I come now to introduce to you, with a new character, some new
perplexities from my situation. Madame de la Fite called the next
morning, to tell me she must take no denial to forming me a new
acquaintance--Madame de la Roche, a German by birth, but married to
a Frenchman;--an authoress, a woman of talents and distinction, a
character highly celebrated, and unjustly suffering from an adherence to
the Protestant religion.[218]
“She dies with eagerness to see you,” she added, in French, “and I have
invited her to Windsor, where I have told her I have no other feast
prepared for her but to show her Dr. Herschel and Miss Burney.”
I leave you to imagine if I felt competent to fulfil such a promise:
openly, on the contrary, I assured her I was quite unequal to it. She
had already, she said, written to Madame de la Roche, to come the next
day, and if I would not meet her she must be covered with disgrace.
Expostulation was now vain; I could only say that to answer for myself
was quite, out of my own power.
“And why?--and wherefore?--and what for?--and surely to me!--and surely
for Madame de la Roche!--une femme d'esprit--mon amie--l'amie de Madame
de Genlis,” etc., etc., filled up a hurried conference in the midst of
my dressing for the queen, till a summons interrupted her, and forced
me, half dressed, and all too late, to run away from her, with an
extorted promise to wait upon her if I possibly could.
Accordingly I went, and arrived before Madame de la Roche. Poor Madame
de la Fite received me in transport; and I soon witnessed another
transport, at least equal, to Madame de la Roche, which happily was
returned with the same warmth; and it was not till after a thousand
embraces, and the most ardent professions--“Ma digne amie!--est il
possible?--te vois-je?” etc.--that I discovered they had never before
met in their lives!--they had corresponded, but, no more![219]
This somewhat lessened my surprise, however, when my turn arrived;
for no sooner was I named than all the embrassades were transferred
to me--“La digne Miss Borni!--l'auteur de Cecile?--d'Evelina?--non,
ce n'est pas possible!-suis-je si heureuse!--oui, je le vois a ses
yeux!--Ah! que de bonheur!” etc....
Madame de la Roche, had I met her in any other way, might have pleased
me in no common degree; for could I have conceived her character to
be unaffected, her manners have a softness that would render her
excessively engaging. She is now bien passee--no doubt fifty--yet has
a voice of touching sweetness, eyes of dove-like gentleness, looks
supplicating for favour, and an air and demeanour the most tenderly
caressing. I can suppose she has thought herself all her life the model
of the favourite heroine of her own favourite romance, and I can readily
believe that she has had attractions in her youth nothing short of
fascinating. Had I not been present, and so deeply engaged in this
interview, I had certainly been caught by her myself; for in her
presence I constantly felt myself forgiving and excusing what in her
absence I as constantly found past defence or apology.
Poor Madame de la Fite has no chance in her presence for though their
singular enthusiasm upon “the people of the literature,” as Pacchierotti
called them, is equal, Madame de la Fite almost subdues by her
vehemence, while Madame de la Roche almost melts by her softness. Yet
I fairly believe they are both very good women, and both believe
themselves sincere.
I returned still time enough to find Mrs. Schwellenberg with her
tea-party; and she was very desirous to hear something of Madame de la
Roche. I was led by this to give a short account of her: not such a one
as you have heard, because I kept it quite independent of all reference
to poor Madame de la Fite; but there was still enough to make a little
narration. Madame de la Roche had told me that she had been only
three days in England, and had yet made but a beginning of seeing les
spectacles and les gens celebres;--and what do you think was the first,
and, as yet, sole spectacle to which she had been carried?--Bedlam!--And
who the first, and, as yet, only homme celebre she had seen--Lord George
Gordon!--whom she called le fameux George Gordon, and with whom she had
dined, in company with Count Cagliostro.
_Sunday, Sept. 17_--At the chapel this morning, Madame de la Fite placed
Madame de la Roche between herself and me, and proposed bringing her to
the Lodge, “to return my visit.” This being precisely what I had tried
to avoid, and to avoid without shocking Madame de la Fite, by meeting
her correspondent at her own house, I was much chagrined at such a
proposal, but had no means to decline it, as it was made across Madame
de la Roche herself.
Accordingly, at about two o'clock, when I came from the queen, I found
them both in full possession of my room, and Madame de la Fite occupied
in examining my books. The thing thus being done, and the risk of
consequences inevitable, I had only to receive them with as little
display of disapprobation of their measures as I could help; but one
of the most curious scenes followed I have ever yet been engaged in or
witnessed.
As soon as we were seated, Madame de la Fite began with assuring me,
aloud, of the “conquest” I had made of Madaine de la Roche, and appealed
to that lady for the truth of what she said. Madame de la Roche answered
her by rising, and throwing her arms about me, and kissing my cheeks
from side to side repeatedly.
Madame de la Fite, as soon as this was over, and we had resumed our
seats, opened the next subject, by saying Madame de la Roche had read
and adored “Cecilia:” again appealing to her for confirmation of her
assertion.
“O, oui, oui!” cried her friend, “mais la vraie Cecile, est Miss Borni!
charmante Miss Borni! digne, douce, et aimable--com to me arms! que je
vous embrasse millefois!”
Again we were all deranged, and again the same ceremony being performed,
we all sat ourselves down. “Cecilia” was then talked over throughout, in
defiance of every obstacle I could put in its way. After this, Madame
de la Fite said, in French, that Madame de la Roche had had the most
extraordinary life and adventures that had fallen to anybody's lot; and
finished with saying, “Eh! ma chere amie, contez-nous un peu.”
They were so connected, she answered, in their early part with M.
Wieland, the famous author, that they would not be intelligible without
his story.
Madame de la Roche, looking down upon her fan, began then the recital.
She related their first interview, the gradations of their mutual
attachment, his extraordinary talents, his literary fame and name; the
breach of their union from motives of prudence in their friends; his
change of character from piety to voluptuousness, in consoling himself
for her loss with an actress; his various adventures, and various
transformations from good to bad, in life and conduct; her own marriage
with M. de la Roche, their subsequent meeting when she was mother of
three children, and all the attendant circumstances.
This narrative was told in so touching and pathetic a manner, and
interspersed with so many sentiments of tenderness and of heroism, that
I could scarcely believe I was not actually listening to a Clelia, or a
Cassandra, recounting the stories of her youth.[220]
When she had done, and I had thanked her, Madame de la Fite demanded of
me what I thought of her, and if she was not delightful? I assented, and
Madame de la Roche then, rising, and fixing her eyes, filled with tears,
in my face, while she held both my hands, in the most melting accents,
exclaimed, “Miss Borni! la plus chere, la plus digne des Angloises!
dites-moi-m'aimez-vous!”
I answered as well as I could, but what I said was not very positive.
Madame de la Fite came up to us, and desired we might make a trio of
friendship, which should bind us to one another for life. And then they
both embraced me, and both wept for joyful fondness! I fear I seemed
very hard-hearted; but no spring was opened whence one tear of mine
could flow.