(1815-8)
AT BATH AND ILFRACOMBE: GENERAL D'ARBLAY'S ILLNESS AND
DEATH.
ARRIVAL IN ENGLAND.
(Madame d'Arblay to Mrs. Locke and Mrs. Angerstein.)
Dover, Oct. 18, 1815.
Last night, my ever dear friends, we arrived once more in old
England.
I write this to send the moment I land in London. I cannot boast
of our health, our looks, our strength, but I hope we may recover
a part of all when our direful fatigues, mental and corporeal,
cease to utterly weigh upon and wear us.
We shall winter in Bath. The waters of Plombires have been
recommended to my poor boiteux,(288) but he has obtained a cong
that allows this change. Besides his present utter incapacity
for military service, he is now unavoidably on the retraite(289
list, and the King of France permits his coming over, not alone
without difficulty, but with wishing him a good journey, through
the Duc de Luxembourg, his captain in the gardes du corps.
Adieu, dearest both--Almost I embrace you in dating from Dover.
Had you my letter from Trves? I suspect not, for my melancholy
new history would have brought your kind condolence: or,
otherwise, that missed me. Our letters were almost all
intercepted by the Prussians while we were
Page 385
there. Not one answer arrived to us from Paris, save by private
hands. . . .
December 24, 1815. My heart has been almost torn asunder, of
late, by the dreadful losses which the newspapers have
communicated to me, of the two dearest friends(290) of my absent
partner ; both sacrificed in the late sanguinary conflicts. It
has been with difficulty I have forborne attempting to return to
him ; but a winter voyage might risk giving him another loss. The
death of one of these so untimely departed favourites, how will
Madame de Stael support? Pray tell me if you hear any thing of
her, and what. . . .
[With the year 1816 a new section of Madame d'Arblay's
correspondence may be said to commence in her letters to her son,
the late Rev. A. d'Arblay, who was then pursuing his studies at
Caius college, Cambridge. It has been thought advisable to be
more sparing in publication from this, than from the earlier
portions of Madame d'Arblay's correspondence. Without, however,
a few of these letters to her son, "the child of many hopes,"
this picture of her mind, with all its tenderness, playfulness,
and sound sense, would scarcely be complete.]
ALEXANDER D'ARBLAY: SOME OLD BATH FRIENDS.
(Madame d'Arblay to Mrs. Locke)
Bath, February 15, 1816.
Incredible is the time I have lost without giving in that claim
which has never been given in vain for news of my own ,dear
friend - but I have been-though not ill, so continually unwell,
and though not, as so recently, in disordered and disorganizing
difficulties, yet so incessantly occupied with small, but
indispensable occupations, that the post hour has always gone by
to-day to be waited for to-morrow. Yet my heart has never been
satisfied-I don't mean with itself, for with that it can never
quarrel on this subject,-but with my pen-my slack, worn,
irregular, fugitive, fatigued, yet ever faithful, though never
punctual pen. My dearest friend forgives, I know, even that; but
her known and unvarying lenity is the very cause I cannot forgive
it myself.
We have had our Alexander for six weeks; he left us three
\
Page 386
days ago, and I won't tell my dear friend whether or not we miss
him. He is precisely such as he was--as inartificial in his
character, as irregular in his studies. He cannot bring himself
to conquer his disgust of the routine of labour at Cambridge; and
while he energetically argues upon the innocence of a preference
to his own early practice,(291) which he vindicates, I believe
unanswerably, with regard to its real superiority, he is
insensible, at least forgetful, of all that can be urged of the
mischiefs to his prospects in life that must result from his not
conquering his inclinations,"- I have nearly lost all hope of his
taking the high degree A judged to him by general expectation at
the University, from the promise of his opening.
Of old friends here, I have found stationary, Mrs. Holroyd, and
Mrs. Frances. and Harriet Bowdler. Mrs. Holroyd still gives
parties, and tempted me to hear a little medley music, as she
called it. Mrs. F. Bowdler lives on Lansdowne-crescent, and
scarcely ever comes down the hill. Mrs. Harriet I have missed,
though we have repeatedly sought a meeting on both sides ; but
she left Bath for some excursion soon after my arrival. Another
new resident here will excite, I am sure, a more animated
interest ' Mrs. Piozzi.
The Bishop of Salisbury, my old friend, found me out, and came to
make me a long and most amiable visit, which was preceded by Mrs.
I-, and we all spent an evening with them very sociably and
pleasantly.
FRENCH AFFAIRS. GENERAL D'ARBLAY'S HEALTH.
(Madame d'Arblay to her Son.)
Bath, Friday, April 2, 1816.
......The Oppositionists, and all their friends, have now a dread
of France, and bend their way to Italy. But the example now
given at Paris, in the affair of Messrs. Wilson and Co.(292) that
Englishmen are as amenable to the laws and customs of the
countries which they inhabit, as foreigners while in England are
to ours, will make them more careful, both in spirit and conduct,
than heretofore they have deemed it necessary to be, all over the
globe. It is a general opinion
Page 387
that there will be a great emigration this summer, because John
Bull longs to see something beyond the limited circumference of
his birthright - but that foreign nations will be now so watchful
of his proceedings, so jealous of his correspondence, and so
easily offended by his declamation or epigrams, that he will be
glad to return here, where liberty, when not abused, allows a
real and free exercise of true independence of mind, speech, and
conduct, such as no other part of the world affords.
I am truly happy not to be at Paris at such a juncture ; for
opinions must be cruelly divided, and society almost out of the
question. Our letters all confess that scarcely one family is
d'acord even with itself. The overstraining royalists make
moderate men appear jacobins. The good king must be torn to
pieces between his own disposition to clemency, and the vehemence
of his partisans against risking any more a general amnesty.
All that consoles me for the length of time required for the cure
of your padre's leg is the consequence, in its keeping off his
purposed visit. A cold has forced him to relinquish the pump
till to-day, when he is gone to make another essay. He is so
popular in Bath, that he is visited here by everybody that can
make any pretext for calling. I have this moment been
interrupted by a letter to invite me with my " bewitching husband
" to a villa near Prior Park. He is not insensible to the
kindness he meets with - au contraire, it adds greatly to his
contentment in the steadiness of a certain young sprig that is
inducing him here to plant his final choux; and the more, as we
find that, as far as that sprig has been seen here, he, also, has
left so favourable an impression, that we are continually desired
to introduce him, on his next arrival, wherever we go.
Your kind father, upon your last opening of "All here is well,"
instantly ran down stairs, with a hop, skip, and a jump, and
agreed to secure our pretty lodgings for a year.
THE ESCAPE OF LAVALETTE. THE STREATHAM PORTRAITS.
(Madame d'Arblay to her Son.)
Bath, April 30, 1816.
The three chevaliers have all been condemned as culpable of
aiding a state-criminal to escape, but not accused of any
conspiracy against the French government. They
Page 388
are therefore, sentenced merely to three months'
imprisonment.(293) Certainly, if their logic were irrefutable,
and if the treaty of Paris included the royal pardon with the
amnesty accorded by the allied generals, then, to save those who
ought not to have been tried would have been meritorious rather
than illegal; but the king had no share in that treaty, which
could only hold good in a military sense, of security from
military prosecution or punishment from the Allies. These Allies,
however, did not call themselves conquerors, nor take Paris, nor
judge the Parisians ; but so far as belonged to a capitulation,
meant, on both sides, to save the capital and its inhabitants
from pillage and the sword. Once restored to its rightful
monarch, all foreign interference was at an end. Having been
seated on the throne by the nation, and having never abdicated,
though he had been chased by rebellion from his kingdom, he had
never forfeited his privilege to judge which of his subjects were
still included in his original amnesty, and which had incurred
the penalty or chances of being tried by the laws of the land -
and by them, not by royal decree, condemned or acquitted.
A false idea seems encouraged by all the king's enemies, that his
amnesty ought to have secured pardon to the condemned: the
amnesty could only act up to the period when it was granted and
accepted; it could have nothing to do with after-offences.
I am grieved to lose my respect and esteem for a character I had
considered so heroical as that of Sir R. Wilson: but to find,
through his intercepted correspondence, that the persecution
Page 389
of the Protestants was to be asserted, true or false, to blacken
the reigning dynasty. . . to find this truly diabolic idea
presented to him by a brother of whom he speaks as the partner of
all his thoughts, etc., has consumed every spark of favour in
which he was held throughout the whole nation, except, perhaps,
in those whom party will make deaf and blind for ever to what
opposes their own views and schemes. I do not envy Lord Grey for
being a third in such an intercourse, an intercourse teeming with
inventive plots and wishes for new revolutions !
Your uncle has bought the picture of my dearest father at
Streatham.(294) I am truly rejoiced it will come into our
family, since the collection for which it was painted is broken
up. Your uncle has also bought the Garrick, which was one of the
most agreeable and delightful of the set. To what recollections,
at once painful and pleasing, does this sale give birth! In the
library, in which those pictures were hung, we always
breakfasted; and there I have had as many precious conversations
with the great and good Dr. Johnson as there are days in the
year. Dr. Johnson sold the highest of all! 'tis an honour to our
age, that!--360 pounds! My dear father would have been mounted
higher, but that his son Charles was there to bid for himself,
and, everybody must have seen, was resolved to have it. There
was besides, I doubt not, a feeling for his lineal claim and
pious desire.
REGARDING HUSBAND AND SON.
(Madame d'Arblay to a Friend.)
Bath, August 17, 1816.
I have been in a state of much uncertainty and disturbance since
I wrote last with respect to one of the dearest possible
interests of life, the maternal: the uncertainty, however, for
this epoch is over, and I will hasten to communicate to you its
result, that I may demand further and frequent accounts of your
own plans, and of their execution or change, success
Page 390
or failure. All that concerns you, must to me always be near and
dear.
General d'Arblay is gone to France, and here at Bath rest sa
femme et son fils.(295) There was no adjusting the excursion but
by separation. Alexander would have been wilder than ever for his
French mathematics in re-visiting Paris ; and, till his degree is
taken, we must not contribute to lowering it by feasting his
opposing pursuits with fresh nourishment, M. d'Arblay
nevertheless could by no means forego his intention which a
thousand circumstances led him to consider as right' He could
not, indeed, feel himself perfectly
sa place without paying his
devoirs to his king, notwithstanding he has been put by his
majesty himself, not by his own desire, en retraite. The
exigencies of the treasury demand this, for all who are not young
enough for vigorous active service; but his wounded leg prevented
his returning thanks sooner for the promotion with which the king
finished and recompensed his services;(296) and therefore he
deems it indispensable to present himself at the foot of the
throne for that purpose now that he is able to "bear his body
more seemly" (like Audrey) in the royal presence. He hopes also
to arrange for receiving here his half-pay, when sickness or
affairs or accident may prevent his crossing the Channel. Choice
and happiness will, to his last breath, carry him annually to
France ; for, not to separate us from his son, or in the bud of
life, to force that son's inclination in fixing his place or mode
of residence, alone decides his not fixing there his own last
staff. But Alexander, young as he left that country, has seen
enough of it to be aware that no line is open there to ambition
or importance, but the military, most especially for the son of
an officer so known and marked for his military character: and I
need not tell you that, with my feelings and sentiments, to see
him wield a sword that could only lead him to renown by being
drawn against the country of his birth and of mine, would
demolish my heart, and probably my head; and, to believe in any
war in which England and France will not be rivals, is to
entertain Arcadian hopes, fit only for shepherds and
shepherdesses of the drama.
Page 391
MATERNAL ANXIETIES.
(Madame d'Arblay to General d'Arblay.)
Bath, October 28th, 1816.
Certainement, et trs certainement, mon bien cher ami, your
beautiful strictures upon la connoissance et l'usage du monde
would have given "un autre cours
mes ides"(297) were the
object of our joint solicitude less singular; but our Alexander,
mon ami, dear as he is to us, and big as are my hopes pour
l'avenir,(298) our Alexander is far different from what you were
at his age. More innocent, I grant, and therefore highly
estimable, and worthy of our utmost care, and worthy of the whole
heart of her to whom he shall permanently attach himself. But O,
how far less aimable! He even piques himself upon the difference,
as if that difference were to his advantage. He is a medley of
good qualities and of faults the most extraordinary and the most
indescribable. Enfin, except in years, in poetry, and in
mathematics, il n'est encore qu'un enfant.(299)
Were he so only as to la connoissance, et mme l'usage du monde,
I should immediately subscribe to the whole of your really
admirable dissertation upon the subject in the letter now before
me, for I should then sympathise in your idea that a lovely young
companion might mould him to her own excellence, and polish him
to our wishes; but O, nous n'en sommes pas l
!(300) When he is
wholly at his ease, as he is at present, with his mother, and as
he would soon inevitably be with his wife, he is so uncouth, so
negligent, and absent, that his frightened partner would either
leave him in despair to himself, or, by reiterated attempts to
reason with him, lose her bridal power, and raise the most
dangerous dissensions. He exults rather than blushes in
considering himself ignorant of all that belongs to common life,
and of everything that is deemed useful. Even in mathematics he
disdains whatever is not abstract and simply theoretical.
