Complete Works of Frances Burney

by Frances Burney

  “It is amazing to me,” said Mrs. Delany, “to hear that.”

  “Why, I don’t pick them up myself; but I have a servant very clever; and if they are not to be had at the booksellers’, they are not for me any more than for another.”

  She then spoke of Klopstock’s “Messiah,” saying it contained four lines most perfect on religion.

  “How I should like to see it. Is it translated?” asked Mrs. Delany, turning to me.

  “In it,” said her majesty: “there is a story of Lazarus and the Centurion’s daughter; and another young lady, Asyddel, he calls her; and Lazarus is in love; — a very pretty scene — no stopping; — but it is out of place; — I was quite angry to read it. And a long conversation between Christ and Lazarus — very strange!”

  “Yet Milton does that.”

  “Yes.”

  THE QUEEN ON ROMAN CATHOLIC SUPERSTITIONS.

  And then she went on discussing Milton; this led to Wickliffe and Cranmer; and she spoke of the Roman Catholic superstitions.

  “O, so odd! Can it signify to God Almighty if I eat a piece of fish or a piece of meat? And one of the Queen of France’s sisters wears the heel of her shoe before for a penance; as if God Almighty could care for that!”

  “It is supposing in Him the caprice of a fine lady.”

  “Yes, just so. Yet it is amusing, and pretty too, how sincere the lower people are, of the Catholics. I was with my mother at — a Catholic town, and there was a lady we knew, had a very bad tooth-ache; she suffered night and day, and we were very sorry. But, over the river there was a Virgin Mary of great fame for miracles, and, one morning, when I wanted to get up, our maid did not come, and nobody knew where she was, and she could not be found. At last she came back with a large bouquet, which she had carried over the river in the night and got it blessed, and gave it to the lady to cure her tooth-ache. But we have Protestant nunneries in Germany. I belonged to one which was under the Imperial protection; there is one for royal families — one for the noblesse, — the candidates’ coats of arms are put up several weeks to be examined, and if any flaw is found, they are not elected. These nunneries are intended for young ladies of little fortunes and high birth. There is great licence in them. They have balls, not at home, but next door; and there is no restriction but to go to prayers at eight, at nine, and at night, — that is very little, you know, — and wear black or white, The dress consists of three caps, one over the forehead, one for the back, one up high, and one lower, for the veil; very pretty; and the gown is a vest, and the skirt has I don’t know how many hundred plaits. I had the cross and order, but I believe I gave it away when I came to England — for you may transfer; so I gave it to the Countess of a friend of mine.”

  I could not help saying, how glad we all were that she was no nun!

  “Once,” she continued, “I wanted to go to a chapel in that Catholic town, and my mother said I should go if I would be sure not to laugh at anything; and I promised I would not; so, I took care to keep my eyes half shut, half open, thus, for fear I should see something to make me laugh, for my mother told me I should not come out all day if I laughed. But there was nothing ridiculous.”

  [The memorandum of the above conversation breaks off

  abruptly.]

  ON BEING PRESENTED.

  FANNY BURNEY TO MRS. BURNEY.

  Windsor, Dec. 17

  My dearest Hetty,

  I am sorry I could not more immediately write; but I really have not had a moment since your last.

  Now I know what you next want is, to hear accounts of kings, queens, and such royal personages. O ho! do you so? Well.

  Shall I tell you a few matters of fact? — or, had you rather a few matters of etiquette? Oh, matters of etiquette, you cry! for matters of fact are short and stupid, and anybody can tell, and everybody is tired with them.

  Very well, take your own choice.

  To begin, then, with the beginning.

  You know I told you, in my last, my various difficulties, what sort of preferment to turn my thoughts to, and concluded with just starting a young budding notion of decision, by suggesting that a handsome pension for nothing at all would be as well as working night and day for a salary.

