That he could not, I said, prescribe at a distance.
I hoped this would be understood, and said no more. The queen looked much perplexed, but made no answer.
MISS BURNEY BREAKS THE MATTER TO THE QUEEN.
The next morning I was half dead with real illness, excessive nervousness, and the struggle of what I had to force myself to perform. The queen again was struck with my appearance, which I believe indeed to have been shocking. When I was alone with her, she began upon Mr. Francis with more inquiry. I then tried to articulate that I had something of deep consequence to myself to lay before her majesty; but that I was so unequal in my weakened state to speak it, that I had ventured to commit it to Writing, and entreated Permission to produce it.
She could hardly hear me, yet understood enough to give immediate consent.
I then begged to know if I might present it -myself, or whether I should give it to Mrs. Schwellenberg.
“O, to me! to me!” she cried, with kind eagerness. She added, however, not then; as she was going to breakfast.
This done was already some relief, terrible as was all that remained; but I now knew I must go on, and that all my fears and horrors were powerless to stop me.
This was a Drawing-room day. I saw the king at St. James’s, and he made the most gracious inquiries about my health: so did each of the princesses. I found they were now all aware of its failure. The queen proposed to me to see Dr. Gisburne: the king seconded the proposition. There was no refusing; yet, just now, it was distressing to comply.
The next morning, Friday, when again I was alone with the queen, she named the subject, and told me she would rather I should give the paper to the Schwellenberg, who had been lamenting to her my want of confidence in her, and saying I confided and told everything to the queen. “I answered,” continued her majesty, “that you were always very good; but that, with regard to confiding, you seemed so happy with all your family, and to live so well together, that there was nothing to say.”
I now perceived Mrs. Schwellenberg suspected some dissension at home was the cause of my depression. I was sorry not to deliver my memorial to the Principal person, and yet glad to have it to do where I felt so much less compunction in giving pain.
THE MEMORIAL AND EXPLANATORY NOTE.
I now desired an audience of Mrs. Schwellenberg. With what trembling agitation did I deliver her my paper, requesting her to have the goodness to lay it at the feet of the queen before her majesty left town! We were then to set out for Windsor before twelve o’clock. Mrs. Schwellenberg herself remained in town.
Here let me copy the memorial Most humbly presented to Her Majesty.
“Madam, “With the deepest sense of your Majesty’s goodness and condescension, amounting even to sweetness — to kindness who can wonder I should never have been able to say what I know not how to write — that I find my strength and health unequal to my duty?
“Satisfied that I have regularly been spared and favoured by your Majesty’s humane consideration to the utmost, I could never bring myself to the painful confession of my secret disquietude; but I have long felt creeping upon me a languor, a feebleness, that makes, at times, the most common attendance a degree of capital pain to me, and an exertion that I could scarce have made, but for the revived alacrity with which your Majesty’s constant graciousness has inspired me, and would still, I believe, inspire me, even to my latest hour, while in your Majesty’s immediate presence. I kept this to myself while I thought it might wear away,-or, at least, I only communicated it to obtain some medical advice: but the weakness, though it comes only in fits, has of late so much Increased, that I have hardly known how, many days, to keep myself about — or to rise up in the morning, or to stay up at night.
“At length, however, as my constitution itself seems slowly, yet surely, giving way, my father became alarmed.
“I must not enter, here, upon his mortification and disappointment: the health and preservation of his daughter could alone be more precious to him than your Majesty’s protection.
“With my own feelings upon the subject it would ill become me to detain your Majesty, and the less, as I am fully sensible my place, in point of its real business, may easily he far better supplied; — In point of sincere devotion to your majesty, I do not so readily yield. I can only, therefore, most humbly entreat that your Majesty will deign to accept from my father and myself the most dutiful acknowledgments for the uniform benignity so graciously shown to me during the whole of my attendance. My father had originally been apprehensive of my inability, with regard to strength, for sustaining any but the indulgence of a domestic life : but your Majesty’s justice and liberality will make every allowance for the flattered feelings of a parent’s heart, which could not endure, untried, to relinquish for his daughter so high an honour as a personal office about your Majesty I dare not, Madam, presume to hope that Your Majesty’s condescension will reach to the smallest degree of concern at parting with me; but permit me, Madam, humbly, earnestly, and fervently, to solicit that I may not be deprived of the mental benevolence of your Majesty, which so thankfully I have experienced, and so gratefully must for ever remember.
