The Diary and Letters of Madame D'Arblay — Volume 3

by Fanny Burney

HORTICULTURAL MISFORTUNES.

(Madame d'Arblay to Dr. Burney). Westhamble, March 22, 1800. Day after day I have meant to write to my dearest father 'but I have been unwell ever since our return, and that has not added to my being sprightly. I have not once crossed 'the threshold since I re-entered the house till to-day, when Mr. and Mrs. Locke almost insisted upon taking me an airing. I am glad of it, for it has done me good, and broken a kind of spell that made me unwilling to stir.

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M. d'Arblay has worked most laboriously in his garden but his misfortunes there, during our absence, might melt a heart of stone. The horses of our next neighbouring farmer broke through our hedges, and have made a kind of bog of our mead ow, by scampering in it during the wet; the sheep followed, who have eaten up all our greens, every sprout and cabbage and lettuce, destined for the winter ; while the horses dug up our turnips and carrots; and the swine, pursuing such examples, have trod down all the young plants besides devouring whatever the others left of vegetables. Our potatoes, left, from our abrupt departure, in the ground, are all rotten or frostbitten, and utterly spoilt; and not a single thing has our whole ground produced us since we came home. A few dried carrots, which remain from the in-doors collection, are all we have to temper our viands..

What think you of this for people who make it a rule to owe a third of their sustenance to the garden? Poor M, d'A.'s renewal of toil, to supply future times, is exemplary to behold, after such discouragement. But he works as if nothing had failed; such is his patience as well as industry.

My Alex, I am sure you will be kindly glad to hear, is entirely well; and looks so blooming—no rose can be fresher. I am encouraging back his spouting propensity, to fit him for his royal interview with the sweet and gay young princess who has demanded him, who will, I know, be diverted with his speeches and gestures. We must present ourselves before Easter, as the Court then adjourns to Windsor for ten days. My gardener will not again leave his grounds to the fourfooted marauders; and our stay, therefore, will be the very shortest we can possibly make it ; for though we love retirement, we do not like solitude.

I long for some further account of you, dearest: sir, and how you bear the mixture of business and company, of "fag and frolic," as Charlotte used to phrase it.

Westhamble, April 27, 1800. My Alex improves in all that I can teach, and my gardener is laboriously recovering from his winter misfortunes. He is now raising a hillock by the gate, for a view of NorbUry Park from our grounds, and he has planted potatoes upon almost every spot where they can grow. The dreadful price of provisions makes this our first attention. The poor people about us complain they are nearly starved, and the children of the Page 193

journeymen of the tradesmen at Dorking come to our door to beg halfpence for a little bread. What the occasion of such universal dearth can be we can form no notion, and have no information. The price of bread we can conceive from the bad harvest; but meat, butter, and shoes!—-nay, all sorts of nourriture or clothing seem to rise in the same proportion, and without any adequate cause. The imputed one of the war does not appear to me sufficient, though the drawback from all by the income-tax is severely an underminer of comfort. What is become of the campaign? are both parties incapacitated from beginning? or is each waiting a happy moment to strike some definitive stroke? We are strangely in the dark about all that is going on, and unless you will have the compassion to write us some news, we may be kept so till Mr. Locke returns.

A WITHDRAWN COMEDY.

[Towards the close of the preceding year Dr. Charles Burney had placed in the hands of Mr. Harris, the manager of Covent Garden-theatre, a comedy by Madame d'Arblay, called "Love and Fashion." Mr. Harris highly approved the piece, and early in the spring put it into rehearsal ; but Dr. Burney was seized with a panic concerning its success, and, to oblige him, his daughter and her husband withdrew it. The following letter announced their generous compliance with his wishes.]

(Madame d'Arblay to Doctor Burney.) Monday. I hasten to tell you, dearest sir, Mr. H. has at length listened to our petitions, and has returned me my poor ill-fated —-, wholly relinquishing all claim to it for this season. He has promised also to do his utmost, as far as his influence extends, to keep the newspapers totally silent in future. We demand, therefore, no contradictory paragraph, as the report must needs die when the reality no more exists. Nobody has believed it from the beginning, on account of the premature moment when it was advertised.

This release gives me present repose, which, indeed, I much wanted; for to combat your, to me, unaccountable but most afflicting displeasure, in the midst of my own panics and disturbance, would have been ample punishment to me had I been guilty of a crime, in doing what I have all my life been Page 194

urged to, and all my life intended, —writing a comedy. Your goodness, your kindness, your regard for my fame, I know have caused both your trepidation, which doomed me to certain failure, and your displeasure that I ran, what you thought, a wanton risk. But it is not wanton, my dearest father. My imagination is not at my own control, or I would always have continued in the walk YOU approved. The combinations for another long work did not occur to me; incidents and effects for a drama did. I 'thought the field more than open—inviting to me. The chance held out golden dreams.—The risk could be only our own; for, permit me to say, appear when it will, you will find nothing in the principles, the moral, or the language that will make you blush for me. A failure upon those points only, can bring disgrace; Upon mere cabal or want of dramatic powers, it can only cause disappointment.

I hope, therefore, my dearest father, in thinking this over you will cease to nourish such terrors and disgust at an essay so natural, and rather say to yourself, with an internal smile, "After all, 'tis but like father like child; for to what walk do I confine myself? She took my example in writing—she takes it in ranging. Why then, after all, should I lock her up in one paddock, well as she has fed there, if she says she finds nothing more to nibble; while I find all the earth unequal to my ambition, and mount the skies to content it? Come on, then, poor Fan! the world has acknowledged you my offspring, and I will disencourage you no more. Leap the pales of your paddock—let us pursue our career; and, while you frisk from novel to comedy, I, quitting music and prose, will try a race with poetry and the stars."

I am sure my dear father will not infer, from this appeal, I mean to parallel our works. No one more truly measures her own inferiority, which, with respect to yours, has always been my pride. I only mean to show, that if my muse loves a little variety, she has an hereditary claim to try it.

M. D'ARBLAY's FRENCH PROPERTY.

(Madame d'Arblay to Doctor Burney.)
Westhamble, November 7, 1800.
I think it very long not to hear at least of YOU, my dearest
padre. My tranquil and happy security, alas! has been
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broken in upon by severe conflicts since I wrote to My dearest father last, which I would not communicate while yet pending, but must now briefly narrate. My partner, the truest of partners, has been erased from the list of emigrants nearly a year; and in that period has been much pressed and much blamed by his remaining friends in France, by every opportunity through which they could send to him, for not immediately returning, and seeing if anything could be yet saved from the wreck of his own and family's fortune ; but he held steady to his original purpose never to revisit his own country till it was at peace with this ; till a letter came from his beloved uncle himself, conveyed to him through Hambro', which shook all the firmness of his resolution, and has kept him, since its receipt, in a state of fermentation, from doubts and difficulties, and crossing wishes and interests, that has much affected his health as well as tranquillity.

All, however, now, is at least decided; for a few days since he received a letter from M. Lajard, who is returned to Paris, with information from his uncle's eldest son, that some of his small property is yet unsold, to about the amount of 1000 pounds, and can still be saved from sequestration if he will immediately go over and claim it; or, if that is impossible, if he will send his procuration to his uncle, from some country not at war with France.

This ended all his internal contest; and he is gone this very morning to town to procure a passport and a passage in some vessel bound to Holland.

So unused are we to part, never yet for a week having been separated during the eight years of our union, that our first idea was going together, and taking our Alex; and certain I am nothing would do me such material and mental good as so complete a change of scene; but the great expense of the voyage and journey, and the inclement season for our little boy, at length finally settled us to pray only for a speedy meeting. But I did not give it up till late last night, and am far from quite reconciled to relinquishing it even now.

He has no intention to go to France, or he would make an effort to pass by Calais, which would delightfully shorten the passage; but he merely means to remain at the Hague while he sends over his procuration, and learns how soon he may hope to reap its fruits. page 196

Westhamble, 16th December, 1800. He is returned, my dearest father, already! MY joy and surprise are so great I seem in a dream. I have just this moment a letter from him, written at Gravesend. What he has been able to arrange as to his affairs, I know not ; and just now cannot care, so great is my thankfulness for his safety and return. He waits in the river for his passport, and will, when he obtains it, hasten, I need not say, to Westhamble.

HOME MATTERS.

(Madame d'Arblay to Dr. Burney.) Westhamble, September i, 1801. A carpet we have-though not yet spread, as the chimney is unfinished, and room incomplete. Charles brought us the tapis-so that, in fact, we have yet bought nothing for our best room—and meant,—for our own share—to buy a table . . . and if my dearest father will be so good—and so naughty at once, as to crown our salle d'audience with a gift we shall prize beyond all others, we can think only of a table. Not a dining one, but a sort of table for a little work and a few books,—en ala—without which, a room looks always forlorn. I need not say how we shall love it ; and I must not say how we shall blush at it; and I cannot say how we feel obliged at it—for the room will then be complete in love-offerings. Mr. Locke finished glazing or polishing his impression border for the chimney on Saturday. It will be, I fear, his last work of that sort, his eyes, which are very longsighted, now beginning to fail and weaken at near objects.

My Alex intends very soon, he says, to marry-and, not long since, with the gravest simplicity, he went up to Mr William Locke, who was here with his fair bride, and said, "How did you get that wife, William? because I want to get such a one—and I don't know which is the way." And he is now actually employed in fixing sticks and stones at convenient distances, upon a spot very near our own, where he means to raise a suitable structure for his residence, after his nuptials. You will not think he has suffered much time to be wasted before he has begun deliberating upon his conjugal establishment.

