The Diary and Letters of Madame D'Arblay Volume I Part 78

COURT DUTIES AT WINDSOR AND KEW.

[The following section and the two sections which succeed it, relate, almost exclusively, to f.a.n.n.y's dreary prison- life in the royal household. Of the world without the palace, of the friends whom she had left, we hear next to nothing. The change for her was complete; the rare visits of her father, her sister, and the Lockes, one hasty excursion to Chesington, and one delightful evening at Mrs.

Ord's, form nearly the sum total of her personal intercourse, during these eighteen months, with those whose kindness and sympathy had brightened her past years. She complained seldom, and only to her best-beloved Susan, but there is something truly pathetic in these occasional evidences of the struggle which she was making to conquer her repugnance, and to be happy, if that were possible, in her new situation. Dazzled by the royal condescension f.a.n.n.y may have been; blinded she was not. It was her father who, possessed by a strange infatuation, remained blind to the incongruity, charmed by the fancied honour, of his daughter's position; and she, tender-hearted as she was, could not bear to inflict upon one so dear the pain which she knew must be the consequence of his enlightenment.

Meanwhile, her best comfort was still in the friends.h.i.+p of Mrs. Delany, and this, in the course of nature, could not be of long duration.

But dreary as this life of routine was to the unfortunate victim, we venture to a.s.sure the reader that he will find the victim's account of it very far from dreary. Indeed, these pages might almost be instanced to show from what unpromising materials a person endowed with humour and observation can construct a singularly entertaining narrative. Our wonder is that neither the monotony of her official duties, nor the insipidity of her a.s.sociates, nor even the odious tyranny of her colleague, could wholly subdue in the author of "Evelina" and "Cecilia" that bright and humorous disposition to which the following pages bear frequent testimony.--ED.]

THE MISCHIEF-MAKING KEEPER OF THE ROBES.

_Tuesday, Aug. 15._--This morning we all breakfasted together, and at about twelve o'clock we set off again for Windsor.

Lord Harcourt came into the breakfast room with abundance of civil speeches upon his pleasure in renewing our acquaintance, and the Miss Vernons parted with me like wholly different people from those I met.

As soon as I returned to the queen's Lodge at Windsor, I called upon Mrs. Schwellenberg. I found her still occupied concerning the newspaper business about Mrs. Hastings. She was more than ever irritated against Mr. Fairly for his information, and told me she was sure he must have said it to her on purpose, and that she wished people might hold their tongue: but that she was bent upon having satisfaction, and therefore she had sent for Mrs. Hastings, and informed her of the whole business.

I was not only sorry, but frightened, lest any mischief should arise through misrepresentations and blunders, between Mr. Fairly and Mr.

Hastings: however, this imprudent step was taken already, and not to be called back.

She protested she was determined to insist that Mr. Fairly should produce the very paper that had mentioned the queen, which she should show, and have properly noticed.

I, on the other side, instantly resolved to speak myself to Mr. Fairly, to caution him by no means to be led into seeking any such paper, or into keeping such a search awake; for, with the best intentions in the world, I saw him on the point of being made the object of vindictive resentment to Mr. Hastings, or of indignant displeasure to the queen herself,--so wide-spreading is the power of misapprehension over the most innocent conversation.

I saw, however, nothing of Mr. Fairly till tea-time; indeed, except by very rare chance, I never see any of the king's people but at that meeting. Mrs. Schwellenberg was then present, and nothing could I do.

Major Price and Mr. Fisher were of the party. Mr. Fairly fortunately had letters to write, and hastily left us, after taking one dish of tea. The moment he was gone Mrs. Schwellenberg said she had forgot to speak to him about the newspaper, and told Major Price to ask him for it. Major Price a.s.sented with a bow only, and the matter dropped.

I, however, who best knew the danger of its going any farther, now determined upon speaking to Major Price, and making him contrive to hush it up. Utterly impossible, nevertheless, proved this scheme; Major Price was too great a favourite to be an instant disengaged. I was obliged, therefore, to be quiet.

