Colonel Goldsworthy came instantly. I told him I could not think of leaving Windsor without offering first my good wishes to all the household. He said that, when my intended departure had been published, he and all the gentlemen then with him had declared it ought to have taken place six months ago. He was extremely courteous, and I begged him to bring to me, the rest of his companions that were known to me.
He immediately fetched Colonel Gwynn, General Grenville, Colonel Ramsden, and Colonel Manners. This was the then party. I told him I sent to beg their blessing upon my departure. They were all much pleased, apparently, that I had not made my exit without seeing them: they all agreed on the Urgency of the measure, and we exchanged good wishes most cordially.
My Wednesday morning’s attendance upon the queen was a melancholy office. Miss Goldsworthy as well as Miss Gomme came early to take another farewell. I had not time to make any visits in the town, but left commissions with Mrs. de Luc and Madame de la Fite. Even Lady Charlotte Finch I could not Call upon, though she had made me many kind visits since my illness. I wrote to her, however, by Miss Gomme, to thank her, and bid her adieu.
FAREWELL TO KEW.
Thursday, July 7.-This, my last day of office, was big and busy,- -joyful, yet affecting to me in a high degree.
In the morning, before I left Kew, I had my last interview with Mrs. Schwellenberg. She was very kind in it, desiring to see me whenever I could in town, during her residence at the Queen’s house, and to hear from me by letter meanwhile. She then much Surprised me by an offer of succeeding to her own place, — when it was vacated either by her retiring or her death. This was, indeed, a mark of favour and confidence I had not expected. I declined, however, to enter upon the subject, as the manner in which she opened it made it very solemn, and, to her, very affecting. She would take no leave of me, but wished me better hastily, and saying we should soon meet, she hurried suddenly out of the room. Poor woman! If her temper were not so irascible, I really believe her heart would be by no means wanting in kindness.
I then took leave of Mrs. Sandys, giving her a token of remembrance in return for her constant good behaviour, and she showed marks of regard, and of even grief, I was sorry to receive, as I could so little return.
But the tragedy of tragedies was parting with Goter;(345) that poor girl did nothing but cry incessantly from the time she knew of our separation. I was very sorry to have no place to recommend her to, though I believe she may rather benefit by a vacation that carries her to her excellent father and Mother, who teach her nothing but good. I did what I could to soften the blow, by every exertion in my power in all ways; for it was impossible to be unmoved at her violence of sorrow.
I then took leave of Kew Palace — the same party again accompanying me, for the last time, in a royal vehicle going by the name of Miss Burney’s coach.
THE FINAL PARTING.
I come now near the close of my Court career.
At St. James’s all was graciousness; and my royal mistress gave me to understand she would have me stay to assist at her toilet after the Drawing-room; and much delighted me by desiring my attendance on the Thursday fortnight, when she came again to town. This lightened the parting in the pleasantest manner possible. When the queen commanded me to follow her to her closet I was, indeed, in much emotion; but I told her that, as what had passed from Mrs. Schwellenberg in the morning had given me to understand her majesty was fixed in her munificent intention, notwithstanding- what I had most unaffectedly urged against it —
“Certainly,” she interrupted, “I shall certainly do it.”
“Yet so little,” I continued, “had I thought it right to dwell upon such an expectation, that, in the belief your majesty would yet take it into further consideration, I had not even written It to my father.”
“Your father,” she again interrupted me, “has nothing to do with it; it is solely from me to you.”
“Let me then humbly entreat,” I cried, “still in some measure to be considered as a servant of your majesty, either as reader, or to assist occasionally if Mlle. Jacobi should be ill.”
She looked most graciously pleased, and Immediately closed in with the proposal, saying, “When your health is restored, — perhaps sometimes. I then fervently poured forth my thanks for all her goodness, and my prayers for her felicity.
She had her handkerchief in her hand or at her eyes the whole time. I was so much moved by her condescending kindness, that as soon as I got out of the closet I nearly sobbed. I went to help Mlle. Jacobi to put up the jewels, that my emotion might the less be observed. The king then came into the room. He immediately advanced to the window, where I stood, to speak to me. I was not then able to comport myself steadily. I was forced to turn my head away from him. He stood still and silent for some minutes, waiting to see if I should turn about; but I could not recover myself sufficiently to face him, strange as it was to do otherwise; and Perceiving me quite overcome he walked away, and I saw him no more. His kindness, his goodness, his benignity, never shall I forget — never think of but with fresh gratitude and reverential affection.