"Trouble I hate" he calls his motto. You will easily conceive
that there are moments, nay, days, in which he is more
reasonable; I should else be
Page 392
hopeless : nor will he ever dare hold such language to you. but
it is not less the expression of his general mind. Sometimes,
too, he wishes for wealth, but it is only that he might be
supine. Poor youth ! he little sees 'how soon he would then
become poor ! Yet, while thus open to every dupery and
professedly without any sense of order, he is so fearful of
ridicule, that a smile from his wife at any absurdity would fill
him with the most gloomy indignation. It does so now from his
mother.
A wife, I foresee you will reply, young and beautiful, sera bien
autre chose; mais je crois que vous Vous trompez:(301) a
mistress, a bride,--oui! a mistress and a bride would see him her
devoted slave ; but in the year following year, when ardent
novelty is passed away, a mother loved as I am may form much
judgment what will be the lot of the wife, always allowing for
the attractions of reconciliation which belong exclusively to the
marriage state, where it is happy.
Nevertheless, I am completely of your opinion, that a good and
lovely wife will ultimately soften his asperity, and give him a
new taste for existence, by opening to him new sources of
felicity, and exciting, as you justly suggest, new emulation to
improvement, when he is wise enough to know how to appreciate, to
treat, and to preserve such a treasure. But will four months fit
him for beginning such a trial? Think of her, mon ami, as well as
of him. The "responsibility" in this case would be yours for
both, and exquisite would be your agony should either of them be
unhappy. A darling daughter-an only child, nursed in the lap of
soft prosperity, sole object of tenderness and of happiness to
both her parents. rich, well-born, stranger to all care, and
unused to any control; beautiful as a little angel, and (be very
sure) not unconscious she is born to be adored ; endowed with
talents to create admiration, independently of the clat of her
personal charms, and indulged from her cradle in every wish,
every fantaisie.--Will such a young creature as this be happy
with our Alexander after her bridal supremacy, when the ecstasy
of his first transports are on the wane? That a beauty such as
you describe might bring him, even from a first interview, to her
feet, notwithstanding all his present prejudices against a French
wife, I think probable enough, though he now thinks his taste in
beauty different from yours; for he has never, he says, been
struck but by a commanding air. All beauty,
"Page 393
however, soon finds its own way to the heart. But could any
permanent amendment ensue, from working upon his errors only
through his passions? Is it not to be feared that as they, the
passions, subside, the errors would all peep up again ? And she,
who so prudently has already rejected a nearly accepted
prtendant for his want of order!!!(302) (poor Alexander!) how
will she be content to be a monitress, where she will find
everything in useful life to teach, and nothing in return to
learn? And even if he endure the perpetual tutoring, will not she
sicken of her victories ere he wearies of his defeats?
And will Alexander be fit or willing to live under the eye, which
he will regard as living under the subjection, of his wife's
relations? In this country there is no notion of that mode of
married life -, and our proud Alexander, the more he may want
counsel and guidance, will the more haughtily, from fearing to
pass for a baby, resent them. Let me add, that nothing can be
less surprising than that he should have fixed his own
expectation of welfare in England. Recollect, mon ami, it is now
nearly three years ago since you gave him, in a solemn and
beautiful letter, his choice between Cambridge and la compagnie
de -Luxembourg, into which you had entered him saying that your
position exacted that you should take your son back to serve, or
not at all. You have certainly kept his definite answer, from
which he has never wavered. And again, only at your last
departure, this August, you told us positively that you could not
take your son to France at twenty-one years of age with any
honour or propriety but to enter him in the army. I would else,
you know, have shut myself up with him in some cottage au lys,
merely for the great pleasure of accompanying you.
Alexander, therefore, now annexes an idea of degradation to a
residence non-military in France. He would deem himself humbled
by the civil place at which you hint, even if you could bring
him, which I doubt above all, to submit to its duties. He
regards himself, from peculiar circumstances, as an established
Englishman (though born of a French father), with your own full
consent, nay, by your own conditions. I by no means believe he
will ever settle out of England, though he delights to think of
travelling.
And such, mon ami, appeared to be your own sentiments
Page 394
when we parted, though they are changed now, or overpowered by
the new view that is presented to you of domestic felicity, for
Alexander. I have written thus fully, and after the best
meditation in my power, according to your desire ; an(] every
reflection and observation upon the subject, and upon Alexander,
unites in making me wish, with the whole Of my judgment and
feeling at once, to keep back, not to forward, any matrimonial
connection, for years, not months, unless month,,; first produce
the change to his advantage that I dare only expect from years.
ADVANTAGES OF BATH: YOUNG D'ARBLAY's DECREE.
(Madame d'Arblay to Mrs. Locke.)
Bath, November 10, 1816.
I wish to live at Bath, wish it devoutly ; for at Bath we shall
live, or no longer in England. London will only do for those who
have two houses, and of the real country I may say the same; for
a cottage, now Monsieur d'Arblay cannot, as heretofore, brave all
the seasons, to work, and embellish his wintry hours, by
embellishing anticipatingly his garden, would be too lonely, in
so small a family, for the long evenings of cold and severe
weather; and would lose us Alexander half the year, as we could
neither expect nor wish to see him begin life as a recluse from
the world. Bath, therefore, as it eminently agrees with us all,
is, in England, the only place for us, since here, all the year
round, there is always town at command, and always the country
for prospect, exercise, and delight.
Therefore, my dear friend, not a word but in favour of Bath, if
you love me. Our own finishing finale will soon take root here,
or yonder; for Alex will take his degree in January, and then,
his mind at liberty, and his faculties in their full capacity for
meditating upon his lot in life, he will come to a decision what
mountain he shall climb, upon which to fix his staff; for all
that relates to worldly prosperity will to him be up-hill toil,
and labour. Never did I see in youth a mind so quiet, so
philosophic, in mundane matters, with a temper so eager, so
impetuous, so burningly alive to subjects of science and
literature. The Tancred scholarship is still in suspense. The
vice-chancellor is our earnest friend, as well as our faithful
Dr. Davy, but the trustees have come to no determination - and
Alex is my companion-or rather, I am Alex's
Page 395
flapper-till the learned doctors can agree. At all events, he
will not come out in Physic; we shall rather enter him at another
college, with all the concomitant expenses, than let him, from
any economy, begin his public career under false colours. When he
entered this institution, I had not any notion of this
difficulty; I was ignorant there would be any objection against
his turning which way he pleased when the time for taking the
degree should arrive.
I am now in almost daily hope of the return of my voyager. His
last letter tells me to direct no more to Paris.
[After this time General d'Arblay made frequent journeys to
Paris.]
PLAYFUL REPROACHES AND SOBER COUNSEL.
(Madame d'Arblay to her Son.)
Bath, Friday, April 25, 1817.
Why, what a rogue you are! four days in town! As there can be no
scholarship--hlas! it matters not; but who knew that
circumstance when they played truant? Can you tell me that, hey!
Mr Cantab? Why, you dish me as if I were no more worth than Paley
or Newton, or such like worthies!
Your dear padre is very considerably better, surtout in looks,
but by no means re-established ; for cold air--too much exertion-
-too little--and all sorts of nourishment or beverage that are
not precisely adapted to the present state of the poor shattered
frame, produce instant pain, uneasiness, restlessness, and
suffering. Such, however, is the common condition of
convalescence, and therefore I observe it with much more concern
than surprise - and Mr. Hay assures me all is as well as can
possibly be expected after so long and irksome an illness.
"The scholarship is at an end--
So much for that!"
pretty cool, my friend!
Will it make you double your diligence for what is not at an end?
hey, mon petit monsieur?
But I am sorry for your disappointment in the affair you mention,
my dear Alex : though your affections were not so far engaged,
methinks, but that your amour propre(303) is still more
bless(304) than your heart! hey? However, 'tis a real loss,
Page 396
though little more than of an ideal friend, at present. But no
idea is so flattering and so sweet, as that which opens to
expectation a treasure of such a sort. I am really, therefore,
sorry for you, my dear Alex.
Your determination to give way to no sudden impulse in future is
quite right. Nothing is so pleasant as giving way to impulse;
nothing so hazardous.
But this history must double your value for Messrs. Jones
Musgrave, Jacobs, Ebden, Theobald, and Whewell. "Cling to those
who cling to you!" said the immortal Johnson to your mother, when
she uttered something that seemed fastidious relative to a person
whose partiality she did not prize.
Your padre was prevailed upon to go to the play. We were both
very well pleased with H. Payne in certain parts; in some
instances I even thought him excellent, especially in the
natural, gentlemanly, and pensive tones in which he went through
the gravedigger's and other scenes of the last act. But, for the
soliloquies, and the grand conference with the mother! oh, there,
Garrick rose up to my remembrance with an clat of perfection
that mocks all approach of approbation for a successor.
But you, M. Keanite, permit a little hint against those looks
that convey your resentment. They may lead to results that may
be unpleasant. It is best to avoid displaying a susceptibility
that shows the regret all on your own side ! Let the matter die
away as though it had never been. Assume your cool air; your "so
much for that!" but do not mark a dpit that will rather flatter
than vex. At first, it was well ; you gave way to Nature and to
truth, and made apparent you had been sincere : but there, for
your dignity's sake, let all drop ; and be civil as well as cool,
if you would keep the upper hand.
PREPARATIONS FOR LEAVING BATH.
(Madame d'Arblay to General d'Arblay.)
1817.
.....June 18.-I made a morning visit to Mrs. Piozzi, whom I found
with +Dr. Minchin, an informed, sensible physician. She was
strange, as usual, at first; but animated, as usual, afterwards.
The sisters, Mrs. Frances and Mrs Harriet Bowdler, called upon
me, and were admitted, for I heard their names in time; and we
had much good old talk),
Page 397
that is, Frances and I; for Harriet is ever prim and demure and
nearly mute before her elder sister.
June 25.-Fixing the last day of the month for my journey, I set
seriously to work to hasten my preparations. What a business it
was! You have no conception how difficult, nor how laborious, it
is to place so many books, such a quantity of linen, such a
wardrobe, and such a mass of curiosities, in so small a compass.
How fagged and fatigued I retired to rest every night, you may
imagine. Alex vigorously carried heavy loads at a time from the
study to the garret, but only where he might combine and arrange
and order all for himself. However, he was tolerably useful for
great luggages.
June 26.-We spent the afternoon at Larkhall place, to meet there
Maria and Sophy. My dear sister(305) was all spirit and vivacity.
Mr. Burney, all tranquil enjoyment--peace, rest, leisure, books,
music, drawing, and walking fill up his
serene days, and repay the long toils of his meritorious life.
And my sister, who happily foresees neither sickness nor ennui,
is the spirit and spring of the party.
June 28.-I devoted all day to leave-taking visits, for so many
houses were opened, and claimed long confabulations, from their
rarity, that I had not finished my little round till past ten
o'clock at night. Yet of these hosts, Mrs. Frances Bowdler, Mrs.
Piozzi, Mrs. Morgan, and Mrs. Andr were out. Two of the three
latter ladies are now in France, and they have written word, that
the distress in their province exceeds all they have left in this
country! Madame do Sourches has written a similar melancholy
account; and Mrs. Holroyd, who received my longest call this
morning, read me a letter from Lady B. with words yet stronger of
the sufferings in the Low Countries! O baleful effects of "Bella,
horrida bella!" I sat an hour also with Mrs. Harriet Bowdler, in
sober chat and old histories. She has not--il s'en faut--the
exhilaration and entertainment of her clever sister; but there is
all the soft repose of good sense, good humour, urbanity, and
kindness. One cannot do better than to cultivate with both; for
if, after the spirited Frances, the gentle Harriet seems dull,
one may at least say that after the kind Harriet, the satirical
Frances seems alarming.
