(1812-14.)
MADAME D'ARBLAY AND HER SON IN ENGLAND,
[At the commencement of the year 1814 was published "The
Wanderer, or Female Difficulties," the fourth and last novel by
the author of "Evelina," "Cecilia," and "Camilla." The five
volumes were sold for two guineas-double the price of
"Camilla,"--and we gather from Madame d'Arblay's own statement
that she received at least fifteen hundred pounds for the work.
She informs us also that three thousand six hundred copies were
sold during the first six months. This pecuniary profit, however,
was the only advantage which she derived from the book. It was
severely treated by the critics ; its popularity,-- if it ever
had any, for its large sale was probably due to the author's high
reputation,--speedily declined; and the almost total oblivion
into which it passed has remained unbroken to the present day.
Yet "The Wanderer" was deserving of a better fate. In many
respects it is not inferior to any of Madame d'Arblay's earlier
works. Its principal defect is one of literary style, and its
style, though faulty and unequal, is by no means devoid of charm
and impressiveness. The artless simplicity and freshness of
"Evelina" render that work, her first novel, the most successful
of all in point of style. In "Cecilia" the style shows more of
conscious art, and is more laboured. In "Camilla" and "The
Wanderer" it is at once more careless and more affected than in
the earlier novels ; her English is at times slipshod, at times
disfigured by attempts at fine writing. But, admitting all this,
we must admit also that Fanny, even in "The Wanderer," proves
herself mistress of what we may surely regard as the most
essential part of style-its power of affecting the reader
agreeably with the intentions of the author. She plays upon her
reader's emotions with a sure touch; she excites or soothes him
at her will; she arouses by turns his compassion, his mirth, his
resentment, according as she strikes the keys of pathos, of
humour, or of irony. A style which is capable of producing such
effects is not rashly to be condemned on the score of occasional
affectations and irregularities.
Page 249
The question of style apart, we do not feel that "The Wanderer"
shows the slightest decline in its author's powers. The plot is
as ingeniously complicated as ever, the suspense as skilfully
maintained; the characters seem to us as real as those in
"Evelina," or "Cecilia," or in the "Diary" itself; the alternate
pathos and satire of the book keep our attention ever on the
alert. That it failed to win the suffrages of the public was
certainly due to no demerit in the work. Many causes may have
conspired against it. The public taste had long been debauched by
novels of that nightmare school in which Mrs Radcliffe and "Monk"
Lewis were the leaders. Moreover, in the very year in which "The
Wanderer" was published, appeared the first of a series of works
of fiction which, by their power and novelty, were to monopolise,
for a time, the public attention and applause, and which were
thereafter to secure for their author a high rank among the
immortals of English literature. At the end of the fifth volume
of "The Wanderer" were inserted a few leaves, containing a list
of books recently published or "in the press;" and last on the
list of the latter stands "Waverley, or 'Tis Sixty Years since."
Like " Evelina," "The Wanderer" is inscribed in a touching
dedication (this time, however, in prose, and with his name
prefixed) to Fanny's beloved father. The dedication is dated
March 14, 1814 : on the 12th of the following month Dr. Burney
died at Chelsea College, in his eighty-seventh year.-ED.]
NARRATIVE OF MADAME D'ARBLAY'S JOURNEY TO LONDON.
ANXIETY TO SEE FATHER AND FRIENDS.
Dunkirk, 1812. There are few events of my life that I more regret
not having committed to paper while they were fresher in my
memory, than my police adventure at Dunkirk, the most fearful
that I have ever experienced, though not, alas, the most
afflicting, for terror, and even horror, are short of deep
affliction; while they last they are, nevertheless, absorbers;
but once past, whether ill or well, they are over, and from them,
as from bodily pain, the animal spirits can rise uninjured: not
so from that grief which has its source in irreInediable
calamity; from that there is no rising, no relief, save in hopes
of eternity: for here on earth all buoyancy of mind that Might
produce the return of peace, is sunk for ever. I will
Page 250
now, however, put down all that recurs to me of my first return
home.
In the year 1810, when I had been separated from my dear father,
and country, and native friends, for eight years, my desire to
again see them became so anxiously impatient that my tender
companion proposed my passing over to England alone, to spend a
month or two at Chelsea. Many females at that period, and amongst
them the young Duchesse de Duras, had contrived to procure
passports for a short similar excursion ; though no male was
permitted, under any pretence, to quit France, save with the
army.
Reluctantly--with all my wishes in favour of the scheme,--yet
most reluctantly, I accepted the generous offer; for never did I
know happiness away from that companion, no, not even out of his
sight! but still, I was consuming with solicitude to see my
revered father--to be again in his kind arms, and receive his
kind benediction.
A MILD MINISTER OF POLICE.
For this all was settled, and I had obtained my passport, which
was brought to me without my even going to the police office, by
the especial favour of M. Le Breton, the Secretaire Perptuel
l'Institut. The ever active services of M. de Narbonne aided
this peculiar grant ; though, had not Bonaparte been abroad with
his army at the time, neither the one nor the other would have
ventured at so hardy a measure of assistance. But whenever
Bonaparte left Paris, there was always an immediate abatement of
severity in the police; and Fouch, though he had borne a
character dreadful beyond description in the earlier and most
horrible times of the Revolution, was,'at this period, when
minister of police, a man of the mildest manners, the most
conciliatory conduct, and of the easiest access in Paris. He had
least the glare of the new imperial court of any one of its
administration; he affected, indeed, all the simplicity of a
plain Republican. I have often seen him strolling in the most
shady and unfrequented parts of the "Elysian Fields," muffled up
in a plain brown rocolo, and giving le bras to his wife, without
suite or servant, merely taking the air, with the evident design
of enjoying also an unmolested tte-
-tte. On these occasions,
though he was universally known, nobody approached him; and he
seemed, himself, not to observe that any other person
Page 251
was in the walks. He was said to be remarkably agreeable in
conversation, and his person was the best fashioned and most
gentlemanly of any man I have happened to see, belonging to the
government. Yet, such was the impression made upon me by the
dreadful reports that were spread of his cruelty and ferocity at
Lyons,(214) that I never saw him but I thrilled with horror. How
great, therefore, was my obligation to M. de Narbonne and to M.
Le Breton, for procuring me a passport, without my personal
application to a man from whom I shrunk as from a monster.
EMBARKATION INTERDICTED.
I forget now for what spot the passport was nominated, perhaps
for Canada, but certainly not for England and M. Le Breton, who
brought it to me himself, assured me that no difficulty would be
made for me either to go or to return, as I was known to have
lived a life the most inoffensive to government, and perfectly
free from all species of political intrigue, and as I should
leave behind me such sacred hostages as my husband and my son.
Thus armed, and thus authorized, I prepared, quietly and
secretly, for my expedition, while my generous mate employed all
his little leisure in discovering where and how I might embark -
when, one morning, when I was bending over my trunk to press in
its contents, I was abruptly broken in upon by M. de Boinville,
who was in my secret, and who called upon me to stop! He had
received certain, he said, though as yet unpublished information,
that a universal embargo was laid upon every vessel, and that not
a fishing-boat was permitted to quit the coast. Confounded,
affrighted, disappointed, and yet relieved, I submitted to the
blow, and obeyed the injunction. M. de Boinville then revealed to
me the new political changes that occasioned this measure, which
he had learned from some confiding friends in office; but which I
do not touch upon, as they are now in every history of those
times.
Page 252
I pass on to my second attempt, in the year 1812.
Disastrous was that interval ! All correspondence with England
was prohibited under pain of death ! One letter only reached me,
most unhappily, written with unreflecting abruptness, announcing,
without preface, the death of the Princess Amelia, the new and
total derangement of the king, and the death of Mr. Locke. Three
such calamities overwhelmed me, overwhelmed us both, for Mr.
Locke, my revered Mr. Locke, was as dear to my beloved partner as
to myself. Poor Mrs. C concluded these tidings must have already
arrived, but her fatal letter gave the first intelligence, and no
other letter, at that period, found its way to me. She sent hers,
I think, by some trusty returned prisoner. She little knew my
then terrible situation ; hovering over my head was the stiletto
of a surgeon for a menace of cancer yet, till that moment, hope
of escape had always been held out to me by the Baron de Larrey--
hope which, from the reading of that fatal letter, became
extinct.
A CHANGE OF PLAN.
When I was sufficiently recovered for travelling, after a
dreadful operation, my plan was resumed, but with an alteration
which added infinitely to its interest, as well as to its
importance. Bonaparte was now engaging in a new war, of which the
aim and intention was no less than-the conquest of the world.
This menaced a severity of conscription to which Alexander, who
had now spent ten years in France, and was seventeen years of
age, would soon become liable. His noble father had relinquished
all his own hopes and emoluments in the military career, from the
epoch that his king was separated from his country; though that
career had been his peculiar choice, and was suited peculiarly to
the energy of his character, the vigour of his constitution, his
activity, his address, his bravery, his spirit of resource, never
overset by difficulty nor wearied by fatigue---all which
combination of military requisites--
"The eye could in a moment reach,
And read depicted in his martial air,"
But his high honour, superior to his interest, superior to his
inclination, and ruling his whole conduct with unremitting,
unalienable constancy, impelled him to prefer the hard labour and
obscure drudgery of working at a bureau of the minister
Page 253
of the interior, to any and every advantage or promotion that
could be offered him in his own immediate and favourite line of
life, when no longer compatible with his allegiance and loyalty.
To see, therefore, his son bear arms in the very cause that had
been his ruin--bear arms against the country which had given
himself as well as his mother, birth, would indeed have been
heart-breaking. We agreed, therefore, that Alexander should
accompany me to England, where, I flattered myself, I might
safely deposit him, while I returned to await, by the side of my
husband, the issue of the war, in the fervent hope that it would
prove our restoration to liberty and reunion.
A NEW PASSPORT OBTAINED.
My second passport was procured with much less facility than the
first. Fouch was no longer minister of police, and, strange to
tell, Fouch, who, till he became that minister, had been held in
horror by all France-all Europe, conducted himself with such
conciliatory mildness to all ranks of people .while in that
office, evinced such an appearance of humanity, and exhibited
such an undaunted spirit of justice in its execution, that at his
dismission all Paris was in affliction and dismay ! Was this from
the real merit he had shown in his police capacity? Or was it
from a yet greater fear of malignant cruelty awakened by the very
name of his successor, Savary, Duke of Rovigo?(215)
Now, as before, the critical moment was seized by my friends to
act for me when Bonaparte had left Paris to proceed towards the
scene of his next destined enterprise;(216) and he was, I
believe, already at Dresden when my application was ,made. My
kind friend Madame de T-- here took the agency which M. de
Narbonne could no longer sustain, as he was now attending the
emperor, to whom he had been made aide-de-camp, and through her
means, after many difficulties and delays, I obtained a licence
of departure for myself and
Page 254
for Alexander. For what place, nominally, my passport was
assigned, I do not recollect; I think, for Newfoundland, but
certainly for some part of the coast of America. Yet everybody at
the police office saw and knew that England was my object. They
connived, nevertheless, at the accomplishment of my wishes, with
significant though taciturn consciousness.