They were now all going — I took, for the last time, the cloak of the queen, and, putting It over her shoulders, slightly ventured to press them, earnestly, though in a low voice, saying, “God Almighty bless your majesty!”
She turned round, and, putting her hand upon my ungloved arm, pressed it with the greatest kindness, and said, “May you be happy!”
She left me overwhelmed with tender gratitude.
The three eldest princesses were in the next room: they ran in to me the moment the queen went onward. Princess Augusta and Princess Elizabeth each took a hand, and the princess royal put hers over them. I could speak to none of them; but they repeated, “I wish you happy! — I wish you health!” again and again, with the Sweetest eagerness.
They then set off for Kew.
Here, therefore, end my Court annals; after having lived in the service of her majesty five years within ten days — from July 17, 1786, to July 7, 1791.
(333) By her “Visions” Fanny apparently means her desire of resigning her place at Court, and her hope of her father’s concurrence.-ED.
(334) i.e., Attempts to induce him to procure for sundry strangers some acquaintance with his daughter.-ED.
(335) The Comtesse de Bouflers-Rouvrel and, probably, her daughter-in-law, the Comtesse Amélie de Bouflers. Madame de Bouflers-Rouvrel was distinguished in Parisian society as a bel-esbrit, and corresponded for many years with Rousseau. Left a widow in 1764, she became the mistress of the Prince de Conti. Her first visit to England was in 1763, when she was taken by Topham Beauclerk to see Dr. Johnson. She revisited this country at the time of the emigration, but returning to France, was imprisoned by the Revolutionists. The fall of Robespierre (July, 1794) restored her to liberty. Am6lie de Bouflers, less fortunate than her mother-in-law, perished by the guillotine, June 27, 1794.-ED.
(336) But is it possible, sir, that your daughter has no holidays?
(337) Burke’s speech, delivered February 9, in a debate on the army estimates, in which he took occasion to denounce, with great vehemence, the principles and conduct of the French Revolution, which he contrasted, much to its disadvantage, with the English Revolution of 1688. “The French,” he said, “had shown themselves the ablest architects of ruin that had hitherto appeared in the world.” The sentiments uttered by Burke on this occasion delighted the ministerialists and friends of the Court as much as they dismayed his own party. As the debate proceeded he found himself in the strange position of a chief of opposition enduring the compliments of the prime minister and the attacks of Fox and Sheridan, who took a broader and juster view of the great events in France, though condemning equally with Burke the Excesses of the Revolutionists. Fox declared His grief at hearing, “from the lips of a man whom he loved and revered,” Sentiments “so hostile to the general principles of liberty.” This speech of Burke’s may be said to mark the commencement of that disagreement
between himself and Fox, which culminated in the total breach of their friendship.-ED.
(338) Dr. Burney was a member of this famous club, having been elected in 1784. Mr. Windham had been a member since 1778.-ED.
(339) “Reflections on the Revolution in France,” published November 1, 1790. it was received by the public with avidity, and went through eleven editions within a year-ED.
(340) An allusion to the imperious interruption of the marriage of Cecilia, and young Delvile. See “Cecilia,” book vii., ch. 7.-ED.
(341) Some weeks later Fanny has the following allusion to the ball: “The Princess Mary chatted with me over her own adventures on the queen’s birthday, when she first appeared at Court. The history of her dancing at the ball, and the situation of her partner and brother, the Duke of Clarence, she spoke of with a sweet ingenuousness and artless openness which makes her very amiable character. And not a little did I divert her when I related the duke’s visit to our party! ‘O,’ cried she, ‘he told me of it himself the next morning, and said, “You may think how far I was gone, for I kissed the Schwellenberg’s hand!”’“-ED.
