He now spoke in such terms of his pleasure in seeing me, that I soon lost the whole of my terror; astonishment to find him so nearly well, and gratification to see him so pleased, removed every uneasy feeling, and the joy that succeeded, in my conviction of his recovery, made me ready to throw myself at his feet to express it.
What conversation followed! When he saw me fearless, he grew more and more alive, and made me walk close by his side, away from the attendants, and even the Willises themselves, who, to indulge him, retreated. I own myself not completely composed, but alarm I could entertain no more.
Everything that came uppermost in his mind he mentioned; he seemed to have just such remains of his flightiness as heated his imagination without deranging his reason, and robbed him of all control over his speech, though nearly in his perfect state Of mind as to his opinions. What did he not say! — He opened his whole heart to me, — expounded all his sentiments, and acquainted me with all his intentions.
The heads of his discourse I must give you briefly, as I am sure you will be highly curious to hear them, and as no accident can render of much consequence what a man says in such a state of physical intoxication. He assured me he was quite well — as well as he had ever been in his life; and then inquired how I did, and how I went on? and whether I was more comfortable? If these questions, in their implications, surprised me, imagine how that surprise must increase when he proceeded to explain them! He asked after the coadjutrix, laughing, and saying “Never mind her! — don’t be oppressed — I am your friend! don’t let her cast you down! — I know you have a hard time of it — but don’t mind her!”
Almost thunderstruck with astonishment, I merely curtsied to his kind “I am your friend,” and said nothing. Then presently he added, “Stick to your father — stick to your own family — let them be your objects.”
How readily I assented! Again he repeated all I have just written, nearly in the same words, but ended it more seriously: He suddenly stopped, and held me to stop too, and putting his hand on his breast. in the most solemn manner, he gravely and slowly said, “I will protect you! — I promise you that — and therefore depend upon me!”
I thanked him; and the Willises, thinking him rather too elevated, came to propose my walking on. “No, no, no!” he cried, a hundred times in a breath and their good humour prevailed, and they let him again walk on with his new Companion.
He then gave me a history of his pages, animating almost into a rage, as he related his subjects of displeasure with them, particularly with Mr. Ernst, who he told me had been brought up by himself. I hope his ideas upon these men are the result of the mistakes of his malady.
Then he asked me some questions that very greatly &stressed me, relating to information given him in his illness, from various motives, but which he suspected to be false, and which I knew he had reason to suspect: yet was It most dangerous to set anything right, as I was not aware what might be the views of their having been stated wrong. I was as discreet as I knew how to be, and I hope I did no mischief; but this was the worst part of the dialogue He next talked to me a great deal of my dear father, and made a thousand inquiries concerning his “History of Music.” This brought him to his favourite theme, Handel; and he told me innumerable anecdotes of him, and particularly that celebrated tale of Handel’s saying of himself, when a boy, “While that boy lives, my music will never want a protector.” And this, he said, I might relate to my father. Then he ran over most of his oratorios, attempting to sing the subjects of several airs and choruses, but so dreadfully hoarse that the sound was terrible.
Dr. Willis, quite alarmed at this exertion, feared he would do himself harm, and again proposed a separation. “ “No! no! no!” he exclaimed, “not yet; I have something I must just mention first.”
Dr. Willis, delighted to comply, even when uneasy at compliance, again gave way. The good king then greatly affected me. He began upon my revered old friend, Mrs. Delany and he spoke of her with such warmth — such kindness! “She was my friend!” he cried, “and I loved her as a friend! I have made a memorandum when I lost her — I will show it YOU.”
He pulled out a pocket-book, and rummaged some time, but to no purpose. The tears stood in his eyes — he wiped them, and Dr. Willis again became very anxious. “Come, sir,” he cried, “now do you come in and let the lady go on her walk,-come, now you have talked a long while,-so we’ll go in, — if your majesty pleases.”
“No, no!” he cried, “I want to ask her a few questions; — I have lived so long out of the world, I know nothing!”
