the Countess de Stael. She will very

certainly have the honour of calling upon Madame de Stael as soon

as possible."

(180) Madame de Lafayette was thrown into prison after the flight

of her husband; released in February, 1795, more than six months

after the death of Robespierre. She then journeyed to Austria,

and obtained leave to share, with her two daughters, her

husband's captivity at Olmtz. Lafayette was released in

September, 1797; returned to France in 1800, Napoleon not

forbidding, though not quite approving. Madame de Lafayette's

constitution was permanently impaired by the confinement which

she suffered at Olmtz. She died December 24, 1807.-ED.

(181) "It's a foreigner, it's an Englishwoman."

(182) "Have you seen the first Consul, madam?"

"Not yet, madam."

"It is doubtless what you most wish for, madam?"

"Yes, madam."

"Do you wish to have an excellent view of him, and to see him

quite at your ease?"

"I am particularly desirous of it, madam."

(183) "Do thus, madam, and you will see him well, well; for I-am

going to speak to him ! "

(184) "You see him, madam!"

"Whom?" exclaimed I, "the first Consul?"

"Oh no!--not yet;--but--that--that gentleman!"

(185) "yes, madam, I see that gentleman; he is very tall!"

(186) "Madam, it is my husband!"

(187) "What is the matter?"

(188) "M'ami, the--the first Consul, is he not coming?"

(189) "'Tis for my son ! you promised it me!"

(190) "Your name, madam, your name!"

(191) "I shall have it! I shall have it! for all those generals

asked my name!"

(192) Fanny's eldest sister, Esther, who married (1770) her

cousin, Charles Rousseau Burney.-ED.

(193) joigny was the birth-place of M. d'Arblay.-ED.

(194) Louis Bonaparte was born in 1778, and, young as he was, had

already served with distinction in the campaign in Italy. He was

subsequently king of Holland from 1806 to 1810, when that country

was annexed by Napoleon to the French Empire. He married

Hortense de Beauharnais, daughter, by her first marriage, of

Napoleon's wife, Josephine, and was the father of the Emperor

Napoleon III.-ED.

(195) Authoress of "AdŠle de Senange," etc.

(196) On the king's recovery, in the spring of 1789.-ED.

(197) Many of the leading members of the Councils of "Ancients"

and of "Five Hundred " had been transported to Guiana after the

coup d'‚tat of September 4, 1797. See note (146) ante, p.

136.-ED.

(198) "Excuse me, madam ! do you know Sidney? Sidney " is Sir

Sidney Smith, whose gallant and successful defence of Acre

against the French,, in the spring of 1799, obliged Napoleon to

relinquish the invasion of Syria.-ED.

(199) Christian name.

(200) "Every one in England."

(201) "Unfortunate husband."

(202) "His valet and his jockey, (groom)."

(203) "Especially as the jockey had terrible holes in his

stockings."

(204) The influenza.

(205) Retiring pension.

(206) The English ambassador in Paris. All hopes of a

satisfactory termination to the dispute between the English and

French governments being now at an end, Lord Whitworth was

ordered to return to England, and left Paris May 12, 1803. His

return was followed by the recall of the French minister in

London, and the declaration of war between the two countries.-ED.

(207) The reader will have noticed that the date of this letter

is earlier than that of the paragraph in the preceding letter, in

which Fanny alludes to the departure of the Ambassador from

Paris.-ED.

(208) "Make me your compliments."

(209) "Or, as we might say, a clerk in the department of works."-

ED.

(210) Mrs. Piozzi.-ED.

(211) Napoleon was crowned Emperor of the French, November 19,

1804. His "new alliance" was his marriage, in the spring Of

1810, with the archduchess Maria Louisa, daughter of the Emperor

of Austria. With this alliance in view he had been divorced from

Jos‚phine at the close of the preceding year.-ED

(212) Dr. Burney had been elected a corresponding member of this

section of the Institute.-ED.

(213) The angel.

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