  This blossom of an idea, the more I dwelt upon, the more I liked. Thinking served it for a hothouse, and it came out into full blow as I ruminated upon my pillow. Delighted that thus all my contradictory and wayward fancies were overcome, and my mind was peaceably settled what to wish and to demand, I gave over all further meditation upon choice of elevation, and had nothing more to do but to make my election known.

  My next business, therefore, was to be presented. This could be no difficulty; my coming hither had been their own desire, and they had earnestly pressed its execution. I had only to prepare myself for the rencounter.

  You would never believe — you, who, distant from Courts and courtiers, know nothing of their ways — the many things to be studied, for appearing with a proper propriety before crowned heads. Heads without crowns are quite other sort of rotundas.

  Now, then, to the etiquette. I inquired into every particular, that no error might be committed. And as there is no saying what may happen in this mortal life, I shall give you those instructions I have received myself, that, should you find yourself in the royal presence, you may know how to comport yourself.

  DIRECTIONS FOR COUGHING, SNEEZING, OR MOVING BEFORE THE KING AND QUEEN.

  In the first place, you must not cough. If you find a cough tickling in your throat, you must arrest it from making any sound; if you find yourself choking with the forbearance, you must choke — but not cough.

  In the second place, you must not sneeze. If you have a vehement cold, you must take no notice of it; if your nose membranes feel a great irritation, you must hold your breath; if a sneeze still insists upon making its way, you must oppose it, by keeping your teeth grinding together; if the violence of the repulse breaks some blood-vessel, you must break the blood-vessel — but not sneeze.

  In the third place, you must not, upon any account, stir either hand or foot. If, by chance, a black pin runs into your head, you must not take it out. If the pain is very great, you must be sure to bear it without wincing; if it brings the tears into your eyes, you must not wipe them off; if they give you a tingling by running down your cheeks, you must look as if nothing was the matter. If the blood should gush from your head by means of the black pin, you must let it gush; if you are uneasy to think of making such a blurred appearance, you must be uneasy, but you must say nothing about it. If, however, the agony is very great, you may, privately, bite the inside of your cheek, or of your lips, for a little relief; taking care, meanwhile, to do it so cautiously as to make no apparent dent outwardly. And, with that precaution, if you even gnaw a piece out, it will not be minded, only be sure either to swallow it, or commit it to a corner of the inside of your mouth till they are gone — for you must not spit.

  I have many other directions but no more paper; I will endeavour, however, to have them ready for you in time. Perhaps, meanwhile, you would be glad to know if I have myself had opportunity to put in practice these receipts?

  DR. BURNEY IS DISAPPOINTED OF A PLACE.

  Sunday, May 21, 1786. — I have now quite a new business to write upon. Late on Saturday night news reached my father of the death of the worthy Mr. Stanley, who has been long in a declining state of health. His place of master of the king’s band my dear father had been promised formerly.

  Now he was once more to apply for it; and early on Sunday morning he went to Mr. Smelt, to beg his advice what way to proceed.

  Just as I was at the door, and going to church, my father returned, and desired me to come back, as he had something to communicate to me. Mr. Smelt, he then told me, had counselled him to go instantly to Windsor, not to address the king, but to be seen by him. “Take your daughter,” he said, “in your hand, and walk upon the Terrace. The king’s seeing you at this time he will understand, and he is more likel
y to be touched by a hint of that delicate sort than by any direct application.”

  My father determined implicitly to follow this advice. But let me not omit a singular little circumstance, which much enlivened and encouraged our expedition. While I was changing my dress for the journey, I received a letter from Miss Port, which was sent by a private hand, and ought to have arrived sooner, and which pressed my visit to my dear Mrs. Delany very warmly, and told me it was by the queen’s express wish. This gave me great spirits for my dear father’s enterprise, and I was able to help him on the road, from so favourable a symptom.

  When we got to Windsor, my father saw me safe to Mrs. Delany’s, and then went himself to Dr. Lind’s. With what joy did I fly into the dear, open arms of this most venerable of women! Her reception had all the warm liveliness of pleasant surprise, added to its unfailing kindness.