But my longest visit was to the excellent Mrs. Ogle, who is the
oldest acquaintance with whom I have any present connection in
the world. It was at her house I first saw Mrs,
Page 398
Chapone, who was her relation; I visited her, with my dear
father, my mother-in-law, and my sisters ; though from
circumstances we lost sight of each other, and met no more till I
had that happy encounter with her at Cheltenham, when I brought
her to the good and dear king. My respect for her age, her
virtues, and this old connection, induced me to stay with her
till it was too late to present myself elsewhere. I merely
therefore called at the door of Madame de Sommery to inquire
whether they Could receive me sans cremonie for half an hour in
the evening. This was agreed to , and Alex accompanied or rather
preceded me to Madame de Sommery, who had her two jolies
daughters, Stephanie and Pulchrie, at work by her side, the
tea-table spread
l'Anglaise, and four of your thtre(306)I
upon the table, with Alex just beginning "Lido" as I entered. I
was never so pleased with them before, though they have always
charmed me; but in this private, comfortable style they were all
ten times more easy, engaging, and lively than I had ever yet
seen them.
INSTALLED AT ILFRACOMBE.
(Madame d'Arblay to General d'Arblay.)
Ilfracombe, Devonshire, June 31,(sic) 1817.
. . .This very day of our arrival, before Alex had had time to
search out Mr. Jacob, somebody called out to him in the street,
"Ah, d'Arblay!" who proved to be his man. They strolled about the
town, and then Jacob desired to be brought to me. Unluckily, I
was unpacking, and denied. He has appointed Alex for a lesson
to-morrow. May he put him a little en train!
July 5.--I must now give you some account of this place. We are
lodged on the harbour. The mistress of our apartments is widow to
some master of a vessel that traded at Ilfracombe, with Ireland
chiefly. She has three or four children: the eldest, but twelve
years old, is the servant of the lodgers, and as adroit as if she
were thirty. Our situation is a very amusing one; for the quay
is narrow, and there are vessels just on its level, so close that
even children walk into them all day long. When the sea is up,
the scene is gay, busy, and interesting; but on its ebb the sands
here are not
Page 399
clean and inviting, but dark and muddy, and the contrary of
odoriferous. But the entrance and departure of vessels, the
lading, unlading, and the management of ships and boats, offer
constantly something new to an eye accustomed only to land views
and occupations.
A CAPTURED SPANISH SHIP.
But chiefly I wish for you for the amusement you would find from
a Spanish vessel, which is close to the quay, immediately
opposite to our apartments, and on a level with the parlour of
the house. It has been brought in under suspicion of piracy, or
smuggling, or aiding the slave trade. What the circumstances of
the accusation are I know not - but the captain is to be tried at
Exeter on the ensuing western circuit. Meantime, his goods are
all sequestered, and he has himself dismissed all his sailors and
crew to rejoin him when the trial is over. He is upon his parole,
and has liberty to go whithersoever he will; but he makes no use
of the permission, as he chooses not to leave his cargo solely
under the inspection of the excisemen and custom officers here,
who have everything under lock and key and seal. He is a
good-looking man, and, while not condemned, all are willing to
take his word for his innocence. Should that be proved, what
compensation will be sufficient for repairing his confinement? He
has retained with him only his physician, his own servant his
cook, and a boy, with another lad, who is an American. I see him
all day long, walking his quarter-deck, and ruminating upon his
situation, with an air of philosophy that shows strong character.
His physician, who is called here the " doctor," and is very
popular, is his interpreter; he speaks English and French, has a
spirited, handsome face, and manners the most courteous, though
with a look darkly shrewd and Spanish.
THE SPANISH CAPTAIN'S COOK.
But the person who would most entertain you is the cook, who
appears the man of most weight in the little coterie ; for he
lets no one interfere with his manoeuvres. All is performed for
the table in full sight, a pale(307) being lighted with a
burning fierce fire upon the deck, where he officiates. He wears
a complete white dress, and has a pail of water by his side, in
Page 400
which he washes everything he dresses, and his Own hand, to boot,
with great attention. He begins his pot au feu soon after seven
every morning, and I watch the operation from my window; it is
entirely French, except that he puts in more meat, and has it
cut, apparently, into pounds; for I see it all carved into square
morsels, seemingly of that weight, which he inserts bit by bit,
with whole bowls, delicately cleaned, washed and prepared, of
cabbages, chicory, turnips, carrots celery, and small herbs. Then
some thick slices of ship ham and another bowl of onions and
garlic; salt by a handful, and pepper by a wooden spoon full.
This is left for many hours; and in the interval he prepares a
porridge of potatoes well mashed, and barley well boiled, with
some other ingredient that, when it is poured into a pan, bubbles
up like a syllabub. But before he begins, he employs the two lads
to wash all the ship.
To see all this is the poor captain's only diversion ; but the
cook never heeds him while at his professional operations; he
even motions to him to get out of the way if he approaches too
near, and is so intent upon his grand business that he shakes his
head without answering, when the captain speaks to him, with an
air that says, "Are you crazy to try to take off my attention?"
And when the doctor, who often advances to make some observation,
and to look on, tries to be heard, he waves his hand in disdain,
to silence him. Yet, when all is done, and he has taken off his
white dress, he becomes all obsequiousness, respectfully standing
out of the way, or diligently flying forward to execute any
command.
SHIPS IN DISTRESS.
July 6.-Alex and I went to church this morning, and heard a
tolerable sermon. In the evening there was a storm, that towards
night grew tremendous. The woman of the house called us to see
two ships in distress. We went to the top of the house for a
view of the sea, which was indeed frightful. One ship was
endeavouring to gain the harbour; the other, to steer further
into the main ocean ; but both appeared to be nearly swamped by
the violence of the winds and waves. People mounted to the
lighthouse with lights ; for at this season the lantern is not
illuminated ; and a boat was sent out to endeavour to assist, and
take any spare hands or passengers, if such there were, from the
vessel ; but the sea was so boisterous
Page 401
that they could not reach the ship, and were nearly lost in the
attempt. Alex ran up to the lighthouse, to see what was doing ;
but was glad to return, as he could with difficulty keep his
feet, and was on the point of being lifted off them down the
precipice into the sea. I never was so horrified as when, from
the top of the house, I perceived his danger. Thank God, he felt
it in time, and came back in safety. It requires use to sustain
the feet in such a hurricane, upon a rock perpendicularly
standing in the ocean.
YOUNG D'ARBLAY's TUTOR.
July 7.-We have heard that one of the vessels got off; but no
tidings whatsoever have been received of the other. It is
suspected to be a passage vessel from Bristol to Ireland. I have
had Mr. Jacob to tea; I could not yet arrange a dinner, and he
was impatient for an introduction. I like him extremely: he has
everything in his favour that can be imagined ; sound judgment
without positiveness, brilliant talents without conceit,
authority with gentleness, and consummate knowledge of science
with modesty. What a blessing that such a character should
preside over these inexperienced youths ! Mr. Jacob has aided us
to remove. Time is a plaything to the diligent and obliging,
though a thief to the idle and capricious ; the first find it, in
the midst of every obstacle, for what they wish, while the latter
lose it, though surrounded by every resource, for all that they
want. I had such success that I now write from my new dwelling,
which I will describe to-morrow.
July 9.-Quelle joie! this morning I receive a welcome to my new
habitation, to make it cheer me from the beginning. 'Tis begun
June 28th, and finished July 2nd. How
propos is what I had just
written of time in the hands of the diligent and obliging! yet
how it is you can bestow so much upon me is my admiration.
I have not mentioned a letter I have received from Mrs. Frances
Bowdler. She tells me of the marriage of Miss---- to a Prussian
gentleman, and expresses some vexation at it, but adds, "Perhaps
I ought not to say this to you," meaning on account of the
objection to a foreigner; and then elegantly adds, "but one
person's having gained the great prize in the lottery does not
warrant another to throw his whole wealth into the wheel." Not
very bad English that?
Page 402
GENERAL D'ARBLAY'S ILL-HEALTH.
(Madame d'Arblay to Mrs. Broome.)
Ilfracombe, Post Office, July 23, 1817.
.....I have letters very frequently from Paris, all assuring me
M. d'A. is re-establishing upon the whole; yet all letting me
see, by collateral accounts, anecdotes, or expressions, that he
is constantly in the hands of his physician, and that a
difficulty of breathing attacks him from time to time, as it did
before his journey: with a lassitude, a weakness, and a
restlessness which make him there, as here they made him since
his illness, unfit for company, and incapable, but by starts and
for moments to have any enjoyment of mixed society! I do not
therefore, feel comfortable about him, though, thank heaven, not
alarmed. And at all events I am glad he tries the change of air.
Change of scene also was advised for him by all * but he is too
kind to find that beneficial when we are separated; and he writes
me frequent avowals of seizures of dejection and sadness that
reduce him to a state of great suffering. The parting, while he
was in a situation so discouraging, was very cruel but Alexander
had, and has, no chance of taking a tolerable degree without a
friend constantly at hand to remind him of the passage of time.
He never thinks of it: every day seems a day by itself, which he
may fill up at pleasure, but which opens to him no prospect of
the day that will succeed! So little reflection on the future,
with so good capacity for judging the present, were never before
united.
PARTICULARS OF ILFRACOMBE.
We are very well lodged for pleasantness, and for excellent
people. We have a constant view of the sea from our drawing room,
which is large and handsome - our bedrooms also are good; but our
minor accommodations, our attendance, dinner equipage, cooking,
etc., would very ill have contented my general had he been here.
The best men, the most moderate and temperate, are difficult,
nay, dainty, compared with women. When he comes, if I am so happy
as to see him return while we are here, I must endeavour to
ameliorate these matters.
Ilfracombe is a long, narrow town, consisting of only one regular
street, though here and there small groups of houses hang upon
its skirts, and it is not destitute of lanes and alleys.
Page 403
The town part or side Is ugly, ill paved and ill looking: but the
backs of the habitations offer, on one side the street, prospects
of fine hills, and on the other, noble openings to the sea. The
town is built upon a declivity, of which the church is at the
summit, and the harbour makes the termination. It was in the
harbour, that is upon the quay, that we were at first lodged ;
and our apartments were by no means without interest or
amusement; but just as we were comfortably settled in them, we
were told the ebbs and flows, etc., of the tides left
occasionally, or brought, odours not the most salubrious. To
this representation I thought it right to yield so implicitly,
that I sought a new abode, and changed my quarters instantly.
YOUNG D'ARBLAY's AVERSION TO STUDY.
(Madame d'Arblay to General d'Arblay.)
Friday, September 12, 1817.
I have so much to say to my dearest friend, that I open my new
sheet at the moment of finishing the old one, though I shall not
send it for a week - and let me begin by quieting your poor
nerves relative to La Chapelle, in assuring you I neglect no
possible means to follow, substantially and effectually, your
injunctions, though I dare not tell him that you would never
pardon the smallest infraction of our new treaty. He is not
capable, mon ami, of an exactitude of that undeviating character.
To force further solemn promises from so forgetful, so
unreflecting, yet so undesigning and well-meaning a young
creature, is to plunge him and ourselves into the culpability of
which we accuse him. To attempt in that manner to couper
court,(308) etc., instead of frightening him into right, would
harden him into desperation. His disgust to his forced study is
still so vehement, that it requires all I can devise of
exhortation, persuasion, menace, and soothing, tour
tour, to
deter him from relinquishing all effort! The times, mon ami, are
"out of joint:" we must not by exigeance precipitate him to his
ruin, but try patiently and prudently, every possible means, to
rescue him from the effects of his own wilful blindness and
unthinking, idle eccentricity. If we succeed, how will he bless
us when his maturer judgment opens his eyes to the evils he will
have escaped! but if we fail why should we lie down and die
because he
Page 404
might have obtained fame and riches, yet obstinately preferred
obscurity with a mere competence? Put not Your recovery and your
happiness upon such a cast! My own struggles to support the
disappointment for which I am forced to prepare myself, in the
midst of all my persevering, unremitting efforts to avert it, are
sufficiently severe ; but the manner in which I see your
agitation threaten your health, makes his failure but secondary
to my apprehensions! Oh, mon ami, ought we not rather to unite in
comforting each other by sustaining ourselves? Should we not have
done so mutually, if the contagious fever at Cambridge had
carried him off? And what is the mortification of a bad degree
and a lessened ambition, with all the mundane humiliation
belonging to it, compared with the total earthly loss of so dear
an object, who may be good and happy in a small circle, if he
misses, by his own fault, mounting into a larger? Take courage,
my dearest ami, and relieve me from the double crush that else
may wholly destroy mine. Let us both, while we yet venture to
hope for the best, prepare for the worst. Nothing on my part
shall be wanting to save this blow; but should his perversity
make it inevitable, we must unite our utmost strength, not alone
to console each other, but to snatch from that "sombre
dcouragement"(309) you so well foresee, the wilful, but ever
fondly-loved dupe of his own insouciance. . . .(310)
A VISIT FROM THE FIRST CHESS PLAYER IN ENGLAND.