COMMISSIONS FOR LONDON.
>From all the friends whom I dared trust with my secret
expedition, I had commissions for London; though merely verbal,
as I was cautioned to take no letters. No one at that time could
send any to England by the post. I was charged by sundry persons
to write for them, and in their names, upon my arrival. Madame de
Tracy begged me to discover the address of her sister-in-law,
Madame de Civrac, who had emigrated into the wilds of Scotland,
and of whom she anxiously wished for some intelligence. This
occasioned my having a little correspondence with her, which I
now remark because she is named as one of the principal dames de
la socit by Madame de Genlis. Madame d'Astorre desired me to
find out her father, M. le Comte de Cely, and to give him news of
her and her children. This I did, and received from the old
gentleman some visits, and many letters. Madame la Princesse de
Chimay entrusted me with a petition--a verbal one, to the Prince
of Wales, in favour of the Duc de Fitzjames, who, in losing his
wife, had lost an English pension. This I was to transmit to his
royal highness by means of the Duchess dowager of Buccleugh - who
was also entreated to make known the duke's situation to M.
d'Escars, who was in the immediate service of Louis XVIII.; for
M. d'Escars I had a sort of cipher from Madame de Chimay, to
authenticate my account.
DELAY AT DUNKIRK.
Our journey--Alexander's and mine--from Paris to Dunkirk was sad,
from the cruel separation which it exacted, and the fearful
uncertainty of impending events ; though I was animated at times
into the liveliest sensations, in the prospect of again beholding
my father, my friends, and my country. General d'Arblay, through
his assiduous researches, aided by those of M. de Boinville and
some others, found that a vessel was preparing to sail from
Dunkirk to Dover, under
Page 255
American colours, and with American passports and licence and,
after privately landing such of its passengers as meant but to
cross the channel, to proceed to the western continents. M.
d'Arblay found, at the same time, six or seven persons of his
acquaintance who were to embark in this vessel.
We all met, and severally visited at Dunkirk, where I was
compelled, through the mismanagement and misconduct of the
captain of the vessel, to spend the most painfully wearisome six
weeks of my life, for they kept me alike from all that was
dearest to me, either in France or in England, save my Alexander.
I was twenty times on the point of returning to Paris; but
whenever I made known that design, the captain promised to sail
the next morning. The truth is, he postponed the voyage from day
to day and from week to week, in the hope of obtaining more
passengers ; and, as the clandestine visit he meant to make. to
Dover, in his way to America, was whispered about, reinforcements
very frequently encouraged his cupidity.
The ennui of having no positive occupation was now, for the first
time, known to me; for though the first object of my active cares
was with me, it was not as if that object had been a daughter,
and always at my side ; it was a youth of seventeen, who, with my
free consent, sought whatever entertainment the place could
afford, to while away fatigue. He ran, therefore, wildly about at
his pleasure, to the quay, the dockyard, the sea, the suburbs,
the surrounding country - but chiefly, his time was spent in
skipping to the " Mary Ann," our destined vessel, and seeing its
preparations for departure. To stroll about the town, to call
upon my fellow-sufferers, to visit the principal shops, and to
talk with the good Dutch people while I made slight purchases,
was all I could devise to do that required action.
THE MS. OF "THE WANDERER."
When I found our stay indefinitely protracted, it occurred to me
that if I had the papers of a work which I had then in hand, they
might afford me an occupation to while away my truly vapid and
uninteresting leisure. I wrote this idea to my partner in all--
as M. de Talleyrand had called M. d'Arblay; and, with a spirit
that was always in its first youth where any service was to be
performed, he waited on M. de Saulnier at the police office, and
made a request that my manuscripts
Page 256
might be sent after me, with a permission that I might also be
allowed to carry them with me on board the ship. He durst not say
to England, whither no vessel was supposed to sail; but he would
not, to M. de Saulnier, who palpably connived at my plan and
purpose, say America. M. de Saulnier made many inquiries relative
to these papers; but on being assured, upon honour, that the work
had nothing in it political, nor even national, nor possibly
offensive to the government, he took the single word of M.
d'Arblay, whose noble countenance and dauntless openness of
manner were guarantees of sincerity that wanted neither seals nor
bonds, and invested him with the power to send me what papers be
pleased, without demanding to examine, or even to see them -a
trust so confiding and so generous, that I have regretted a
thousand times the want of means to acknowledge it according to
its merit.
This work was "The Wanderer, or Female Difficulties," of which
nearly three volumes were finished. They arrived, nevertheless,
vainly for any purpose at Dunkirk; the disturbance of my
suspensive -state incapacitating me for any composition, save of
letters to my best friend, to whom I wrote, or dictated by
Alexander, every day; and every day was only supported by the
same kind diurnal return. But when, at length, we were summoned
to the vessel, and our goods and chattels were conveyed to the
custom-house, and when the little portmanteau was produced, and
found to be filled with manuscripts, the police officer who
opened it began a rant of indignation and amazement at a sight so
unexpected and prohibited, that made him incapable to inquire or
to hear the meaning of such a freight. He sputtered at the
mouth, and stamped with his feet, so forcibly and vociferously,
that no endeavours of mine could induce him to stop his
accusations of traitorous designs, till, tired of the attempt, I
ceased both explanation and entreaty, and stood before him with
calm taciturnity. Wanting, then, the fresh fuel of interruption
or opposition, his fire and fury evaporated into curiosity to
know what I could offer. Yet even then, though my account
staggered his violence into some degree of civility, he evidently
deemed it, from its very nature, incredible ; and this fourth
child of my brain had undoubtedly been destroyed ere it was born,
had I not had recourse to an English merchant, Mr. Gregory, long
settled at Dunkirk, to whom,
Page 257
happily, I had been recommended, as to a person capable, in any
emergence, to afford me assistance; he undertook the
responsibility ; and the letter of M. d'Arblay, containing the
licence of M. de Saulnier, was then all-sufficient for my
manuscripts and their embarkation.
SPANISH PRISONERS AT DUNKIRK.
The second event I have to relate I never even yet recollect
without an inward shuddering. In our walks out of the town, on
the borders of the ocean, after passing beyond the dockyard or
wharf, we frequently met a large party of Spanish prisoners, well
escorted by gendarmes, and either going to their hard destined
labour, or returning from it for repast or repose. I felt deeply
interested by them, knowing they were men with and for whom our
own English and the immortal Wellington were then fighting : and
this interest induced me to walk on the bank by which they were
paraded to and fro, as often as I could engage Alexander, from
his other pursuits, to accompany me. Their appearance was highly
in their favour, as well as their situation ; they had a look
calmly intrepid, of concentrated resentment, yet unalterable
patience, They were mostly strong-built and vigorous; of solemn,
almost stately deportment, and with fine dark eyes, full of
meaning, rolling around them as if in watchful expectation of
insult; and in a short time they certainly caught from my
countenance an air of sympathy, for they gave me, in return, as
we passed one another, a glance that spoke grateful
consciousness. I followed them to the place of their labour ;
though my short-sightedness would not let me distinguish what
they were about, whether mending fortifications, dykes, banks,
parapets, or what not: and I durst not use my glass, lest I
should be suspected as a spy. We only strolled about in their
vicinity, as if merely visiting and viewing the sea.
The weather -it was now August-was so intensely hot, the place
was so completely without shade, and their work was so violent,
that they changed hands every two hours, and those who were sent
off to recruit were allowed to cast themselves upon the burnt and
straw-like grass, to await their alternate summons. This they
did in small groups, but without venturing to solace their rest
by any species of social intercourse. They were as taciturn with
one another as with their keepers and taskmasters.
Page 258
One among them there was who wore an air of superiority, ,grave
and composed, yet decided, to which they all appeared to bow down
with willing subserviency, though the distinction was only
demonstrated by an air of profound respect whenever they
approached or passed him, for discourse held they none. One
morning, when I observed him seated at a greater distance than
usual from his overseers, during his hour of release, I turned
suddenly from my walk as if with a view to bend my way homewards,
but contrived, while talking with Alexander and looking another
way, to slant my steps close to where he sat surrounded by his
mute adherents, and to drop a handful of small coin nearly under
the elbow upon which, wearily, lie was reclining. We proceeded
with alertness, and talking together aloud; but Alexander
perceived this apparent chief evidently moved by what I had done,
though forbearing to touch the little offering, which, however,
his companions immediately secured.
After this I never met him that he did not make me a slight but
expressive bow. This encouraged me to repeat the poor little
tribute of compassion, which I soon found he distributed, as far
as it would go, to the whole set, by the kindly looks with which
every one thenceforward greeted me upon every meeting. Yet he
whom we supposed to be some chief, and who palpably discovered it
was himself I meant to distinguish, never touched the money, nor
examined what was taken up by the others, who, on their part,
nevertheless seemed but to take charge of it in trust. We were
now such good friends, that this became more than ever my
favourite walk and these poor unhappy captives never saw me
without brightening up into a vivacity of pleasure that was to me
a real exhilaration.
We had been at Dunkirk above five weeks, when one evening, having
a letter of consequence to send to Paris, I begged Alexander to
carry it to the post himself, and to deposit me upon the quay,
and there to join me. As the weather was very fine I stood near
the sea, wistfully regarding the element on which depended all my
present hopes and views. But presently my meditations were
interrupted, and my thoughts diverted from mere self by the
sudden entrance, in a large body, of my friends the Spanish
prisoners, who all bore down to the very place where I was
stationed, evidently recognising me, and eagerly showing that it
was not without extreme satisfaction. I saw their approach, in
return, with lively
Page 259
pleasure, for, the quay being, I suppose, a place of certain
security, they were unencumbered by their usual turnkeys, the
gendarmes, and this freedom, joined to their surprise at my
sight, put them also off their guard, and they flocked round
though not near me, and hailed me with smiles, bows, and hands
put upon their breasts. I now took courage to speak to them,
partly in French, partly in English, for I found they understood
a little of both those languages. I inquired whence they came,
and whether they knew General Wellington. They smiled and nodded
at his name, and expressed infinite delight in finding I was
English ; but though they all, by their head movements, entered
into discourse, my friend the chief was the only one who
attempted to answer me.
When I first went to France, being continually embarrassed for
terms, I used constantly to apply to M. d'Arblay for aid, till
Madame de Tess charged him to be quiet, saying that my looks
filled up what my words left short, "de sorte que," she added,
"nous la devinons;"(217) this was the case between my Spaniards
and myself, and we -devin-d one another so much to our mutual
satisfaction, that while this was the converse the most to my
taste of any I had had at Dunkirk, it was also, probably, most to
theirs of any that had fallen to their lot since they had been
torn from their native country.
SURPRISED BY AN OFFICER OF POLICE.