We spent the greatest part of last week in visits at Norbury
Park, to meet M. de Lally, whom I am very sorry you missed.
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He is delightful in the country full of resources, of gaiety, of intelligence, of good humour and mingling powers of instruction. with entertainment. He has read us several fragments of works of his own, admirable in eloquence, sense, and feeling - chiefly parts of tragedies, and all referring to subjects next his heart, and clearest in his head ; namely, the French Revolution and its calamities, and filial reverence and enthusiasm for injured parents.

CONTEMPLATED JOURNEY To FRANCE.

(Madame d'Arblay to Dr. Burney.) Westhamble, October 3, 1801. God avert mischief from this peace, my dearest father! For in our hermitage you may imagine, more readily than I can express, the hopes and happiness it excites. M. d'Arblay now feels paid for his long forbearance, his kind patience, and compliance with my earnest wishes not to revisit his native land while we were at war with it. He can now go with honour as well as propriety - for every body, even the highest personages, will rather expect he should make the journey as a thing of course, than hear of it as a proposition for deliberation. He will now have his heart's desire granted, in again seeing his loved and respectable uncle,-and many relations, and more friends, and his own native town, as well as soil ; and he will have the delight of presenting to that uncle, and those friends, his little pet Alex. With all this gratification to one whose endurance of such a length of suspense, and repetition of disappointment, I have observed with gratitude, and felt with sympathy-must not I, too, find pleasure ? Though, on my side, many are the drawbacks - but I ought not, and must not, listen to them. We shall arrange our affairs with all the speed in our power, after the ratification is arrived, for saving the cold and windy weather; but the approach of winter is unlucky, as it will lengthen our stay, to avoid travelling and voyaging during its severity - unless, indeed, any internal movement, or the menace of any, should make frost and snow secondary fears, and induce us to scamper off. But the present is a season less liable in all appearance to storms, than the seasons that may follow. Fates, joy, and pleasure, will probably for some months occupy the public in France - and it will not be till Page 198

those rejoicings are past, that they will set about weighing causes of new commotion, the rights of their governors, or the means, or desirability of changing them. I would far rather go immediately, than six months hence.

[The projected journey of Madame d'Arblay with her husband did not take place this year; the season being already advanced, and their little boy not strong enough to bear the fatigue of such an expedition. Monsieur d'Arblay went alone to France.]

M. D'ARBLAY's ROUGH SEA PASSAGE.

(Madame d'Arblay to Dr. Burney.) Westhamble, November 11, 1801. I did not purpose writing to my dearest father till my suspense and inquietude were happily removed by a letter from France; but as I find he is already anxious himself, I will now relate all I yet know of my dearest traveller's history. On Wednesday the 28th of October, he set off for Gravesend. A vessel, he was told, was ready for sailing,- and would set off the following day. He secured his passage, and took up his abode at an inn, whence he wrote me a very long letter, in full hope his next would be from his own country. But Thursday came, and no sailing—though the wind was fair, and the weather then calm: he amused his disappointment as well as he could by visiting divers gardeners, and taking sundry lessons for rearing and managing asparagus. Friday, also, came-and still no sailing ! He was more and more vexed ; but had recourse then to a chemist, with whom he revised much of his early knowledge. Saturday followed—no sailing! and he found the people waited on and on, in hopes of more passengers, though never avowing their purpose, His patience was now nearly exhausted, and he went and made such vifs remonstrances that he almost startled the managers. They pretended the ballast was all they stayed for : he offered to aid that himself; and actually went to work, and never rested till the vessel was absolutely ready: orders, enfin, were given for sailing next morning, though he fears, with all his skill, and all his eloquence, and all his aiding, they were more owing to the arrival of four passengers than to his exertions. That night, October the 31st, he went on board; and November the 1st he set sail at five o'clock in the morning. Page 199

You know how high a wind arose on Sunday the 1st, and how dreadful a storm succeeded, lasting all night, all Monday, and all night again. How thankful, how grateful am I to have heard of his safety since so terrifying a period. They got on, with infinite difficulty and danger, as far as Margate; they there took anchor, and my kind voyager got a letter for me sent on shore, "moyennant un schelling ."(164) To tell you my gratitude in knowing him safe after that tempest—no I cannot! Your warm affections, my dearest father, will easily paint to you my thankfulness.

Next, they got on to Deal, and here anchored again, for the winds, though they abated on shore, kept violent and dangerous near the coast. Some of the passengers went on shore, and put two letters for me in the post, assuring me all was safe. These two passengers, who merely meant to dine on shore, and see the town, were left behind. The sea rose so high, no boat could put off to bring them back; and, though the captain hoisted a flag to announce he was sailing, there was no redress. They had not proceeded a league before the sea grew yet more rough and perilous, and the captain was forced to hoist a flag of distress. Everything in the vessel was overset; my poor M. d'Arblay's provision-basket flung down, and its contents demolished; his bottle of wine broken by another toss, and violent fall, and he was nearly famished. The water now began to get into the ship, all hands were at work that could work, and he, my poor voyager, gave his whole noble strength to the pump, till he was so exhausted, so fatigued, so weakened, that with difficulty he could hold a pen to repeat that still—I might be tranquille, for all danger was again over. A pilot came out to them from Dover, for seven guineas, which the higher of the passengers subscribed for (and here poor M. d'A. was reckoned of that class], and the vessel was got into the port at Dover, and the pilot, moyennant un autre schelling, put me again a letter, with all these particulars, into the post.

This was Thursday the 5th. The sea still so boisterous, the vessel was unable to cross the water. The magistrates at Dover permitted the poor passengers all to land ; and M. d'Arblay wrote to me again, from the inn, after being regaled with an excellent dinner, of which he had been much in want. Here they met again the two passengers lost at Deal, who, in hopes of this circumstance, had travelled post

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from thence to Dover. Here, too, M. d'A. met the Duke de Duras, an hereditary officer of the crown, but who told him, since peace was made, and all hope seemed chased of a proper return to his country, he was going, incognito, to visit a beloved old mother, whom he had not seen for eleven years. "I have no passport," he said, "for France , but I mean to avow myself to the commissary at Calais, and tell him I know I am not erased, nor do I demand to be so. I only solicit an interview with a venerable parent. Send to Paris, to beg leave for it. You may put me in Prison till the answer arrives; but, for mercy, for humanity's sake, suffer me to wait in France till then! guarded as you please!" This is his Purposed address—which my M. d'A. says he heard, avec les larmes aux yeux.(165) I shall long to hear the event.

On Friday, November 6th, M. d'A. wrote me two lines:"Nov. 6, 1801.—,Je pars! the wind is excellent—au revoir." This is dated ten o'clock in the morning. I have not had a word since.

[in the original edition here follow three letters, in French, from M. d'Arblay to his wife. From these letters we translate the following extracts.-ED.

"Paris. "I do not yet know positively when it will be possible for me to go to see my uncle. The settlement of my claim of half-pay is anything but advanced. . . . To-morrow morning I have an appointment with Du Taillis, aide-de-camp to Berthler (the French minister of war). When I leave him, I hope to see Talleyrand; but what I most particularly desire is, not to depart without having at least a glimpse of the first Consul (Napoleon), that man so justly celebrated. . . . In reference to the obligation which we, formerly on the list of emigrants, have to him, Narbonne said to me to-day, 'He has set all our heads on our shoulders.' I like this expression."

" Paris, November 16, 1801. "La Tour Maubourg, one of the companions of General Lafayette, wished to marry his daughter to an emigrant whose name was not yet struck off the list. He obtained an interview with the first Consul, at which he entered into details on the matter, without attempting to conceal the objections which might be taken to the requested erasement of the young man's

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name from the list of emigrants. Bonaparte interrupted him and said, 'Is the young man agreeable to your daughter?' 'Yes, General.'-' 'Is he agreeable to you, M. de Maubourg?' 'Very much so, General.'—'Well then, the man whom you judge worthy to enter into such a family as yours, is surely worthy also to be a French citizen.'"

"15th Frimaire (December 6), 1801. "According to all appearance, my dearest, I shall not obtain the settlement I ask for. Everybody says that nothing could be more just than my demand, but so many persons who have served all through the war are at present on half-pay, that I am desperately afraid it will be the same with my past services as with my property, and for the same reason-the impossibility of satisfying all demands, however well founded. Meanwhile, my dearest, it is impossible to conceal from ourselves that we have been living, for some years, with all our economy, on resources which are now either exhausted, or very nearly so. The greater part of our income [Fanny's pension] is anything but certain, yet what should we do if that were to fail us ? The moral of this discourse is, that while I am fit for something, it is my duty, as a husband and a father, to try what can be done to secure for us, if possible, an old age of absolute independence ; and for our little one a position which may prevent his being a burden to us. . . .

". . . The consuls in England have not yet been nominated. The consulship in London will be well worth having, and perhaps, although there will be plenty of candidates, it might not be impossible for me to obtain it. It is at least probable that I could get appointed to one of the sea-ports. . . .

". . . Answer me at once, I beg of you. Think if this plan is opposed to any of your tastes; for you know there is only one possible happiness for me. Need I say more?")