This touched me to the heart. We walked on together, and he inquired after various persons, particularly Mrs. Boscawen, because she was Mrs. Delany’s friend! Then, for the same reason, after Mr. Frederick Montagu,(303) of whom he kindly said, “I know he has a great regard for me, for all he joined the opposition.” Lord Grey de Wilton, Sir Watkin Wynn, the Duke of Beaufort, and various others, followed. He then told me he was very much dissatisfied with several of his state officers, and meant to form an entire new establishment. He took a paper out of his pocket-book, and showed me his new list This was the wildest thing that passed; and Dr. John Willis now seriously urged our separating; but he would not consent he had only three more words to say, he declared, and again he conquered.
He now spoke of my father, with still more kindness, and told me he ought to have had the post of master of the band, and not that little poor musician Parsons, who was not fit for it: “But Lord Salisbury,” he cried, “used your father vary ill in that business, and so he did me! However, I have dashed out his name, and I shall put your father’s in, — as soon as I get loose again!”
This again — how affecting was this!
“And what,” cried he,”has your father got, at last? nothing but that poor thing at Chelsea?(304) O fie! fie! fie! But never mind! I will take care of him. I will do it myself!” Then presently he added, “As to Lord Salisbury, he is out already, as this memorandum will Show you, and so are many more. I shall be much better served and when once I get away, I shall rule with a rod of iron!”
This was very unlike himself, and startled the two good doctors, who could not bear to cross him, and were exulting at seeing his great amendment, but yet grew quite uneasy at his earnestness and volubility. Finding we now must part, he stopped to take leave, and renewed again his charges about the coadjutrix. “Never mind her!” he cried, “depend upon me! I will be your friend as long as I live — I here pledge myself to be your friend!” And then he saluted me again just as at the meeting, and suffered me to go on.
What a scene! how variously was I affected by it! but, upon the whole, how inexpressibly thankful to see him so nearly himself — so little removed from recovery!
CURIOSITY REGARDING Miss BURNEY’S MEETING WITH THE KING.
I went very soon after to the queen to whom I was most eager to avow the meeting, and how little I could help it. Her astonishment, and her earnestness to hear every particular, were very great. I told her almost all. Some few things relating to the distressing questions I could not repeat nor Page 293 many things said of Mrs. Schwellenberg, which would much, very needlessly, have hurt her.
This interview, and the circumstances belonging to it, excited general curiosity, and all the house watched for opportunities to beg a relation of it. How delighted was I to tell them all my happy prognostics!
But the first to hasten to hear of it was Mr. Smelt; eager and enchanted was the countenance and attention of that truly loyal and most affectionate adherent to his old master. He wished me to see Lady Harcourt and the general, and to make them a brief relation of this extraordinary rencounter but for that I had not effort enough left.
I did what I Could, however, to gratify the curiosity of Colonel Wellbred, which I never saw equally excited. I was passing him on the stairs, and he followed me, to say he had heard what had happened — I imagine from the Willises. I told him, with the highest satisfaction, the general effect produced upon my mind by the acc
ident, that the king seemed so nearly, himself, that patience itself could have but little longer trial. He wanted to hear more particulars: I fancy the Willises had vaguely related some: “Did he not,” he cried, “promise to do something for you?” I only laughed, and answered, “O yes! if you want any thing, apply to me; — now is my time!”
Feb. 3. — I had the great happiness to be assured this morning, by both the Dr. Willises, that his majesty was by no means the worse for our long conference. Those good men are inexpressibly happy themselves in the delightful conviction given me, and by me spread about, of the near recovery of their royal patient.
While I was dressing came Mr. Fairly: I could not admit him, but he said he would try again in the evening. I heard by the tone of his voice a peculiar eagerness, and doubted not he was apprized of my adventure.
He came early, before I could leave my fair companion, and sent on Goter. I found him reading a new pamphlet of Horne Tooke: “How long,” he cried, “it is since I have been here!”
I was not flippantly disposed, or I would have said I had thought the time he spent away always short, by his avowed eagerness to decamp.