That every blessing, every good, may light upon your Majesties here, and await a future and happier period hereafter, will be always amongst the first prayers of,
“Madam, your Majesty’s ever devoted, ever grateful, most attached, and most dutiful subject and servant, “Frances Burney.”
With this, though written so long ago, I only wrote an explanatory note to accompany it, which I will also copy: —
“Madam, “May I yet humbly presume to entreat your Majesty’s patience for a few added lines, to say that the address which I now most respectfully lay at your Majesty’s feet was drawn up two months ago, when first I felt so extreme a weakness as to render the smallest exertion a fatigue? While I waited, however, for firmness to present it, I took the bark, and found myself, for some time, so much amended, that I put it aside, and my father, perceiving me better, lost his anxious uneasiness for my trying a new mode of life. But the good effect has, of late, so wholly failed, that an entire change of air and manner of living are strongly recommended as the best chance for restoring my shattered health. We hold it, therefore, a point of that grateful duty we owe to your Majesty’s goodness and graciousness, to make this melancholy statement at once, rather than to stay till absolute incapacity might disable me from offering one small but sincere tribute of profound respect to your Majesty, — the only one in my power — that of continuing the high honour of attending your Majesty, till your Majesty’s own choice, time, and convenience nominate a successor.”
THE KEEPER OF THE ROBES’ CONSTERNATION.
Mrs. Schwellenberg took the memorial, and promised me her services, but desired to know its contents. I begged vainly to be excused speaking them. She persisted, and I then was compelled to own they contained my resignation.
How aghast she looked! — how inflamed with wrath! — how
Petrified with astonishment! It was truly a dreadful moment to me. She expostulated on such a step, as if it led to destruction : she offered to save me from it, as if the peace of my life depended on averting it and she menaced me with its bad consequences, as it life itself, removed from these walls, would become an evil.
I plainly recapitulated the suffering state in which I had lived for the last three months; the difficulty with which I had waded through even the most common fatigues of the day; the constraint of attendance, however honourable, to an invalid; and the impracticability of pursuing such a life, when thus enfeebled, with the smallest chance of ever recovering the health and strength which it had demolished.
To all this she began a vehement eulogium on the superior happiness and blessing of my lot, while under such a protection; and angrily exhorted me not to forfeit what I could never regain.
I then frankly begged her to forbear SO painful a discussion, and told her that the memorial was from my father as well as myself — th
at I had no right or authority to hesitate in delivering it — that the queen herself was prepared to expect it -and that I had promised my father not to go again to Windsor till it was presented. I entreated her, therefore, to have the goodness to show it at once.
This was unanswerable, and she left me with the paper in her hand, slowly conveying it to its place of destination. just as she was gone, I was called to Dr. Gisburne or, rather, without being called, I found him in my room, as I returned to it.
Think If my mind, now, wanted not medicine the most I told him, however, my corporeal complaints and he ordered me opium and three glasses of wine in the day, and recommended rest to me, and an application to retire to my friends for some weeks, as freedom from anxiety was as necessary to my restoration as freedom from attendance.
LEAVE OF ABSENCE IS SUGGESTED.
During this consultation I was called to Mrs. Schwellenberg. Do you think I breathed as I went along? — No! She received me, nevertheless, with complacency and smiles; she began a laboured panegyric of her own friendly zeal and goodness, and then said she had a proposal to make to me, which she con sidered as the most fortunate turn my affairs could take, and a,, a proof that I should find her the best friend I had in the world. She then premised that she had shown the paper, — that the queen had read it, and said it was very modest, and nothing improper.
Her proposal was, that I should have leave of absence for six weeks, to go about and change the air, to Chelsea, and Norbury Park, and Capitan Phillips, and Mr. Francis, and Mr. Cambrick, which would get me quite well; and, during that time, she would engage Mlle. Montmoulin to perform my office.