While this was going on I was privately drawing from my purse all
that it contained of small money to distribute to my new friends
- but at this same moment a sudden change in the countenance of
the chief from looks of grateful feeling, to an expression of
austerity, checked my purpose, and, sorry and alarmed lest he had
taken offence, I hastily drew my empty hand from my reticule. I
then saw that the change of expression was not simply to
austerity from pleasure, but to consternation from serenity - and
I perceived that it was not to me the altered visage was
directed; the eye pointed beyond me, and over my head
startled, I turned round, and what, then, was my own
consternation when I beheld an officer of the police, in full
gold trappings, furiously darting forward from a small house at
the entrance upon the quay, which I afterwards learnt was his
official dwelling. When he came within two yards of us he stood
still, mute and erect ; but with an air of menace, his eyes
scowling first upon the chief,
Page 260
then upon me, then upon the whole group, and then upon me again,
with looks that seemed diving into some conspiracy.
My alarm was extreme - my imprudence in conversing with these
unhappy captives struck me at once with foreboding terror of ill
consequences. I had, however, sufficient presence of mind to meet
the eyes of my antagonist with a look that showed surprise,
rather than apprehension at his wrath.
This was not without some effect. Accustomed, probably, to
scrutinize and to penetrate into secret plots, he might be an
adept in distinguishing the fear of ill-treatment from the fear
of detection. The latter I could certainly not manifest, as my
compassion had shown no outward mark beyond a little charity -
but the former I tried, vainly, perhaps, to subdue : for I well
knew that pity towards a Spaniard would be deemed suspicious, at
least, if not culpable.
We were all silent, and all motionless ; but when the man, having
fixed upon me his eyes with intention to petrify me, saw that I
fixed him in return with an open though probably not very
composed face, he-spoke, and with a voice of thunder,
vociferating reproach, accusation, and condemnation all in one.
His words I could not distinguish; they were so confused and
rapid from rage.
This violence, though it secretly affrighted me, I tried to meet
with simple astonishment, making no sort of answer or
interruption to his invectives. When he observed my steadiness,
and that he excited none of the humiliation of discovered guilt,
he stopped short and, after a pause, gruffly said,--
"Qui tes-vous?"
"Je me nomme d'Arblay."
"Etes-vous marie?"
"Oui."
"O est votre mari?"
"A Paris."
"Qui est-il?"
"Il travaille aux Bureaux de l'Intrieur."
"Pourquoi le quittez-vous?"(218)
Page 261
I was here sensibly embarrassed. I durst not avow I was
going to England ; I could not assert I was really going to
America. I hesitated, and the sight of his eyes brightening up
with the hope of mischief, abated my firmness ; and, while he
seemed to be staring me through, I gave an account, very
imperfect, indeed, and far from clear, though true, that I came
to Dunkirk to embark on board the "Mary Ann" vessel.
"Ah ha!" exclaimed he, "vous tes Anglaise?"(219)
Then, tossing back his head with an air of triumphant victory,
"suivez-moi!"(220) he added, and walked away, fast and fierce,
but looking back every minute to see that I followed.
INTERROGATED AT THE POLICE OFFICE.
Never can I forget the terror with which I was seized at this
command; it could only be equalled by the evident consternation
and sorrow that struck me, as I turned my head around to see
where I was, in my poor chief and his group. Follow I did, though
not less per force than if I had been dragged by chains. When I
saw him arrive at the gate of the little dwelling I have
mentioned, which I now perceived to belong to him officially, I
impulsively, involuntarily stopped. To enter a police office, to
be probably charged with planning some conspiracy with the
enemies of the state, my poor Alexander away, and not knowing
what must have become of me; my breath was gone; my power of
movement ceased; my head, or understanding, seemed a chaos,
bereft of every distinct or discriminating idea; and my feet, as
if those of a statue, felt riveted to the ground, from a vague
but overwhelming belief I was destined to incarceration in some
dungeon, where I might sink ere I could make known my situation
to my friends, while Alex, thus unaccountably abandoned, might be
driven to despair, or become the prey to nameless mischiefs.
Again the tiger vociferated a "suivez-moi!" but finding it no
longer obeyed, he turned full round as he stood upon ]its
threshold, and perceiving my motionless and speechless dismay,
looked at me for two or three seconds in scornful, but
investigating taciturnity. Then, putting his arms a-kimbo, he
said, in lower, but more, taunting accents, "Vous ne le jugez
donc pas
propos de me suivre?" (221)
Page 262
This was followed by a sneering, sardonic grin that seemed
anticipating the enjoyment of using compulsion. On, therefore, I
again forced myself, and with tolerable composure I said, "Je
n'ai rien, monsieur, je crois,
faire ici?"(222)
"Nous verrons!"(223) he answered, bluffly, and led the way into a
small hovel rather than parlour - and then haughtily seated
himself at a table, on which were pen, ink, and paper, and, while
I stood before him, began an interrogation, with the decided
asperity of examining a detected criminal, of whom he was to draw
up the proces verbal.
When I perceived this, my every fear, feeling, nay, thought,
concentrated in Alexander, to whom I had determined not to
allude, while I had any hope of self-escape, to avoid for us both
the greatest of all perils, that of an accusation of intending to
evade the ensuing conscription, for which, though Alex was yet
too young, he was fast advancing to be amenable.
But now that I was enclosed from his sight, and there was danger
every moment of his suddenly missing me, I felt that our only
chance of safety must lie in my naming him before he should
return. With all the composure, therefore, that I could assume,
I said that I was come to Dunkirk with my son to embark in the
"Mary Ann," an American vessel, with a passport from M. de
Saulnier, secretary to the Duke de Rovigo, minister of police.
And what had I done with this son?
I had sent him to the post-office with a letter for his father.
At that instant I perceived Alexander wildly running past the
window.
This moment was critical. I instantly cried, "Sir, there is my
son!"
The man rose, and went to the door, calling Out, "Jeune
homme!"(224)
Alex approached, and was questioned, and though much amazed, gave
answers perfectly agreeing with mine.
I now recovered my poor affrighted faculties, and calmly said
that if he had any doubt of our veracity, I begged he would send
for Mr. Gregory, who knew us well. This, a second time, was a
most happy reference. Mr. Gregory was of the highest
respectability, and he was near at hand. There could be no doubt
of the authenticity f such an appeal.
Page 263
The brow of my ferocious assailant was presently unbent. I seized
the favourable omen to assure him, with apparent indifference,
that I had no objection to being accompanied or preceded to the
Hotel Sauvage, where I resided, nor to giving him the key of my
portmanteau and portfolio, if it were possible I had excited any
suspicion by merely speaking, from curiosity, to the Spanish
prisoners.
No, he answered, he would not disturb me; and then, having
entered the name of Alexander by the side of mine, he let us
depart. Speechless was my joy, and speechless was the surprise
of Alexander, and we walked home in utter silence. Happily, this
incident occurred but just before we set sail, for with it
terminated my greatest solace at Dunkirk, the seeing and
consoling those unhappy prisoners, and the regale of wandering by
the sea-coast.
THE "MARY ANN" CAPTURED OFF DEAL.
Six weeks completely we consumed in wasteful weariness at
Dunkirk; and our passage, when at last we set sail, was equally,
in its proportion, toilsome and tedious. Involved in a sickening
calm, we could make no way, but lingered two days and two nights
in this long-short passage. The second night, indeed, might have
been spared me, as it was spared to all my fellow voyagers. But
when we cast anchor, I was so exhausted by the unremitting
sufferings I had endured, that I was literally unable to rise
from my hammock.
Yet was there a circumstance capable to have aroused me from any
torpidity, save the demolishing ravage of sea-sickness for
scarcely were we at anchor, when Alex, capering up to the deck,
descended with yet more velocity than he had mounted to exclaim,
"Oh, maman! there are two British officers now upon deck." But,
finding that even this could not make me recover speech or
motion, he ran back again to this new and delighting sight, and
again returning 'cried out in a tone of rapture, "Maman, we are
taken by the British! We are all captured by British officers!"
Even in my immovable, and nearly insensible state, this juvenile
ardour, excited by so new and strange an adventure, afforded me
some amusement. It did not, however, afford me strength, for I
could not rise, though I heard that every other passenger was
removed. With difficulty, even next morning, I crawled upon the
deck, and there I had been but a short time,
Page 264
when Lieutenant Harford came on board to take possession of the
vessel, not as French, but American booty, war having been
declared against America the preceding week. Mr. Harford, hearing
my name, most courteously addressed me, with congratulations
upon my safe arrival in England. These were words to rewaken all
the happiest purposes of my expedition, and they recovered me
from the nerveless, sinking state into which my exhaustion had
cast me, as if by a miracle. My father, my brothers, my sisters,
and all my heart-dear friends, seemed rising to my view and
springing to my embraces, with all the joy of renovating reunion.
I thankfully accepted his obliging offer to carry me on shore in
his own boat; but when I turned round, and called upon Alexander
to follow us, Mr. Harford, assuming a commanding air, said, "No,
madam, I cannot take that young man. No French person can come
into my boat without a passport and permission from government."
My air now a little corresponded with his own, as I answered, "He
was born, Sir, in England!"
"Oh!" cried he, " "that's quite another matter; come along, Sir!
we'll all go together."
I now found we were rowing to Deal, not Dover, to which town we
had been destined by our engagement: but we had been captured, it
seems, chemin fuisant, though so gently, and with such utter
helplessness of opposition, that I had become a prisoner without
any suspicion of my captivity.
JOY ON ARRIVING IN ENGLAND.
We had anchored about half a mile, I imagine, from the shore ;
which I no sooner touched than, drawing away my arm from Mr.
Harford, I took up on one knee, with irrepressible transport, the
nearest bright pebble, to press to my lips in grateful joy at
touching again the land of my nativity, after an absence, nearly
hopeless, of more than twelve years.
Of the happiness that ensued--my being again in the arms of my
dearly loved father-in those of my dear surviving sisters--my
brothers--my friends, some faint details yet remain in a few
letters to my heart's confidant that he preserved: but they are
truly faint, for my satisfaction was always damped in recording
it to him who SO fondly wished to partake of it, and whose
absence from that participation always rendered it incomplete.
And, on one great source of renovated felicity, I did not
Page 265
dare touch even by inference, even by allusion--that of finding
my gracious royal mistress and her august daughters as cordial in
their welcome, as trustingly confidential, and as amiably
condescending, I had almost said affectionate, as if I had never
departed from the royal roof under which, for five years, I had
enjoyed their favour. To have spoken of the royal family in
letters sent to France under the reign of Bonaparte, might have
brought destruction on him for whom I would a thousand times
sooner have suffered it myself.
(Madame d'Arblay to Mrs. Broome.)(225)
Aug. 15, 1812.
In a flutter of joy such as my tender Charlotte will feel in
reading this, I write to her from England! I can hardly believe
it; I look around me in constant inquiry and doubt I speak French
to every soul, and I whisper still if I utter a word that
breathes private opinion. . . .