SUGGESTED ABANDONMENT' OF CAMILLA COTTAGE.

(Madame d'Arblay to M. d'Arblay.) Westhamble, December 15, 1801. The relief, the consolation of your frequent letters I can never express, nor my grateful sense of your finding time for them, situated as you now are-, and yet that I have this moment read, of the 15 Frimaire, has made my heart ache

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heavily. Our hermitage is so dear to me-our book-room, 'so precious, and in its retirement, its beauty of prospect, form, convenience, and comforts, so impossible to replace, that I sigh, and deeply, in thinking of relinquishing it. Your happiness, however, is now all mine ; if deliberately therefore, you wish to try a new system, I will surely try it, with you, be it what it may. I will try any thing but what I try now—absence ! Think, however, well, mon tr s cher ami, before you decide upon any occupation that robs you of being master of your own time, leisure, hours, gardening, scribbling, and reading.

In the happiness you are now enjoying, while it Is SO new to you, you are perhaps unable to appreciate your own value of those six articles, which, except in moments of your bitter regret at the privation of your first friends and beloved country, have made your life so desirable. Weigh, weigh it well in the detail. I cannot write.

Should you find the sum total preponderate in favour of your new scheme, I will say no more. All schemes will to me be preferable to seeing you again here, without the same fondness for the place, and way of life, that has made it to me what it has been. With regard to the necessity or urgency of the measure, I could say much that I cannot write. You know now I can live with you, and you know I am not without views, as well as hopes, of ameliorating our condition.

I will fully discuss the subject with our oracle.(166) His kindness, his affection for you! Yesterday, when I produced your letter, and the extracts from M. Necker, and was going to read some, he said, in that voice that is so penetratingly sweet, when he speaks from his heart—"I had rather hear one line of d'Arblay's than a volume of M. Necker's,"—yet at the same time begging to peruse the MS. when I could spare it. I wish you could have heard the tone in which he pronounced those words: it vibrated on my ears all day.

I have spent near two hours upon this theme with our dearest oracle and his other half He is much affected by the idea of any change that may remove us from his daily sight; but, with his unvarying disinterestedness, says he thinks such a place would be fully acquitted by you. If it is of consul here, in London, he is sure you would fill up all its functions even

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admirably. I put the whole consideration into your own hands , what, upon mature deliberation, you judge to be best, I will abide by. Heaven guide and speed your determination!

M. D'ARBLAY'S PROPOSED RETIREMENT FROM MILITARY SERVICE.

1802.

[The beginning of this year was attended with much anxiety to Madame d'Arblay. Her husband, disappointed in the hopes suggested by his friends, of his receiving employment as French commercial consul in London, directed his efforts to obtaining his half-pay on the retired list of French officers. This was promised, on condition that he should previously serve at St. Domingo, where General Leclerc was then endeavouring to put down Toussaint's insurrection. He accepted the appointment conditionally on his being allowed to retire as soon as that expedition should be ended. This, he was told, was impossible, and he therefore hastened back to his family towards the end of January.

In February, a despatch followed him from General Berthier, then minister at war, announcing that his appointment was made out, and on his own terms. 'To this M. d'Arblay wrote his acceptance, but repeated a stipulation he had before made, that while he was ready to fight against the enemies of the Republic, yet, should future events disturb the peace lately established between France and England, it was his unalterable determination never to take up arms against the British government. As this determination had already been signified by M. d'Arblay, he waited not to hear the result of its repetition, but set off again for Paris to receive orders, and proceed thence to St. Domingo.

After a short time he was informed that his stipulation of never taking up arms against England could not be accepted, and that his military appointment was in consequence annulled. Having been required at the Alien office, on quitting England, to engage that he would not return for the space of one year, he now proposed that Madame d'Arblay, with her little boy, should join him in France:-and among the following letters will be found several in which she describes her first impressions on reaching that country, and the society to which she was introduced.] Page 204

(Madame d'Arblay to Miss Planta.) Camilla Cottage, Westhamble, February 11, 1802. A most unexpected, and, to me, severe event, draws from me now an account I had hoped to have reserved for a far happier communication, but which I must beg you to endeavour to seek some leisure moment for making known, with the utmost humility, to my royal mistress. . . .

Upon the total failure of every effort M. d'Arblay could make to recover any part of his natural inheritance, he was advised by his friends to apply to the French government for half pay, upon the claims of his former military services. He drew up a memoir, openly stating his attachment and loyalty to his late king, and appealing for this justice after undeserved proscription. His right was admitted, but he was informed it could only be made good by his re-entering the army; and a proposal to that effect was sent him by Berthier, the minister of war.

The disturbance of his mind at an offer which so many existing circumstances forbade his foreseeing, was indescribable. He had purposed faithfully retiring to his hermitage, with his fellow-hermit, for the remainder of his life: and nothing upon earth could ever induce him to bear arms against the country which had given him asylum, as well as birth to his wife and child;—and yet a military spirit of honour, born and bred in him, made it repugnant to all his feelings to demand even retribution from the government of his own country, yet refuse to serve it. Finally, therefore, he resolved to accept the offer conditionally—to accompany the expedition to St. Domingo, for the restoration of order in the French colonies, and then, restored thus to his rank in the army, to claim his retraite. This he declared to the minister of war, annexing a further clause of receiving his instructions immediately from the government.

The minister's answer to this was, that these conditions were impossible. Relieved rather than resigned-though dejected to find himself thus thrown out of every promise of prosperity, M. d'Arblay hastened back to his cottage, to the inexpressible satisfaction of the- recluse he had left there.

short, however, has been its duration ! A packet has just followed him, containing a letter from Berthier, to tell him that his appointment was made out according to his own demands ! and Page 205

enclosing another letter to the commander-in-chief, Leclerc, with the orders of government for employing him, delivered in terms, the most distinguished, of his professional character.

All hesitation, therefore, now necessarily ends, and nothing remains for M. d'Arblay but acquiescence and despatch,— while his best consolation is in the assurance he has universally received, that this expedition has the good wishes and sanction of England. And, to avert any misconception or misrepresentation, he has this day delivered to M. Otto(167) a letter, addressed immediately to the first Consul, acknowledging the flattering manner in which he has been called forth, but decidedly and clearly repeating what he had already declared to the war minister, that though he would faithfully fulfil the engagement into which he was entering, it was his unalterable resolution never to take up arms against the British government.

I presume to hope this little detail may, at some convenient moment, meet her majesty's eyes-with every expression of my profoundest devotion.

M. D'ARBLAY's DISAPPOINTMENT.

(Madame d'Arblay to M. d'Arblay.) Westhamble, March 14, 1802. O my dearest friend,- Can the intelligence I have most desired come to me in a form that forbids my joy at it? What tumultuous sensations your letter of the 8th has raised!(168) Alas! that to relinquish this purpose should to you be as great unhappiness as to me was its suggestion! I know not how to enter upon the subject—how to express a single feeling. I fear to seem ungrateful to providence, or to you ungenerous. I will only, therefore, say, that as all your motives have been the most strictly honourable, it is not possible they should not, ultimately, have justice done them by all.

That I feel for your disappointment I need not tell you, when you find it has power to shake to its foundation what would else be the purest satisfaction of my soul. Let us—let us hope fairer days will ensue and do not let the courage

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which was so prompt to support you to St. Domingo fail you in remaining at Paris.

What you say of the year's probation I knew not before. Would you have me make any inquiry if it be irreversible?' I should think not ; and am most ready and eager to try by every means in my power, if you will authorize me. If not, to follow you, whithersoever you will, is much less my duty than my delight ! You have only to dictate whither, and how, and every doubt, every fear, every difficulty, will give way to my eager desire to bring your little boy to you. Would I not have left even Kin to have followed you and your fate even to St. Domingo? 'Tis well, however, you did not listen to me, for that poor little susceptible soul could not, as yet lose us both at once, and be preserved himself He has lived' so singularly alone with us, and for us, that he does not dream of any possible existence in which we should be both separated from him.

But of him—our retreat—our books—our scribbling—our garden—our unique mode of life—I must not talk to you now, now that your mind, thoughts, views, and wishes are all distorted from themes of peace, domestic life, and literary pursuits; yet time, I hope, reflection, your natural philosophy of accommodating yourself to your fate, and your kindness for those who are wholly devoted to you, will bring you back to the love of those scenes, modes, and sentiments, which for upwards of eight years have sufficed for our mutual happiness.

I had been negotiating for apartments at Twickenham, opposite Richmond, ever since you went, and on Friday I wrote to close with the engagement. This very morning I have two letters, full of delight at our approaching neighbourhood. Miss C.(169) herself writes in tears, she says, of joy, that I should be so near her, and that you should have wished it, and blesses you for your confidence in her warm friendship. It is quite impossible to read of such affection and zeal and goodness with dry eyes. I am confounded how to disenchant her—- yet so generous and disinterested she is, that, however disappointed, she will be sure to rejoice for me in our re-union; for you, my dearest friend! ah! who can rejoice? Your mind was all made up to the return of its professional pursuits, and I am frightened out of all my own satisfaction by MY dread of the weight of this chagrin upon your spirits. What

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you can do to avert depression,, that cruel underminer of every faculty that makes life worth sustaining, I beseech you to call forth. Think how I have worked for fortitude since Feb. 11th. Alas! vainly I have tried what most I wished—my poor pen!—but now "occupe-toi pour raliser l'esprance." Those words will operate like magic, I trust; and I will not close my eyes this night till I have committed to paper some opening to a new essay. Be good, then, and don't let me be as unhappy this way as I have been the other. Direct always to me, Norbury Park, Dorking. Heaven bless—bless you

[Here follows, in the original edition, another letter in French, from M. d'Arblay to his wife. We translate the following passage.-ED.

