THE SEARCH FOR MR. FAIRLY.
Jan. 30.—To-day my poor royal mistress received the address of the Lords and Commons, of condolence, etc., upon his majesty’s illness. What a painful, but necessary ceremony! It was most properly presented by but few members, and those almost all chosen from the household: a great propriety.
Not long after came Mr. Fairly, looking harassed. “May I,” he cried, “come in?—and-for an hour? Can you allow me entrance and room for that time?”
Much Surprised, for already it was three o’clock, I assented: he then told me he had something to copy for her majesty, which was of the highest importance, and said he could find no quiet room in the house but mine for such a business. I gave him every accommodation in my power. When he had written a few lines, he asked if I was very busy, or could help him? Most readily I offered my services, and then I read to him the original, sentence by sentence, to facilitate his copying; receiving his assurances of my “great assistance” every two lines. In the midst of this occupation, a tap at my door made me precipitately put down the paper to receive-lady Charlotte Finch!
“Can you,” she cried, “have the goodness to tell me any thing of Mr. Fairly?”
The screen had hidden him; but, gently,—though, I believe ill enough pleased,—he called out himself, “Here is Mr. Fairly.”
She flew up to him, crying, “O, Mr. Fairly, what a search has there been for you, by the queen’s orders! She has wanted you extremely, and no one knew where to find you. They have been to the waiting-room, to the equerries’, all over the garden, to the prince’s house, in your own room, and could find you nowhere, and at last they thought you were gone back to town.”
He calmly answered, while he still wrote on, he was sorry they had had so much trouble, for he had only been executing her majesty’s commands.
She then hesitated a little, almost to stammering, in adding “So—at last—I said—that perhaps—you might be here!”
He now raised his head from the paper, and bowing it towards me, “Yes,” he cried, “Miss Burney is so good as to give me leave, and there is no other room in the house in Which I can be at rest.”
“So I told her majesty,” answered Lady Charlotte, “though she said she was sure you could not be here; but I said there was really no room of quiet here for any business, and so then I came to see.”
“Miss Burney,” he rejoined, “has the goodness also to help me—she has taken the trouble to read as I go on, which forwards me very much.”
Lady Charlotte stared, and I felt sorry at this confession of a confidence she could not but think too much, and I believe he half repented it, for he added, “This, however, you need not perhaps mention, though I know where I trust!”
He proceeded again with his writing, and she then recollected her errand. She told him that what he was copying was to be carried to town by Lord Aylesbury, but the queen desired to see it first. She then returned to her majesty.
She soon, however, returned again. She brought the queen’s seal, and leave that he might make up the packet, and give it to Lord Aylesbury, without showing it first to her majesty, who was just gone to dinner. With her customary good-humour and good-breeding, she then chatted with me some time, and again departed.
We then went to work with all our might, reading and copying. The original was extremely curious—I am sorry I must make it equally secret.
Miss BURNEY’s ALARM ON BEING CHASED BY THE KING. Kew Palace, Monday, Feb. 2.—What an adventure had I this morning! one that has occasioned me the severest personal terror I ever experienced in my life.
Sir Lucas Pepys still persisting that exercise and air were absolutely necessary to save me from illness, I have continued my walks, varying my gardens from Richmond to Kew, according to the accounts I received of the movements of the king. For this I had her majesty’s permission, on the representation of Sir Lucas. This morning, when I received my intelligence of the king from Dr. John Willis, I begged to know where I might walk in safety? “In Kew gardens,” he said, “as the king would be in Richmond.”
“Should any unfortunate circumstance,” I cried, “at any time, occasion my being seen by his majesty, do not mention my name, but let me run off without call or notice.” This he promised. Everybody, indeed, is ordered to keep out of sight. Taking, therefore, the time I had most at command, I strolled into the gardens. I had proceeded, in my quick way, nearly half the round, when I suddenly perceived, through some trees, two or three figures. Relying on the instructions of Dr. John, I concluded them to be workmen and gardeners; yet tried to look sharp, and in so doing, as they were less shaded, I thought I saw the person of his majesty!
Alarmed past all possible expression, I waited not to know more, but turning back, ran off with all my might. But what was my terror to hear myself pursued!—to hear the voice of the king himself loudly and hoarsely calling after me, “Miss Burney! Miss Burney!”
I protest I was ready to die. I knew not in what state he might be at the time; I only knew the orders to keep out of his way were universal; that the queen would highly disapprove any unauthorized meeting, and that the very action of my running away might deeply, in his present irritable state, offend him. Nevertheless, on I ran, too terrified to stop, and In search Of some short passage, for the garden is full of labyrinths, by which I might escape.
The steps still pursued me, and Still the poor hoarse and altered voice rang in my ears:—more and more footsteps sounded frightfully behind me,—the attendants all running to catch their eager master, and the voices of the two Doctor Willises loudly exhorting him not to heat himself so unmercifully.
Heavens, how I ran! I do not think I should have felt the hot lava from Vesuvius—at least not the hot cinders—had I so run during its eruption. My feet were not sensible that they even touched the ground.
Soon after, I heard other voices, shriller, though less nervous, call out “Stop! stop! stop!”
I could by no means consent: I knew not what was purposed, but I recollected fully my agreement with Dr. John that very morning, that I should decamp if Surprised, and not b named. My own fears and repugnance, also, after a flight and disobedience like this, were doubled in the thought of not escaping; I knew not to what I might be exposed, should the malady be then high, and take the turn of resentment. Still, therefore, on I flew; and such was my speed, so almost incredible to relate or recollect, that I fairly believe no one of the whole party could have overtaken me, if these words, from one of the attendants, had not reached me, “Doctor Willis begs you to stop!”
“I cannot! I cannot!” I answered, still flying on, when he called out, “You must, ma’am; it hurts the king to run.”
Then, indeed, I stopped—in a state of fear really amounting to agony. I turned round, I saw the two doctors had got the king between them, and three attendants of Dr. Willis’s were hovering about. They all slackened their pace, as they saw me stand still; but such was the excess of my alarm, that I was wholly insensible to the effects of a race which, at any other time, would have required an hour’s recruit.
As they approached, some little presence of mind happily came to my command it occurred to me that, to appease the wrath of my flight, I must now show some confidence: I therefore faced them as undauntedly as I was able, only charging the nearest of the attendants to stand by my side.
When they were within a few yards of me, the king called out, “Why did you run away?”
Shocked at a question impossible to answer, yet a little assured by the mild tone of his voice, I instantly forced myself forward, to meet him, though the internal sensation which satisfied me this was a step the most proper, to appease his suspicions and displeasure, was so violently combated by the tremor of my nerves, that I fairly think I may reckon it the greatest effort of personal courage-I have ever made.