And now to lighter matters. I hope I have gained a smile from you
by my disclosure that I lost my journal time for my usual
post-day by successive dissipation ? What will you have
conjectured ? That I have consented at last to listen to Mr.
Jacob's recommendation for going to the Ilfracombe ball, and
danced a fandango with him! or waltzed, au moins! or that I have
complied with his desire of going to the cricket-ground, just
arranged by the Cantabs and some officers who are here, in
subscribing three guineas for the use of a field? Vous n'tes
pas;(311) for though I should like, in itself, to see a
cricket-match, in a field which Mr. Jacob says is beautifully
situated, and where the Bishop of Ossory and his lady, Mrs.
Fowler, go frequently, as two of their sons are amongst the
Page 405
players; yet, as Jacob evidently thinks our poor Alexander ought
not to spare time for being of the party, I cannot bear to quit
my watchful place by his side, and go thither without him.
Mais--Vous vous rendez, n'est-ce-pas?(312) Eh bien--to go back
to Sept. 2nd. Alexander and I were nearly finishing our evening,
tea being over, and nine o'clock having struck, while he was
reading the "Spiritual Quixote"(313) for a little relaxation;
when Miss Elizabeth Ramsay came to tell me that a gentleman was
just arrived at Ilfracombe who begged leave to wait upon me, if I
would admit him; and she gave me a card with the name of Mr.
Bowdler. Of course I complied, and Alexander was wild with joy at
the thought of such an interview, as Mr. Bowdler is acknowledged
the first chess-player in England, and was the only man, when
Philidor was here, who had the honour of a drawn battle with him:
a thing that Philidor has recorded by printing the whole of the
game in his treatise on chess. I was not glad to bring back his
ideas to that fascination, yet could not be sorry he should have
so great a pleasure.
Mr. Bowdler presented himself very quickly, though not till he
had made a toilette of great dress, such as would have suited the
finest evening assembly at Bath. He was always a man of much
cultivation, and a searcher of the bas bleus(314) all his life.
He is brother to our two Mrs. Bowdlers, and was now come to
escort Mrs. Frances from his house in Wales, where she has spent
the summer, to Ilfracombe. I had formerly met this gentleman
very often, at bleu parties, and once at a breakfast at his own
house, given in honour of Mrs. Frances, where I met Sophy
Streatfield, then a great beauty and a famous Greek scholar, of
whom the " Literary Herald says:--
"Lovely Streatfield's ivory neck,
Nose and notions
la Grecque."
He was extremely civil to Alex, whom he had longed, he said, to
see, and Alex listened to every word that dropped from him, as if
it would teach some high move at chess.
We had much talk of old times. We had not met since we parted in
St. James's-place, in the last illness of my dear Mrs.
Page 406
Delany, whom he then attended as a physician. He stayed till past
ten, having left his sister at the hotel, too tired with a sea
passage to come out, or to receive chez elle. But he entreated
me to dine with them next day, the only day he should spend at
Ilfracombe, with such excess of earnestness and Alex seconded the
request with so many "Oh, mamma's!" that he overpowered all
refusal, assuring me it could not interfere with my Bath
measures, as it was a dinner, pour ainsi dire,(315) on the road,
for he and his sister were forced to dine at the hotel. He also
declared, in a melancholy tone that he might probably never see
me more, unless I made a tour of Wales, as -he began to feel
himself too old for the exertion of a sea voyage.
The next morning, immediately after breakfast, I waited upon my
old friend and namesake, Fanny Bowdler, and sat with her two
hours tte-
-tte, for her brother was unwell, and she is
admirable in close dialogue. I had hardly got home ere she
followed me, and stayed till it was time to dress for dinner;
when again we met, and only parted for our downy pillows. Her
strong sense, keen observation, and travelled intelligence and
anecdotes, made the day, thus devoted to her, from ten in the
morning to ten at night, pass off with great spirit and
liveliness: but Alex, oh! he was in Elysium. Mr. Bowdler took a
great fancy to him, and indulged his ardent wish of a chess talk
to the full; satisfying him in many difficult points, and going
over with him his own famous game with Philidore - and, in short,
delivering himself over to that favourite subject with him
entirely. It will not, however, be mischievous, for Mr.
Bowdler's own enthusiasm is over, and he has now left the game
quite off, not having played it once these seven years.
THE DIARY CONTINUED.
A COAST RAMBLE IN SEARCH OF CURIOSITIES.
The term for Alexander's studies with Mr. Jacob was just
finishing, and a few days only remained ere the party was. to be
dispersed, when I determined upon devoting a morning to the
search of such curiosities as the coast produced. . I marched
forth, attended only by M. d'Arblay's favourite little dog,
Diane, with a large silk bag to see what I could
Page 407
find that I might deem indigenous, as a local offering to the
collection of my general, who was daily increasing his
mineralogical stores, under the skilful direction of his friend,
-the celebrated naturalist, M. de Bournon.
I began my perambulation by visiting the promontory called "the
Capstan"--or rather attempting that visit; for after mounting to
nearly its height, by a circuitous path from the town, by which
alone the ascent is possible, the side of the promontory being a
mere precipice overlooking the ocean, a sudden gust of wind
dashed so violently against us, that in the danger of being blown
into the sea, I dropped on the turf at full length, and saw Diane
do the same, with her four paws spread as widely as possible, to
flatten her body more completely to the ground.
This opening to my expedition thus briefly set aside, I repaired
to the coast, where there are pebbles, at least, in great beauty
as well as abundance. The coast of Ilfracombe is broken by rocks,
which bear evident marks of being fragments of some one immense
rock, which, undermined by the billows in successive storms, has
been cast in all directions in its fall. We went down to the edge
of the sea, which was clear, smooth, and immovable as a lake, the
wind having subsided into a calm so quiet, that I could not tell
whether the tide were in or out. Not a creature was in sight;
but presently a lady descended, with a book in her hand, and
passed on before us to the right, evidently to read alone.
Satisfied by this circumstance that the tide was going out, and
all was safe, I began my search, and soon accumulated a
collection of beautiful pebbles, each of which seemed to merit
being set in a ring.
The pleasure they afforded me insensibly drew me on to the
entrance of the Wildersmouth, which is the name given to a series
of recesses formed by the rocks, and semicircular, open at the
bottom to the sea, and only to be entered from the sands at low
tide. I coasted two or three of them, augmenting my spoil as I
proceeded; and perceiving the lady I have- already mentioned
composedly engaged with her book, I hurried past to visit the
last recess, whither I had never yet ventured. I found it a sort
of chamber, though with no roof but a clear blue sky. The top was
a portly mountain, rough, steep and barren - the left side was
equally mountainous, but consisting of layers of a sort of slate,
intermixed with moss ; the right side was the elevated Capstan,
Page 408
which here was perpendicular; and at the bottom were ,the sands,
by which I entered it, terminated by the ocean. The whole was
altogether strikingly picturesque, wild and original. There was
not one trace of art, or even of any previous entrance into it of
man. I could almost imagine myself its first human inmate.
My eye was presently caught by the appearance, near the top, of a
cavern, at the foot of which I perceived something of so
brilliant a whiteness that, in hopes of a treasure for my bag, I
hastened to the spot. What had attracted me proved to be the
jawbone and teeth of some animal. Various rudely curious things
at the mouth of the cavern invited investigation; Diane, however,
brushed forward, and was soon out of sight, but while I was
busily culling, hoarding, or rejecting whatever struck my fancy,
she returned with an air so piteous, and a whine so unusual,
that, concluding she pined to return to a little puppy of a week
old that she was then rearing, I determined to hasten; but still
went on with my search, till the excess of her distress leading
her to pull me by the gown, moved me to take her home; but when I
descended, for this recess was on a slant, how was I confounded
to find the sands at the bottom, opening to the recess, whence I
had entered this marine chamber, were covered by the waves;
though so gentle had been their motion, and so calm was the sea,
that their approach had not caught my ear. I hastily remounted,
hoping to find some outlet at the top by which I might escape,
but there was none. This was not pleasant but still I was not
frightened, not conceiving or believing that I could be
completely enclosed: the less, as I recollected, in my passage to
the cavern, having had a glimpse of the lady who was reading in
the neighbouring recess. I hastily scrambled to the spot to look
for her, and entreat her assistance ; but how was I then startled
to find that she was gone, and that her recess, which was on less
elevated ground than mine, was fast filling with water!
CAUGHT BY THE RISING TIDE.
I now rushed down to the sea, determined to risk a wet jerkin, by
wading through a wave or two, to secure myself from being shut up
in this unfrequented place : but the time was past! The weather
suddenly changed, the lake was gone, and billows mounted one
after the other, as if with enraged
Page 409
pursuit of what they could seize and swallow. I eagerly ran up
and down, from side to side, and examined every nook and corner,
every projection and hollow, to find any sort of opening through
which I could pass-but there was none.
Diane looked scared; she whined, she prowled about - her dismay
was evident, and filled me with compassion-but I could not
interrupt my affrighted search to console her. Soon after,
however, she discovered a hole in the rock at the upper part,
which seemed to lead to the higher sands. She got through it,
and then turned round to bark, as triumphing in her success, and
calling upon me to share its fruits. But in vain !-the hollow was
too small for my passage save of my head, and I could only have
remained in it as if standing in the pillory. I still,
therefore, continued my own perambulation, but I made a motion to
my poor Diane to go, deeming it cruel to detain her from her
little one. Yet I heard her howl as if reduced to despair, that
I would not join her. Anon, however, she was silent--I looked
after her, but she had disappeared.
This was an alarming moment. Alone, without the smallest aid, or
any knowledge how high the sea might mount, or what was the
extent of my danger, I looked up wistfully at Capstan, and
perceived the iron salmon; but this angle of that promontory was
so steep as to be utterly impracticable for climbing by human
feet; and its height was such as nearly to make me giddy in
considering it from so close a point of view. I went from it,
therefore, to the much less elevated and less perpendicular rock
opposite; but there all that was not slate, which crumbled in my
hands, was moss, from which they glided. There was no hold
whatsoever for the feet.
"I ran therefore to the top, where a large rock, by reaching from
the upper part of this slated one to Capstan, formed the chamber
in which I was thus unexpectedly immured. But this was so rough,
pointed, sharp, and steep that I could scarcely touch it. The
hole through which Diane had crept was at an accidentally thin
part, and too small to afford a passage to anything bigger than
her little self.
The rising storm, however, brought forward the billows with
augmented noise and violence; and my wild asylum lessened every
moment. Now, indeed, I comprehended the fulness of my danger. If
a wave once reached my feet, while coming upon me with the
tumultuous vehemence of this storm, I had
Page 410
nothing I could hold by to sustain me from becoming its prey and
must inevitably be carried away into the ocean.
EFFORTS TO REACH A PLACE OF SAFETY.
I darted about in search of some place of safety, rapidly, and
all eye; till at length I espied a small tuft of grass on the
pinnacle of the highest of the small rocks that were scattered
about my prison; for such now appeared my fearful dwelling-place.
This happily pointed out to me a spot that the waves had never
yet attained; for all around bore marks of the visits. To reach
that tuft would be safety, and I made the attempt with eagerness
; but the obstacles I encountered were terrible. The roughness of
the rock tore my clothes - its sharp points cut, now my feet, and
now my fingers - and the distances from each other of the holes
by which I could gain any footing for my ascent, increased the
difficulty. I gained, however, nearly a quarter of the height,
but I could climb no further and then found myself on a ledge
where it was possible to sit down - and I have rarely found a
little repose more seasonable. But it was not more sweet than
short : for in a few minutes a sudden gust of wind raised the
waves to a frightful height, whence their foam reached the base
of my place of refuge, and threatened to attain soon the spot to
which I had ascended. I now saw a positive necessity to mount yet
higher, cote qui cote, and, little as I had thought it
possible, the pressing danger gave me both means and fortitude to
accomplish it: but with so much hardship that I have ever since
marvelled at my success. My hands were wounded, my knees were
bruised, and my feet were cut for I could only scramble up by
clinging to the rock on all fours.