He made so many inquiries of how I had gone on and what I had done since I saw him, that I was soon satisfied he was not uninformed of yesterday’s transaction. I told him so; he could not deny it, but wished to hear the whole from myself.
I most readily complied. He listened with the most eager, nay, anxious attention, scarce breathing: he repeatedly ex claimed, when I had finished, “How I wish I had been there! how I should have liked to have seen you!”
I assured him he would not wish that, if he knew the terror I had suffered. He was quite elated with the charges against Cerberic tyranny, and expressed himself gratified by the promises of favour and protection.
THE REGENCY BILL.
Feb. 6.-These last three days have been spent very unpleasantly indeed: all goes hardly and difficultly with my poor royal mistress.
Yet his majesty is now, thank heaven, so much better, that he generally sees his gentlemen in some part of the evening; and Mr. Fairly, having no particular taste for being kept in waiting whole hours for this satisfaction of a few minutes, yet finding himself, if in the house, indispensably required to attend with the rest, has changed his Kew visits from nights to mornings.
He brought me the “Regency Bill!” — I shuddered to hear it named. It was just printed, and he read it to me, with comments and explanations, which took up all our time, and in a manner, at present, the most deeply interesting in which it could be occupied.
’Tis indeed a dread event! — and how it may terminate who can say? My poor royal mistress is much disturbed. Her daughters behave like angels - they seem content to reside in this gloomy solitude for ever, if it prove of comfort to their mother, or mark their duteous affection for their father.
INFINITELY LICENTIOUS!
Feb. 9.-I now walk on the road-side, along the park-wall, every fair morning, as I shall venture no more into either of the gardens. In returning this morning, I was overtaken by Mr. Fairly, who rode up to me, and, dismounting, gave his horse to his groom, to walk on with me.
About two hours after I was, however, surprised by a visit from him in my own room, He came, he said, only to ask me a second time how I did, as he should be here now less and less, the king’s amendment rendering his services of smaller and smaller importance.
He brought me a new political parody of Pope’s “Eloisa to Abelard,” from Mr. Eden to Lord Hawkesbury. It is a most daring, though very clever imitation. It introduces many of the present household. Mrs. Schwellenberg is now in eternal abuse from all these scribblers; Lady Harcourt, and many others, less notorious to their attacks, are here brought forward. How infinitely licentious!
MISS BURNEY IS TAXED WITH VISITING GENTLEMEN. Feb. 10.-The amendment of the king is progressive, and without any reasonable fear, though not without some few drawbacks. The Willis family were surely sent by heaven to restore peace, and health, and prosperity to this miserable house
Lady Charlotte Finch called upon me two days ago, almost purposely, to inquire concerning the report of my young friend’s marriage; and she made me promise to acquaint her when I received any further news: at noon, therefore, I went to her apartment at the Prince of Wales’s, with this information. Mr. Fairly, I knew, was with the equerries in our lodge. Lady Charlotte had the Duchess of Beaufort and all the Fieldings with her, and therefore I only left a message, by no means, feeling spirits for encountering any stranger.
At noon, when I attended her majesty, she inquired if I had walked? — Yes. — Where? — In Richmond gardens. — And nowhere else? — No. She looked thoughtful, — and presently I recollected my intended visit to Lady Charlotte, and mentioned it. She cleared up, and said, “O! — you. went to Lady Charlotte?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I answered, thinking her very absent, — which I thought with sorrow, as that is so small a part of her character, that I know not I ever saw any symptom of it before. Nor, in fact, as I found afterwards, did I see it now. It was soon explained. Miss Gomme, Mlle. Montmoulin, and Miss Planta, all dined with Mrs. Schwellenberg to-day. The moment I joined them, Mrs. Schwellenberg called out,— “Pray, Miss Berner, for what visit you the gentlemen?”
“Me?”
“Yes, you, — and for what, I say? Amazed, I declared I did not know what she meant.
“O,” cried she, scoffingly, “that won’t not do! — we all saw you, — princess royal the same, — so don’t not say that.”
I stared,-and Miss Gomme burst out in laughter, and then Mrs.