I was much disturbed at this; and though rejoiced and relieved to understand that the queen had read my memorial without displeasure, I was grieved to see it was not regarded as final. I only replied I would communicate her plan to my father. Soon after this we set out for Windsor.
Here the first presenting myself before the queen was a task the heaviest, if possible, of any. Yet I was ill enough, heaven knows, to carry the apology of my retreat in my countenance. However, it was a terrible effort. I could hardly enter her room. She spoke at once, and with infinite softness, asking me how I did after my journey? “Not well, indeed,” I simply answered. “But better?” she cried; “are you not a little better?”
I only shook my head; I believe the rest of my frame shook without my aid.
“What! not a little? — not a little bit better?” she cried, in the most soothing voice.
“To-day, ma’am,” I said, “I did indeed not expect to be better.” I then muttered something indistinctly enough, of the pain I had suffered in what I had done: she opened, however, upon another subject immediately, and no more was said upon this. But she was kind, and sweet, and gentle, and all consideration with respect to my attendance.
I wrote the proposal to my poor father, I received by return of post, the most truly tender letter he ever wrote me. He returns thanks for the clemency With which my melancholy memorial has been received, and is truly sensible of the high honour shown me In the new proposition; but he sees my health so impaired, my strength so decayed, my whole frame so nearly demolished, that he apprehends anything short of a permanent resignation, that would ensure lasting rest and recruit, might prove fatal. He quotes a letter from Mr. Francis, containing his opinion that I must even be speedy in my retiring or risk the utmost danger - and he finishes a letter filled with gratitude towards the queen and affection to his daughter, with his decisive opinion that I cannot go on, and his prayers and blessings on my retreat.
The term “speedy,” in Mr. Francis’s opinion, deterred me from producing this letter, as it seemed indelicate and unfair to hurry the queen, after offering her the fullest time. I therefore waited till Mrs. Schwellenberg came to Windsor before I made any report of my answer.
A scene almost horrible ensued, when I told Cerbera the offer was declined. She was too much enraged for disguise, and uttered the most furious expressions of indignant contempt at our proceedings. I am sure she would gladly have confined us both in the Bastille, had England such a misery, as a fit place to bring us to ourselves, from a daring so outrageous against imperial wishes.
(Fanny Burney to Dr. Burney) January, 1791-……I thank heaven, there was much softness in the manner of naming you this morning. I see no ill-will mixed with the reluctance, which much consoles me. I do what is possible to avoid all discussion; I see its danger still so glaring. How could I resist, should the queen condescend to desire, to ask, that I would yet try another year? — and another year would but be uselessly demolishing me; for never could I explain to her that a situation which unavoidably casts all my leisure into the presence of Mrs. Schwellenberg must necessarily be subversive of my health, because incompatible with my peace, my ease, my freedom, my spirits, and my affections.
The queen is probably kept from any suspicion Of the true nature of the case, by the praises of Mrs. Schwellenberg, who, with all her asperity and persecution, is uncommonly partial to my society; because, in order to relieve myself from sullen gloom, or apparent dependency, I generally make my best exertions to appear gay and chatty; for when I can do this, she forbears both rudeness and imperiousness. She then, I have reason to believe, says to the queen, as I know She does to some others, “The Bernan bin reely agribble”; and the queen, not knowing the incitement that forces my elaborate and painful efforts, may suppose I am lively at heart, when she hears I am so in discourse. And there is no developing this without giving the queen the severest embarrassment as well as chagrin I would not turn Informer for the world. Mrs. Schwellenberg too, with all her faults, is heart and soul devoted to her roil mistress, with the truest faith and loyalty. I hold, therefore, silence on this subject to be a sacred duty. To return to you, my dearest padre, is the only road that has open for my return to strength and comfort, bodily and mental. I m inexpressibly grateful to the queen, but I burn to be delivered from Mrs. Schwellenberg, and I pine to be again in the arms of my padre.
A ROYAL GIFT TO THE MASTER OF THE HORSE.