(342) “On the evening of Saturday May 15 [1784), he [Dr. Johnson] was in fine spirits at our Essex Head Club. He told us, ‘I dined yesterday at Patrick’s with Mrs. Carter, Miss Hannah More, and Fanny Burney. Three such women are not to be found: I know not where I could find a fourth, except Mrs. Lennox, who is superior to them all.’ “ (Boswell.) This “occasional sally” cannot, of course, be taken as expressing Johnson’s deliberate opinion of the relative merits of Fanny Burney and Mrs. Lenox. He was an old friend of Charlotte Lenox, and had written in 1752 the dedication for her “Female Quixote,” a novel of singular charm and humour, though scarcely to be placed on a par with “Evelina” or “Cecilia.”-ED.
(343) Fanny’s successor in office.-ED.
344) The old servant of Mrs. Delany.-ED.
(345) Fanny’s maid.-ED. ‘
SECTION 18. (1791-2.)
REGAINED LIBERTY.
[Fanny’s rambling journey to the west with Mrs. Ord was a pleasant restorative, to mind and body, and bore good fruit hereafter in the pages, of “ The Wanderer.” At Bath, in the course of this journey, she formed an acquaintance equally interesting and unlooked-for. It was certainly singular, to use her own words, “that the first visit I should make after leaving the queen should be to meet the head of the opposition public, the Duchess of Devonshire!” The famous Whig duchess was then in her thirty-fifth year. Fanny’s description of her personal charms tallies exactly with the impression which we derive from her portraits by Reynolds and Gainsborough: that their celebrity was due rather to expressiveness and animation than to a countenance regularly beautiful. But the charming duchess, like most other people, had a skeleton in her closet. Notwithstanding her high spirits, and “native. cheerfulness,” “she appeared to me not happy,” writes our penetrating Diarist. What was the skeleton? Not gambling debts, although the duchess followed the fashion of the day, and Sheridan declared that he had handed her into her carriage when she was literally sobbing at her losses. Fanny gives us a hint, slight but unmistakeable. At their first meeting the duchess was accompanied by another lady — a beautiful, alluring woman, with keen dark eyes, who smiled, some one said, “like Circe.” Lady Spencer introduced her daughter to Miss Burney with warm pleasure, and then, “slightly and as if unavoidably,” named the beautiful enchantress — Lady Elizabeth Foster. It is only necessary to add that in 1809, some three years after the death of his first wife, the Duchess Georgiana, the Duke of Devonshire married again, and his second wife was Lady Elizabeth Foster.-ED. RELEASED FROM DUTY.
Chelsea College, July.-My dear father was waiting for me in my apartment at St. James’s when their majesties and their fair royal daughters were gone. He brought me home, and welcomed me most sweetly. My heart was a little sad, in spite of its contentment. My joy in quitting my place extended not to quitting the king and queen; and the final marks of their benign favour had deeply impressed me. My mother received me according to my wishes, and Sarah Most cordially.
My dear James and Charles speedily came to see me; and one precious half-day I was indulged with my kind Mr. Locke and his Fredy. If i had been stouter and stronger in health, I should then have been almost flightily happy; but the Weakness of the frame still kept the rest in order. My ever-kind Miss Cambridge was also amongst the foremost to hasten with congratulations on my return to my old ways and to make me promise to visit Twickenham after my projected tour with Mrs. Ord.
I could myself undertake no visiting at this time; rest and quiet being quite essential to my recovery. But my father did the honours for me amongst those who had been most interested in my resignation. He called instantly upon Sir Joshua Reynolds and Miss Palmer, and Mr. Burke; and he wrote to Mr. Walpole, Mr. Seward, Mrs. Crewe, Mr. Windham, and my Worcester uncle. Mr. Walpole wrote the most charming of answers, In the gallantry of the old Court, and with all its wit, concluding with a warm invitation to Strawberry Hill. Sir Joshua and Miss Palmer Sent me every species of kind exultation. Mr. Burke was not in town. Mr. Seward wrote very heartily and cordially, and came also when my Susanna was here. Mrs. Crewe immediately pressed me to come and recruit at Crewe Hall in Cheshire, where she promised me repose, and good air, and good society.
A WESTERN JOURNEY: FARNHAM CASTLE.