We set off for Canterbury, where we slept, and on the 20th(226)
proceeded towards Chelsea. While, upon some common, we stopped to
water the horses, a gentleman on horseback passed us twice, and
then, looking in, pronounced my name - and I saw it was Charles,
dear Charles! who had been watching for us several hours and
three nights following, through a mistake. Thence we proceeded to
Chelsea, where we arrived at nine o'clock at night. I was in a
state almost breathless. I could only demand to see my dear
father alone: fortunately, he had had the same feeling, and had
charged all the family to stay away, and all the world to be
denied. I found him, therefore, in his library, by himself-but
oh! my dearest, very much altered indeed--weak, weak and changed-
-his head almost always hanging down, and his hearing most
cruelly impaired. I was terribly affected, but most grateful to
God for my arrival. Our meeting, you may be sure, was very
tender, though I roused myself as quickly as possible to be gay
and cheering. He was extremely kind to Alex, and said, in a tone
the most impressive, "I should have been very glad to have seen
M. d'Arblay!" In discourse, however, he reanimated, and was, at
times, all himself. But he now admits scarcely a creature but of
his family, and will only see for a short time even his children.
He likes quietly reading, and lies
Page 266
almost constantly upon the sofa, and will never eat but alone.
What a change!
YOUNG D'ARBLAY SECURES A SCHOLARSHIP.
(Madame d'Arblay to Dr. Burney.)
March 16, 1813.
How will my kindest father rejoice for me! for my dear partner--
for my boy! The election is gained, and Alexander has obtained
the Tancred scholarship. He had all the votes: the opponent
retired. Sir D-- behaved handsomely, came forward, and
speechified for us. Sir Francis Milman, who was chairman, led the
way in the harangue. Dr. Davy, our supporter, leader, inspirer,
director, heart and head, patron and guide, spoke also. Mr H--
spoke, too; but nothing, they tell me, to our purpose, nor yet
against it. He gave a very long and elaborate history of a cause
which he is to plead in the House of Lords, and which has not the
smallest reference whatsoever to the case in point. Dr. Davy
told me, in recounting it, that he is convinced the good and wary
lawyer thought this an opportunity not to be lost for rehearsing
his cause, which would prevent loss of time to himself, or
hindrance of business, except to his hearers : however, he gave
us his vote. 'Tis a most glorious affair.
THE QUEEN ALARMED BY A MAD WOMAN.
(Madame d'Arblay to Dr. Burney.)
May 11, 1813.
My own inclination and intention kept in mind your charge, , my
dearest sir, that as soon as I was able I would wait upon Lady
Crewe;(227) fortunately, I found her at home, and in her best
style, cordial as well as good-humoured, and abounding in acute
and odd remarks. I had also the good fortune to see my lord, who
seems always pleasing, unaffected, and sensible, and to possess a
share of innate modesty that no intercourse with the world, nor
addition of years, can rob him of. I was much satisfied with my
visit - but what I shall do for time, now once I have been
launched from my couch, or sick chamber, I wot not.
Page 267
What a terrible alarm is this which the poor tormented
queen has again received!(228) I wrote my concern as soon as I
heard of it, though I have not yet seen the printed account, my
packet of papers reaching only to the very day before that event.
My answer has been a most gracious summons to the Queen's house
for to-morrow. Her majesty and two of the princesses come to town
for four days. This robs me of my Chelsea visit for this week, as
I keep always within call during the town residences, when I have
royal notice of them, and, indeed, there is nothing I desire more
than to see her majesty at this moment, and to be allowed to
express what I have felt for her. My letter from Madame
Beckersdorff says that such an alarm would have been frightful
for anybody, but how much more peculiarly so for the queen, who
has experienced such poignant horror from the effects of
disordered intellects! who is always suffering from them, and so
nearly a victim to the unremitting exercise of her duties upon
that subject and these calls.
I have had a visit this morning from Mrs. Piozzi, who is in town
only for a few days upon business. She came while I was out - but
I must undoubtedly make a second tour, after my royal four days
are passed, in order to wait upon and thank her.
I have been received more graciously than ever, if that be
possible, by my dear and honoured queen and sweet Princesses
Eliza and Mary. The queen has borne this alarm astonishingly,
considering how great was the shock at the moment; but she has so
high a character, that she will not suffer anything personal to
sink her spirits, which she saves wholly for the calls upon them
of others, and great and terrible have been those calls. The
beloved king is in the best state possible for his present
melancholy situation; that is, wholly free from real bodily
suffering, or imaginary mental misery, for he is persuaded that
he is always conversing with angels.
WEATHER COMPLAINTS. PROPOSED MEETING WITH LORD
LANSDOWNE.
(Madame d'Arblay to Dr. Burney.)
Chenies-street, Alfred-place, May 23, 1813.
Oh, how teased I am, my dearest padre, by this eternal unwalkable
weather! Every morning rises so fairly, that at every noon I am
preparing to quit my conjuring, and repair,
Page 268
by your kind invitation, to prelude my promised chat by a repast
with Sarah - when mizzling falls the rain, or hard raps the hail,
and the day, for me, is involved in damps and dangers that fix me
again to my dry, but solitary conjurations. I am so tired now of
disappointments, that I must talk a little with my padre in their
defiance, and in a manner now, thank God! out of their reach. Ah,
how long will letters be any safer than meetings! The little
world I see all give me hope and comfort from the posture of
affairs but I am too deeply interested to dare be sanguine while
in such suspense.
Lady Crewe invited me to her party that she calls Noah's ark; but
I cannot yet risk an evening, and a dressed one too. She then
said she would make me a small party with the Miss Berrys, and
for a morning; and now she has written to Charles to make
interest with me to admit Lord Lansdowne, at his own earnest
request! I am quite non compos to know how I shall make my way
through these honours, to my strength and re-establishment, for
they clash with my private plan and adopted system of quiet.
However, she says the meeting shall be in the country, at
Brompton, and without fuss or ceremony. Her kindness is
inexpressible, therefore I have not courage to refuse her. She
has offered me her little residence at Brompton for my dwelling
for a week or so, to restore me from all my influenzas : she may
truly be called a faithful family friend. I hope dear Sarah and
Fanny Raper will be of the party. If they are, charge them, dear
sir, to let me hear their voices, for I shall never find out
their faces.
What weather! what weather! when shall I get to Chelsea, and
embrace again my beloved father?
This free-born weather of our sea-girt isle of liberty is very
incommodious to those who have neither carriages for wet feet,
nor health for damp shoulders. If the farmers, however, are
contented, I must be patient. We may quarrel with all our wishes
better than with our corn.
Adieu, my most dear father, till the sun shines drier.
A YOUNG GIRL'S ENTRY TO LONDON SOCIETY. MADAME DE STAEL.
(Madame d'Arblay to a friend.)
London, August 20, 1813-
. . .Your charming girl, by what I can gather, has seen, upon the
whole, a great deal of this vast town and its
Page 269
splendours,--a little more might, perhaps, have been better, in
making her, with a mind such as hers, regret it a little less.
Merit of her sort can here be known with difficulty. Dissipation
is so hurried, so always in a bustle, that even amusement must be
prominent, to be enjoyed. There is no time for development;
nothing, therefore, is seen but what is conspicuous; and not much
is heard but what is obstreperous. They who, in a short time, can
make themselves known and admired now in London, must have their
cupids, in Earl Dorset's phrase--
Like blackguard boys,
Who thrust their links full in your face.
I had very much matter that I meant and wished to say to you upon
this subject; but in brief--I do not myself think it a misfortune
that your dear girl cannot move in a London round, away from your
own wing: you have brought her up so well, and she seems so good,
gentle, and contented, as well as accomplished, that I cannot
wish her drawn into a vortex where she may be imbued with other
ideas, views, and wishes than those that now constitute her
happiness--and happiness! what ought to be held more sacred where
it is innocent--what ought so little to risk any unnecessary or
premature concussion? With all the deficiencies and imperfections
of her present situation, which you bewail but which she does not
find out, it is, alas! a million to one whether, even in
attaining the advantages and society you wish for her, she will
ever again, after any change, be as happy as she is at this
moment. A mother whom she looks up to and doats upon--a sister
whom she so fondly loves--how shall they be replaced? The
chances are all against her (though the world has, I know, such
replacers), from their rarity.
I am truly glad you had a gratification you so earnestly coveted,
that of seeing Madame de Stael: your account of her was extremely
interesting to me. As to myself, I have not seen her at all.
Various causes have kept me in utter retirement; and, in truth,
with respect to Madame de Stael, my situation is really
embarrassing. It is too long and difficult to write upon, nor do
I recollect whether I ever communicated to you our original
acquaintance, which, at first, was intimate. I shall always,
internally, be grateful for the partiality with which she sought
me out upon her arrival in this country before my- marriage: and
still, and far more, if she can forgive my dropping her, which I
could not help
Page 270
for none of my friends, at that time, would suffer me to keep up
the intercourse! I had messages, remonstrances, entreaties,
representations, letters, and conferences, till I could resist no
longer; though I had found her so charming, that I fought the
hardest battle I dared fight against almost all my best
connections. She is now received by all mankind;--but that,
indeed, she always was--all womankind, I should say--with
distinction and pleasure. I wish much to see her "Essay on
Suicide;" but it has not yet fallen in my way. When will the work
come out for which she was, she says, chasse de la France?(229)
Where did --- hear her a whole evening? She is, indeed, most
uncommonly entertaining, and animating as well as animated,
almost beyond anybody, "Les Mmoires de Madame de Stael" I have
read long ago, and with singular interest and eagerness. They
are so attaching, so evidently original and natural, that they
stand very high, indeed, in reading that has given me most
pleasure. My boy has just left me for Greenwich.(230) He goes
in October to Cambridge; I wish to install him there myself. My
last letter from Paris gives me to the end of October to stay in
England.
ROGERS THE POET.
(Madame d'Arblay to Dr. Burney.)
August 24, 1813.
.....I was delighted by meeting Lady Wellington, not long since,
at Lady Templetown's. Her very name electrified me with emotion.
I dined at Mr. Rogers's, at his beautiful mansion in the Green
Park, to meet Lady Crewe; and Mrs. Barbauld was also there, whom
I had not seen many, many years, and alas, should not have known!
Mr. Rogers was so considerate to my sauvagerie as to have no
party, though Mr. Sheridan, he said, had expressed his great
desire to meet again his old friend Madame d'Arblay! Lady Crewe
told me she certainly would not leave town without seeking
Page 271
another chattery with her old friend, Dr. Burney, whom she always
saw with fresh pleasure.
INTERVIEW WITH MR. WILBERFORCE.
(Madame d'Arblay to Dr. Burney.)
Sandgate, Sept., 1813.
