When the act was over, the place on which he had cast his eye, near Lady Mornington, was seized; he laughed, put down his hat, and composed himself quietly for remaining where he was. He must be a man of a singular character, though of what sort I know not: but in his conversation he showed much information, and a spirited desire of interchanging ideas with those who came in his way.
We talked a great deal of France, and he related to me a variety of anecdotes just fresh imported thence. He was there at the first assembling of the Notables, and he saw, he said impending great events from that assemblage. The two most remarkable things that had struck him, he told me, in this wonderful revolution, were — first, that the French guards should ever give up their king; and secondly, that the chief spirit and capacity hither-to shown amongst individuals had come from the ecclesiastics.
He is very much of the opinion the spirit of the times will come round to this island. In what, I asked, could be its pretence? — The game-laws, he answered, and the tithes. He told me, also, a great deal of Ireland, and enlarged my political knowledge abundantly, — but I shall not be so generous, my dear friends, as to let you into all these state matters.
But I must tell you a good sort of quirk of Mr. Wilkes, who, when the power of the mob and their cruelty were first reciting, quarrelled with a gentleman for saying the French government was become a democracy and asserted it was rather a mobocracy. The pit, he said, reminded him of a sight he once saw in Westminster Hall, — a floor of faces.
He was a candidate for Westminster at that time, with Charles
Fox! — thus do we veer about.
At the end of the farce, “God save the king” was most vociferously called for from all parts of the theatre, and all the singers of the theatre came on the stage to sing it, joined by the whole audience, who kept it up till the sovereign of his people’s hearts left the house. It was noble and heart-melting at once to hear and see such loyal rapture, and to feel and know it so deserved.
MR. FAIRLY’S MARRIAGE IMMINENT.
NOV. 20.-Some business sent me to speak with Miss Planta before our journey back to Windsor. When it was executed and I was coming away, she called out, “O! propos — it’s all declared, and the princesses wished Miss Fuzilier joy yesterday in the Drawing-room. She looked remarkably well; but said Mr. Fairly had still a little gout, and could not appear.”
Now first my belief followed assertion; — but it was only because it was inevitable, since the princesses could not have proceeded so far without certainty. . . . . .
We returned to Windsor as usual, and there I was, just as usual, obliged to finish every evening with picquet! — and to pass all and every afternoon, from dinner to midnight, in picquet company.
Nov. 28.-The queen, after a very long airing, came * in to dress, and summoned me immediately; and in two minutes the princess royal entered, and said something in German, and then added, “And Mr. Fairly, ma’am, begs he may see you a moment, now, if possible.”
This is his first coming to the house since her royal highness’s birthday, just two months ago.
“I am very sorry,” was answered coolly, “but I am going to dress.”
“He won’t keep you a moment, mamma, only he wants to get on to
St. Leonards to dinner,”
Miss Fuzilier is now there.”
“Well, then,” she answered, “I’ll slip on my powdering-gown, and see him. I found, however, they had already met, probably in the passage, for the queen added, “How melancholy he looks, does not he, princess royal?”
“Yes, indeed, mamma!” — They then again talked ‘ German.
The princess then went to call him; and I hastened into the next room, with some caps just then inspecting.
Mr. Turbulent again dined with us, and said, “I find Mr. Fairly is here to-day? when is he to be married?”
Mrs. Schwellenberg reproved him for talking of “soch things:” she holds it petty treason to speak of it, as they are both in office about the Court; though she confessed it would be in a fortnight.
At tea, when the gentlemen — General Budé, Majors Price and Garth, and Mr. Willis — appeared, she said, “Where be Mr. Fairly?” They all exclaimed, “Is he here?”
“O, certain, if he ben’t gone!”
I then said he had gone on to St. Leonards.
They all expressed the utmost surprise that he should come, and go, and see none of them.
When they retired, Mrs. Schwellenberg exclaimed, “For what not stay one night? For what not go to the gentlemen? It looks like when he been ashamed. — O fie! I don’t not like soch ting. And for what always say contrarie? — always say to everybody he won’t not have her! — There might be something wrong in all that — it looks not well.”