"At Ventose, year 10, (March 12, 1802). "You have doubtless communicated to our friends at Norbury Park, the letters which I have sent you. Did I tell you that I sent a copy of those letters to M. de Lafayette?(170) M. de Lafayette came at once to Paris, and requested an interview with Bonaparte, who granted it immediately. Addressing him, M. de Lafayette said, ' I have come to speak to you of one of my friends and companions—d'Arblay.' 'I know that business,' said the first Consul, in a tone which expressed more good-will than I ventured to hope for, at least, more than I had been given reason to expect. 'I assure you,' said M. de Lafayette to me, the next day, 'you have some good friends with the first Consul, who had already spoken to him on your business. He seemed to me, from the first instant, rather disposed in your favour than angry with you. . . . When I told him of your fear lest this business should have excited his displeasure, he replied positively, that it should do you no injury whatever, and that he would regard, in the step you had taken, only the husband of Cecilia.'

"I hope you will not be very displeased at the way this business, which has caused me much vexation, has terminated. I think I may even add, in confidence, that I am, perhaps, not without a near prospect of getting my retiring pension. Come to me, then, my dearest. Page 208

ON THE EVE OF MADAME D'ARBLAY'S JOURNEY To FRANCE.

(Madame d'Arblay to Doctor Burney.) March 30, 1802. Now, indeed, my dearest father, I am in an excess of hurry not to be exceeded by even any of yours. I have a letter from M. d'Arblay, to tell me he has already taken us an apartment, and he dates from the 5th of April, in Paris, where he has reasons for remaining some time, before we go to his good uncle, at Joigny. I am to take the little sweet child with me you saw here one day, Mlle. de Chavagnac, whose father, le Comte de Chavagnac, has desired her restoration. My kind Mrs: Locke is almost in affliction at parting with her though glad of an opportunity of sending her with friends the poor thing knows and loves. I fear, I have so very much to do here, that I shall have a very, very short enjoyment of my beloved father at Chelsea but I shall get there as soon as possible, and stay there to my last moment. I have a thousand things, and very curious ones, to tell you; but I must defer them for vive voix. I am really bewildered and almost trembling with hurry, and with what I am going to undertake! Yet through all, i bless God every moment of my life that M. d'Arblay went not to that pestilential climate I do all— all I can to keep up my courage—or rather to make up; and when I feel faltering, I think of St Domingo! Every body that knows St Domingo now owns that he had hardly a chance for safety, independent of tempests in the voyage, and massacres in the mountains. May I but be able to console him for all he has sacrificed to my peace and happiness ! and no privation will be severe, so that at our stated period, Michaelmas twelvemonth, we return to my country, and to my dearest father, whom heaven bless and preserve, prays his dutiful, affectionate and grateful, and devoted daughter, F. d'A.

DIARY: (Addressed to Dr. Burney).

IN FRANCE DURING THE PEACE AND SUBSEQUENTLY.

April, 1802-I seize, at length, upon the largest paper I can procure, to begin to my beloved father some account of our journey, and if I am able, I mean to keep him a brief Page 209

journal of my proceedings during this destined year or eighteen months' separation,-secure of his kindest interest in all that I may have to relate, and certain he will be anxious to know how I go on in a strange land : 'tis my only way now of communicating with him, and I must draw from it one of my dearest worldly comforts, the hopes of seeing his loved hand with some return.

April 15.-William and John conducted my little boy and me in excellent time to the inn in Piccadilly, where we met my kind Mrs. Locke and dear little Adrienne de Chavagnac. The parting there was brief and hurried; and I set off on my grand expedition, with my two dear young charges, exactly at five o'clock. . . .

Paris, April 15, 1802.-The book-keeper came to me eagerly, crying "vite, vite, madame, prenez votre place dans la diligence, car voici un Monsieur Anglais, qui surement va prendre la meileure!" En effet, ce Monsieur Anglais did not disappoint his expectations, or much raise mine - for he not only took the best place, but contrived to ameliorate it by the little scruple with which he made every other worse, from the unbridled expansion in which he indulged his dear person, by putting out his elbows against his next, and his knees and feet against his opposite neighbour. He seemed prepared to look upon all around-him with a sort of sulky haughtiness, pompously announcing himself as a commander of distinction who had long served at Gibraltar and various places, who had travelled thence through France, and from France to Italy, who was a native of Scotland, and -of proud, though unnamed genealogy '; and was now going to Paris purposely to behold the first Consul, to whom he meant to claim an introduction through Mr. Jackson. His burnt complexion, Scotch accent, large bony face and figure, and high and distant demeanour, made me easily conceive and believe him a highland chief. I never heard his name, but I think him a gentleman born, though not gently bred. Page 210

The next to mention is a Madame Raymond or Grammont, for I heard not distinctly which, who seemed very much a gentlewoman, and who was returning to France, too uncertain of the state of her affairs to know whether she might rest there or not. She had only one defect to prevent my taking much interest in her ; this was, not merely an avoidance, but a horror of being touched by either of my children ; who, poor little souls, restless and fatigued by the confinement they endured, both tried to fling themselves upon every passenger in turn ; and though by every one they were sent back to their sole prop, they were by no one repulsed with such hasty displeasure as by this old lady, who seemed as fearful of having the petticoat of her gown, which was stiff, round, and bulging, as if lined with parchment, deranged, as if she had been attired in a hoop for Court.

The third person was a Madame Blaizeau, who seemed an exceeding good sort of a woman, gay, voluble, good humoured, and merry. All we had of amusement sprung from her sallies, which were uttered less from a desire of pleasing others, her very natural character having none of the high polish bestowed by the Graces, than from a jovial spirit of enjoyment which made them produce pleasure to herself. She soon and frankly acquainted us she had left France to be a governess to some young ladies before the Revolution, and under the patronage, as I think, of the Duke of Dorset - she had been courted, she told us, by an English gentleman farmer, but he would not change his religion for her, nor she for him, and so, when every thing was bought for her wedding, they broke off the connexion ; and she afterwards married a Frenchman. She had seen a portrait, set richly in diamonds, of the king, prepared for a present to the first Consul ; and described its superb ornaments and magnificence, in a way to leave no doubt of the fact. She meant to stop at St. Denis, to inquire if her mother yet lived, having received no intelligence from or of her, these last ten eventful years !

At Canterbury, while the horses were changed, my little ones and I went to the cathedral; but dared merely seize sufficient time to view the outside and enter the principal aisle. I was glad even of that much, as its antique grandeur gave me a pleasure which I always love to cherish in the view of fine old cathedrals, those most permanent monuments Of what our ancestors thought reverence to God, as manifested in munificence to the place dedicated to his worship. Page 211

At Dover we had a kind of dinner-supper in one, and my little boy and girl and I retired immediately after it, took some tea in our chamber, and went to rest.

April 16.-As we were not to sail till twelve, I had hoped to have seen the castle and Shakspeare's cliff, but most unfortunately it rained all the morning, and we were confined to the inn, except for the interlude of the custom-house, where, however, the examination was so slight, and made with such civility, that we had no other trouble with it than a wet walk and a few shillings. Our passports were examined; and we then ' went to the port, and, the sea being perfectly smooth, were lifted from the quay to the deck of our vessel with as little difficulty as we could have descended from a common chair to the ground.

ARRIVAL AT CALAIS.

The calm which caused our slow passage and our sickness, was now favourable, for it took us into the port of Calais so close and even with the quay, that we scarcely accepted even a hand to aid us from the vessel to the shore.

The quay was lined with crowds of people, men, women, and children, and certain amphibious females, who might have passed for either sex, or anything else in the world, except what they really were, European women! Their men's hats, men's jackets, and men's shoes - their burnt skins, and most savage-looking petticoats, hardly reaching, nay, not reaching their knees, would have made me instantly believe any account I could have heard of their being just imported from the wilds of America.

The vessel was presently filled with men, who, though dirty and mean, were so civil and gentle, that they could not displease, and who entered it so softly and quietly, that, neither hearing nor seeing their approach, it seemed as if they had availed themselves of some secret trap-doors through which they had mounted to fill the ship, without sound or bustle, in a single moment. When we were quitting it, however, this tranquillity as abruptly finished, for in an instant a part of them rushed round me, one demanding to carry Alex, another Adrienne, another seizing my critoire, another my arm, and some one, I fear, my parasol, as I have never been able to find it since.

We were informed we must not leave the ship till Monsieur
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le commissaire arrived to carry us, I think, to the Municipality of Calais to show our passports. Monsieur le commisSaire in white with some red trappings, soon arrived, civilly hastening himself quite out of breath to save us from waiting' We then mounted the quay, and I followed the rest of the passengers, who all followed the commissary, accompanied by two men carrying the two children, and two more carrying one my critoire, and the other insisting on conducting its owner. The quantity of people that surrounded and walked with us, surprised me ; and their decency, their silence their quietness astonished me. To fear them was impossible: even in entering France with all the formed fears hanging upon its recent though past horrors. But on coming to the municipality, I was, I own, extremely ill at ease, when upon our gouvernante's desiring me to give the commissary my passport, as the rest of the passengers had done, and my answering it was in my critoire, she exclaimed, "Vite! Vite! cherchez-le, ou vous serez arrte!"(172) You may be sure I was quick enough, or at least tried to be so, for my fingers presently trembled, and I could hardly put in the key.