Let me steal a moment to relate a singular gratification, and, in
truth, a real and great honour I have had to rejoice in. You
know, my padre, probably, that Marianne Francis was commissioned
by Mr. Wilberforce(231) to bring about an acquaintance with your
F. d'A., and that, though highly susceptible to such a desire, my
usual shyness, or rather consciousness of inability to meet the
expectations that must have made him seek me, induced my
declining an interview. Eh bien--at church at Sandgate, the day
after my arrival, I saw this justly celebrated man, and was
introduced to him in the churchyard, after the service, by
Charles. The ramparts and martellos around us became naturally
our theme, and Mr. Wilberforce proposed showing them to me. I
readily accepted the offer, and Charles and Sarah, and Mrs.
Wilberforce and Mrs. Barrett, went away in their several
carriages, while Mr. Barrett alone remained, and Mr. Wilberforce
gave me his arm, and, in short, we walked the round from one to
five o'clock! Four hours' of the best conversation I have,
nearly, ever enjoyed. He was anxious for a full and true account
of Paris, and particularly of religion and infidelity, and of
Bonaparte and the wars, and of all and everything that had
occurred during my ten years' seclusion in France; and I had so
much to communicate, and his drawing out and comments and
episodes were all so judicious, so spirited, so full of
information yet so unassuming, that my shyness all flew away and
I felt to be his confidential friend, opening to him upon every
occurrence and every sentiment, with the frankness that is
usually won by years of intercourse. I was really and truly
delighted and enlightened by him; I desire nothing more
Page 272
than to renew the acquaintance, and cultivate it to intimacy.
But, alas! he was going away next morning.
INTENDED PUBLICATION OF "THE WANDERER."
(Madame d'Arblay to Dr. Burney.)
Richmond Hill, Oct. 12, 1813.
My most dear padre will, I am sure, congratulate me that I have
just had the heartfelt delight of a few lines from M. d'Arblay,
dated September 5th. I had not had any news since the 17th of
August, and I had the melancholy apprehension upon my spirits
that no more letters would be allowed to pass till the campaign
was over. It has been therefore one of the most welcome
surprises I ever experienced. He tells me, also, that he is
perfectly well, and quite acabl with business. This, for the
instant, gives me nothing but joy; for, were he not essentially
necessary in some department of civil labour and use, he would
surely be included in some leve en masse. Every way, therefore,
this letter gives me relief and pleasure.
I have had, also, this morning, the great comfort to hear that my
Alexander is " stout and well at Cambridge, where his kind uncle
Charles still remains.
I am indescribably occupied, and have been so ever since my
return from Ramsgate, in giving more and more last touches to my
work, about which I begin to grow very, anxious. I am to receive
merely 500 pounds upon delivery of the MS. the two following 500
by instalments from nine months to nine months, that is, in a
year and a half from the day of publication. If all goes well,
the whole will be 3000, but only at the end of the sale of eight
thousand copies. Oh, my padre, if you approve the work, I shall
have good hope.
GENERAL D'ARBLAY'S WOUNDED COMRADES.
(Madame d'Arblay to Mrs. Locke.)
Dec. 16, 1813.
Ah, my dearest friend, how is my poor cottage-how are my proofs--
how is everything forced from my mind, except what necessity
drives there, by this cruel stroke to my suffering partner! The
world had power only in two instances to have given him quite so
deadly a blow, dear to his heart of love as
Page 273
are some, nay, many others; but here--for M. de Narbonne, it was
a passion of admiration, joined to a fondness of friendship, that
were a part of himself.(232) How he will bear it, and in our
absence, perpetually occupies my thoughts. And I have no means
to hear from, or to write to him!--none, absolutely none!
just before this wound was inflicted, I was already overwhelmed
with grief for my poor Madame de Maisonneuve, A for M. d'Arblay
himself, and for my own personal loss, in the death--premature
and dreadful, nay, inhuman--of the noble, perfect brother of that
Madame de Maisonneuve; General Latour Maubourg, a man who, like
my own best friend was--is signalized among his comrades by the
term of a vrai Chevalier Franais. He was without a blot; and
his life has been thrown away merely to prevent his being made a
prisoner! He had received a horrible wound on the first of the
tremendous battles of Leipzic, and on the second he suffered
amputation; and immediately after was carried away to follow the
retreating army! In such a condition, who can wonder to hear
that, a very few miles from Leipzic, he expired?(233)
DEATH OF DR. BURNEY.
[In the beginning of the year 1814, Madame d'Arblay published her
fourth work, "The Wanderer," and nearly at the same time peace
was declared between France and England. Her satisfaction at an
event so long wished for, was deeply saddened by the death of her
father, Dr. Burney; whom she nursed and attended to the last
moment with dutiful tenderness.
Soon after the Restoration of the French royal family, Monsieur
d'Arblay was placed by the Duke de Luxembourg in the French "
gardes du corps." He obtained leave of absence towards the close
of the year, and came to England
Page 274
for a few weeks ; after which Madame d'Arblay returned with him
to Paris, leaving their son to pursue his studies at Cambridge.]
(Madame d'Arblay to Mrs. ----)
March(234) 19, 1814.
Be not uneasy for me, nay tender friend: my affliction is heavy,
but not acute - my beloved father had been spared to us something
beyond the verge of the prayer for his preservation, which you
must have read, for already his sufferings had far surpassed his
enjoyments. I could not have wished him so to linger, though I
indulged almost to the last hour a hope he might yet recover, and
be restored to comfort. I last of all gave him up, but never
wished his duration such as I saw him on the last few days. Dear
blessed parent! how blest am I that I came over to him while he
was yet susceptible of pleasure--of happiness! My best comfort
in my grief, in his loss, is that I watched by his side the last
night, and hovered over him two hours after he breathed no more;
for though much suffering had preceded the last hours, they were
so quiet, and the final exit was so soft, that I had not
perceived it though I was sitting by his bedside, and would not
believe when all around announced it. I forced them to let me
stay by him, and his revered form became stiff before I could
persuade myself that he was gone hence for ever.
Yet neither then nor now has there been any violence, anything to
fear from my grief; his loss was too indubitably to be expected,
he had been granted too long to our indulgence to allow any
species of repining to mingle with my sorrow; and it is repining
that makes sorrow too hard to bear with resignation. Oh, I have
known it!
FAVOURABLE NEWS OF M. D'ARBLAY.
(Madame d'Arblay to Mrs. Locke.)
April 3, 1814.
I hasten to impart to my kind and sympathising friend that I
received-last night good tidings of my best friend of friends;
they have been communicated to me, oddly enough, through the
Alien office! Mr. Reeves wrote them to my
Page 275
reverend brother,(235) by the desire of an English lady now
resident in Paris-Madame Solvyns (wife of a Frenchman), at the
request of M. d'Arblay; they assure me of his perfect health...
Nothing could be so well timed as this intelligence, for my
inquietude was beginning to be doubly restless from the accession
of time that has fallen to me by having got rid of all my proofs,
etc. it is only real and indispensable business that can force
away attention from suspensive uneasiness. Another comfort of the
very first magnitude, my sweet friend will truly, I know,
participate in--my Alexander begins to listen to reason. He
assures me he is now going on with very tolerable regularity; and
I have given him, for this term, to soberize and methodize him a
little, a private tutor ; and this tutor has won his heart by
indulging him in his problem passion. They work together, he
says, with a rapidity and eagerness that makes the hour of his
lesson by far the most delightful portion of his day. And this
tutor, he tells me, most generously gives him problems to work at
in his absence: a favour for which every pupil, perchance, would
not be equally grateful, but which Alexander, who loves problems
algebraic as another boy loves a play or an opera, regards as the
height of indulgence.
"THE WANDERER."
[Soon after the publication of " The Wanderer," Madame d'Arblay
wrote as follows to a friend:--]
I beseech you not to let your too ardent friendship disturb you
about the reviews and critiques, and I quite supplicate you to
leave their authors to their own severities or indulgence. I
have ever steadily refused all interference with public opinion
or private criticism. I am told I have been very harshly treated
; but I attribute it not to what alone would affect me, but which
I trust I have not excited, personal enmity. I attribute it to
the false expectation, universally spread, that the book would be
a picture of France, as well as to the astonishing clat of a
work in five volumes being all bespoken before it was published.
The booksellers, erroneously and injudiciously concluding the
sale would so go on, fixed the rapacious price of two guineas,
which again damped the sale. But why say damped, when it is only
their unreasonable expectations that are disappointed ? for they
acknowledge that 3600 copies are positively sold and paid for in
the first half year. What must I be, if not far more than
Page 276
contented? I have not read or heard one of the criticisms; my
mind has been wholly occupied by grief for the loss of my dearest
father, or the inspection of his MSS., and my harassing situation
relative to my own proceedings. Why, then, make myself black
bile to disturb me further? No; I will not look at a word till my
spirits and time are calmed and quiet, and I can set about
preparing a corrected edition. I will then carefully read all -
and then, the blow to immediate feelings being over, I can
examine as well as read, impartially and with profit, both to my
future surveyors and myself.
MADAME D'ARBLAY'S PRESENTATION TO LOUIS XVIII AT GRILLON's HOTEL.
1814.-While I was still under the almost first impression of
grief for the loss of my dear and honoured father I received a
letter from Windsor Castle, written by Madame Beckersdorff, at
the command of her majesty, to desire I would take the necessary
measures for being presented to son altesse royale Madame
Duchesse d'Angoulme,l who was to have a Drawing-room in London,
both for French and English, on the day preceding her departure
for France. The letter added, that I must waive all objections
relative to my recent loss, as it would be improper, in the
present state of things, that the wife of a general officer
should not be presented; and, moreover, that I should be
personally expected and well received, as I had been named to son
altesse royale by the queen herself. In conclusion, I was charged
not to mention this circumstance, from the applications or
jealousies it might excite.
To hesitate was out of the question - and to do honour to my
noble absent partner, and in his name to receive honour, were
precisely the two distinctions my kind father would most have
enjoyed for me.
Page 277
I had but two or three days for preparation. Lady Crewe
most amiably came to me herself, and missing me in person, wrote
me word she would lend me her carriage, to convey me from Chelsea
to her house in Lower Grosvenor-street, and thence accompany me
herself to the audience. When the morning arrived I set off with
tolerable courage.
Arrived, however, at Lady Crewe's, when I entered the room in
which this dear and attached friend of my father received me, the
heaviness of his loss proved quite overpowering to my spirits ;
and in meeting the two hands of my hostess, I burst into tears
and could not, for some time, listen to the remonstrances against
unavailing grief with which she rather chid than soothed me. But
I could not contest the justice of what she uttered, though my
grief was too fresh for its observance. Sorrow, as my dearest
father was wont to say, requires time, as well as wisdom and
religion, to digest itself , and till that time is both accorded
and well employed, the sense of its uselessness serves but to
augment, not mitigate, its severity.
Lady Crewe purposed taking this opportunity of paying her own
respects, with her congratulations, to Madame la Duchesse
d'Angoulme. She had sent me a note from Madame de Gouvello,
relative to the time, for presentation, which was to take place
it Grillon's hotel in Albemarle-street.
