I come now to introduce to you, with a new character, some new perplexities from my situation. Madame de la Fite called the next morning, to tell me she must take no denial to forming me a new acquaintance—Madame de la Roche, a German by birth, but married to a Frenchman;—an authoress, a woman of talents and distinction, a character highly celebrated, and unjustly suffering from an adherence to the Protestant religion.[218]
“She dies with eagerness to see you,” she added, in French, “and I have invited her to Windsor, where I have told her I have no other feast prepared for her but to show her Dr. Herschel and Miss Burney.”
I leave you to imagine if I felt competent to fulfil such a promise: openly, on the contrary, I assured her I was quite unequal to it. She had already, she said, written to Madame de la Roche, to come the next day, and if I would not meet her she must be covered with disgrace. Expostulation was now vain; I could only say that to answer for myself was quite, out of my own power.
“And why?—and wherefore?—and what for?—and surely to me!—and surely for Madame de la Roche!—une femme d'esprit—mon amie—l'amie de Madame de Genlis,” etc., etc., filled up a hurried conference in the midst of my dressing for the queen, till a summons interrupted her, and forced me, half dressed, and all too late, to run away from her, with an extorted promise to wait upon her if I possibly could.
Accordingly I went, and arrived before Madame de la Roche. Poor Madame de la Fite received me in transport; and I soon witnessed another transport, at least equal, to Madame de la Roche, which happily was returned with the same warmth; and it was not till after a thousand embraces, and the most ardent professions—“Ma digne amie!—est il possible?—te vois-je?” etc.—that I discovered they had never before met in their lives!—they had corresponded, but, no more![219]
This somewhat lessened my surprise, however, when my turn arrived; for no sooner was I named than all the embrassades were transferred to me—“La digne Miss Borni!—l'auteur de Cecile?—d'Evelina?—non, ce n'est pas possible!-suis-je si heureuse!—oui, je le vois a ses yeux!—Ah! que de bonheur!” etc....
Madame de la Roche, had I met her in any other way, might have pleased me in no common degree; for could I have conceived her character to be unaffected, her manners have a softness that would render her excessively engaging. She is now bien passee—no doubt fifty—yet has a voice of touching sweetness, eyes of dove-like gentleness, looks supplicating for favour, and an air and demeanour the most tenderly caressing. I can suppose she has thought herself all her life the model of the favourite heroine of her own favourite romance, and I can readily believe that she has had attractions in her youth nothing short of fascinating. Had I not been present, and so deeply engaged in this interview, I had certainly been caught by her myself; for in her presence I constantly felt myself forgiving and excusing what in her absence I as constantly found past defence or apology.
Poor Madame de la Fite has no chance in her presence for though their singular enthusiasm upon “the people of the literature,” as Pacchierotti called them, is equal, Madame de la Fite almost subdues by her vehemence, while Madame de la Roche almost melts by her softness. Yet I fairly believe they are both very good women, and both believe themselves sincere.
I returned still time enough to find Mrs. Schwellenberg with her tea-party; and she was very desirous to hear something of Madame de la Roche. I was led by this to give a short account of her: not such a one as you have heard, because I kept it quite independent of all reference to poor Madame de la Fite; but there was still enough to make a little narration. Madame de la Roche had told me that she had been only three days in England, and had yet made but a beginning of seeing les spectacles and les gens celebres;—and what do you think was the first, and, as yet, sole spectacle to which she had been carried?—Bedlam!—And who the first, and, as yet, only homme celebre she had seen—Lord George Gordon!—whom she called le fameux George Gordon, and with whom she had dined, in company with Count Cagliostro.
Sunday, Sept. 17—At the chapel this morning, Madame de la Fite placed Madame de la Roche between herself and me, and proposed bringing her to the Lodge, “to return my visit.” This being precisely what I had tried to avoid, and to avoid without shocking Madame de la Fite, by meeting her correspondent at her own house, I was much chagrined at such a proposal, but had no means to decline it, as it was made across Madame de la Roche herself.