What will you give me, fair ladies, for a copy of verse, written between the Queen of Great Britain and your most small little journalist?
The morning of the ball the queen sent for me, and said she had a fine pair of old-fashioned gloves, white, with stiff tops and a deep gold fringe, which she meant to send to her new master of the horse, Lord Harcourt, who was to be at the dance, She wished to convey them in a copy of verses, of which she had composed three lines, but could not get on. She told me her ideas, and I had the honour to help her in the metre and now I have the honour to copy them from her own royal hand: —
“TO THE EARL OF HARCOURT.
“Go, happy gloves, bedeck Earl Harcourt’s hand,
And let him know they come from fairy-land,
Where ancient customs still retain their reign;
To modernize them all attempts were vain.
Go, cries Queen Mab, some noble owner seek,
Who has a proper taste for the antique.”
Now, no criticising, fair ladies!-the assistant was neither allowed a pen nor a moment, but called upon to help finish, as she might have been to hand a fan. The earl, you may suppose, was sufficiently enchanted.
CONFERENCES WITH THE QUEEN.
April.-In the course of this month I had two conferences with my royal mistress upon my resignation, in which I spoke with all possible openness upon its necessity. She condescended to speak very honourably of my dear father to me, — and, in a long discourse upon my altered health with Mrs. de
Luc, she still further condescended to speak most graciously of his daughter, saying in particular, these strong words, in answer to something kind uttered by that good friend in my favour. “O, as to character, she is what we call in German ‘true as gold’ and, in point of heart, there is not, all the world over, one better” — and added something further upon sincerity very forcibly. This makes me very happy.
She deigned, also, in one
of these conferences, to consult with me openly upon my successor, stating her difficulties, and making me enumerate various requisites. It would be dangerous, she said, to build upon meeting in England with one who would be discreet in point of keeping off friends and acquaintances from frequenting the palace; and she graciously implied much commendation of my discretion, in her statement of what she feared from a new person.
May.-As no notice whatever was taken, all this time, of my successor, or my retirement, after very great harass of suspense, and sundry attempts to conquer it, I had at length again a conference with my royal mistress. She was evidently displeased at again being called upon, but I took the courage to openly remind her that the birthday was her majesty’s own time, and that my father conceived it to be the period of my attendance by her especial appointment. And this was a truth which flashed its own conviction on her recollection. She paused, and then, assentingly, said, “Certainly.” I then added, that as, after the birthday, their majesties went to Windsor, and the early prayers began immediately, I must needs confess I felt myself wholly unequal to encountering the fatigue of rising for them in my present weakened state. She was now very gracious again, conscious all this was fair and true. She told me her own embarrassments concerning the successor, spoke confidentially of her reasons for not engaging an Englishwoman, and acknowledged a person was fixed upon, though something yet remained unarranged. She gave me, however, to understand that all would be expedited: and foreign letters were despatched, I know, immediately.
MISS BURNEY DETERMINES ON SECLUSION.
>From Sunday, May 15 to May 22.-The trial of the poor persecuted Mr. Hastings being now again debating and arranging for continuance, all our house, I found, expected me now to come forth, and my royal mistress and Mrs. Schwellenberg thought I should find it irresistible. indeed it nearly was so, from my anxious interest in the approaching defence; but when I considered the rumours likely to be raised after my retreat, by those terrifying watchers of Court transactions who inform the public of their conjectures, I dreaded the probable assertion that I must needs be disgusted or discontented, for health could not be the true motive of my resignation, since I was in public just before it took place. I feared, too, that even those who promoted the enterprise might reproach me with my ability to do what I wished. These considerations determined me to run no voluntary risks - especially as I should so ill know how to parry Mr. Windham, should he now attack me upon a subject concerning which he merits thanks so nobly, that I am satisfied my next interview with him must draw them forth from me. Justice, satisfaction in his exertions, and gratitude for their spirited willingness, all call upon me to give him that poor return. The danger of it, however, now, is too great to be tried, if avoidable : and I had far rather avoid seeing him, than either gratify myself by expressing my sense of his kindness, or unjustly withhold from him what I think of it.
Complete Works of Frances Burney Page 610