  Miss Port, with her usual partiality, was in high glee from the surprise. I dined and drank tea with them. Mrs. Delany related to me the most flattering speech made to her by the queen, about my coming to her as “the friend best suited to solace her in her disturbances,” and assured me she had quite interested herself in pressing Mrs. Delany to hasten me.

  ’Tis very extraordinary what a gracious disposition towards me this sweet queen always manifests, and what peculiar elegance there is in the expressions she makes use of in my favour. They were now particularly well-timed, and gave me most pleasant hopes for my dear father. He came to tea at Mrs. Delany’s, and, at the proper hour, went to the Terrace, with the good-natured Dr. Lind, who is always ready to oblige. I waited to go with a female party, which was arranged for me by Mrs. Delany, and soon followed.

  All the royal family were already on the Terrace before we arrived. The king and queen, and the Prince of Mecklenburg, and her majesty’s mother — walked together. Next them the princesses and their ladies, and the young princesses, making a very gay and pleasing procession, of one of the finest families in the world. Every way they moved, the crowd retired to stand up against the wall as they passed, and then closed in to follow. When they approached towards us, and we were retreating, Lady Louisa Clayton placed me next herself, making her daughters stand below — a politeness and attention without which I had certainly not been seen; for the moment their majesties advanced, I involuntarily looked down, and drew my hat over my face. I could not endure to stare at them, and, full of our real errand, I felt ashamed, even of being seen by them. The very idea of a design, however far from illaudable is always distressing and uncomfortable. Consequently, I should have stood in the herd, and unregarded; but Lady Louisa’s kindness and good breeding put me in a place too conspicuous to pass unnoticed. The moment the queen had spoken to her, which she stopped to do as soon as she came up to her, she inquired, in a whisper, who was with her; as I know by hearing my own name given for the answer. The queen then instantly stepped nearer me, and asked me how I did; and then the king came forward, and, as soon as he had repeated the same question, said, “Are you come to stay?”

  “No, sir, not now.”

  “No; but how long shall you stay?”

  “I go to-night, sir.”

  “I was sure,” cried the queen, “she was not come to stay, by seeing her father.”

  I was glad by this to know my father had been observed.

  “And when did you come?” cried the king.

  “About two hours ago, sir.”

  “And when do you return again to Windsor?”

  “Very soon, I hope, sir.”

  “And — and — and—” cried he, half laughing, and hesitating, significantly, “pray, how goes on the Muse?”

  At first I only laughed, too; but he repeated the inquiry, and then I answered, “Not at all, sir.”

  “No? But why? — why not?”

  “I — I — I am afraid sir,” stammered I, and true enough, I am sure.

  “And why?” repeated he, “of what?”

  I spoke something, — I hardly know what myself, — so indistinctly, that he could not hear me, though he had put his head quite under my hat, from the beginning of the little conference and, after another such question or two, and no greater satisfaction in the answer, he smiled very good humouredly, and walked on, his charming queen by his side. His condescension confuses, though it delights me.

  We stayed some time longer on the Terrace, and my poor father occasionally joined me; but he looked so conscious and depressed, that it pained me to see him. There is nothing that I know so very dejecting, as solicitation. I am sure I could never, I believe, go through a task of that sort. My dear father was not spoken to, though he had a bow every time the king passed him, and a curtsey from the queen. But it hurt him, and he thought it a very bad prognostic; and all there was at all to build upon was the graciousness shewn to me, which, indeed, in the manner I was accosted, was very flattering, and, except to high rank, I am told, very rare.

  We stayed but a very short time with my sweet Mrs. Delany, whose best wishes you are sure were ours. I told her our plan, and our full conviction that she could not assist in it; as the obligations she herself owes are so great and so weighty, that any request from her would be encroaching and improper.

  We did not get home till past eleven o’clock. We were then informed that Lord Brudenel had called to say Mr. Parsons had a promise of the place from the lord chamberlain. This was not very exhilarating.