I saw a strong desire to have me enter into the merits of the case; but I constantly answer to these exclamations, that these sort of situations are regarded in the world as licensing denials first, and truancy from all others afterwards.
COURT DUTIES DISCUSSED.
December.-Let me now, to enliven you a little, introduce to you a new acquaintance, self-made, that I meet at the chapel, and who always sits next me when there is room, — Mrs. J — , wife to the Bishop of K — : and before the service begins, she enters into small talk, with a pretty tolerable degree of frankness, not much repressed by scruples of delicacy.
Take a specimen. She opened, the other morning, upon my situation and occupation, and made the most plump inquiries into its particulars, with a sort of hearty good humour that removed all impertinence, whatever it left of inelegance and then began her comments.
“Well; the queen, to be sure, is a great deal better dressed than she used to be; but for all that, I really think it is but an odd thing for you! — Dear! I think it’s something so out of the way for you! — I can’t think how you set about it. It must have been very droll to you at first. A great deal of honour, to be sure, to serve a queen, and all that: but I dare say a lady’s-maid could do it better, — though to be called about a queen, as I say, is a great deal of honour: but, for my part, I should not like it; because to be always obliged to go to a person, whether one was in the humour or not, and to get up in a morning, if one was never so sleepy! — dear! it must be a mighty hurry-skurry life! you don’t look at all fit for it, to judge by appearances, for all its great honour, and all that.”
Is not this a fit bishop’s wife? is not here primitive candour and veracity? I laughed most heartily, — and we have now commenced acquaintance for these occasional meetings.
If this honest dame does not think me fit for this part of my business, there is another person, Mlle. Montmoulin, who, with equal simplicity, expresses her idea of my unfitness for another part. — How you bear it,” she cries, “living with Mrs. Schwellenberg! — I like it better living in prison!— ‘pon m’honneur, I prefer it bread and water; I think her so cross never was. If I you, I won’t bear it — poor Miss Burney! — I so sorry!— ‘pon m’honneur, I think to you oftens! — you so confined, you won’t have no pleasures!—”
Miss Gomme, less plaintive, but more solemn, declared the other day, “I am sure you must go to heaven for living this life!” — So, at least, you see, though in a court, I am not an object of envy.
MR. FAIRLY’S STRANGE WEDDING.
January, 1790.-Mr. Fairly was married the 6th — I must wish happiness to smile on that day, and all its anniversaries, it gave a happiness to me unequalled, for it was the birthday of my Susanna!
One evening, about this time, Mr. Fisher, now Doctor, drank tea with us at Windsor, and gave me an account of Mr. Fairly’s marriage that much amazed me. He had been called upon to perform the ceremony. It was by special licence, and at the house of Sir R- G-.(325) So religious, so strict in all ceremonies, even, of religion, as he always appeared, his marrying out of a church was to me very unexpected. Dr. Fisher was himself surprised, when called upon, and said he supposed it must be to please the lady.
Nothing, he owned,
could be less formal or solemn than the whole. Lady C., Mrs. and Miss S., and her father and brother and sister, were present. They all dined together at the usual hour,’and then the ladies, as usual, retired. Some time after, the clerk was sent for, and then, with the gentlemen, joined the ladies, who were in the drawing-room, seated on sofas, just as at any other time, Dr. Fisher says he is not sure they were working, but the air of common employment was such, that he rather thinks it, and everything of that sort was spread about as on any common day — workboxes, netting-cases, etc. Mr. Fairly then asked Dr. Fisher what they were to do? He answered, he could not tell; for he had never married anybody in a room before.
Upon this, they agreed to move a table to the upper end of the room, the ladies still sitting quietly, and then Put on it candles and a prayer-book. Dr. Fisher says he hopes it was not a card-table, and rather believes it was only a Pembroke work-table. The lady and Sir R. then came forward, and Dr. Fisher read the service.