A TERRACE PARTY.

_Wednesday, Aug. 16_--Was the birthday of Prince Frederick, Duke of York. The queen sent me in the morning to my dear Mrs. Delany, whom I had but just found a moment to fly to the preceding day, and I was commanded to bring--her, if well enough, just as she was, in her home morning dress, to her majesty. This I did with great delight; and that most venerable of women accepted the invitation with all the alacrity of pleasure she could have felt at fifteen. The queen, in the late excursion, had made many purchases at Woodstock: and she now made some little presents from them to this dear lady.

In the evening, as it was again a birthday, I resolved upon going to the Terrace, as did Mrs. Delany, and with her and Miss Mawer, and Miss Port, I sallied forth. To avoid the high steps leading to the Terrace from the Lodge, we went through a part of the Castle.

The Terrace was much crowded, though so windy we could hardly keep our feet; but I had an agreeable surprise in meeting there with Dr.

Warton.[213] He joined Mrs. Delany instantly, and kept with us during the whole walk. He congratulated me upon my appointment, in terms of rapture; his ecstacies are excited so readily, from the excessive warmth of his disposition, and its p.r.o.neness to admire and wonder, that my new situation was a subject to awaken an enthusiasm the most high-flown.

Presently after we were joined by a goodly priest, fat, jovial, breathing plenty ease, and good living. I soon heard him whisper Mrs.

Delany to introduce him to me. It was Dr. Roberts, provost of Eton: I had already seen him at Mrs. Delany's last winter, but no introduction had then pa.s.sed. He is a distant relation of Mr. Cambridge. His wife was with him, and introduced also.

These also joined us; and in a few minutes more a thin, little, wizen old gentleman, with eyes that scarce seemed to see, and a rather tottering gait, came up to Mrs. Delany, and after talking with her some time, said in a half whisper, "Is that Miss Burney?" and then desired a presentation. It was Mr. Bryant, the mythologist.[214] I was very glad to see him, as he bears a very high character, and lives much in this neighbourhood. He talks a great deal, and with the utmost good humour and ease, casting entirely aside his learning, which I am, nevertheless, a.s.sured is that of one of the most eminent scholars of the age.

We had now a very good party, and seated ourselves in a sort of alcove, to be sheltered from the wind; but it was so very violent that it deterred the royal family from walking. They merely came on the Terrace to show themselves to those who were eager to pay their compliments upon the day, and then returned to the Castle.

Dr. Warton insisted upon accompanying me home as far as the iron rails, to see me enter my royal premises. I did not dare invite him in, without previous knowledge whether I had any such privilege; otherwise, with all his parts, and all his experience, I question whether there is one boy in his school at Winchester who would more have delighted in feeling himself under the roof of a sovereign.

A NERVOUS READER.

_Aug. 17._--From the time that the queen condescended to desire to place me in immediate attendance upon her own person, I had always secretly concluded she meant me for her English reader; since the real duties of my office would have had a far greater promise of being fulfilled by thousands of others than by myself. This idea had made the prospect of reading to her extremely awful to me: an exhibition, at any rate, is painful to me, but one in which I considered her majesty as a judge, interested for herself in the sentence she should p.r.o.nounce, and gratified or disappointed according to its tenor--this was an exhibition formidable indeed, and must have been considered as such by anybody in similar circ.u.mstances.

Not a book, not a pamphlet, not a newspaper, had I ever seen near the queen, for the first week, without feeling a panic; I always expected to be called upon. She frequently bid me give her the papers; I felt that they would be the worst reading I could have, because full of danger, in matter as well as manner: however, she always read them herself.

