He looked round the room with amaze at first, and soon after with consternation. It was so unfurnished, so miserable, so lighted with only one small bit of a candle, that it occurred to him he was in a maison de force(17) ‘- thither conveyed in his sleep. The stillness of everything confirmed this dreadful idea. He arose, slipped on his clothes, and listened at the door. He heard no sound. He was scarce, yet, I suppose, quite awake, for he took the candle, and determined to make an attempt to escape.
Down-stairs he crept, neither hearing nor making any noise and he found himself in a kitchen ‘ he looked round, and the brightness of a shelf of pewter plates struck his eye under them were pots and kettles shining and polished. “Ah! “? cried he to himself, “je suis en Angleterre.”(18) The recollection came all at once at sight of a cleanliness which, in these articles, he says, is never met with in France.
He did not escape too soon, for his first cousin, the good Duc de la Rochefoucault, another of the first rvolutionnaires, was massacred the next month.(19) The character he has given of this murdered relation is the most affecting, in praise and virtues, that can possibly be heard. k Sarah has heard him till she could not keep the tears from her eyes. They had been lves(20) together, and loved each other as the tenderest brothers.
MADAME DE GENLIS’S HASTY RETREAT.
You will all be as sorry as I was myself to hear that every ill story of la Comtesse de Genlis was confirmed by the duke She was resident at Bury, when he arrived, with Mlle. Egalit, Pamela, Henrietta Circe, and several others, who appeared in various ways, as artists, gentlemen, domestics, and equals, on various occasions. The history of their way of life is extraordinary, and not very comprehensible, probably owing to the many necessary difficulties which the new ‘system of equality produces.(21)
A lady of Bury, a sister of Sir Thomas Gage, had been very much caught by Madame Brulard,(22) who had almost lived at the house of Sir Thomas. Upon the arrival of the duke he was invited to Sir Thomas Gage’s immediately; and Miss G, calling upon Madame Brulard, mentioned him, and asked if she knew him? — No, she answered; but she had seen him. This was innocently repeated to the duke, who then, in a transport of rage, broke out with “Elle M’a vu!(23) and is that all? — Does she forget that she has spoke to me? that she has heard me too? “ And then he related, that when all was wearing the menacing aspect of anarchy, before it broke out, and before he was ordered to his regiment at Rouen, he had desired an audience of Madame Brulard, for the first time, having been always a friend of Madame d’Orlans, and consequently her enemy. She was unwilling to see him, but he would not be refused. He then told her that France was upon the point of ruin, and that the Duc d’Orlans, who had been its destruction, and “the disgrace of the Revolution,” could alone now prevent the impending havoc. He charged her therefore, forcibly and peremptorily, to take in charge a change of measures, and left her with an exhortation which he then flattered himself would have some chance of averting the coming dangers. But quickly -after she quitted France voluntarily, and settled in England. “And can she have forgot all this?” cried he.
I know not if this was repeated to Madame de Brulard but certain it is she quitted Bury with the utmost expedition, She did not even wait to pay her debts, and left the poor Henrietta Circe behind, as a sort of hostage, to prevent alarm. The creditors, however, finding her actually gone, entered the house, and poor Henrietta was terrified into hysterics. Probably she knew not but they were jacobins, or would act upon jacobin principles. Madame Brulard then sent for her, and remitted money, and proclaimed her intention of returning to Suffolk no more.
A NOBLEMAN OF THE ANCIEN RGIEM.
The duke accepted the invitation for to-day, and came early, on horseback. He had just been able to get over some two or three of his horses from France. He has since, I hear, been forced to sell them.
Mrs. Young was not able to appear; Mr. Young came to my room door to beg I would waste no time; Sarah and I, therefore, proceeded to the drawing-room. The duke was playing with a favourite dog-the thing probably the most dear to him in England; for it was just brought him over by his faithful groom, whom he had sent back upon business to his son.