So this, methinks, seems the way to make all things easy!
Yet — with so little solemnity-without even a room prepared and empty — to go through a business of such portentous seriousness!— ’Tis truly amazing from a man who seemed to delight so much in religious regulations and observances. Dr. Fisher himself was dissatisfied, and wondered at his compliance, though he attributed the plan to the lady.
The bride behaved extremely well, he said, and was all smile and complacency. He had never seen her to such advantage, or in such soft looks, before; and perfectly serene, though her sister was so much moved as to go into hysterics.
Afterwards, at seven o’clock, the bride and bride-groom set off for a friend’s house in Hertfordshire by themselves, attended by servants with white favours. The rest of the party, father, sister, and priest included, went to the play, which happened to be Benedict A VISIT FROM THE BRIDE.
I shall say nothing of the queen’s birthday, but that I had a most beautiful trimming worked me for it by Miss Cambridge, who half fatigued herself to death, for the kind pleasure that I should have my decorations from her hands. If in some points my lot has been unenviable, what a constant solace, what sweet and soft amends, do I find and feel in the almost unexampled union of kindness and excellence in my chosen friends!
The day after the birthday produced a curious scene. To soften off, by the air, a violent headache, I determined upon walking to Chelsea to see my dear father. I knew I should thus avoid numerous visitors of the household, who might pay their devoirs to Mrs. Schwellenberg.
I missed my errand, and speedily returned, and found many cards from bed-chamber women and maids of honour; and, while still reading them, I was honoured with a call from the Bishop of Salisbury; and in two minutes my dear father came himself.
A pleasant conversation was commencing, when Columb opened the door, and said, “Colonel Fairly begs leave to ask you how you do.” He had been married but a week before he came into the midst of all the Court bustle, which he had regularly attended ever since!
It was a good while before the door opened again - and I heard a buzz of voices in the passage: but when it was thrown open, there appeared — the bride herself — and alone! She looked quite brilliant in smiles and spirits. I never saw a countenance so enlivened. I really believe she has long cherished a passionate regard for Mr. Fairly, and brightens now from its prosperity.
I received her with all’ the attention in my power, immediately wishing her joy: she accepted it with a thousand dimples, and I seated her on the sofa, and myself by her side. Nobody followed; and I left the bishop to my father, while we entered into conversation, upon the birthday, her new situation in being exempt from its fatigues, and other matters of the time being.
I apologised to Mrs. Fairly for my inability to return the honour of her visit, but readily undertook to inform her majesty of her inquiries, which she earnestly begged from me,
RENEWAL OF THE HASTINGS TRIAL: A POETICAL IMPROMPTU.
Feb. 16-Mr. Hastings’s trial re-commenced; and her majesty graciously presented me with tickets for Mr. Francis, Charlotte, and myself. She acknowledged a very great curiosity to know whether my old friends amongst the managers would renew their intercourse with a Court friend, or include me in the distaste conceived against herself, and drop their visits. I had not once been to the trial the preceding year, nor seen any of the set since the king’s illness.
We were there hours before they entered, all spent in a harmony of converse and communication I never for three hours following can have elsewhere: no summons impending — no fear of accidental delay drawing off attention to official solicitude.
At the stated time they entered in the usual form, Mr. Burke first. I felt so grieved a resentment of his late conduct,(326) that I was glad to turn away from his countenance. I looked elsewhere during the whole procession, and their subsequent arrangement, that I might leave totally to themselves and their consciences whether to notice a friend from Court or not. Their consciences said not. No one came; I only heard through Charlotte that Mr. Windham was of the set.
Mr. Anstruther spoke, and all others took gentle naps! I don’t believe he found it out. When all was concluded, I saw one of them ascending towards our seats : and presently heard the voice of Mr. Burke.