When I had reached to about two-thirds of the height of my rock,
I could climb no further. All above was so sharp and so
perpendicular that neither hand nor foot could touch it without
being wounded. My head, however, was nearly on a level with the
tuft of grass, and my elevation from the sands was very
considerable. I hoped, therefore, I was safe from being washed
away by the waves; but I could only hope; I had no means to
ascertain my situation; and hope as I might, it was as painful as
it was hazardous. The tuft to which I had aimed to rise, and
which, had I succeeded, would have been security, was a mere
point, as unattainable as it was unique,
Page 411
not another blade of grass being anywhere discernible. I was
rejoiced, however, to have reached a spot where there was
sufficient breadth to place one foot at least without cutting it,
though the other was poised on such unfriendly ground that it
could bear no part in sustaining me. Before me was an immense
slab, chiefly of slate, but it was too slanting to serve for a
seat-and seat I had none. My only prop, therefore, was holding by
the slab, where it was of a convenient height for my hands. This
support, besides affording me a little rest, saved me from
becoming giddy, and enabled me from time to time to alternate the
toil of my feet.
A SIGNAL OF DISTRESS.
Glad was I, at least, that my perilous clambering had finished by
bringing me to a place where I might remain still ; for with
affright, fatigue, and exertion I was almost exhausted. The wind
was now abated, and the sea so calm, that I could not be sure
whether the tide was still coming in. To ascertain this was
deeply necessary for my tranquillity, that I might form some idea
what would be the length of my torment. I fixed my eyes,
therefore, upon two rocks that stood near the sea entrance into
my recess, almost close to the promontory, from which they had
probably been severed by successive storms. As they were always
in the sea I could easily make my calculation by observing
whether they seemed to lengthen or shorten. With my near-sighted
glass I watched them ; and great was my consternation when,
little by little, I lost sight of them. I now looked wistfully
onward to the main ocean, in the hope of espying some vessel, or
fishing-boat, with intention of spreading and waving my parasol,
in signal of distress, should any one come in sight. But nothing
appeared. All was vacant and vast ! I was wholly alone-wholly
isolated. I feared to turn my head lest I should become giddy,
and lose my balance.
LITTLE DIANE.
In this terrible state, painful, dangerous, and, more than all,
solitary, who could paint my joy, when suddenly, reentering by
the aperture in the rock through which she had quitted me, I
perceived my dear little Diane ! For the instant I felt as if
restored to safety-I no longer seemed
Page 412
abandoned. She soon leaped across the flat stones and the sands
which separated us, but how great was the difficulty to make her
climb as I had climbed! Twenty times she advanced only to retreat
from the sharp points of the rock, till ultimately she picked
herself out a passage by help of the slate, and got upon the
enormous table, of which the upper part was my support ; but the
slant was such, that as fast as she ascended she slipped down,
and we were both, I believe almost hopeless of the desired
junction, when, catching at a favourable moment that had advanced
her paws within my reach, I contrived to hook her collar by the
curved end of my parasol and help her forward. This I did with
one hand, and as quick as lightning, dragging her over the slab
and dropping her at my feet, whence she soon nestled herself in a
sort of niche of slate, in a situation much softer than mine, but
in a hollow that for me was impracticable. I hastily recovered my
hold, which I marvel now that I had the temerity to let go; but
to have at my side my dear little faithful Diane was a comfort
which no one not planted, and for a term that seemed indefinite,
in so unknown-a solitude, can conceive. What cries of joy the
poor little thing uttered when thus safely lodged! and with what
tenderness I sought to make her sensible of my gratitude for her
return !
I was now, compared with all that had preceded, in Paradise : so
enchanted did I -feel at no longer considering myself as if alone
in the world. O, well I can conceive the interest excited in the
French prisoner by a spider, even a spider! Total absence of all.
of animation in a place of confinement, of which the term is
unknown, where volition is set aside, and where captivity is the
work of the elements, casts the fancy into a state of solemn awe,
of fearful expectation, which I have not words to describe; while
the higher mind, mastering at times that fancy, seeks resignation
from the very sublimity of that terrific vacuity whence all seems
exiled, but self: seeks, and finds it in the almost Visible
security of the omnipresence of God.
To see after my kind little companion was an occupation that for
awhile kept me from seeing after myself, but when I had done what
I could towards giving her comfort and assistance, I again looked
before me, and saw the waters at the base of my rock of refuge,
still gradually rising on, while both my rocks of mark were
completely swallowed up!
Page 413
the INCREASING DANGER,
My next alarm was one that explained that of Diane when she came
back so scared from the cavern ; for the waves, probably from
some subterraneous passage, now forced their way through that
cavern, threatening inundation to even the highest part of my
chamber. This was horrific. I could no longer even speak to
Diane; my eyes were riveted upon this unexpected gulf, and in a
few moments an immense breaker attacked my rock, and, impeded by
its height from going straight forward, was dashed in two
directions, and foamed onward against each side.
I did not breathe--I felt faint--I felt even sea-sick. On, then,
with added violence came two wide-spreading waves, and, being
parted by my rock, completely encompassed it, meeting each other
on the further and upper ground. I now gave up my whole soul to
prayer for myself and for my Alexander, and that I might
mercifully be spared this watery grave, or be endowed with
courage and faith for meeting it with firmness.
The next waves reached to the uppermost end of my chamber, which
was now all sea, save the small rock upon which I was mounted!
How I might have been subdued by a situation so awful at once,
and so helpless, if left to unmixed contemplation, I know not --
had I not been still called into active service in sustaining my
poor Diane. No sooner were we thus encompassed than she was
seized with a dismay that filled me with pity. She trembled
violently, and rising and looking down at the dreadful sight of
sea, sea, sea all around, and sea still to the utmost extent of
the view beyond, she turned up her face to me, as if appealing
for protection and when I spoke to her with kindness, she crept
forward to my feet, and was instantly taken with a shivering fit.
I could neither sit nor kneel to offer her any comfort, but I
dropped down as children do when they play at hunt the slipper,
for so only could I loose my hold of the slab without falling,
and I then stroked and caressed her in as fondling a way as if
she had been a child; and I recovered her from her ague-fit by
rubbing her head and back with my shawl. She then looked up at
me somewhat composed, though still piteous and forlorn, and
licked my hands with gratitude.
Page 414
THE LAST WAVE OF THE RISING TIDE.
While this passed the sea had gained considerably in height, and,
a few minutes afterwards all the horrors of a tempest seemed
impending. The wind roared around me, pushing on the waves with a
frothy velocity that, to a bystander, not to an inmate amidst
them, would have been beautiful. It whistled with shrill and
varying tones from the numberless crevices in the three immense
rocky mountains by whose semicircular adhesion I was thus immured
- and it burst forth at times in squalls, reverberating from
height to height or chasm to chasm, as if "the big-mouthed
thunder"
"Were bellowing through the vast and boundless deep."
A wave, at length, more stupendous than any which had preceded
it, dashed against my rock as if enraged at an interception of
its progress, and rushed on to the extremity of this savage
chamber, with foaming impetuosity. This moment I believed to be
my last of mortality ! but a moment only it was ; for scarcely
had I time, with all the rapidity of concentrated thought, to
recommend myself, my husband, and my poor Alexander, humbly but
fervently to the mercy of the Almighty, when the celestial joy
broke in upon me of perceiving that this wave, which had bounded
forward with such fury, was the last of the rising tide ! In its
rebound, it forced back with it, for an instant, the whole body
of water that was lodged nearest to the upper extremity of my
recess, and the transporting sight was granted me of an opening
to the sands but they were covered again the next instant, and as
no other breaker made a similar opening, I was still, for a
considerable length of time, in the same situation: but I lost
hope no more. The tide was turned: it could rise therefore no
higher; the danger was over of so unheard-of an end; of vanishing
no one knew how or where--of leaving to my kind, deploring
friends an unremitting uncertainty of my fate--of my
re-appearance or dissolution. I now wanted nothing but time, and
caution, to effect my deliverance.
The threat of the tempest, also, was over ; the air grew as
serene as my mind, the sea far more calm, the sun beautifully
tinged the west, and its setting upon the ocean was resplendent.
By remembrance, however, alone, I speak of its glory, not from
any pleasure I then experienced in its sight: it told
Page 415
me of the waning day; and the anxiety I had now dismissed for
myself redoubled for my poor Alexander. . . .
With my bag of curiosities I made a cushion for Diane, which,
however little luxurious, was softness itself compared with her
then resting-place. She, also, could take no repose, but from
this period I made her tolerably happy, by caresses and continual
attentions.
But no sooner had the beams of the sun vanished from the broad
horizon, than a small, gentle rain began to fall, and the light
as well as brightness of the day became obscured by darkling
clouds.
This greatly alarmed me, in defiance of my joy and my philosophy;
for I dreaded being surprised by the night in this isolated
situation. I was supported, however, by perceiving that the sea
was clearly retrograding, and beholding, little by little, the
dry ground across the higher extremity of my apartment. How did
I bless the sight ! the sands and clods of sea-mire were more
beautiful to my eyes than the rarest mosaic pavement of
antiquity. Nevertheless, the return was so gradual, that I
foresaw I had still many hours to remain a prisoner.
ARRIVAL OF SUCCOUR.
The night came on--there was no moon - but the sea, by its
extreme whiteness, afforded some degree of pale light, when
suddenly I thought I perceived something in the air. Affrighted,
I looked around me but nothing was visible; yet in another moment
something like a shadow flitted before my eyes. I tried to fix
it, but could not develop any form : something black was all I
could make out; it seemed in quick motion, for I caught and lost
it alternately, as if it was a shadow reflected by the waters.
I looked up at Capstan: nothing was there, but the now hardly
discernible Iron salmon. I then looked at the opposite side. . .
. ah, gracious heaven, what were my sensations to perceive two
human figures! Small they looked, as in a picture, from their
distance, the height of the rock, and the obscurity of the night;
but not less certainly from their outline, human figures. I
trembled--I could not breathe--in another minute I was espied,
for a voice loud, but unknown to my ears, called out "Holloa!" I
unhesitatingly answered, "I am safe!"
"Thank God!" was the eager reply, in a voice hardly
Page 416
articulate, "Oh, thank God!" but not in a Voice unknown though
convulsed with agitation--it was the voice of my dear son! Oh
what a quick transition from every direful apprehension to' joy
and delight! yet knowing his precipitancy, and fearing a rash
descent to join me, in ignorance of the steepness and dangers of
the precipice which parted us, I called out with all the energy
in my power to conjure him to await patiently, as I would myself,
the entire going down of the tide.
He readily gave me this promise, though still in sounds almost
inarticulate. I was then indeed in heaven while upon earth.
Another form then appeared, while Alex and the first companion
retired. This form, from a gleam of light on her dress, I soon
saw to be female. She called out to me that Mr. Alexander and his
friend were gone to call for a boat to come round for me by sea.
The very thought made me shudder, acquainted as I now was with
the nature of my recess, where, though the remaining sea looked
as smooth as the waters of a lake, I well knew it was but a
surface covering pointed fragments of rock, against which a boat
must have been overset or stranded. Loudly, therefore, as I could
raise my voice, I called upon my informant to fly after them, and
say I was decided to wait till the tide was down. She replied
that she would not leave me alone for the world.
The youths, however, soon returned to the top of the mountain,
accompanied by a mariner, who had dissuaded them from their
dangerous enterprise. I cheerfully repeated that I was safe, and
begged reciprocated patience. They now wandered about on the
heights, one of them always keeping in view.
Meanwhile, I had now the pleasure to descend to the sort of
halfway-house which I had first hoped would serve for my refuge.
The difficulty was by no means so arduous to come down as to
mount, especially as, the waters being no longer so high as my
rock, there was no apprehension of destruction should my footing
fail me.
Some time after I descried a fourth figure on the summit, bearing
a lantern. This greatly rejoiced me, for the twilight now was
grown so obscure that I had felt much troubled how I might at
last grope my way in the dark out of this terrible Wildersmouth.