He is very tall, and, were his figure less, would be too fat, but all is in proportion. His face, which is very handsome, though not critically so, has rather a haughty expression when left to itself, but becomes soft and spirited in turn, according to whom he speaks, and has great play and variety. His deportment is quite noble, and in a style to announce conscious rank even to the most sedulous equaliser. His carriage is peculiarly upright, and his person uncommonly well made. His manners are such as only admit of comparison with what We have read, not what we have seen; for he has all the air of a man who would wish to lord over men, but to cast himself at the feet of women.
He was in mourning for his barbarously murdered cousin the Duc de la Rochefoucault. His first address was of the highest style. I shall not attempt to recollect his words, but they were most elegantly expressive of his satisfaction in a meeting he had long, he said, desired.
With Sarah he then shook hands. She had been his interpretess here on his arrival, and he seems to have conceived a real kindness for her; an honour of which she is extremely sensible, and with reason.
A little general talk ensued, and he made a point of curing Sarah of being afraid of his dog. He made no secret of thinking it affectation, and never rested till he had conquered it completely. I saw here, in the midst of all that at first so powerfully struck me of dignity, importance, and high-breeding, a true French Polisson; for he called the dog round her, made it jump on her shoulder, and amused himself as, in England, only a schoolboy or a professed fox-hunter would have dreamt of doing.
This, however, recovered me to a little ease, which his compliment had rather overset. Mr. Young hung back, nearly quite silent. Sarah was quiet when reconciled to the dog, or, rather, subdued by the duke; and then, when I thought it completely out of his head, he tranquilly drew a chair next mine, and began a sort of separate conversation, which he suffered nothing to interrupt till we were summoned to dinner.
His subject was ‘Cecilia;’ and he seemed not to have the smallest idea I could object to discussing it, any more than if it had been the work of another person. I answered all his demands and interrogatories with a degree of openness I have never answered any other upon this topic; but the least hope of beguiling the misery of an migr tames me.
Mr. Young listened with amaze, and all his ears, to the many particulars and elucidations which the duke drew from me; he repeatedly called out he had heard nothing of them before, and rejoiced he was at least present when they were communicated.
This proved, at length, an explanation to the duke himself, that, the moment he understood, made him draw back, saying, “Peut-tre que je suis indiscret?”(24) However, he soon returned to the charge - and when Mr. Young made any more exclamations, he heeded them not: he smiled, indeed, when Sarah also affirmed he had procured accounts she had never heard before; but he has all the air of a man not new to any mark of more than common favour. At length we were called to dinner, during which he spoke of general things.
DUCAL VIVACITY AND SADNESS.
The French of Mr. Young, at table, was very comic; he never hesitates for a word, but puts English wherever he is at a loss, with a mock French pronunciation. “Monsieur Duc,” as he calls him, laughed once or twice, but clapped him on the back, called him “un brave homme,” and gave him instruction as well as encouragement in all his blunders.
When the servants were gone, the duke asked me if anybody might write a letter to the king? I fancy he had some per sonal idea of this kind. I told him yes, but through the hands of a lord of the bedchamber, or some state officer, or a minister. He seemed pensive, but said no more.
He inquired, however, if I had not read to the queen and seemed to wish to understand my office; but here he was far more circumspect than about ‘Cecilia.’ He has lived so much in a Court, that he knew exactly ho
w far he might inquire with the most scrupulous punctilio.
I found, however, he had imbibed the jacobin notion that our beloved king was still disordered; for, after some talk upon his illness, and very grave and proper expressions concerning the affliction and terror it produced in the kingdom, he looked at me very fixedly,, and, with an arching brow, said, “Mais, mademoiselle — aprs tout — le roi — est il bien guri?”(25)
I gave him such assurances as he could not doubt, from their simplicity, which resulted from their truth.
Mr. Young would hardly let Sarah and me retreat; however, we promised to meet soon to coffee. I went away full of concern for his injuries, and fuller of amazement at the vivacity with which he bore them.