Schwellenberg added,— “For what go you over to the Prince of
Wales his house? — nobody lives there but the gentlemen, — nobody
others.”
I laughed too, now, and told her the fact.
“O,” cried she, “Lady Charlotte! — ver true. I had forgot Lady
Charlotte!”
“O, very well, imagine,” cried I,— “so only the gentlemen were remembered!”
I then found this had been related to the queen; and Mlle.
Montmoulin said she supposed the visit had been to General
Gordon! — He is the groom now in waiting.
Then followed an open raillery from Mlle. Montmoulin of Mr. Fairly’s visits; but I stood it very well, assuring her I should never seek to get rid of my two prison-visitors, Mr. Smelt and Mr. Fairly, till I Could replace them by better, or go abroad for others
IMPROVEMENT IN THE KING’S, HEALTH.
Feb. 14.-The king is infinitely better. O that there were patience in the land! and this Regency Bill postponed Two of the princesses regularly, and in turn, attend their royal mother in her evening visits to the king. Some of those who stay behind now and then spend the time in Mrs. Schwellenberg’s room. They all long for their turn of going to the king, and count the hours till it returns. Their dutiful affection is truly beautiful to behold.
This evening the Princesses Elizabeth and Mary came into Mrs. Schwellenberg’s room while I was yet there. They sang songs in two parts all the evening, and vary prettily in point of voice. Their good humour, however, and inherent condescension and sweetness of manners, would make a much worse performance pleasing.
Feb. 16-All well, and the king is preparing for an interview with the chancellor Dr. Willis now confides in me all his schemes and notions; we are growing the best of friends and his son Dr. John is nearly as trusty. Excellent people! how I love and honour them all!
I had a visit at noon from Mr. Fairly. He hastened to tell me the joyful news that the king and queen were just gone out, to walk in Richmond gardens, arm in arm. — what a delight to all the house!
When I came to tea, I found Mr. Fairly waiting in my room. He had left Kew for Richmond park, but only dined there. We had much discussion of state business. The king is SO much himself, that he is soon to be informed of the general situation of the kingdom. O what an information! — how we all tremble in looking forw
ard to it., Mr. Fairly thinks Mr. Smelt the fittest man for this office; Mr. Smelt thinks the same of Mr. Fairly: both have told me this.
MR. FAIRLY AND MR. WINDHAM.
Mr. Fairly began soon to look at his watch, complaining very much of the new ceremony imposed, of this attendance of handing the Queen, which, he said, broke into his whole evening. Yet he does as little as possible. “The rest of them,” he said, “ think it necessary to wait in an adjoining apartment during the whole interview, to be ready to show themselves when it is over!
He now sat with his watch in his hand, dreading to pass his time, but determined not to anticipate its occupation, till half past nine o’clock, when he drew on his white gloves, ready for action. But then, stopping short, he desired me to guess whom, amongst my acquaintance, he had met in London this last time of his going thither. I could not guess whom he meant — but I saw it was no common person, by his manner. He then continued— “A tall, thin, meagre, sallow, black-eyed, penetrating, keen-looking figure.”
I could still not guess,-and he named Mr. Windham.
“Mr. Windham!” I exclaimed, “no, indeed, — you do not describe him fairly,-he merits better colouring.”
He accuses me of being very partial to him: however, I am angry enough with him just now, though firmly persuaded still, that whatever has fallen from him, that is wrong and unfeeling on the subject of the Regency, has been the effect of his enthusiastic friendship for Mr. Burke: for he has never risen, on this cruel business, but in Support of that most misguided of Vehement and wild orators. This I have observed in the debates, and felt that Mr. Burke was not more run away with by violence of temper, and passion, than Mr. Windham by excess of friendship and admiration. Mr. Fairly has, I fancy, been very intimate with him, for he told me he observed he was passing him, in Queen Anne Street, and stopped his horse, to call out, “O ho, Windham! so I see you will not know me with this servant!” He was on business of the queen’s, and had one of the royal grooms with him.
Complete Works of Frances Burney Page 599