Page 417
They all now, from the distance and the dimness, looked like
spectres : we spoke no more, the effort being extremely
fatiguing. I observed, however, with great satisfaction, an
increase of figures, so that the border of the precipice seemed
covered with people. This assurance that if any accident
happened, there would be succour at hand, relieved many a fresh
starting anxiety.
Not long after, the sea wholly disappeared, and the man with the
lantern, who was an old sailor, descended the precipice on the
further part, by a way known to him ; and placing the lantern
where it might give him light, yet allow him the help of both his
hands, he was coming to me almost on all fours - when Diane
leaped to the bottom of the rock, and began a barking so loud and
violent that the seaman stopped short, and I had the utmost
difficulty to appease my little dog, and prevail with her,
between threats and cajolements, to suffer his approach. . . .
MEETING BETWEEN MOTHER AND SON.
My son no sooner perceived that the seaman had found footing,
though all was still too watery and unstable for me to quit my
rock, than he darted forward by the way thus pointed out, and
clambering, or rather leaping up to me, he was presently in my
arms. Neither of us could think or care about the surrounding
spectators-we seemed restored to each other, almost miraculously,
from destruction and death. Neither of us could utter a word, but
both, I doubt not, were equally occupied in returning the most
ardent thanks to heaven.
Alexander had run wildly about in every direction; visited hill,
dale, cliff, by-paths, and public roads, to make and instigate
inquiry-but of the Wildersmouth he thought not, and never, I
believe, had heard; and as it was then a mere part of the sea,
from the height of the tide, the notion or remembrance of it
occurred to no one. Mr. Jacob, his coolheaded and excellent
hearted friend, was most unfortunately at Barnstaple, but he at
length thought of Mr. John Le Fevre, a young man who was
eminently at the head of the Ilfracombe students, and had
resisted going to the ball at Barnstaple, not to lose an hour of
his time. Recollecting this, Alex went to his dwelling, and
bursting into his apartment, called out, "My mother is missing!"
Page 418
The generous youth, seeing the tumult of soul in which he was
addressed, shut up his bureau without a word, and hurried off
with his distressed comrade, giving up for that benevolent
purpose the precious time he had refused himself to spare for a
moment's recreation.
Fortunately, providentially, Mr. Le Fevre recollected
Wildersmouth, and that one of his friends had narrowly escaped
destruction by a surprise there of the sea. He no sooner named
this than he and Alexander contrived to climb up the rock
opposite to Capstan, whence they looked down upon my recess. At
first they could discern nothing, save one small rock uncovered
by the sea : but at length, as my head moved, Le Fevre saw
something like a shadow--he then called out, "Holloa!" etc. To
Mr. Le Fevre, therefore, I probably owe my life.
Two days after, I visited the spot of my captivity, but it had
entirely changed its appearance. A storm of equinoctial violence
had broken off its pyramidal height, and the drift of sand and
gravel, and fragments of rocks, had given a new face to the whole
recess. I sent for the seaman to ascertain the very spot: this
he did; but told me that a similar change took place commonly
twice a year - and added, very calmly, that two days later I
could not have been saved from the waves.
GENERAL D'ARBLAY'S RETURN TO ENGLAND.
(Madame d'Arblay to a Friend.)
Bath, November 9, 1817.
Can I still hope, my dear friend, for that patient partiality
which will await my tardy answer ere it judges my irksome
silence? Your letter Of Sept. 27th I found upon my table when I
returned, the 5th of October, from Ilfracombe. I returned, with
Alexander, to meet General d'A. from Paris. You will be sorry, I
am very sure, and probably greatly surprised, to hear that he
came in a state to occupy every faculty of my mind and thoughts--
altered--thin--weak--depressed--full of pain--and disappointed in
every expectation of every sort that had urged his excursion!
I thank God the fever that confined him to his bed for three days
is over, and he yesterday went down stairs and his repose now is
the most serene and reviving. The fever, Mr. Hay assured me, was
merely symptomatic ; not of inflammation
Page 419
or any species of danger, but the effect of his
sufferings. Alas! that is heavy and severe enough, but still,
where fever comes, 'tis of the sort the least cruel, because no
ways alarming.
Nov. 15-I never go out, nor admit any one within - nor shall I,
till a more favourable turn will let me listen to his earnest
exhortations that I should do both. Mr. Hay gives me strong
hopes that that will soon arrive, and then I shall not vex him by
persevering in this seclusion: you know and can judge how little
this part of my course costs me, for to quit the side of those we
prize when they are in pain, would be a thousand times greater
sacrifice than any other privation.
THE PRINCESS CHARLOTTE'S DEATH.
You are very right as to Lady Murray, not only, of course, I am
honoured by her desire of intercourse, but it can never be as a
new acquaintance I can see the daughter of Lord and Lady
Mulgrave. I have been frequently in the company of the former,
who was a man of the gayest wit in society I almost ever knew. He
spread mirth around him by his sprightly ideas and sallies, and
his own laugh was as hearty and frank as that he excited in
others ; and his accomplished and attaching wife was one of the
sweetest creatures in the world. Alas ! how often this late
tragedy in the unfortunate royal family has called her to my
remembrance!(316) She, however, left the living consolation of a
lovely babe to her disconsolate survivor ;-the poor Prince
Leopold loses in one blow mother and child.
The royal visit here has been a scene of emotion:--first of joy
and pleasure, next of grief and disappointment. The queen I
thought looked well till this sudden and unexpected blow; after
which, for the mournful day she remained, she admitted no one to
her presence, but most graciously sent me a message to console
me. She wrote instantly, with her own hand, to Prince
Leopold-that prince who must seem to have had a vision of
celestial happiness, so perfect it was, so exalted, and so
transitory. The poor Princess Charlotte's passion for him had
absorbed her, yet was so well placed as only to form her to
excellence, and it had so completely won his return, that like
herself he coveted
Page 420
her alone...... Princess Elizabeth is much altered personally, to
my great concern; but her manners, and amiability, and talents, I
think more pleasing and more attaching than ever, How delighted I
was at their arrival !
THE QUEEN AND PRINCESSES AT BATH.
(Madame d'Arblay to her Son.)
Bath, November 9, 1817.
We have here spent nearly a week in a manner the most
extraordinary, beginning with hope and pleasure, proceeding to
fear and pain, and ending in disappointment and grief.
The joy exhibited on Monday, when her majesty and her royal
highness arrived, was really ecstatic ; the illumination was
universal. The public offices were splendid; so were the
tradespeople's who had promises or hopes of employment; the
nobles and gentles were modestly gay, and the poor eagerly put
forth their mite. But all was flattering, because voluntary.
Nothing was induced by power, or forced by mobs. All was left to
individual choice. Your padre and I patrolled the principal
streets, and were quite touched by the universality of the homage
paid to the virtues and merit of our venerable queen, upon this
her first progress through any part of her domains by herself.
Hitherto she has only accompanied the poor king, as at Weymouth
and Cheltenham, Worcester and Exeter, Plymouth and Portsmouth,
etc. ; or the prince regent, as at Brighthelmstone. But here,
called by her health, she came as principal, and in her own
character of rank and consequence. And, as Mr. Hay told me, the
inhabitants of Bath were all even vehement to let her see the
light in which they held her individual self, after so many years
witnessing her exemplary conduct and distinguished merit. ::She
was very sensible to this tribute; but much affected, nay,
dejected, in receiving it, at the beginning; from coming without
the king where the poor king had always meant himself to bring
her - but just as he had arranged for the excursion, and even had
three houses taken for him in the Royal-crescent, he was
afflicted by blindness. He would not then come; for what, he
said, was a beautiful city to him who could not look at it? This
was continually in the remembrance of the queen during the
honours of her reception ; but she had recovered from the
melancholy recollection, and was
Page 421
cheering herself by the cheers of all the inhabitants, when the
first news arrived of the illness of the Princess Charlotte.
At that moment she was having her diamonds placed on her head for
the reception of the mayor and corporation of Bath, with an
address upon the honour done to their city, and upon their hopes
from the salutary spring she came to quaff. Her first thought
was to issue orders for deferring this ceremony but when she
considered that all the members of the municipality must be
assembled, and that the great dinner they had prepared to give to
the Duke of Clarence could only be postponed at an enormous and
useless expense, she composed her spirits, finished her regal
decorations, and admitted the citizens of Bath, who were highly
gratified by her condescension, and struck by her splendour,
which was the same as she appeared in on the greatest occasions
in the capital. The Princess Elizabeth was also a blaze of
jewels. And our good little Mayor (not four feet high) and
aldermen and common councilmen were all transported.
NEWS ARRIVES OF THE PRINCESS CHARLOTTE'S DEATH.
The Duke of Clarence accepted their invitation, and was joined by
the Marquis of Bath and all the queen's suite. But the dinner
was broken up. The duke received an express with the terrible
tidings: he rose from table, and struck his forehead as he read
them, and then hurried out of the assembly with inexpressible
trepidation and dismay. The queen also was at table when the same
express arrived, though only with the princess and her own party:
all were dispersed in a moment, and she shut herself up,
admitting no one but her royal highness. She would have left Bath
the next morning; but her physician, Sir Henry Halford, said it
would be extremely dangerous that she should travel so far, in
her state of health, just in the first perturbation of
affliction. She would see no one but her suite all day, and set
out the next for Windsor Castle, to spend the time previous to
the last melancholy rites, in the bosom of her family.
All Bath wore a face of mourning. The transition from gaiety and
exultation was really awful. What an extinction of youth and
happiness ! The poor Princess Charlotte had never known a
moment's suffering since her marriage. Her lot seemed perfect.
Prince Leopold is, indeed, to be pitied.
Page 422
(Madame d'Arblay to Mrs. Broome.)
Bath, November 25, 1817.
.....We are all here impressed with the misfortunes of the royal
house, and chiefly with the deadly blow inflicted on the perfect
conjugal happiness of the first young couple in the kingdom. The
first couple not young bad already received a blow yet, perhaps,
more frightful : for to have, yet lose-to keep, yet never to
enjoy the being we most prize, is surely yet more torturing than
to yield at once to the stroke which we know awaits us, and by
which, at last, we must necessarily and indispensably fall. The
queen supports herself with the calm and serenity belonging to
one inured to misfortune, and submissive to Providence. The
Princess Elizabeth has native spirits that resist all woe after
the first shock, though she is full of kindness, goodness, and
zeal for right action.
AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE. SERIOUS ILLNESS OF GENERAL D'ARBLAY.
(Mrs. Piozzi to Madame d'Arblay.)
Bath, Thursday, February 26, 1818.
I had company in the room when Lady K-'s note arrived, desiring I
would send you some papers of hers by the person who should bring
it. I had offered a conveyance to London by some friends of my
own, but she preferred their passing through your hands. Accept
my truest wishes for the restoration of complete peace to a mind
which has been SO long and so justly admired, loved, and praised
by, Dear madam,--Your ever faithful, H. L. P.
Who attends the general? and why do you think him SO very bad?
(Madame d'Arblay to Mrs. Piozzi.)
Bath, February 26, 1818.
There is no situation in which a kind remembrance from you, my
dear madam, would not awaken me to some pleasure; but my poor
sufferer was so very ill when your note came, that it was not
possible for me to answer it. That I think him so very bad, is
that I see him perpetually in pain
Page 423
nearly insupportable ; yet I am assured it is local and
unattended with danger while followed up with constant care and
caution. This supports my spirits, which bear me and enable me
to help him through a malady of anguish and difficulty. It is a
year this very month since he has been in the hands of Mr. Hay as
a regular patient. Mr. Hay was recommended to us by Mrs. Locke
and Mrs. Angerstein, whom he attends as physician, from their
high opinion of his skill and discernment. But, alas ! all has
failed here ; and we have called in Mr. Tudor, as the case
terminates in being one that demands a surgeon. Mr. Tudor gives
me every comfort in prospect, but prepares me for long suffering,
and slow, slow recovery.
Shall I apologise for this wordy explanation? No - you will see
by it with what readiness I am happy, to believe that our
interest in each other must ever be reciprocal.
Lady K- by no means intended to give me the charge of the papers;
she only thought they might procure some passing amusement to my
invalid. I must, on the contrary, hope you will permit me to
return them you, in a few days, for such conveyance as you may
deem safe; I am now out of the way of seeking any.
I hope you were a little glad that my son has been among the high
Wranglers.
NARRATIVE OF THE ILLNESS AND DEATH OF GENERAL D'ARBLAY.
THE GENERAL'S FIRST ATTACK: DELUSIVE HOPES.
Bolton Street, Berkeley Square.