When at last we met in the drawing-room, I found the duc all altered. Mr. Young had been forced away by business, and was but just returned, and he had therefore been left a few minutes by himself; the effect was visible, and extremely touching. Recollections and sorrow had retaken possession of his mind; and his spirit, his vivacity, his power of rallying were all at an end. He was strolling about the room with an air the most gloomy, and a face that looked enveloped in clouds of sadness and moroseness. There was a fiert almost even fierce in his air and look, as, wrapped in himself, he continued his walk. I felt now an increasing compassion: — what must he not suffer when he ceases to fight with his calamities! Not to disturb him we talked with one another; but he soon shook himself and joined us; though he could not bear to sit down, or stand a moment in a place.
“CETTE COQUINE DE BRULARD.”
Sarah spoke of Madame Brulard, and, in a little malice, to draw him out, said her sister knew her very well. The duc with eyes of fire at the sound, came up to me: “Comment, mademoiselle! vous avez connu cette coquine de Brulard?”(26) And then he asked me what I had thought of her.
I frankly answered that I had thought her charming; gay, intelligent, well-bred, well-informed, and amiable.
He instantly drew back, as if sorry he had named her so roughly, and looked at Sally for thus surprising him; but I immediately continued that I could now no longer think the same of her, as I could no longer esteem her; but I confessed my surprise had been inexpressible at her duplicity.
‘He allowed that, some years ago, she might have a better chance than now of captivation - for the deeper she had immersed in politics, the more she had forfeited of feminine attraction. “Ah!” he cried, “ with her talents-her knowledge-her parts-had she been modest, reserved, gentle, what a blessing might she have proved to her country! but she is devoted to intrigue and cabal, and proves its curse.” He then spoke with great asperity against all the femmes de lettres now known; he said they were commonly the most disgusting of their sex, in France, by their arrogance, boldness, and mauvais moeurs.
GRACEFUL OFFERS OF HOSPITALITY.
I inquired if Mr. Young had shown him a letter from the Duke of Grafton, which he had let me read in the morning. It was to desire Mr. Young would acquaint him if the Duc de Liancourt was still in Bury, and, if so, to wait upon him, in the Duke of Grafton’s name, to solicit him to make Euston his abode while in England, and to tell him that he should have his apartments wholly unmolested, and his time wholly unbroken; that he was sensible, in such a situation of mind, he must covet much quiet and freedom from interruption and impertinence; and he therefore promised that, if he would honour his house with his residence, it should be upon the same terms as if he were in an hotel-that he would never know if he were at home or abroad, or even in town or in the country - and he hoped the Duc de Liancourt would make no more scruple of accepting such an asylum and retreat at his house than he would himself have done of accepting a similar one from the duke in France, if the misfortunes of his own country had driven him to exile.
I was quite in love with the Duke of Grafton for this kindness. The Duc de Liancourt bowed to my question, and seemed much gratified with the invitation; but I see he cannot brook obligation; he would rather live in a garret, and call it his own. He told me, however, with an air of some little pleasure, that he had received just such another letter from Lord Sheffield. I believe both these noblemen had been entertained at Liancourt some years ago.
I inquired after Madame la duchesse, and I had the satisfaction to hear she was safe in Switzerland. The duke told me she had purchased an estate there.
He inquired very particularly after your juniper colony, and M. de Narbonne, but said he most wished to meet with M. d’Arblay, who was a friend and favourite of his eldest son.
THE EMIGRANTS AT JUNIPER HALL DESCRIBED.
[It is hoped that some pages from Mrs. Phillips’s journalizing letters to her sister, written at this period, may not be unacceptable , since they give particulars concerning several distinguished actors and sufferers in the French Revolution, and also contain the earliest description of M. d’Arblay.(27))
(Mrs. Philips to Fanny Burney.)
Mickleham, November, 1792.
It gratifies me very much that I have been able to interest you
for our amiable and charming neighbours.