We went very early, to avoid a crowd. But Albemarle-street was
already quite full, though quiet. We entered the hotel without
difficulty, Lady Crewe having previously demanded a private room
of Grillon, who had once been cook to her lord. This private
room was at the back of the house, with a mere yard or common
garden for its prospect. , Lady Crewe declared this was quite too
stupid, and rang the bell for waiter after waiter, till she made
M. Grillon come himself. She then, in her singularly open and
easy manner, told him to be so good as to order us a front room,
where we might watch for the arrival of the royals, and be amused
ourselves at the same time by seeing the entrances of the mayor,
aldermen, and common councilmen, and other odd characters, who
would be coming to pay their court to these French princes and
princesses.
M. Grillon gave a nod of acquiescence, and we were instantly
shown to a front apartment just over the street door, which was
fortunately supplied with a balcony.
I should have been much entertained by all this, and
Page 278
particularly with the originality, good humour, and intrepid yet
intelligent odd fearlessness of all remark, or even consequence,
which led Lady Crewe to both say and do exactly what she pleased,
had my heart been lighter - but it was too heavy for pleasure;
and the depth of my mourning, and the little, but sad time that
was yet passed since it had become my gloomy garb, made me hold
it a matter even of decency, as well as of feeling, to keep out
of sight. I left Lady Crewe, therefore, to the full enjoyment of
her odd figures, while I seated myself, solitarily, at the
further end of the room.
GRATTAN THE ORATOR.
In an instant, however, she saw from the window some
acquaintance, and beckoned them up. A gentleman, middle-aged, of
a most pleasing appearance and address, immediately obeyed her
summons, accompanied by a young man with a sensible look; and a
young lady, pretty, gentle, and engaging, with languishing, soft
eyes; though with a smile and an expression of countenance that
showed an innate disposition to archness and sport.
This uncommon trio I soon found to consist of the celebrated
Irish orator, Mr. Grattan,(237) and his son and daughter. Lady
Crewe welcomed them with all the alertness belonging to her
thirst for amusement, and her delight in sharing it with those
she thought capable of its participation. This she had sought,
but wholly missed in me; and could neither be angry nor
disappointed, though she was a little vexed. She suffered me not,
however, to remain long in my seclusion, but called me to the
balcony, to witness the jolting out of their carriages of the
aldermen and common councilmen, exhibiting, as she said, "Their
fair round bodies with fat capon lined;" and wearing an air of
proudly hospitable satisfaction, in visiting a king of France who
had found an asylum in a street of the city of Westminster.
The crowd, however, for they deserve a better name than
Page 279
mob, interested my observation still more. John Bull has seldom
appeared to me to greater advantage. I never saw him en masse
behave with such impulsive propriety. Enchanted to behold a king
of France in his capital; conscious that le grand monarque was
fully in his power; yet honestly enraptured to see that "The king
would enjoy his own again," and enjoy it through the generous
efforts of his rival, brave, noble old England; he yet seemed
aware that it was fitting to subdue all exuberance of pleasure,
which, else, might annoy, if not alarm, his regal guest. He took
care, therefore, that his delight should not amount to
exultation; it was quiet and placid, though pleased and curious :
I had almost said it was gentlemanlike.
And nearly of the same colour, though from so inferior an
incitement, were the looks and attention of the Grattans,
particularly of the father, to the black mourner whom Lady Crewe
called amongst them. My garb, or the newspapers, or both,
explained the dejection I attempted not to repress, though I
carefully forbade it any vent - and the finely speaking face of
Mr. Grattan seemed investigating the physiognomy, while it
commiserated the situation of the person brought thus before him.
His air had something foreign in it, from the vivacity that
accompanied his politeness ; I should have taken him for a
well-bred man of fashion of France. Good breeding, in England,
amongst the men, is ordinarily stiff, reserved, or cold. Among
the exceptions to this stricture, how high stood Mr. Windham! and
how high in gaiety with vivacity stood my own honoured father!
Mr. Locke, who was elegance personified in his manners, was
lively only in his own domestic or chosen circle.
A DEMONSTRATIVE IRISH LADY,
A new scene now both astonished and discomposed me. A lady,
accompanied humbly by a gentleman, burst into the room with a
noise, a self-sufficiency, and an assuming confidence of
superiority, that would have proved highly offensive, had it not
been egregiously ridiculous. Her attire was as flaunting as her
air and her manner; she was rouged and beribboned. But English
she was not - she was Irish, in its most flaunting and untamed
nature, and possessed of so boisterous a spirit, that she
appeared to be just caught from the woods---the bogs, I might
rather say.
Page 280
When she had poured forth a volley of words, with a fluency and
loudness that stunned me, Lady Crewe, with a. smile that seemed
to denote she intended to give her pleasure, presented me by name
to Madame la Baronne de M--
She made me a very haughty curtsey, and then, turning rudely
away, looked reproachfully at Lady Crewe, and screamed out, " Oh,
fie! fie, fie, fie!" Lady Crewe, astonished and shocked, seemed
struck speechless, and I stood still with my eyes wide open, and
my mouth probably so also, from a sort of stupor, for I could
annex no meaning nor even any idea to such behaviour. She made
not, however, any scruple to develop her motives, for she
vehemently inveighed against being introduced to such an
acquaintance, squalling out, "She has writ against the migrs!-
-she has writ against the Great Cause! O fie! fie! fie!"
When she had made these exclamations, and uttered these
accusations, till the indulged vent to her rage began to cool it,
she stopped of her own accord, and, finding no one spoke, looked
as if she felt rather silly; while M. le Baron de M--, her very
humble sposo, shrugged his shoulders. The pause was succeeded by
an opening harangue from Lady Crewe, begun in a low and gentle
voice, that seemed desirous to spare me what might appear an
undue condescension, in taking any pains to clear me from so
gross an attack. She gave, therefore, nearly in a whisper, a
short character of me and of my conduct, of which I heard just
enough to know that such was her theme; and then, more audibly,
she proceeded to state, that far from writing against the
emigrants, I had addressed an exhortation to all the ladies of
Great Britain in their favour.
"Oh, then," cried Madame de M--, "it was somebody else--it was
somebody else!"
And then she screamed out delightedly, "I'm so glad I spoke out,
because of this explanation!--I'm so glad! never was so glad!"
She now jumped about the room, quite crazily, protesting she
never rejoiced so much at anything she had ever done in her life.
But when she found her joy, like her assault, was all her own,
she stopped short, astonished, I suppose, at my insensibility;
and said to me, "How lucky I spoke out! the luckiest thing in the
world! I'm so glad! A'n't you? Because of this claircissement."
"If I had required any claircissement," I drily began.
"O, if it was not you, then," cried she, "'twas Charlotte Smith."
Page 281
Lady Crewe seemed quite ashamed that such a scene should
pass where she presided, and Mr. Grattan quietly stole away.
Not quietly, nor yet by stealth, but with evident disappointment
that her energies were not more admired, Madame la Baronne now
called upon her attendant sposo, and strode off herself. I found
she was a great heiress of Irish extraction and education, and
that she had bestowed all her wealth upon this emigrant baron,
who might easily merit it, when, besides his title, he gave her
his patience and obsequiousness.
INQUIRIES AFTER THE DUCHESS D'ANGOULEME.
Some other friends of Lady Crewe now found her out, and she made
eager inquiries amongst them relative to Madame la Duchesse
d'Angoulme, but could gather no tidings. She heard, however,
that there were great expectations of some arrivals down stairs,
where two or three rooms were filled with company. She desired
Mr. Grattan, junior, to descend into this crowd, and to find out
where the duchess was to be seen, and when, and how.
He obeyed. But, when he returned, what was the provocation of
Lady Crewe, what my own disappointment, to hear that the duchess
was not arrived, and was not expected ! She was at the house of
Monsieur le Comte d'Artois, her father-in-law.
"Then what are we come hither for?" exclaimed her ladyship:
"expressly to be tired to death for no purpose! Do pray, at
least, Mr. Grattan, be so good as to see for my carriage, that we
may go to the right house."
Mr. Grattan was all compliance, and with a readiness so obliging
and so well bred that I am sure he is his father's true son in
manners, though there was no opportunity to discover whether the
resemblance extended also to genius. He was not, however,
cheered when he brought word that neither carriage nor footman
were to be found.
Lady Crewe then said he must positively go down, and make the Duc
de Duras tell us what to do. In a few minutes he was with us
again, shrugging his shoulders at his ill success. The king,
Louis XVIII.,(238) he said,
Page 282
was expected, and M. le Duc was preparing to receive him, and not
able to speak or listen to any one.
Lady Crewe declared herself delighted by this information,
because there would be an opportunity for having me presented to
his majesty. "Go to M. de Duras," she cried, "and tell him
Madame d'Arblay wishes it."
"For heaven's sake!" exclaimed I, "do no such thing! I have not
the most distant thought of the kind! It is Madame la Duchesse
d'Angoulme alone that I--"
"O, pho, pho!--it is still more essential to be done to the
king--it is really important: so go, and tell the duke, Mr.
Grattan, that Madame d'Arblay is here, and desires to be
presented. Tell him 'tis a thing quite indispensable."
I stopped him again, and quite entreated that no such step might
be taken, as I had no authority for presentation but to the
duchess. However, Lady Crewe was only provoked at my
backwardness, and charged Mr. Grattan not to heed me. "Tell the
duke," she cried, "that Madame d'Arblay is our Madame de Stael!
tell him we are as proud of our Madame d'Arblay as he can be of
his Madame de Stael."
Off she sent him, and off I flew again to follow him and whether
he was most amused or most teased by our opposing petitions, I
know not - but he took the discreet side of not venturing again
to return among us.
PREPARATIONS FOR THE PRESENTATIONS.
Poor Lady Crewe seemed to think I lost a place at Court, or
perhaps a peerage, by my untamable shyness, and was quite vexed.
Others came to her now, who said several rooms below were filled
with expectant courtiers. Miss Grattan then earnestly requested
me to descend with her, as a chaperon, that she might see
something of what was going forwards.
I could not refuse so natural a request, and down we went,
seeking one of the common] crowded rooms, that we might not
intrude where there was preparation or expectation relative to
the king.
And here, sauntering or grouping, meditating in silence or
congratulating each other in coteries, or waiting with curiosity,
or self-preparing for presentation with timidity, we found a
multitude of folks in an almost unfurnished and quite unadorned
apartment. The personages seemed fairly divided between the
nation at home and the nation from abroad ;
Page 283
the English and the French; each equally, though variously,
occupied in expecting the extraordinary sight of a monarch thus
wonderfully restored to his rank and his throne, after
misfortunes that had seemed irremediable, and an exile that had
appeared hopeless.
Miss Grattan was saluted, en passant, by several acquaintances,
and amongst them by the son-in-law of her dear country's viceroy
Lord Whitworth, the young Duke of Dorset; and Lady Crewe herself,
too tired to abide any longer in her appropriated apartment, now
descended.