In the hall to which we now repaired, our passports were taken and deposited, and we had new ones drawn up and given us in their stead. On quitting this place we were accosted by a new crowd, all however as gentle, though not as silent, as our first friends, who recommended various hotels to us, one begging we would go to Grandsire, another to Duroc, another to Meurice—and this last prevailed with the gouvernante, whom I regularly followed, not from preference, but from the singular horror my otherwise worthy and wellbred old lady manifested, when, by being approached by the children, her full round coats risked the danger of being modernised into the flimsy, falling drapery of the present day.

At Meurice's our goods were entered, and we heard that they would be examined at the custom-house in the afternoon. We breakfasted, and the crowd of fees which were claimed by the captain, steward, sailors, carriers, and heaven knows who, besides, are inconceivable. I gave whatever they asked, from ignorance of what was due, and from fear of offending those of whose extent, still less of whose use, of power I could form no judgment. I was the only one in this predicament; the rest refusing or disputing every demand. They all, but us Page 213

Went out to walk - but I stayed to write to my dearest father, to
Mrs. Locke, and my expecting mate.

"GOD SAVE THE KING!" ON FRENCH SOIL.

We were all three too much awake by the new scene to try for any repose, and the hotel windows sufficed for our amusement till dinner; and imagine, my dearest sir, how my repast was seasoned, when I tell you that, as soon as it began, a band "of music came to the window and struck up "God save the king." I can never tell you what a pleased emotion was excited in my breast by this sound on a shore so lately hostile, and on which I have so many, so heartfelt motives for wishing peace and amity perpetual!

A RAMBLE THROUGH THE TOWN.

This over, we ventured out of the hotel to look at the street. The day was fine, the street was clean, two or three people who passed us, made way for the children as they skipped out of' my hands, and I saw such an unexpected appearance of quiet, order and civility, that, almost without knowing it, we strolled from the gate, and presently found ourselves in the market-place, which was completely full of sellers, and buyers, ,and booths, looking like a large English fair.

The queer, gaudy jackets, always of a different colour from the petticoats of the women, and their immense wing-caps, which seemed made to double over their noses, but which all flew back so as to discover their ears, in which 1 regularly saw -large and generally drop gold ear-rings, were quite as diverting …to myself as to Alex and Adrienne. Many of them, also, had gold necklaces chains, and crosses; but ear-rings all: even maids who were scrubbing or sweeping, ragged wretches bearing burdens on their heads or shoulders, old women selling fruit or other eatables, gipsy-looking creatures with children tied to their backs—all wore these long, broad, large, shining ear-rings.

Beggars we saw not—no, not one, all the time we stayed or sauntered; and for civility and gentleness, the poorest and most ordinary persons we met or passed might be compared with the best dressed and best looking walkers in the streets of our metropolis, and still to the disadvantage of the latter. I cannot say how much this surprised me, as I had conceived a horrific idea of the populace of this country, imagining em all transformed into bloody monsters. Page 214

Another astonishment I experienced equally pleasing, though not equally important to my ease; I saw innumerable pretty women and lovely children, almost all of them extremely fair. I had been taught to expect nothing but mahogany complexions and hideous features instantly on crossing the strait of Dover. When this, however, was mentioned in our party afterwards, the Highlander exclaimed, "But Calais was in the hands of the English so many years, that the English -race there is not yet extinct."

The perfect security in which I now saw we might wander about, induced us to walk over the whole town, and even extend our excursions to the ramparts surrounding it. It is now a very clean and pretty town, and so orderly that there was no more tumult or even noise in the market-place, where the people were so close together as to form a continual crowd, than in the by-streets leading to the country, where scarcely a passenger was to be seen. This is certainly a remark which, I believe, could never be made in England.

When we returned to the hotel, I found all my fellow travellers had been to the custom house! I had quite forgotten, or rather neglected to inquire the hour for this formality, and was beginning to alarm myself lest I was out of rule, when a young man, a commissary, I heard, of the hotel, came to me and asked if I had anything contraband to the laws of the Republic. I answered as I had done before, and he readily undertook to go through the ceremony for me without my appearing. I was so much frightened, and so happy not to be called upon personally, that I thought myself very cheaply off in his after-demand of a guinea and a half. I had two and a half to pay afterwards for additional luggage..

We found reigning through Calais a general joy and satisfaction at the restoration of Dimanche and abolition of dcade.(173) I had a good deal of conversation with the maid of the inn, a tall, fair, extremely pretty woman, and she talked much upon this subject, and the delight it occasioned, and the obligation all France was under to the premier Consul for restoring religion and worship. Page 215

SUNDAY ON THE ROAD TO PARIS.

Sunday, April 18. —We set off for Paris at five o'clock in the morning. The country broad, flat, or' barrenly steep —Without trees, without buildings, and scarcely inhabited— exhibited a change from the fertile fields, and beautiful woods ,band gardens, and civilisation of Kent, so sudden and unpleasant that I only lamented the fatigue of my position, which regularly impeded my making use of this chasm of 'pleasure and observation for repose. This part of France must certainly be the least frequented, for we rarely met a single carriage, and the villages, few and distant, seemed to have no intercourse with each other. Dimanche, indeed, might occasion this stiffness, for we saw, at almost all the villages, neat and clean peasants going to or coming from mass, and seeming indescribably elated and happy by the public permission of divine worship on its originally appointed day.

I was struck with the change in Madame Raymond, who joined us in the morning from another hotel. Her hoop was no more visible; her petticoats were as lank, or more so, than her neighbours'; and her distancing the children was not only at an end, but she prevented me from renewing any of my cautions to them, of not incommoding her - and when we were together a few moments, before we were joined by the rest, she told me, with a significant smile, not to tutor the children about her any more, as she only avoided them from having something of consequence to take care of, which was removed. I then saw she meant some English lace or muslin, which she had carried in a petticoat, and, since the customhouse examination was over, had now packed in her trunk.

Poor lady! I fear this little merchandise was all her hope of succour on her arrival! She is amongst the emigrants who have twice or thrice returned, but not yet been able to rest in their own country.

What most in the course of this journey struck me, was the satisfaction of all the country people, with whom I could converse at the restoration of the Dimanche; and the boasts they now ventured to make of having never kept the dcade, except during the dreadful reign of Robespierre, when not to oppose any of his severest decrees was insufficient for safety, ,"it was essential even to existence to observe them with every parade of the warmest approval. Page 216

The horrible stories from every one of that period of wanton as well as political cruelty, I must have judged exaggerated, either through the mist of fear or the heats of resentment but that, though the details had innumerable modifications' there was but one voice for the excess of barbarity.

At a little hamlet near Clermont, where we rested some time, two good old women told us that this was the happiest day (twas Sunday) of their lives; that they had lost le bon Dieu for these last ten years, but that Bonaparte had now found him! In another cottage we were told the villagers had kept their own cur all this time concealed, and though privately and with fright, they had thereby saved their souls through the whole of the bad times! And in another, some poor creatures said they were now content with their destiny, be it what it might, since they should be happy, at least, in the world to come - but that while denied going to mass, they had all their sufferings aggravated by knowing that they must lose their souls hereafter, besides all that they had to endure here!

O my dearest father! that there can have existed wretches of such diabolical wickedness as to have snatched, torn, from the toiling indigent every ray even of future hope! Various of these little conversations extremely touched me nor was I unmoved, though not with such painful emotion, on the sight of the Sunday night dance, in a little village through which we passed, where there seemed two or three hundred peasants engaged in that pastime all clean and very gaily dressed, yet all so decent and well behaved, that, but for the poor old fiddlers, we might have driven on, and not have perceived the rustic ball.

Here ends the account of my journey, and if it has amused my dearest father, it will be a true delight to me to have scribbled it. My next letter brings me to the capital, and to the only person who can console me for my always lamented absence from himself.

ENGAGEMENTS, OCCUPATIONS, AND FATIGUE

(Madame d'Arblay to Miss Planta.) Paris, April 27, 1802. A week have I been here, my dear Miss Planta, so astonishingly engaged, so indispensably occupied, or so suffering from fatigue, that I have not been able till now to take up Page 217

pen, except to satisfy my dear father of our safe arrival.

To give you some idea of these engagements, occupations, and fatigues, I must begin with the last. We were a whole long, languid day, a whole restless, painful night, upon the sea; my little Alex sick as death, suffering if possible yet more than myself, though I had not a moment of ease and comfort. My little Adrienne de Chavagnac was perfectly well all the time, singing and skipping about the cabin, and amusing every one by her innocent enjoyment of the novelty of the scene. . . .