Mrs. Locke had been so kind as to pave the way for my introduction to Madame de la Chtre, and carried me on Friday to juniper Hall, where we found M. de Montmorency, a ci-devant duc,(28) and one who gave some of the first great examples of sacrificing personal interest to what was then considered the public good. I know not whether you will like him the better when I tell you that from him proceeded the motion for the abolition of titles in France; but if you do not, let me, in his excuse, tell you he was scarcely one-and- twenty when an enthusiastic spirit impelled him to this, I believe, ill-judged and mischievous act. My curiosity was greatest to see M. de Jaucourt, because I remembered many lively and spirited speeches made by him during the time of the Assemble Lgislalive, and that he was a warm defender of my favourite hero, M. Lafayette.
Of M. de Narbonne’s abilities we could have no doubt from his speeches and letters whilst ministre de la guerre, which post he did not quit till last May.(29) By his own desire, he then joined Lafayette’s army, and acted under him; but on the 10th of August, he was involved, with perhaps nearly all the most honourable and worthy of the French nobility, accused as a traitor by the jacobins, and obliged to fly from his country M. d’Argenson was already returned to France, and Madame de Broglie had set out the same day, November 2nd, hoping to escape the decree against the emigrants.(30)
Madame de la Chtre received us with great politeness. She is about thirty-three; an elegant figure, not pretty, but with an animated and expressive countenance; very well read, pleine d’esprit, and, I think, very lively and charming.
A gentleman was with her whom Mrs. Locke had not yet seen, M. d’Arblay. She introduced him, and when he had quitted the room, told us he was adjutant-general to M. Lafayette, marchal de camp, and in short the first in military rank of those who had accompanied that general when he so unfortunately fell into the hands of the Prussians; but, not having been one of the Assemble Constituante, he was allowed, with four others, to proceed into Holland, and there M. de Narbonne wrote to him. “Et comme il l’aime infiniment,” said Madame de la Chàtre, “il l’a pri de venir vivre avec lui.”(31
He had arrived only two days before. He is tall, and a good figure, with an open and manly countenance; about forty, I imagine.
It was past twelve. However, Madame de la Chàtre owned she had not breakfasted — ces messieurs were not yet ready. A little man, who looked very triste indeed, in an old- fashioned suit of clothes, with long flaps to a waistcoat embroidered in silks no longer very brilliant, sat in a corner of the room. I could not imagine who he was, but when he spoke was immediately convinced he was no Frenchman. I afterwards heard he had been engaged by M. de Narbonne for a year, to teach him and all the party English. He had had a place in some college in France at the beginning of the Revolution, but was now driven out and destitute. His name is Clarke. He speaks English with an accent tant soit Peu Scotch.
Madame de la Chàtre,
with great franchise entered into details of her situation and embarrassment, whether she might venture, like Madame de Broglie, to go over to France, in which case she was dans le cas oû elle pouvoit toucher sa fortune(32) immediately. She said she could then settle in England, and settle comfortably. M. de la Chàtre, it seems, previous to his joining the king’s brothers, had settled upon her her whole fortune. She and all her family were great favourers of the original Revolution and even at this moment she declares herself unable to wish the restoration of the old rgime, with its tyranny and corruptions — persecuted and ruined as she and thousands more have been by the unhappy consequences of the Revolution,
M. de Narbonne now came in. He seems forty, rather fat, but would be handsome were it not for a slight cast of one eye. He was this morning in great spirits. Poor man! It was the only time I have ever seen him so. He came up very courteously to me, and begged leave de me faire Sa Cour(33) at Mickleham, to which I graciously assented.
Then came M. de jaucourt, whom I instantly knew by Mr. Locke’s description. He is far from handsome, but has a very intelligent countenance, fine teeth, and expressive eyes. I scarce heard a word from him, but liked his appearance exceedingly, and not the less for perceiving his respectful and affectionate manner of attending to Mr. Locke but when Mr. Locke reminded us that Madame de la Chàtre had not breakfasted, we took leave, after spending an hour in a manners so pleasant and so interesting that it scarcely appeared ten minutes.
Complete Works of Frances Burney Page 622