We patrolled about, zig-zag, as we could; the crowd, though of
very good company, having no chief or regulator, and therefore
making no sort of avenue or arrangement for avoiding
inconvenience. There was neither going up nor coming down; we
were all hustled together, without direction and without object,
for nothing whatsoever was present to look at or to create any
interest, and our expectations were merely kept awake by a belief
that we should know in time when and where something or somebody
was to be seen.
For myself, however, I was much tormented during this interval
from being named incessantly by Lady Crewe. My deep mourning, my
recent heavy loss, and the absence and distance of my dear
husband made me peculiarly wish to be unobserved. Peculiarly, I
say; for never yet had the moment arrived in which to be marked
had not been embarrassing and disconcerting to me, even when most
flattering.
A little hubbub soon after announced something new, and presently
a whisper was buzzed around the room of the "Prince de Cond."
His serene highness looked very much pleased--as no wonder--at
the arrival of such a day; but he was so surrounded by all his
countrymen who were of rank to claim his attention, that I could
merely see that he was little and old, but very unassuming and
polite. Amongst his courtiers were sundry of the French noblesse
that were known to Lady Crewe and I heard her uniformly say to
them, one after another, Here is Madame d'Arblay, who must be
presented to the king.
Quite frightened by an assertion so wide from my intentions, so
unauthorised by any preparatory ceremonies, unknown to my
husband, and not, like a presentation to the Duchesse
d'Angoulme, encouraged by my queen, I felt as if guilty of
taking liberty the most presumptuous, and with a forwardness and
assurance the most foreign to my character. Yet to
Page 284
control the zeal of Lady Crewe was painful from her earnestness,
and appeared to be ungrateful to her kindness ; I therefore
shrunk back, and presently suffered the crowd to press between us
so as to find myself wholly separated from my party. This would
have been ridiculous had I been more happy - but in my then state
of affliction, it was necessary to my peace.
ARRIVAL OF Louis XVIII.
Quite to myself, how I smiled inwardly at my adroit cowardice,
and was contemplating the surrounding masses of people, when a
new and more mighty hubbub startled me, and presently I heard a
buzzing whisper spread throughout the apartment of "The king!--le
roi!"
Alarmed at my strange situation, I now sought to decamp, meaning
to wait for Lady Crewe up stairs : but to even approach the door
was impossible. I turned back, therefore, to take a place by the
window, that I might see his majesty alight from his carriage,
but how great was my surprise when, just as I reached the top of
the room, the king himself entered it at the bottom!
I had not the smallest idea that this was the chamber of audience
; it was so utterly unornamented. But I now saw that a large
fauteuil was being conveyed to the upper part, exactly where I
stood, ready for his reception and repose.
Placed thus singularly, by mere accident, and freed from my fears
of being brought forward by Lady Crewe, I felt rejoiced in so
fair an opportunity of beholding the king of my honoured husband,
and planted myself immediately behind, though not near to his
prepared seat ; and, as I was utterly unknown and must be utterly
unsuspected, I indulged myself with a full examination. An avenue
had instantly been cleared from the door to the chair, and the
king moved along It slowly, slowly, slowly, rather dragging his
large and weak limbs than walking; but his face was truly
engaging; benignity was in every feature, and a smile beamed over
them that showed thankfulness to providence in the happiness to
which he was so suddenly arrived; with a courtesy, at the same
time, to the spectators, who came to see and congratulate it, the
most pleasing and cheering.
The scene was replete with motives to grand reflections and to
me, the devoted subject of another monarch, whose melancholy
alienation of mind was a constant source to me of
Page 285
sorrow, it was a scene for conflicting feelings and profound
meditation.
THE PRESENTATIONS TO THE KING.
His majesty took his seat, with an air of mingled sweetness and
dignity. I then, being immediately behind him, lost sight of his
countenance, but saw that of every individual who approached to
be presented. The Duc de Duras stood at his left hand, and was le
grand maitre des crmonies; Madame de Gouvello stood at his
right side; though whether in any capacity, or simply as a French
lady known to him, I cannot tell. In a whisper, from that lady, I
learned more fully the mistake of the hotel, the Duchesse
d'Angoulme never having meant to quit that of her beaupre,
Monsieur le Comte d'Artois, in South Audley-street.
The presentations were short, and without much mark or
likelihood. The men bowed low, and passed on; the ladies
curtsied, and did the same. Those who were not known gave a card,
I think, to the Duc de Duras, who named them; those of former
acquaintance with his majesty simply made their obeisance.
M. de Duras, who knew how much fatigue the king had to go
through, hurried every one on, not only with speed but almost
with ill-breeding, to my extreme astonishment. Yet the English,
by express command of his majesty, had always the preference and
always took place of the French ; which was an attention of the
king in return for the asylum he had here found, that he seemed
delighted to display,
Early in this ceremony came forward Lady Crewe, who being known
to the king from sundry previous meetings, was not named ; and
only, after curtseying, reciprocated smiles with his majesty, and
passed on. But instead of then moving off, though the duke, who
did not know her, waved his hand to hasten her away, she
whispered, but loud enough for me to hear, "Voici Madame
d'Arblay; il faut qu'elle soit prsente."(239) She then went
gaily off, without heeding me.
The duke only bowed, but by a quick glance recognised me, and by
another showed a pleased acquiescence in the demand.
Retreat' now, was out of the question; but I so feared my
position was wrong, that I was terribly disturbed, and felt hot
and cold, and cold and hot, alternately, with excess of
Page 286
embarrassment. I was roused, however, after hearing for so long a
time nothing but French, by the sudden sound of English. An
address, in that language, was read to his majesty, which was
presented by the noblemen and gentlemen of the county of
Buckingham, congratulatory upon his happy restoration, and filled
with cordial thanks for the graciousness of his manners, and the
benignity of his conduct, during his long residence amongst them;
warmly proclaiming their participation in his joy, and their
admiration of his virtues. The reader was colonel Nugent, a near
relation of the present Duke of Buckingham. But, if the
unexpected sound of these felicitations delivered in English,
roused and struck me, how much greater arose my astonishment and
delight when the French monarch, in an accent of the most
condescending familiarity and pleasure, uttered his
acknowledgments in English also-expressing his gratitude for all
their attentions, his sense of their kind interest in his favour,
and his eternal remembrance of the obligations he owed to the
whole county of Buckinghamshire, for the asylum and consolations
he had found in it during his trials and calamities! I wonder not
that Colonel Nugent was so touched by this reply, as to be led to
bend the knee, as to his own sovereign, when the king held out
his hand - for I myself, though a mere outside auditress, was so
moved, and so transported with surprise by the dear English
language from his mouth, that I forgot at once all my fears, and
dubitations, and, indeed, all myself, my poor little self, in my
pride and exultation at such a moment for my noble country.(240)
A FLATTERING ROYAL RECEPTION.
Fortunately for me, the Duc de Duras made this the moment for my
presentation, and, seizing my hand and drawing me suddenly from
behind the chair to the royal presence, he said, " Sire, Madame
d'Arblay." How singular a change, that what, but the instant
before, would have overwhelmed me with diffidence and
embarrassment,
Page 287
now found me all courage and animation ! and when his majesty
took my hand--or, rather, took hold of my fist--and said, in very
pretty English, "I am very happy to see you," I felt such a glow
of satisfaction, that involuntarily, I burst forth with its
expression, incoherently, but delightedly and irresistibly,
though I cannot remember how. He certainly was not displeased,
for his smile was brightened and his manner was most flattering,
as he repeated that he was very glad to see me, and added that he
had known me, "though without sight, very long: for I have read
you--and been charmed with your books--charmed and entertained.
I have read them often, I know them very well indeed; and I have
long wanted to know you!"
I was extremely surprised,-and not only at these unexpected
compliments, but equally that my presentation, far from seeming,
as I had apprehended, strange, was met by a reception of the
utmost encouragement. When he stopped, and let go my hand, I
curtsied respectfully, and was moving on ; but he again caught my
fist, and, fixing me, with looks of strong though smiling
investigation, he appeared archly desirous to read the lines of
my face, as if to deduce from them the qualities of my mind. His
manner, however, was so polite and so gentle that he did not at
all discountenance me : and though he resumed the praise of my
little works, he uttered the panegyric with a benignity so gay as
well as flattering, that I felt enlivened, nay, elevated, with a
joy that overcame mauvaise honte.
The Duc de Duras, who had hurried on all others, seeing he had no
chance to dismiss me with the same sans crmonie speed, now
joined his voice to exalt my satisfaction, by saying, at the next
pause, "et M. d'Arblay, sire, bon et brave, est un des plus
devous et fidles serviteurs de votre majest."(241)
The king with a gracious little motion of his head, and with eyes
of the most pleased benevolence, expressively said, "Je le
Crois."(242) And a third time he stopped my retiring curtsey, to
take my hand.
This last stroke gave me such delight, for my absent best ami,
that I could not again attempt to speak. The king pressed my
hand--wrist I should say, for it was that he grasped, and then
saying, "Bon jour, madame la comtesse," let me go.
Page 288
My eyes were suffused with tears, from mingled emotions I glided
nimbly through the crowd to a corner at the other end of the
room, where Lady Crewe joined me almost instantly, and with
felicitations the most amiably cordial and lively.
We then repaired to a side-board on which we contrived to seat
ourselves, and Lady Crewe named to me the numerous personages of
rank who passed on before us for presentation. But every time any
one espied her and approached,, she named me also; an honour to
which I was very averse. This I intimated, but to no purpose; she
went on her own way. The curious stares this produced, in my
embarrassed state of spirits, from recent grief, were really
painful to sustain ; but when the seriousness of my
representation forced her to see that I was truly in earnest in
my desire to remain unnoticed, she was so much vexed, and even
provoked, that she very gravely begged that, if such were the
case, I would move a little farther from her; saying, "If one
must be so ill-natured to people as not to name you, I had rather
not seem to know who you are myself."
AN IMPORTANT LETTER DELAYED.
When, at length, her ladyship's chariot was announced, we drove
to Great Cumberland-place, Lady Crewe being so kind as to convey
me to Mrs. Angerstein. As Lady Crewe was too much in haste to
alight, the sweet Amelia Angerstein came to the carriage to speak
to her, and to make known that a letter had arrived from M. de la
Chtre relative to my presentation, which, by a mistake of
address, had not come in time for my reception.(244)
This note dispelled all of astonishment that had enveloped with
something like incredulity my own feelings and perceptions in my
unexpected presentation and reception. The king himself had
personally desired to bestow upon me this mark of royal favour.
What difficulty, what embarrassment, what confusion should I have
escaped, had not that provoking mistake which kept back my letter
occurred
Page 289
M. D'ARBLAY ARRIVES IN ENGLAND.
Madame d"Arblay to Mrs. locke.)
April 30, 1814.
My own dearest friend must be the first, as she will be among the
warmest, to participate in my happiness--M. d'Arblay is arrived.
He came yesterday, quite unexpectedly as to the day, but not very
much quicker than my secret hopes. He is extremely fatigued with
all that has passed, yet well ; and all himself, i.e., all that
is calculated to fill my heart with gratitude for my lot in life.