It is now the 17th of November, 1819. A year and a half have
passed since I was blessed with the sight of my beloved husband.
I can devise no means to soothe my lonely woe, so likely of
success as devoting my evening solitude to recollections of his
excellences, and of every occurrence of his latter days, till I
bring myself up to the radiant serenity of their end. I think it
will be like passing with him, with him himself, a few poor
fleeting but dearly-cherished moments. I will call back the
history of my beloved husband's last illness. Ever present as it
is to me, it will be a relief to set it down.
In Paris, in the autumn Of 1817, he was first attacked with
Page 424
the deadly evil by which he was finally consumed. I suspected not
his danger. He had left me in June, in the happy but most
delusive persuasion that the journey and his native air would
complete his recovery from the jaundice, which had attacked him
in February, 1817. Far from ameliorating, his health went on
daily declining. His letters, which at first were the delight and
support of my existence, became disappointing, dejecting,
afflicting. I sighed for his return ! I believed. he was trying
experiments that hindered his recovery; and, indeed, I am
persuaded he precipitated the evil by continual changes of
system. At length his letters became so comfortless, that I
almost expired with desire to join him - but he positively
forbade my quitting our Alexander, who was preparing for his
grand examination at Cambridge.
On the opening of October, 1817, Alex and I returned from
Ilfracombe to Bath to meet our best friend. He arrived soon
after, attended by his favourite medical man, Mr. Hay, whom he
had met in Paris. We found him extremely altered-not in mind,
temper, faculties--oh, no!--but in looks and strength: thin and
weakened so as to be fatigued by the smallest exertion. He
tried, however, to revive; we sought to renew our walks, but his
strength was insufficient. He purchased a garden in the Crescent
fields, and worked in it, but came home always the worse for the
effort. His spirits were no longer in their state of native
genial cheerfulness : he could still be awakened to gaiety, but
gaiety was no longer innate, instinctive with him.
GENERAL D'ARBLAY PRESENTED TO THE QUEEN.
In this month, October, 1817, I had a letter from the Princess
Elizabeth, to inform me that her majesty and herself were coming
to pass four weeks in Bath. The queen's stay was short, abruptly
and sadly broken up by the death of the Princess Charlotte. In
twenty-four hours after the evil tidings, they hastened to
Windsor to meet the prince regent and almost immediately after
the funeral, the queen and princess returned, accompanied by the
Duke of Clarence. I saw them continually, and never passed a day
without calling at the royal abode by the queen's express
permission ; and during the whole period of their stay, my
invalid appeared to be stationary in his health. I never quitted
him save for this royal visit, and that only of a morning.
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He had always purposed being presented to her majesty in
the pump-room, and the queen herself deigned to say "she should
be very glad to see the general." Ill he was! suffering,
emaciated, enfeebled! But he had always spirit awake to every
call; and just before Christmas, 1817, we went together, between
seven and eight o'clock in the morning, in chairs, to the
pump-room. I thought I had never seen him look to such advantage.
His fine brow so open, his noble countenance so expressive, his
features so formed for a painter's pencil! This, too, was the
last time he ever wore his military honours--his three orders of
"St. Louis," "the Legion of Honour," and "Du Lys," or "De la
Fidlit;" decorations which singularly became him, from his
strikingly martial port and character.
The queen was brought to the circle in her sedan-chair, and led
to the seat prepared for her by her vice-chamberlain, making a
gracious general bow to the assembly as she passed. Dr. Gibbs and
Mr. Tudor waited upon her with the Bath water, and she conversed
with them, and the mayor and aldermen, and her own people, for
some time. After this she rose to make her round with a grace
indescribable, and, to those who never witnessed it,
inconceivable ; for it was such as to carry off age, infirmity,
sickness, diminutive stature and to give her, in defiance of such
disadvantages, a power of charming that rarely has been equalled.
Her face had a variety of expression that made her features soon
seem agreeable; the intonations of her voice so accorded with her
words, her language was so impressive, and her manner so engaging
and encouraging, that it was not possible to be the object of her
attention without being both struck with her uncommon abilities
and fascinated by their exertion.
Such was the effect which she produced upon General d'Arblay, to
whom she soon turned. Highly sensible to the honour of her
distinction, he forgot his pains in his desire to manifest his
gratitude;--and his own smiles--how winning they became! Her
majesty spoke of Bath, of Windsor, of the Continent; and while
addressing him, her eyes turned to meet mine with a look that
said, "Now I know I am making you happy!" She asked me, archly,
whether I was not fatigued by coming to the pump-room so early?
and said, "Madame d'Arblay thinks I have never seen you before !
but she is mistaken, for I peeped at you through the window as
you passed to the Terrace at Windsor." Alas! the queen no
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sooner ceased to address him than the pains he had suppressed
became intolerable, and he retreated from the circle and sank
upon a bench near the wall - he could stand no longer, and we
returned home to spend the rest of the day in bodily misery.
GLOOMY FOREBODINGS.
Very soon after the opening of this fatal year 1818, expressions
dropped from my beloved of his belief of his approaching end :
they would have broken my heart, had not an incredulity --now my
eternal wonder,--kept me in a constant persuasion that he was
hypochondriac, and tormented with false apprehensions.
Fortunate, merciful as wonderful, was that incredulity, which,
blinding me to my coming woe, enabled me to support my courage by
my hopes, and helped me to sustain his own. In his occasional
mournful prophecies, which I always rallied off and refused to
listen to, he uttered frequently the kind words, "Et jamais je
n'ai tant aim la vie! Jamais, jamais, la vie ne m'a t plus
chre!"(317) How sweet to me were those words, which I thought-
-alas, how delusively--would soothe and invigorate recovery!
The vivacity with which I exerted all the means in my power to
fly from every evil prognostic, he was often struck with, and
never angrily; on the contrary, he would exclaim, "Comme j'admire
ton courage!"(318) while his own, on the observation, always
revived. "My courage?" I always answered, "What courage? Am I
not doing what I most desire upon earth--remaining by your side?
When you are not well, the whole universe is to me, there!"
Soon after, nevertheless, recurring to the mournful idea ever
uppermost, he said, with a serenity the most beautiful, "Je
voudrois que nous causassions sur tout cela avec
calme,---doucement,--cheerfully mme(319) as of a future voyage--
as of a subject of discussion--simply to exchange our ideas and
talk them over."
Alas, alas ! how do I now regret that I seconded not this
project, so fitted for all pious Christian minds, whether their
pilgrimage be of shorter or longer duration. But I saw him
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I, oh, how ill! I felt myself well ; it was, therefore, apparent
who must be the survivor in case of sunderment; and, therefore,
all power of generalizing the subject was over. And much and
ardently as I should have rejoiced in treating such a theme when
he was well, or on his recovery, I had no power to sustain it
thus situated. I could only attend his sick couch; I could only
'live by fostering hopes of his revival, and seeking to make them
reciprocal.
During this interval a letter from my affectionate sister
Charlotte suggested our taking further advice to aid Mr. Hay,
since the malady was so unyielding. /On January the 24th Mr.
Tudor came, but after an interview and examination, his looks
were even forbidding. Mr. Hay had lost his air of satisfaction
and complacency, Mr. Tudor merely inquired whether he should come
again? "Oh, yes, yes, yes!" I cried, and they retired together.
And rapidly I flew, not alone from hearing, but from forming any
opinion, and took refuge by the side of my beloved, whom I sought
to console and revive. And this very day, as I have since found,
he began his Diary for the year. It contains these words:--
"Jamais je n'ai tant aim la vie que je suis en si grand danger
de perdre; malgr que je n'aye point de fivre, ni le moindre mal
la tte; et que j'aye non seulement l'esprit libre, mais le
coeur d'un contentement Parfait. La volont de Dieu soit faite!
J'attends pour ce soir ou demain le resultat d'une
consultation."(320)
PRESENTS FROM THE QUEEN AND PRINCEss ELIZABETH.
On this same day Madame de Soyres brought me a packet from her
majesty, and another from the Princess Elizabeth. The kind and
gracious princess sent me a pair of silver camp candlesticks,
with peculiar contrivances which she wrote me word might amuse
the general as a military man, while they might be employed by
myself to light my evening researches among the MSS. of my dear
father, which she wished me to collect and to preface by a
memoir.
Her mother's offering was in the same spirit of benevolence - it
was a collection of all the volumes of "L'Hermite de
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la Chausse d'Antin," with Chalmers's Astronomical Sermons, and
Drake's two quartos on Shakespeare; joined to a small work of
deeper personal interest to me than them all, which was a book of
prayers suited to various circumstances, and printed at her
majesty's own press at Frogmore. In this she had condescended to
write my name, accompanied by words of peculiar kindness. My poor
ami looked over every title-page with delight, feeling as I did
myself that the gift was still more meant for him than for me--or
rather, doubly, trebly for me in being calculated to be pleasing
to him!--he was to me the soul of all pleasure on earth.
What words of kindness do I find, and now for the first time
read, in his Diary dated 2nd February! After speaking--hlas,
hlas!--"de ses douleurs inouies," (321) he adds, "Quelle trange
maladie! et quelle position que la mienne! il en est une,
peuttre plus ficheuse encore, c'est celle de ma malheureuse
compagne; avec quelle tendresse elle me soigne! et avec quel
courage elle supporte ce qu'elle a
souffrir! Je ne puis que
rpter, La volont de Dieu soit faite!"(322)
Alas! the last words he wrote in February were most melancholy:--
"20 Fvrier, Je sens que je m'afaiblis horriblement--je ne crois
pas que ceci puisse tre encore bien long.(323) Chre Fanny, cher
Alex! God bless you! and unite us for ever, Amen!"
Oh my beloved!
Delight, pride, and happiness of my heart! May heaven in its
mercy hear this prayer! . . .
THE GENERAL RECEIVES THE VISIT OF A PRIEST.
In March he revived a little, and Mr. Tudor no longer denied me
hope; on the 18th Alex came to our arms and gratulations on his
fellowship; which gave to his dearest father a delight the most
touching.
I have no Diary in his honoured hand to guide my narrative in
April; a few words only he ever wrote more, and these, after
speaking of his sufferings, end with "Pazienza!
"
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Pazienza!"--such was his last written expression! 'Tis on the 5th
of April. . . .
On the 3rd of May he reaped, I humbly trust, the fair fruit of
that faith and patience he so pathetically implored and so
beautifully practised.
At this critical period in April I was called down one day to
Madame la Marquise de S-, who urged me to summon a priest of the
Roman catholic persuasion to my precious sufferer. I was greatly
disturbed every way; I felt in shuddering the danger she
apprehended, and resisted its belief; yet I trembled lest I
should be doing wrong. I was a protestant, and had no faith in
confession to man. I had long had reason to believe that my
beloved partner was a protestant, also, in his heart ; but he had
a horror of apostasy, and therefore, as he told me, would not
investigate the differences of the two religions; he had besides
a tie which to his honour and character was potent and
persuasive; he had taken an oath to keep the catholic faith when
he received his Croix de St. Louis, which was at a period when
the preference of the simplicity of protestantism was not
apparent to him. All this made me personally easy for him, yet,
as this was not known, and as nothing definite had ever passed
between us upon this delicate subject, I felt that he apparently
belonged still to the Roman catholic church; and after many
painful struggles I thought it my absolute duty to let him judge
for himself, even at the risk of inspiring the alarm I so much
sought to save him! . . . I compelled myself therefore to tell
him the wish of Madame de S-, that he should see a priest. "Eh
bien," he cried, gently yet readily, "je ne m'y oppose pas.
Qu'en penses tu?" I begged to leave such a decision wholly to
himself.
Never shall I forget the heavenly composure with which my beloved
partner heard me announce that the priest, Dr. Elloi, was come.
Cheerfully as I urged myself to name him, still he could but
regard the visit as an invitation to make his last preparations
for quitting mortal life. With a calm the most gentle and
genuine, he said he had better be left alone with him, and they
remained together, I believe, three hours. I was deeply disturbed
that my poor patient should be so long without sustenance or
medicine - but I durst not intrude, though anxiously I kept at
hand in case of any sudden summons. When, at length, the priest
re-appeared, I found
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my dearest invalid as placid as before this ceremony, though
fully convinced it was meant as the annunciation of his expected
and approaching departure.
THE LAST SACRAMENT ADMINISTERED.