I wished myself many miles off! ’tis so painful to see with utter disapprobation those faces we have met, with joy and pleasure! He came to speak to some relations of Mr. Anstruther. I was next them, and, when recovered from my first repugnance, I thought it better to turn round, not to seem leading the way myself to any breach. I met his eyes immediately, and curtsied. He only said, “O! is it you?” then asked how I did, said something in praise of Mr. Anstruther, partly to his friends and partly to me — heard from me no reply — and hurried away, coldly, and with a look dissatisfied and uncordial. I was much concerned; and we came away soon after.
Here is an impromptu, said to have been written by Mr Hastings during Mr. Grey’s speech, which was a panegyric on Mr,
Philip Francis: —
“It hurts me not, that Grey,, as Burke’s assessor,
Proclaims me Tyrant, Robber, and Oppressor,
Tho’ for abuse alone meant:
For when he call’d himself the bosom friend,
The Friend of Philip Francis, — I con’end
He made me full atonement.”
I was called upon, on my return, to relate the day’s business. Heavy and lame was the relation - but their majesties were curious, and nothing better suited truth.
AN ILLBRED EARL OF CHESTERFIELD.
Our tea-party was suddenly enlarged by the entrance of the Lords Chesterfield, Bulkley, and Fortescue. Lord Chesterfield brought in the two latter without any ceremony, and never introduced nor named them, but chatted off with them apart, as if they were in a room to themselves: and Colonel Wellbred, to whom all gentlemen here belong, was out of the room ]if search of a curious snuff-box that he had promised to show to us. Major Price, who by great chance was seated next me, jumped up as if so many wild beasts had entered, and escaped to the other side of the room, and Mr. Willis was only a sharp looker-on.
This was awkward enough for a thing so immaterial, as I could not even ask them to have any tea, from uncertainty how to address them; and I believe they were entirely ignorant whither Lord Chesterfield was bringing them, as they came In only to wait for a royal summons.
How would that quintessence of high ton, the late Lord Chesterfield, blush to behold his successor! who, with much share of humour, and of good humour also, has as little good breeding as any mail I ever met with.
Take an instance.-Lord Bulkley, who is a handsome man, is immensely tall; the major, who is middle-sized, was standing by his chair, in close conference with him— “Why, Bulkley,” cried Lord Chesterfield, “you are just the height sitting that Price is standing.”
Disconcerted a little, they slightly laughed; but Lord Bulkley rose, and they walked off to a greater distance. Lord Chesterfield, looking after them, excl
aimed, “What a walking steeple he is! — why, Bulkley, you ought to cut off your legs to be on a level with society!”
When they were all summoned away, except Mr. Willis, who has never that honour but in private, he lifted up his hands and eyes, and called out, “I shall pity those men when the book comes out! — I would not be in their skins!”
I understood him perfectly, — and answered, truly, that I was never affronted more than a minute with those by whom I could never longer be pleased.
Miss BURNEY IN A NEW CAPACITY.
March 2.- In one of our Windsor excursions at this time, while I was in her majesty’s dressing-room, with only Mr. de Luc present, she suddenly said, “Prepare yourself, Miss Burney, with all your spirits, for to-night you must be reader.”
She then added that she recollected what she had been told by my honoured Mrs. Delany, of my reading- Shakspeare to her, and was desirous that I should read a play to herself and the princesses; and she had lately heard, from Mrs. Schwellenberg, “nobody could do it better, when I would.”
I assured her majesty it was rather when I could, as any reading Mrs. Schwellenberg had heard must wholly have been better or worse according to my spirits, as she had justly seemed to suggest.
The moment coffee was over the Princess Elizabeth came for me. I found her majesty knotting, the princess royal drawing, Princess Augusta spinning, and Lady Courtown I believe in the same employment, but I saw none of them perfectly well.
“Come, Miss Burney,” cried the queen, “ how are your spirits? —
How is your voice?”‘
“She says, ma’am,” cried the kind Princess Elizabeth, “she shall do her best!”
This had been said in attending her royal highness back. I could only confirm it, and that cheerfully-to hide fearfully.
Complete Works of Frances Burney Page 605