How would my beloved father have rejoiced in his sight, and in
these glorious new events!(245)
A BRILLIANT ASSEMBLAGE.
(Madame d'Arblay to M. d'Arblay)
June 18, 1814.
Ah, mon ami! you are really, then, well?--really in Paris?--
really without hurt or injury? What I have suffered from a
suspense that has no name from its misery shall now be buried in
restored peace, and hope, and happiness. With the most fervent
thanks to providence that my terrors are removed, and that I have
been tortured by only false apprehensions, I will try to banish
from my mind all but the joy, and gratitude to heaven, that your
safety and health inspire. Yet still, it is difficult to me to
feel assured that all is well ! I have so long been the victim to
fear and anguish, that my spirits cannot at once get back their
equilibrium. . . .
Hier j'ai quitt ma retraite, trs volontiers, pour(246) indulge
myself with the sight of the Emperor of Russia. How was I charmed
with his pleasing, gentle, and so perfectly unassuming air,
manner, and demeanour! I was extremely gratified, also, by seeing
the King of Prussia, who interests us all here, by a look that
still indicates his tender regret for the partner of his hopes,
toils, and sufferings, but not of his victories and enjoyments.
It was at the queen's palace I saw them by especial and most
gracious permission. The Prussian princes, six in number, and the
young prince of Mecklenburg, and the Duchess of Oldenbourg, were
of the party. All our royal
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dukes assisted, and the Princesses Augusta and Mary. The
Princess Charlotte looked quite beautiful. She is wonderfully
improved. It was impossible not to be struck with her personal
attractions, her youth, and splendour. The Duchess of York
looked amongst the happiest; the King of Prussia is her brother.
M. D'ARBLAY ENTERS Louis XVIII.'S BODY-GUARD.
(Madame d'Arblay to Mrs. locke.)
London, July, 1814.
After a most painful suspense I have been at length relieved by a
letter from Paris. It is dated the 18th of June, and has been a
fortnight on the road. It is, he says, his fourth letter, and he
had not then received one of the uneasy tribe of my own.
The consul-generalship is, alas, entirely relinquished, and that
by M. d'Arblay himself, who has been invited into the garde du
corps by the Duc de Luxembourg, for his own company an invitation
he deemed it wrong to resist at such a moment ; and he has since
been named one of the officers of the garde du corps by the king,
Louis XVIII., to whom he had taken the customary oath that very
day--the 18th.
The season, however, of danger over, and the throne and order
steadily re-established, he will still, I trust and believe,
retire to civil domestic life. May it be speedily! After twenty
years' lying by, I cannot wish to see him re-enter a military
career at sixty years of age, though still young in all his
faculties and feelings, and in his capacity of being as useful to
others as to himself. There is a time, however, when the poor
machine, though still perfect in a calm, is unequal to a storm.
Private life, then, should be sought while it yet may be enjoyed;
and M. d'Arblay has resources for retirement the most delightful,
both for himself and his friends. He is dreadfully worn and
fatigued by the last year; and he began his active services at
thirteen years of age. He is now past sixty. Every propriety,
therefore, will abet my wishes, when the king no longer requires
around him his tried and faithful adherents. And, indeed, I am
by no means myself insensible to what is so highly gratifying to
his feelings as this mark of distinction bien plus honorable,
cependant,(247) as he adds, than lucrative. . . . . .
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(Madame d'Arblay to Mrs. Locke.)
August 9, 1814.
The friends of M. d'A. in Paris are now preparing to claim for
him his rank in the army, as he held it under Louis XVI., of
marchal de Camp; and as the Duc de Luxembourg will present, in
person, the demand au roi, there is much reason to expect it will
be granted.
M. de Thuisy, who brought your letter from Adrienne, has given a
flourishing account of M. d'A. in his new uniform, though the
uniform itself, he says, is very ugly. But so sought is the
company of the garde du corps du roi that the very privates, M.
de T. says, are gentlemen. M. d'A. himself has only the place of
sous-lieutenant; but it is of consequence sufficient, in that
company, to be signed by the king, who had rejected two officers
that had been named to him just before he gave his signature for
M. d'A.
August 24, 1814.
M. d'Arblay has obtained his rank, and the kind king has dated it
from the aera when the original brevet was signed by poor Louis
XVI. in 1792.
[Here follows, in the original edition, a long letter in French
from M. d'Arblay to his wife, dated " Paris, August 3 0, 1814. "
He records the enthusiasm manifested by the people of Paris on
the arrival of the king and the Duchess of Angoulme, and the
flattering reception given by the king to the Duke of Wellington.
"After having testified his satisfaction at the sentiments which
the duke had just expressed to him on the part of the prince
regent, and told him that he infinitely desired to see the peace
which had been so happily concluded, established on solid
foundations, his majesty added, 'For that I shall have need of
the powerful co-operation of his royal highness. The choice which
he has made of you, sir, gives me hope of it. He honours me. . .
. I am proud to see that the first ambassador sent to me by
England is the justly celebrated Duke of Wellington."' M.
d'Arblay counts with certainty upon his wife's joining him in
November, and ventures upon the unlucky assertion that " the
least doubt of the stability of the paternal government, which
has been so miraculously restored to us, is no longer
admissible."-ED.]
(214) Lyons rebelled against the Republic in the summer of 1793:
against Jacobinism, in the first instance, and guillotined its
jacobin leader, Chalier; later it declared for the king. After a
long siege and a heroic defence, Lyons surrendered to the
Republicans, October 9, 1793, and Fouch was one of the
commissioners sent down by the Convention to execute vengeance on
the unfortunate town. A terrible vengeance was taken. "The
Republic must march to liberty over corpses," said Fouch; and
thousands of the inhabitants were shot or guillotined. -ED.
(215) The reputed assassin of the Duc d'Enghien. ["Assassin" is
surely an unnecessarily strong term. The seizure of the Duke
d'Enghien on neutral soil was illegal and indefensible: but he
was certainly guilty of conspiring against the government of his
country. He was arrested, by Napoleon's orders, in the
electorate of Baden, in March, 1804; carried across the frontier,
conveyed to Vincennes, tried by court-martial, condemned, and
shot forthwith.-ED.]
(216) The disastrous campaign in Russia. Napoleon left Paris on
the 9th Of May, 1812.-ED.
(217) "So that we divine her meaning."
(218) "Who are you?
"My name is d'Arblay."
"Are you married?"
"Yes."
"Where is your husband?"
"At Paris."
"Who is he?"
"He works in the Home Office."
"Why are you leaving him?"
(219) "You are English?"
(220) "Follow me!"
(221) "You do not think proper to follow me, then?"
(222) "I have nothing to do here, sir, I believe."
(223) "We shall see!" "
(224) "Young Man!"
(225) Her sister Charlotte, formerly Mrs. Francis.-ED.
(226) The 20th of August.-ED.
(227) Mrs Crewe's husband, John Crewe of Crewe Hall, cheshire,
had been created a peer by the title of Baron Crewe of Crewe, in
1806.-ED.
(228) An attempt to enter her apartment by a crazy woman.
(229) " Hunted out of France." The work in question was Madame de
Stael's book on Germany (De l'Allemagne), which had been printed
at Paris, and of which the entire edition had been seized by the
police before its publication, on the plea that it contained
passages offensive to the government. The authoress, moreover,
was ordered to quit France, and joined her father at Coppet in
Switzerland-ED.
(230) No doubt, for his uncle's school. Dr Charles Burney had
left Hammersmith and established his school at Greenwich in
1793.-ED.
(231) William Wilberforce, the celebrated philanthropist, was
born at Htill in 1759. He devoted his life to the cause of the
negro slaves; and to his exertions in Parliament were chiefly due
the abolition of the slave trade in 1807, and the total abolition
of slavery in the English colonies in 1833. He died in the
latter year, thanking God that he "had seen the day in which
England was willing to give twenty millions sterling for the
abolition of slavery."-ED.
(232) Narbonne was appointed by Napoleon, during the campaign of
1813, governor of the fortress of Torgau, on the Elbe. He
defended the place with great resolution, even after the emperor
had been obliged to retreat beyond the Rhine, but unhappily took
the fever, and died there, November 17, 1813.-ED.
(233) This proved to be a false report. General Victor de Latour
Maubourg suffered the amputation of a leg at Leipzic, where he
fought bravely in the service of the Emperor Napoleon. But he
did not die of his wound, and we find him, in 1815, engaged in
raising volunteers for the service of Louis XVIII.-ED.
(234) Here is evidently a mistake as to the month: the date, no
doubt, should be April 19. Dr. Burney died on the 12th of April,
1814.-ED.
(235) Dr. Charles Burney.-ED.
(236) Marie Thrse Charlotte, Duchess of Angoulme, was the
daughter of Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette. She was born in
1778, and, after the execution of her father and mother she was
detained in captivity in Paris until December, 1795, when she was
delivered up to the Austrians in exchange for certain French
prisoners of war. in 1799 she married her cousin, the Duke of
Angoulme, son of Louis XVI's brother, the Count d'Artois,
(afterwards Charles X. of France). On the return of Napoleon from
Elba, the Duchess of Angoulme so distinguished herself by her
exertions and the spirit which she displayed in the king's cause,
that Napoleon said of her " she was the only man in her
family."-ED.
(237) Henry Grattan, the Irish statesman, orator, and patriot.
Already one of the most distinguished members of the Irish
Parliament, he vigorously opposed the legislative union of Great
Britain and Ireland in 1800. He sat in the Imperial Parliament as
member for Dublin from 1806 until his death in 1820, in his
seventy-fourth year. As an orator, Mr. Lecky writes of him, "He
was almost unrivalled in crushing invective, in delineations of
character, and in brief, keen arguments; carrying on a train of
sustained reason he was not so happy."-ED.
(238) Louis XVIII., formerly known as the Count of Provence, was
the brother of the unfortunate Louis XVI. "Louis XVII" was the
title given by the royalists to the young son of Louis XVI., who
died, a prisoner, in June, 1795, some two years after the
execution of his father.-ED.
(239) "There is Madame d'Arblay; she must be presented."
(240) What a moment for her noble country, and what a subject for
pride and exultation! Were we not very sure of Fanny's
sincerity, it were scarcely possible to read with patience such
passages as this and others similarly extravagant. Her common
sense seems to take flight in the presence of royalty.-ED.
(242) "And M. d'Arblay, Sire, good and brave, is one of your
majesty's most devoted and faithful servants."
(243) "I believe it."
(244) This letter, addressed to Mrs. Angerstein, was to the
effect that the Duchess of Angoulme would be very pleased to
receive Madame d'Arblay, at 72 South Audley-street, between three
and half-past three ; and that the king (Louis XVIII.) also
desired to see her, and would receive between four and five.-ED.
(245) M. d'Arblay returned to France in the following June. -ED.
(246) Yesterday I left my retreat, very willingly, to-"
(247) "Far more honorable, nevertheless---"
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