Dr. Elloi now came not only every day, but almost every hour of
the day, to obtain another interview; but my beloved, though
pleased that the meeting had taken place, expressed no desire for
its repetition. I was cruelly distressed ; the fear of doing
wrong has been always the leading principle of my internal
guidance, and here I felt incompetent to judge what was right.
Overpowered, therefore, by my own inability to settle that point,
and my terror lest I should mistake it, I ceased to resist ; and
Dr. Elloi, while my patient was sleeping from opium, glided into
his chamber, and knelt down by the bedside with his prayer book
in his hand. Two hours this lasted; but when the doctor informed
me he had obtained the general's promise that he should
administer to him the last sacrament, the preparations were made
accordingly, and I only entreated leave to be present.
This solemn communion, at which I have never in our own church
attended with unmoistened eyes, was administered the same
evening. The dear invalid was in bed: his head raised with
difficulty, he went through this ceremony with spirits calm, and
a countenance and voice of holy composure.
FAREWELL WORDS OF COUNSEL.
Thenceforth he talked openly, and almost solely, of his
approaching dissolution, and prepared for it by much silent
mental prayer. He also poured forth his soul in counsel for
Alexander and myself. I now dared no longer oppose to him my
hopes of his recovery - the season was too awful. I heard him
only with deluges of long-restrained tears, and his generous
spirit seemed better satisfied in thinking me now --awakened to a
sense of his danger, as preparatory for supporting its
consequence.
"Parle de moi." He said, afterwards, "Parle--et souvent. Surtout
Ò Alexandre; qu'il ne m'oublie pas!"(325)
"Je ne parlerai pas d'autre chose!"(326) I answered . . . and
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I felt his tender purpose. He knew how I forbore ever to speak of
my lost darling sister, and he thought the constraint injurious
both to my health and spirits : he wished to change my mode with
regard to himself by an injunction of his own. "Nous ne parlerons
pas d'autre chose!" I added, "mon ami!--mon ami!--je ne survivrai
que pour cela!"(327) He looked pleased, and with a calm that
taught me to repress my too great emotion.
He then asked for Alexander, embraced him warmly, and half
raising himself with a strength that had seemed extinct but the
day before, he took a hand of Alexander and one of mine, and
putting them together between both his own, he tenderly pressed
them, exclaiming, "How happy I am! I fear I am too happy!"
Kindest of human hearts! His happiness was in seeing us together
ere he left us his fear was lest he should too keenly regret the
quitting us!
At this time he saw for a few minutes my dear sister Esther and
her Maria, who had always been a great favourite with him. When
they retired, he called upon me to bow my knees as he dropped
upon his own, that he might receive, he said, my benediction, and
that we might fervently and solemnly join in prayer to Almighty
God for each other. He then consigned himself to uninterrupted
meditation : he told me not to utter one word to him, even of
reply, beyond the most laconic necessity. He desired that when I
brought him his medicine or nutriment, I would give it without
speech and instantly retire; and take care that no human being
addressed or approached him. This awful command lasted unbroken
during the rest of the evening, the whole of the night, and
nearly the following day. So concentrated in himself he desired
to be!--yet always as free from irritation as from despondence--
always gentle and kind even when taciturn, and even when in
torture.
When the term of his meditative seclusion seemed to be over, I
found him speaking with Alexander, and pouring into the bosom of
his weeping son the balm of parental counsel and comfort. I
received at this time a letter from my affectionate sister
Charlotte, pressing for leave to come and aid me to nurse my
dearest invalid. He took the letter and pressed it to his lips,
saying, "Je l'aime bien; dis le lui. Et
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elle M'aime."(328) But I felt that she could do me no good. We
had a nurse whose skill made her services a real blessing ; and
for myself, woe, such as he believed approaching, surpassed all
aid but from prayer and from heaven--lonely meditation.
When the morning dawned, he ordered Payne to open the shutters
and to undraw the curtains. The prospect from the windows facing
his bed was picturesque, lively, lovely: he looked at it with a
bright smile of admiration, and cast his arm over his noble brow,
as if hailing one more return of day' and light, and life with
those he loved. But when, in the course of the day, something
broke from me of my reverence at his heavenly resignation,
"Rsign?" he repeated, with a melancholy half smile; "mais comme
ah!" and then in a voice of tenderness the most touching, he
added, "Te quitter!" I dare not, even yet, hang upon my emotion
at those words!
That night passed in tolerable tranquillity, and without alarm,
his pulse still always equal and good, though smaller. On Sunday,
the fatal 3rd of May, my patient was still cheerful, and slept
often, but not long. This circumstance was delightful to my
observation, and kept off the least suspicion that my misery
could be so near.
THE END ARRIVES.
My pen lingers now!-reluctant to finish the little that remains.
About noon, gently awaking from a slumber, he called to me for
some beverage, but was weaker than usual, and could not hold the
cup. I moistened his lips with a spoon several times. He looked
at me with sweetness inexpressible, and pathetically said, "Qui?"
He stopped, but I saw he meant "Who shall return this for you?" I
instantly answered to his obvious and most touching meaning, by a
cheerful exclamation of "You! my dearest ami! You yourself! You
shall recover, and take your revenge." He smiled, but shut his
eyes in silence. After this, he bent forward, as he was supported
nearly upright by pillows in his bed, and taking my hand, and
holding it between both his own, he impressively said, "Je ne
sais si
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ce sera le dernier mot--mais ce sera la dernire pense--notre
runion!"(329) Oh, words the most precious that ever the
tenderest of husbands left for balm to the lacerated heart of a
surviving wife! I fastened my lips on his loved hands, but spoke
not. It was not then that those words were my blessing! They
awed--they thrilled--more than they solaced me. How little knew I
then that he should speak to me no more !
Towards evening I sat watching in my arm-chair, and Alex remained
constantly with me. His sleep was so calm, that an hour passed in
which I indulged the hope that a favourable crisis was arriving;
that a turn would take place by which his vital powers would be
restored; but when the hour was succeeded by another hour, when I
saw a universal stillness in the whole frame, such as seemed to
stagnate all around, I began to be strangely moved. "Alex!" I
whispered, "this sleep is critical! a crisis arrives! Pray God--
Almighty God!--that it be fav--." I could not proceed.
Alex looked aghast, but firm. I sent him to call Payne. I
intimated to her my opinion that this sleep was important, but
kept a composure astonishing, for when no one would give me
encouragement, I compelled myself to appear not to want it, to
deter them from giving me despair. Another hour passed of
concentrated feelings, of breathless dread.
His face had still its unruffled serenity, but methought the
hands were turning cold; I covered them - -I watched over the
head of my beloved; I took new flannel to roll over his feet; the
stillness grew more awful; the skin became colder.
Alex, my dear Alex, proposed calling in Mr. Tudor, and ran off
for him.
I leant over him now with sal volatile to his temple, his
forehead, the palms of his hands, but I had no courage to feel
his pulse, to touch his lips.
Mr. Tudor came - he put his hand upon the heart, the noblest of
hearts, and pronounced that all was over!
How I bore this is still marvellous to me! I had always believed
such a sentence would at once have killed me. But his sight--the
sight of his stillness, kept me from distraction! Sacred he
appeared, and his stillness I thought should be mine, and be
inviolable.
I suffered certainly a partial derangement, for I cannot to this
moment recollect anything that now succeeded, with truth
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or consistency; my memory paints things that were necessarily
real, joined to others that could not possibly have happened, yet
so amalgamates the whole together as to render it impossible for
me to separate truth from indefinable, unaccountable fiction.
Even to this instant I always see the room itself charged with a
medley of silent and strange figures grouped against the wall
just opposite to me, Mr. Tudor, methought, was come to drag me by
force away; and in this persuasion, which was false, I remember
supplicating him to grant me but one hour, telling him I had
solemnly engaged myself to pass it in watching. . . .
But why go back to my grief? Even yet, at times, it seems as
fresh as ever, and at all times weighs on me with a feeling that
seems stagnating the springs of life. But for Alexander ,our
Alexander!--I think I could hardly have survived. His tender
sympathy, with his claims to my love, and the solemn injunctions
given me to preserve for him, and devote to him, my remnant of
life--these, through the Divine mercy, sustained me.
May that mercy, with its best blessings, daily increase his
resemblance to his noble father.
March 20, 1820.
(288) M. d'Arblay, who was, it appears, still lame (boiteux) from
the kick which he had received from a horse.-ED,
(289) Half-pay.
(290) The Comte de Narbonne and Comte F. de la Tour Maubourg.
(291) He had studied mathematics in Paris according to the
analytical method, instead of the geometrical, which was at that
time exclusively taught at Cambridge.
(292) See infra, p. 387-8.-ED.
(293) It is not without pain that we find Fanny, in this letter
defending the harsh treatment accorded by the Bourbon king to
Lavalette and others of the partisans of the emperor. Lavalette
had served Napoleon both as soldier and diplomatist. At the
restoration of the Bourbons in 1814 he retired from public life,
but on the return of Napoleon he again entered the service of his
old master. He was arrested after the downfall of the emperor,
tried for treason, and condemned to death. His wife implored the
king's mercy in vain, Lavalette was confined in the Conciergerie,
and December 21, 1815, was the day fixed for his execution. The
evening before that day his wife visited him in the prison. He
exchanged clothes with her, and thus disguised, succeeded in
making his escape. His safety was secured by three English
gentlemen, one of whom, Sir Robert Wilson, conveyed Lavalette, in
the disguise of an English officer, across the Belgian frontier.
For this generous act the three Englishmen were tried in Paris,
and sentenced, each, to three months' imprisonment.-ED.
(294) At the sale of the collection, formed by Mr. Thrale, of
portraits of his distinguished friends, painted by one of the
most distinguished of them-Sir Joshua Reynolds. The collection
comprised portraits of Johnson, Burke, Dr. Burney, Reynolds, etc.
Reynolds painted two portraits of Johnson for Mr. Thrale. That
referred to by Fanny is probably the magnificent portrait painted
about 1773, and now in the National Gallery, for which Thrale
paid thirty-five guineas.-ED.
(295) "His wife and son."
(296) M. d'Arblay had been promoted by Louis XVIII. to the rank
of Lieutenant-General.-ED.
(297) "Certainly, and very certainly, my dearest, your beautiful
strictures upon the knowledge and the customs of the world would
have given another current to my ideas."
(298) "For the future."
(299) "He is still but a child."
(300) "That is not our case."
(301) "Will be quite another thing; but I think you are
mistaken."
(302) This paragon of perfection, then, was an actual person,
whom General d'Arblay was thinking of as a wife for his son!-ED.
(303) Self-love.
(304) Wounded.
(305) Esther Burney.-ED.
(306) Volumes of plays.-ED.
(307) Stove.
(308) "Make short work."
(309) "Gloomy discouragement."
(310) "Apathy."
(311) "You are quite mistaken."
(312) "You give it up, don't you?"
(313) An interesting and humorous novel by the Rev. Richard
Graves, the friend of Shenstone.-ED.
(314) Blue stockings.
(315) "So to speak."
(316) The Princess Charlotte, only child of the prince and
princess of Wales, was married at the age of twenty (May 2, 1816)
to Prince Leopold of SaxeCoburg. On the 5th of November, 1817,
she was delivered of a still-born child, and died a few hours
later.-ED.
(317) "I have never loved life so much! Never, never has life
been dearer to me!"
(318) "How I admire your courage!"
(319) "I should like us to talk of all that with calmness,--
mildly,--even cheerfully."
(320) "Never have I so much loved life as now that I am in so
great danger of losing it ; notwithstanding that I have no fever,
nor is my head in the least affected ; and not only is my mine]
clear, but my heart perfectly at ease. God's will be done! I
await the result of a consultation this evening or to-morrow."
(321) "Of his unheard-of sufferings."
(322) "What a strange malady! and what a position is mine! there
is one perhaps more grievous yet, that of my unhappy companion--
with what tenderness she cares for me! and with what courage she
bears what she has to suffer! I can only repeat, God's will be
done!"
(323) "February 20. I feel that I am getting horribly weak--I do
not think this can last much longer."
(324) "Well, I have no objection. What do you think of it?"
(325) "Speak of me! Speak--and often. Especially to Alexander;
that he may not forget me!"
(326) "I shall speak of nothing else!"
(327) "We shall speak of nothing else! my dear!--my dear!--I
shall survive only for that!"
(328) "I love her well; tell her so. And she loves me."
(329) "I do not know if this will be my last word--but it will be
my last thought--our reunion."
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