As to my occupations;-my little apartment to arrange, my trunks and baggage to unpack and place, my poor Adrienne to consign to her friends, my Alex to nurse from a threatening malady; letters to deliver, necessaries to buy; a femme de chambre to engage; and, most important of all! my own sumptuous wardrobe to refit, and my own poor exterior to reorganise! I see you smile, methinks, at this hint; but what smiles would brighten the countenance of a certain young lady called Miss Rose, who amused herself by anticipation, when I had last the honour of seeing her, with the changes I might have to undergo, could she have heard the exclamations which followed the examination of my attire: "This won't do! That YOU can never wear! This you can never be seen in! That would make you stared at as a curiosity!— Three petticoats! no one wears more than one!— Stays? everybody has left off even corsets!—Shift sleeves? not a soul now wears even a chemise!" etc. In short, I found all I possessed seemed so hideously old fashioned, or so comically rustic, that as soon as it was decreed I must make appearance in the grand monde, hopeless of success in exhibiting myself in the' costume Franais, I gave over the attempt, and ventured to come forth as a gothic Anglaise, who never heard of, or never heeded the reigning metamorphosis.

As to my engagements;—when should I finish, should I tell all that have been made or proposed, even in the short space of a single week? The civilities I have met with, contrary to all my expectations, have not more amazed me for myself, than gratified me for M. d'Arblay, who is keenly alive to the kind, I might say distinguished, reception I have been favoured with by those to whom my arrival is known.

Your favourite hero is excessively popular at this moment from three successive grand events, all occurring within the Page 218

short time of my arrival,—the ratification of the treaty of peace—the restoration of Sunday, and Catholic worship—and the amnesty of the emigrants. At the Opera buffa, the loge in which I sat was exactly opposite to that of the first Consul but he and his family are all at Malmaison.

DIARY RESUMED: (Addressed to Dr. Burney.)

ARISTOCRATIC VISITORS.

Paris, April 1, 1802.(174)-Almost immediately after my arrival in Paris, I was much surprised by a visit from the ci-devant Prince de Beauvau, madame his wife, and Mademoiselle de Mortemar her sister, all brought by Madame d'Henin. if gratified in the first instance by a politeness of attention so little my due and so completely beyond my expectations, how was my pleasure enhanced when I found they all three spoke English with the utmost ease and fluency, and how pleased also at the pleasure I was able to give them in reward of their civility, by a letter I had brought from Mrs. Harcourt, which was received with the warmest delight by Mademoiselle de Mortemar and a message from a young lady named Elizabeth, with the profoundest gratitude.

April 24-This morning Madame d'Henin was so kind as to accompany us, in making our visit to Madame de Beauvau her niece, and Mademoiselle de Mortemar. We found them at home with M. de Beauvau, and they indulged me with the sight of their children, who are the most flourishing and healthy possible, and dressed and brought up with English plainness and simplicity. The visit was very pleasant, and Madame d'Henin made a party for us all to meet again the next day, and go to the Opera buffa.

ANXIETY TO SEE THE FIRST CONSUL.

I have heard much of the visit of Mrs. Damer and the Miss Berrys to Paris, and their difficulty to get introduced to the first Consul.(175) A lady here told us she had been called upon

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by Miss Berry, who had complained with much energy upon this subject, saying, "We have been everywhere—seen everything—heard every body—beheld such sights! listened to such discourse! joined such society! and all to obtain his notice! Don't you think it very extraordinary that he should not himself desire to see Mrs. Damer?

"Madame," replied the lady, "perhaps if you had done but half this, the first Consul might have desired to see you both."

"But you don't imagine," answered she, laughing, "we came over from England to see you ci-devants ? We can see such as you at home!"

She was gone before our arrival ; and, as I understand, succeeded at last in obtaining an introduction. They were both, Mrs. Damer and Miss Berry, as I am told, very gay and agreeable, as well as enterprising, and extremely well rpandues.

AT THE OPERA-BOUFFE.

April 25.-I was not much better in the evening, but the party for the Opera buffa being formed by Madame d'Henin on my account, my going was indispensable. She had borrowed the loge of M. de Choiseul, which, being entailed upon the family perptuit, has in a most extraordinary manner continued unalienated through the whole course of massacres and proscriptions to the present day, when the right owner possesses it. It is the largest and best box, except that which is opposite to it, in the theatre. . . .

The opera was "Le Nozze di Dorina," by Sarti, and extremely pretty; though I wished it had been as new to M. C— de P— as to myself, for then he would not have divided my attention by obligingly singing every note with every performer. In truth, I was still so far from recovered from the fatigue of my journey, that I was lulled to a drowsiness the most distressing before the end of the second act, '

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which being but too obvious, Madame d'Henin and M. d'Arblay took me away before I risked a downright nap by waiting for the third.

DIFFICULTIES RESPECTING MADAME DE STAEL.

April 26-The assembly at Madame d'Henin's was one of the most select and agreeable at which I was ever present. Assembly, however, I ought not to call a meeting within the number of twenty. But I was uneasy for my poor Alex, and therefore stole away as soon as possible; not, however, till Madame de Tess made a party for us for the following Thursday at her house, nor till I had held a private discourse with Mademoiselle de — upon my embarrassment as to Madame de Stael, from the character she held in England; which embarrassment was not much lightened by her telling me it was not held more fair in France ! Yet, that everywhere the real evil is highly exaggerated by report, envy, and party-spirit, all allow. She gives, however, great assemblies at which all Paris assist, and though not solicited or esteemed by her early friends and acquaintance, she is admired, and pitied, and received by them. I would she were gone to Copet!(176)

What most perplexed me at this period was the following note from
Madame de Stael.

"je voudrois vous tmoigner mon empressement, madame, et je crains d'tre indiscrette. j'espre que vous aurez la bont de me faire dire quand vous serez assez remise des fatigues de votre voyage pour que je puisse avoir l'honneur de vous voir sans vous importuner. "Ce 4 florial. (177) "Necker Stael de H."(178)

How is it possible, when even the common civility of a card for her card is yet unreturned, that she can have brought herself thus to descend from her proud heights to solicit the

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renewal of an acquaintance broken so abruptly in England, and so palpably shunned in France ? Is it that the regard she appeared to conceive for me in England was not only sincere but constant? If so, I must very much indeed regret a waste of kindness her character and conduct make it impossible for me to repay, even though, on this spot, I am assured all her misfortunes are aggravated, nay caricatured, by report, and that she exerts her utmost influence, and calls forth her best talents, upon every occasion which presents itself for serving those who have been her friends ; and that, notwithstanding circumstances and disunion, either in politics or morals, may have made them become her enemies. Her generosity is cited as truly singular upon this head, and I have heard histories of her returning, personally, good for evil that would do honour to any character living.

After much deliberation and discussion, my French master composed the following answer:—

\"Madame d'Arblay ne peut qu'tre infiniment flatte de l'extrme bont de Madame la Comtesse de Stael. Elle aura trs certainement l'honneur de se prsenter chez Madame de Stael aussitt que possible."(179)

Cooler than this it was not easy to write, and the ne peut qu'tre is a tournure that is far enough from flattering. I hope, however, it will prepare her for the frozen kind of intercourse which alone can have place between us.

MADAME DE LAFAYETTE.

As I wished much to see the parade, or review, which was to take place on the 5th, and is only once a month, we were forced to devote the preceding day to visits, as it was decreed in our council of etiquette that I could not appear in a place where I might be seen by those who had shown me the civility of beginning an acquaintance, till I had acknowledged my debt to them. . . . I was so thoroughly tired when I returned from all these visits, that I was forced to rest upon a bed for the remainder of the day, to my no small discomposure before the evening was closed; for, in a close cap, my feet in their native, undraperied state, hidden by a large, long, wrapping morning Page 222 gown, your daughter, my dearest sir, lay reclined on a bed when, rather late in the evening, I was told Madame d'Henin was in the salon. I was going to send in my excuses, while I rose to get ready for waiting upon her - but Alex flung open the door, and seeing where I was, and how fatigued, she insisted on my keeping still, and came to my bedside, and sat in friendly converse, listening to the history of my morning excursion, till a ring at the bell of our ante-room made me desire to have nobody admitted. Alex again, however, frisking about, prevented Pauline, my little femme de chambre, from hearing me, and she announced Madame de Lafayette!

You may easily believe this name, and my present situation, put me into no small commotion. I was beseeching Madame d'Henin to go to the saloon with my apologies, when Alex, whose illness, though it has diminished his strength and his flesh, has left his spirits as wild as ever, called out to proclaim where I was, and while Madame Lafayette was gently moving on, flung the bedroom door wide open, saying, "Mamma is here! " Madame Lafayette, concluding, I suppose, that I received du monde in the French manner, immediately presented herself at the door, where I had no resource but to entreat Madame d'Henin, who is her intimate friend, to receive her, for I was wholly powerless, with my unsandaled feet, from rising. Madame d'Henin now brought her to my bedside, where nothing could have been more awkward than my situation : but that the real reverence I had conceived for her character and her virtues made the sight of so singular a person, her condescension in the visit, and her goodness, though lame, in mounting three pair of stairs, give me a sensation of pleasure, that by animating my spirits, endowed me with a courage that overcame all difficulties both of language and position, and enabled me to express my gratitude for her kindness and my respect for her person, with something far nearer to fluency and clearness than anything in speech I have yet attempted. My mind instantly presented her to me, torn from her beloved family, and thrown into the death-impending prison of Robespierre ; and then saved by his timely destruction from the scaffold, and then using her hardly-recovered liberty only by voluntarily sacrificing it to be immured with her husband in the dungeon of Olmtz.(180) Various as may be the opinions of Page 223

the politics of M. de Lafayette, all Europe, I believe,'concur in admiration of the character and conduct of his virtuous and heroic wife. Indeed, nothing since my arrival has so sensibly gratified me, from without, as this visit.