Sidmouth, Devonshire, Monday, Aug. 1.-I have now been a week out upon my travels, but have not had the means or the time, till this moment, to attempt their brief recital Mrs. Ord called for me about ten in the morning. I left my dearest father with the less regret, as his own journey to Mrs. crewe was very soon to take place. It was a terribly rainy morning, but I was eager not to postpone the excursion. As we travelled on towards Staines, I could scarcely divest myself of the idea that I was but making again my usual journey to Windsor; and I could with difficulty forbear calling Mrs. Ord Miss Planta during the whole of that well-known road. I did not, indeed, take her maid, who was our third in the coach, for Mr. de Luc, or Mr. Turbulent; but the place she occupied made me think much more of those I so long had had for my vis-`a-vis than of herself.
We went on no farther than to Bagshot: thirty miles was the extremity of our powers; but I bore them very tolerably, though variably. We put up at the best inn, very early, and then inquired what we could see In the town and neighbourhood. “Nothing!” was the concise answer of a staring maid. We determined, therefore, to prowl to the churchyard, and read the tombstone inscriptions: but when we asked the way, the same woman, staring still more wonderingly, exclaimed, “Church! There’s no church nigh here! — There’s the Prince Of Wales’S, just past the turning. You may go and see that, if you will.”
So on we walked towards this hunting Villa: but after toiling up a long unweeded avenue, we had no sooner opened the gate to the parks than a few score of dogs, which were lying in ambush, Set Up so prodigious a variety of magnificent barkings, springing forward at the same time, that, content with having caught a brief view of the seat, we left them to lord it over the domain they regarded as their own, and, with all due Submission, pretty hastily shut the gate, without troubling them to give us another salute. We returned to the inn, and read B— ‘s “Lives of the Family of the Boyles.”
Aug. 2.-We proceeded to Farnham to breakfast, and thence walked to the castle. The Bishop of Winchester, Mrs. North. and the whole family are gone abroad. The castle is a good old building, with as much of modern elegance and fashion intermixed in its alterations and fitting up as Mrs. North could possibly contrive to weave into its ancient grandeur. . . . I wished I could have climbed to the top of an old tower, much out of repair, but so high, that I fancied I could thence have espied the hills of Norrbury. However, I was ready to fall already, from only ascending the slope to reach the castle A PARTY OF FRENCH FUGITIVES.
We arrived early at Winchester; but the town was so full, as the judges were expected next morning, that we could only get one bed-chamber, in which Mrs. Ord, her maid
, and myself reposed. just after we had been obliged to content ourselves with this scanty accommodation, we saw a very handsome coach and four horses, followed by a chaise and outriders, stop at the gate, and heard the mistress of the house declare she- could not receive the company; and the postilions, at the same time, protested the horses could go no farther. They inquired for fresh horses; there were none to be had in the whole city; and the party were all forced to remain in their carriages, without horses, at the inn-gate, for the chance of what might pass on the road. We asked who they were, and our pity was doubled in finding them foreigners.
We strolled about the upper part of the city, leaving the cathedral for the next morning. We saw a large, uniform, handsome palace, which is called by the inhabitants “The king’s house,” and which was begun by Charles II. We did not, therefore, expect the elegant architecture of his father’s days. One part, they particularly told us, was designed for Nell Gwynn. It was never finished, and neglect has taken place of time in rendering it a most ruined structure, though, as it bears no marks of antiquity, it has rather the appearance of owing its destruction to a fire than to the natural decay of age. It is so spacious, however, and stands so magnificently to overlook the city, that I wish it to be completed for an hospital or infirmary. I have written Mrs. Schwellenberg an account of its appearance and state, which I am sure will be read by her majesty.
When we returned to the Inn, still the poor travellers were in the same situation: they looked so desolate, and could so indifferently make themselves understood, that Mrs. Ord good- naturedly invited them to drink tea with us. They most thankfully accepted the offer, and two ladies and two gentlemen ascended the stairs with us to our dining-room. The chaise had the female servants.
The elder lady was so truly French — so vive and so triste in turn — that she seemed formed from the written character of a Frenchwoman, such, at least, as we English write them. She was very forlorn in her air, and very sorrowful in her counte nance; yet all action and gesture, and of an animation when speaking nearly fiery in its vivacity: neither pretty nor young, but neither ugly nor old; and her smile, which was rare, had a finesse very engaging; while her whole demeanour announced a person Of consequence, and all her discourse told that she was well-informed, well-educated, and well-bred.
Complete Works of Frances Burney Page 613