To-day, after she was dressed, Mrs. Schwellenberg went to her own room; and the queen, instead of leaving me, as usual, to go to mine, desired me to follow her to her sitting dressing-room. She then employed me in helping her to arrange her work, which is chair covers done in ribbon; and then told me to fetch her a volume of the "Spectator." I obeyed with perfect tranquillity. She let me stand by her a little while without speaking, and then, suddenly, but very gently, said, "Will you read a paper while I work?"

I was quite "consternated!" I had not then the smallest expectation of such a request. I said nothing, and held the book unopened.

She took it from me, and pointed out the place where I should begin. She is reading them regularly through, for the first time. I had no choice: I was forced to obey; but my voice was less obedient than my will, and it became so husky, and so unmanageable, that nothing more unpleasant could be heard. The paper was a curious one enough--all concerning a Court favourite. I could hardly rejoice when my task was over, from my consciousness how ill it was performed. The queen talked of the paper, but forbore saying anything of any sort about the reader. I am sorry, however, to have done so ill.

MISS BURNEY REPINES AT HER POSITION.

f.a.n.n.y BURNEY TO MRS. PHILIPS.

_August 20._

... O my beloved Susan, 'tis a refractory heart I have to deal with!--it struggles so hard to be sad--and silent--and fly from you entirely, since it cannot fly entirely to you. I do all I can to conquer it, to content it, to give it a taste and enjoyment for what is still attainable: but at times I cannot manage it, and it seems absolutely indispensable to my peace to occupy myself in anything rather than in writing to the person most dear to me upon earth!... If to you alone I show myself in these dark colours, can you blame the plan that I have intentionally been forming, namely, to wean myself from myself--to lessen all my affections--to curb all my wishes--to deaden all my sensations? This design, my Susan, I formed so long ago as the first day my dear father accepted my offered appointment: I thought that what demanded a complete new system of life, required, if attainable, a new set of feelings for all enjoyment of new prospects, and for lessening regrets at what were quitted, or lost. Such being my primitive idea, merely from my grief of separation, imagine but how it was strengthened and confirmed when the interior of my position became known to me!--when I saw myself expected by Mrs. Schwellenberg, not to be her colleague, but her dependent deputy! not to be her visitor at my own option, but her companion, her humble companion, at her own command! This has given so new a character to the place I had accepted under such different auspices, that nothing but my horror of disappointing, perhaps displeasing, my dearest father, has deterred me from the moment that I made this mortifying discovery, from soliciting his leave to resign.

But oh my Susan,--kind, good, indulgent as he is to me, I have not the heart so cruelly to thwart his hopes--his views--his happiness, in the honours he conceived awaiting my so unsolicited appointment. The queen, too, is all sweetness, encouragement, and gracious goodness to me, and I cannot endure to complain to her of her old servant. You see, then, my situation; here I must remain!--The die is cast, and that struggle is no more.--To keep off every other, to support the loss of the dearest friends, and best society, and bear, in exchange, the tyranny, the exigeance, the ennui, and attempted indignities of their greatest contrast,--this must be my constant endeavour.

Amongst my sources of unhappiness in this extraordinary case is, the very favour that, in any other, might counteract it--namely, that of the queen: for while, in a manner the most attractive, she seems inviting my confidence, and deigning to wish my happiness, she redoubles my conflicts never to shock her with murmurs against one who, however to me noxious and persecuting, is to her a faithful and truly devoted old servant. This will prevent my ever having my distress and disturbance redressed; for they can never be disclosed. Could I have, as my dear father conceived, all the time to myself, my friends, my leisure, or my own occupations, that is not devoted to my official duties, how different would be my feelings, how far more easily accommodated to my privations and sacrifices! Little does the queen know the slavery I must either resist or endure. And so frightful is hostility, that I know not which part is hardest to perform.

MADAME DE GENLIs DISCUSSED.

_Windsor, Monday Evening._--Madame de la Fite, who calls upon me daily, though I am commonly so much engaged I can scarce speak to her for a moment, came to desire I would let her bring me M. Argant,[215] who was come to Windsor to show some experiment to the king.