Madame Lafayette is the daughter of the ci-devant Duc d'Ayen, and consequently niece of Madame de Tess, the duke's sister. She was married to M. de Lafayette when she was only seventeen years of age. By some cold or mismanagement, and total want of exercise in the prison of Olmtz, some humour has fallen into one of her ankles, that, though it does not make her absolutely lame, causes walking to be so painful and difficult to her that she moves as little as possible, and is always obliged to have a stool for her foot. She now resides with M. de Lafayette and their three children entirely in the country, at a chateau which has descended to her since the revolutionary horrors and therefore has not been confiscated, called "La Grange." They never come to Paris but upon business of positive necessity. She had arrived only this morning on a visit to her aunt, Madame de Tess, to make some preparations for the approaching marriage of her only son.

Her youngest daughter, Mademoiselle de Lafayette, accompanied her. She is a blooming young creature of English fairness-as we English choose to say-with a bright native colour, and beautiful light hair ; otherwise with but indifferent features, and not handsome : yet her air, though modest even to the extreme that borders upon bashfulness, is distinguished, and speaks her to be both sensible and well brought up.

Madame de Lafayette, also, is by no means handsome; but has eyes so expressive, so large, and so speaking, that it is not easy to criticise her other features, for it is almost impossible to look at them. Her manner is calm and mild, yet noble. She is respected even by surrounding infidels for her genuine piety, which, in the true character of true religion, is severe only for herself, lenient and cheerful for all others. I do not say this from what I could see in the hour she was so good as to pass with me, but from all I have heard.

She warmly invited me to La Grange, and requested me to name an early day for passing some time there. I proposed

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that it might be after the marriage had taken place,"as till then all foreign people or subjects might be obtrusive. She paused a moment, and then said, "Aprs?—c'est vrai we could then more completely enjoy Madame d'Arblay' society; for we must now have continual interruptions, surrounded as we are by workmen, goods, chattels, and preparations; so that there would be a nail to hammer between almost every word; and yet, as we are going to Auvergne, after the ceremony, it will be so long before a meeting may be arranged, that I believe the less time lost the better."

I know M. d'Arblay desired this acquaintance for me too earnestly to offer any opposition; and I was too much charmed with its opening to make any myself: it was therefore determined we should go the following week to La Grange.

SIGHT-SEEING AT THE TuILERIES.

May 5-Again a full day. M. d'Arblay had procured us three tickets for entering the apartments at the Tuileries to see the parade of General Hulin, now high in actual rank and service, but who had been a sous-officier under M. d'Arblay's command; our third ticket was for Madame d'Henin, who had never been to this sight— nor, indeed, more than twice to any spectacle since her return to France—till my arrival; but she is so obliging and good as to accept, nay to seek, every thing that can amuse, of which I can profit. We breakfasted with her early, and were appointed to join the party of M. le Prince de Beauvau, who had a general in his carriage, through whose aid and instructions we hoped to escape all difficulties.

Accordingly the coach in which they went was desired to stop at Madame d'Henin's door, so as to let us get into our fiacre, and follow it straight. This was done, and our precursor stopped at the gate leading to the garden of the Tuileries. The De Beauvaus, Mademoiselle de Mortemar, and their attending general, alighted, and we followed their example and joined them, which was no sooner done than their general, at the sight of M. d'Arblay, suddenly drew back from conducting Madame de Beauvau, and flew up to him. They had been ancient camarades, but had not met since M. d'A.'s emigration.

The crowd was great, but civil and well -dressed ; and we met with no impediment till we came to the great entrance. Alas, I had sad recollections of sad readings in mounting the

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steps! We had great difficulty, notwithstanding our tickets, in making our way—I mean Madame d'Henin and ourselves, for Madame de Beauvau and Mademoiselle de Mortemar having an officer in the existing military to aid them, were admitted and helped by all the attendants; and so forwarded that we wholly lost sight of them, till we arrived, long after, in the apartment destined for the exhibition. This, however, was so crowded that every place at the windows for seeing the parade was taken, and the row formed opposite to see the first Consul as he passes through the room to take horse, was so thick and threefold filled, that not a possibility existed of even a passing peep. Madame d'Henin would have retired, but as the whole scene was new and curious to me, I prevailed with her to stay, that I might view a little of the costume of the company; though I was sorry I detained her, when I saw her perturbed spirits from the recollections which, I am sure, pressed upon her on re-entering this palace : and that her sorrows were only subdued by her personal indignation, which was unconscious, but yet very prominent, to find herself included in the mass of the crowd in being refused all place and distinction, where, heretofore, she was amongst the first for every sort of courtesy. Nothing of this, however, was said and you may believe my pity for her was equally unuttered.

We seated ourselves now, hopeless of any other amusement than seeing the uniforms of the passing officers, and the light drapery of the stationary ladies, which, by the way, is not by any means so notorious nor so common as has been represented ; on the contrary, there are far more who are decent enough to attract no attention, than who are fashionable enough to call for it.

During this interval M. d'Arblay found means, by a ticket lent him by M. de Narbonne, to enter the next apartment, and there to state our distress, not in vain, to General Hulin; and presently he returned, accompanied by this officer, who is, I fancy, at least seven feet high, and was dressed in one of the most showy uniforms I ever saw. M. d'Arblay introduced me to him. He expressed his pleasure in seeing the wife of his old comrade, and taking my hand, caused all the crowd to make way, and conducted me into the apartment adjoining to that where the first Consul receives the ambassadors, with a flourish of manners so fully displaying power as well as courtesy, that I felt as if in the hands of one of the seven champions who meant to mow down all before him, should Page 226

any impious elf dare dispute his right to give me liberty, or to show me honour.

A GOOD PLACE IS SECURED,

He put me into the first place in the apartment which was sacred to general officers, and as many ladies as could be accommodated in two rows only at the windows. M. d'Arblay, under the sanction of his big friend, followed with Madame d'Henin , and we had the pleasure of rejoining Madame de Beauvau and Mademoiselle de Mortemar, who were at the same windows, through the exertions of General Songis.

The scene now, with regard to all that was present, was splendidly gay and highly animating. The room was full, but not crowded, with officers of rank in sumptuous rather than rich uniforms, and exhibiting a martial air that became their attire, which, however, generally speaking, was too gorgeous to be noble. Our window was that next to the consular apartment, in which Bonaparte was holding a levee, and it was close to the steps ascending to it; by which means we saw all the forms of the various exits and entrances, and had opportunity to examine every dress and every countenance that passed and repassed. This was highly amusing, I might say historic, where the past history and the present office were known.

Sundry footmen of the first Consul, in very fine liveries, were attending to bring or arrange chairs for whoever required them ; various peace-officers, superbly begilt, paraded occasionally up and down the chamber, to keep the ladies to their windows and the gentlemen to their ranks, so as to preserve the passage or lane through which the first Consul was to walk upon his entrance, clear and open; and several gentlemanlike looking persons, whom in former times I should have supposed pages of the back stairs, dressed in black, with gold chains hanging round their necks, and medallions pending from them, seemed to have the charge of the door itself, leading immediately to the audience chamber of the first Consul.

M. D'ARPLAY'S MILITARY COMRADES.

But what was most prominent in commanding notice, was the array of the aides-de-camp of Bonaparte, which was so Page 227

almost furiously striking, that all other vestments, even the most gaudy, appeared suddenly under a gloomy cloud when contrasted with its brightness. We were long viewing them before we could discover what they were to represent, my three lady companions being as new to this scene as myself; but afterwards M. d'Arblay starting forward to speak to one of them, brought him across the lane to me, and said "General Lauriston,"

His kind and faithful friendship to M. d'Arblay, so amiably manifested upon his late splendid embassy to England, made me see him with great pleasure. It was of course but for a moment, as he was amongst those who had most business upon their hands. General d'Hennezel also came to me for a few minutes, and three or four others, whom M. d'Arblay named, but whom I have forgotten. Indeed, I was amazed at the number of old friends by whom he was recognised, and touched far more than I can express, to see him in his old coat and complete undress, accosted by his fine (former) brethren, in all their new and beautiful costume, with an eagerness of regard that, resulting from first impulse, proved their judgment, or rather knowledge of his merits, more forcibly than any professions, however warm, could have done. He was indeed, after the aides-de-camp, the most striking figure in the apartment, from contrasting as much with the general herd by being the plainest and worst dressed, as they did by being the gayest and most showy.

General Lauriston is a very handsome man, and of a very pleasing and amiable countenance; and his manly air carried off the frippery of his trappings, so as to make them appear almost to advantage.

ARRIVAL OF THE TROOPS.

While this variety of attire, of carriage, and of physiognomy amused us in facing the passage prepared for the first Consul, we were occupied, whenever we turned round, by seeing from the window the garden of the Tuileries filling 'with troops.

In the first row of females at the window where we stood, were three ladies who, by my speaking English with Mademoiselle de Mortemar and Madame de Beauvau, discovered .my country, and, as I have since heard, gathered my name; and here I blush to own how unlike was the result to what "One of this nation might have experienced from a similar Page 228

discovery in England; for the moment it was buzzed "C'est Une trangre, c'est une Anglaise," (181) every one tried to Place, to oblige, and to assist me, and yet no one looked curious, or stared at me. Ah, my dear padre, do you not a little fear, in a contrasted situation, no one would have tried to place oblige, or assist, yet every one would have looked curious, and stared? Well, there are virtues as well as defects of all classes, and John Bull can fight so good a battle for his share of the former, that he need not be utterly cast down in acknowledging now and then a few of the latter.