  A VISIT TO WARREN HASTINGS AND HIS WIFE.

  I had been invited by Mr. Cambridge to pass a day at Twickenham with Mr. and Mrs. Hastings, who had proposed to carry me with them: accordingly, on May 24th, Mrs. Hastings sent her carriage here before ten o’clock. I made her and Mr. Hastings a visit of about half an hour previously to our journey. I am quite charmed with Mr. Hastings, and, indeed, from all I can gather, and all I can observe, — both which are but little, — he appears to me to be one of the greatest men now living, as a public character; while as a private one, his gentleness, candour, soft manners, and openness of disposition, make him one of the most pleasing.

  The little journey was extremely agreeable. He spoke with the utmost frankness of his situation and affairs, and with a noble confidence in his certainty of victory over his enemies, from his consciousness of integrity and honour, that filled me with admiration and esteem for him. Mrs. Hasting’s is lively, obliging, and entertaining, and so adored by her husband, that, in her sight and conversation he seems to find a recompense, adequate to all his wishes, for the whole of his toils, and long disturbances and labours. How rare, but how sweet and pleasant, the sight of such unions.

  A PROPOSAL FROM THE QUEEN.

  [June, 1786.-A vacancy at this time occurred in the royal

  household, from the resignation of Madame Haggerdorn, one of

  the queen’s German attendants who, together with Madame

  Schwellenberg, held the office of keeper of the robes. The

  place was much sought after, but her majesty had been so

  well pleased with what she saw of Miss Burney, that she

  graciously empowered Mr. Smelt to offer her this situation,

  allowing her time to consider and weigh its advantages.

  Miss Burney, though deeply grateful for such a distinction,

  foresaw with alarm the separation from her family and the

  total confinement it would occasion; and, in her perplexity

  how to decide, she wrote to her friend, Miss Cambridge, in

  the following terms.]

  Monday, June, 1786.

  ... Yesterday evening, while I was with Mrs. Delany, Mr. Smelt arrived from Windsor, and desired a private conference with her; and, when it was over, a separate one with me: surprising me not a little, by entreating me to suffer some very home questions from him, relative to my situation, my views, and even my wishes, with respect to my future life. At first, I only laughed: but my merriment a little failed, me, when he gave me to understand he was commissioned to make these inquiries by a great personage, who had conceived
so favourable an opinion of me as to be desirous of undoubted information, whether or not there was a probability she might permanently attach me to herself and her family.

  You cannot easily, my dear Miss Cambridge, picture to yourself the consternation with which I received this intimation. It was such that the good and kind Mr. Smelt, perceiving it, had the indulgence instantly to offer me his services, first, in forbearing to mention even to my father his commission, and next in fabricating and carrying back for me a respectful excuse. And I must always consider myself the more obliged to him, as I saw in his own face the utmost astonishment and disappointment at this reception of his embassy.

  I could not, however, reconcile to myself concealing from my dear father a matter that ought to be settled by himself; yet I frankly owned to Mr. Smelt that no situation of that sort was suited to my own taste, or promising to my own happiness.

  He seemed equally sorry and surprised; he expatiated warmly upon the sweetness of character of all the royal family, and then begged me to consider the very peculiar distinction shown me, that, unsolicited, unsought, I had been marked out with such personal favour by the queen herself, as a person with whom she had been so singularly pleased, as to wish to settle me with one of the princesses, in preference to the thousands of offered candidates, of high birth and rank, but small fortunes, who were waiting and supplicating for places in the new-forming establishment. Her majesty proposed giving me apartments in the palace; making me belong to the table of Mrs. Schwellenberg, with whom all her own visitors — bishops, lords, or commons — always dine; keeping me a footman, and settling on me 200 pounds a year. “And in such a situation,” he added, “so respectably offered, not solicited, you may have opportunities of serving your particular friends, — especially your father, — such as scarce any other could afford you.”