AN IMPORTANT NEW ACQUAINTANCE.

The best view from the window to see the marching forwards of the troops was now bestowed upon me, and I vainly offered it to the ladies of my own party, to whom the whole of the sight was as new as to myself. The three unknown ladies began conversing with me, and, after a little general-talk, one of them with sudden importance of manner, in a tone slow but energetic, said,

"Avez-vous vu, madame, le premier Consul?"

"Pas encore, madame."

"C'est sans doute ce que vous souhaitez le plus, madame?"

"Oui, madame."

"Voulez-vous le voir parfaitement bien, et tout
fait
votre
aise?"

"je le dsire beaucoup, madame."(182)

She then told me to keep my eyes constantly upon her, and not an instant lose sight of her movements; and to suffer no head, in the press that would ensue when the first Consul appeared, to intervene between us. "Faites comme cela, madame," continued she; "et vous le verrez bien, bien; car," added she, solemnly, and putting her hand on her breast,—"moi—je vais lui parler!"(183)

I thanked her very much, but it was difficult to express as
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much satisfaction as she displayed herself. You may suppose, however, how curious I felt for such a conversation, and how scrupulously I followed her injunctions of watching her motions. A little squat good-humoured lady, with yellow flowers over a mob cap upon her hair - who had little sunken eyes, concise nose, and a mouth so extended by perpetual smiling, that, hardly leaving an inch for the cheek, it ran nearly into the ear, on my other side now demanded my attention also, and told me she came regularly every month to the great review, that she might always bring some friend who wanted to see it. I found by this she was a person of some power, some influence, at least, and not entirely averse to having it known. She was extremely civil to me - but as my other friend had promised me so singular a regale, I had not much voluntary time to spare for her , this, however, appeared to be no impediment to that she was so obliging as to determine to bestow upon me, and she talked satisfied with my acquiescence to her civility, till a sort of bustle just before us making me look a little sharp, she cried—

"Vous le voyez, madame!"

"Qui?" exclaimed I, "le premier Consul?"

"Mais non!—pas encore—mais—ce—ce monsieur l !"(184)

MADAME, C'EST MON MArI.

I looked at her to see whom I was to remark, and her eyes led me to a tall, large figure, with a broad gold-laced hat, who was clearing the lane which some of the company had infringed, with a stentorian voice, and an air and manner of such authority as a chief constable might exert in an English riot.

"Oui, madame," I answered, not conceiving why I was to look at him; "je le vois, ce monsieur; il est bien grand."(185)

"Oui, madame," replied she, with a yet widened smile, and a look of lively satisfaction; "il est bien grand! Vous le voyez bien?"

"O, fort bien!" cried I, quite at a loss what she meant me to understand, till at last, fixing first him, and then me, she expressively said—

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"Madame, c'est mon mari!"(186)

The grin now was distended to the very utmost limits of the stretched lips, and the complacency of her countenance forcibly said,. "What do you think of me now?" My countenance, however, was far more clever than my head, if it made her any answer. But, in the plenitude of her own admiration of a gentleman who seemed privileged to speak roughly, and push violently whoever, by a single inch, passed a given barrier, she imagined, I believe, that to belong to him entitled her to be considered as sharing his prowess ; she seemed even to be participating in the merits of his height and breadth, though be could easily have put her into his pocket.

Not perceiving, as I imagine, all the delight of felicitation in my countenance that she had expected, her own fell, in a disappointed pause, into as much of length as its circular form would admit of; it recovered, however, in another minute its full merry rotundity, by conjecturing, as I have reason to think, that the niggardliness of my admiration was occasioned by my doubt of her assertions; for, looking at me with an expression that demanded my attention, she poked her head under the arm of a tall grenadier, stationed to guard our window, and trying to catch the eye of the object of her devotion, called out in an accent of tenderness, "M'ami! M'ami!"

The surprise she required was now gratified in full, though what she concluded to be excited by her happiness, was simply the effect of so caressing a public address from so diminutive a little creature to so gigantic a big one. Three or four times the soft sound was repeated ere it reached the destined ear, through the hubbub created by his own loud and rough manner of calling to order; but, when at last he caught the gentle appellation, and looked down upon her, it was with an eyebrow so scowling, a mouth so pouting, and an air that so rudely said, "What the d— do you want?" that I was almost afraid he would have taken her between his thumb and finger, and given her a shake. However, be only grumbled out, "Qu'est-ce que c'est, donc?"(187) A little at a loss what to say, she gently stammered, "M'ami,—le—le premier Consul, ne vient-il pas?"(188) "Oui! oui!" was blustered in reply, with a look that completed the phrase by "you fool you!" though the voice left it unfinished. Page 231

Not disconcerted even yet, though rather abashed,, she turned to me with a pleased grin that showed her proud of his noble ferociousness, and said, "C'est mon mari, madame!" as if still fearful I was not fully convinced of the grandeur of her connexion. "M'ami" having now cleared the passage by ranging all the company in two direct lines, the officers of highest rank were assembled, and went in a sort of procession into the inner apartment to the audience of the first Consul. During the time this lasted, some relaxation of discipline ensued, and the gentlemen from the opposite row ventured to approach and peep at the windows with the ladies; but as soon as the generals descended from the steps they had mounted, their short conference being over, "M'ami" again appeared,. to the inexpressible gratification of his loving little mate, again furiously hustled every one to his post; and the flags, next, as I think, were carried in procession to the inner apartment, but soon after brought back.

ADVENT OF THE FIRST CONSUL.

The Prince of Orange then passed us to enter the audience chamber, with a look so serious, an air so depressed, that I have not been at all surprised to hear he was that very night taken very ill.

The last object for whom the way was cleared was the second Consul, Cambacrs, who advanced with a stately and solemn pace, slow, regular, and consequential; dressed richly in scarlet and gold, and never looking to the right or left, but wearing a mien of fixed gravity and importance. He had several persons in his suite, who, I think, but am not sure, were ministers of state.

At length the two human hedges were finally formed, the door of the audience chamber was thrown wide open with a commanding crash, and a vivacious officer-sentinel-or I know not what, nimbly descended the three steps into our apartment, and placing himself at the side of the door, with one hand spread as high as possible above his head, and the other extended horizontally, called out in a loud and authoritative voice, "Le premier Consul!"

You will easily believe nothing more was necessary to obtain attention; not a soul either spoke or stirred as he and his suite passed along, which was so quickly that, had I not been placed so near the door, and had not all about

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me facilitated my standing foremost, and being least crowd obstructed, I could hardly have seen him. As it was, I had a view so near, though so brief, of his face, as to be very much struck by it. It is of a deeply impressive cast, pale even to sallowness, while not only in the eye but in every feature—care, thought, melancholy, and meditation are strongly marked, with so much of character, nay, genius, and so penetrating a seriousness, or rather sadness, as powerfully to sink into an observer's mind.

Yet, though the busts and medallions I have seen are, in general, such good resemblances that I think I should have known him untold, he has by no means the look to be expected from Bonaparte, but rather that of a profoundly studious and contemplative man, who "o'er books consumes" not only the "midnight oil" but his own daily strength, "and wastes the puny body to decay" by abstruse speculation and theoretic plans or rather visions, ingenious but not practicable. But the look of the commander who heads his own army, who fights his own battles, who conquers every difficulty by personal exertion, who executes all he plans, who performs even all he suggests; whose ambition is of the most enterprising, and whose bravery is of the most daring cast:—this, which is the look to be expected from his situation, and the exploits which have led to it, the spectator watches for in vain. The plainness, also, of his dress, so conspicuously contrasted by the finery of all around him, conspires forcibly with his countenance, so "sicklied o'er with the pale hue of thought," to give him far more the air of a student than a warrior.

The intense attention with which I fixed him in this short but complete view made me entirely forget the lady who had promised me to hold him in conference. When he had passed, however, she told me it was upon his return she should address him, as he was too much hurried to be talked with at the moment of going to the parade. I was glad to find my chance not over, and infinitely curious to know what was to follow.

THE PARADE OF TROOPS.

The review I shall attempt no description of. I have no knowledge of the subject, and no fondness for its object. It was far more superb than anything I had ever beheld: but while all the pomp and circumstance of war animated others, Page 233

it only saddened me ; and all of past reflection, all of future dread, made the whole grandeur of the martial scene, and all the delusive seduction of martial music, fill my eyes frequently with tears, but not regale my poor muscles with one single smile.

Bonaparte, mounting a beautiful and spirited white horse, closely encircled by his glittering aides-de-camp, and accompanied by his generals, rode round the ranks, holding his bridle indifferently in- either hand, and seeming utterly careless of the prancing, rearing, or other freaks of his horse, insomuch as to strike some who were near me with a notion of his being a bad horseman. I am the last to be a judge upon this subject, but as a remarker, he only appeared to me a man who knew so well he could manage the animal when he pleased, that he did not deem it worth his while to keep constantly in order what he knew, if urged or provoked, he could subdue in a moment.

Precisely opposite to the window at which I was placed, the chief Consul stationed himself after making his round and thence he presented some swords of honour, spreading out one arm with an air and mien which changed his look from that of scholastic severity to one that was highly military and commanding. . . .