The poor king whose attention to times and dates is unremittingly exact, knew the day, and insisted upon seeing the queen and three of the princesses; but — it was not a good day.
MR. FAIRLY ON FANS.
Jan. 21.-I came to my room; and there, in my own corner, sat poor Mr. Fairly, looking a little forlorn, and telling me he had been there near an hour. I made every apology that could mark in the strongest manner how little I thought his patience worth such exertion. . . .
He was going to spend the next day at St. Leonard’s, where he was to meet his son; and he portrayed to me the character of Mrs. Harcourt so fairly and favourably, that her flightiness sunk away on the rise of her good qualities. He spoke of his chapel of St. Catherine’s, its emoluments, chaplain, brothers, sisters, and full establishment.
Finding I entered into nothing, he took up a fan which lay on my table, and began playing off various imitative airs with it, exclaiming, “How thoroughly useless a toy!”
“No,” I said; “on the contrary, taken as an ornament, it was the most useful ornament of any belonging to full dress, occupying the hands, giving the eyes something to look at, and taking away stiffness and formality from the figure and deportment.”
“Men have no fans,” cried he, “and how do they do?”
“Worse,” quoth I, plumply.
He laughed quite out, saying, “That’s ingenuous, however; and, indeed, I must confess they are reduced, from time to time, to shift their hands from one pocket to another.”
“Not, to speak of lounging about in their chairs from one side to another.”
“But the real use of a fan,” cried he, “if there is any, is it not — to hide a particular blush that ought not to appear? “O, no; it Would rather make it the sooner noticed.” “Not at all; it may be done under pretence of absence — rubbing the cheek, or nose — putting it up accidentally to the eye — in a thousand ways.”
He went through all these evolutions comically enough, and then, putting aside his toy, came back to graver matters.
MR. FAIRLY CONTINUES HIS VISITS: THE QUEEN AGAIN REMARKS UPON THEM.
Jan. 26.-In the evening Mr. Fairly came to tea. He was grave, and my reception did not make him gayer. General discourse took place till Mrs. Dickenson happened to be named. He knew her very well as Miss Hamilton. Her conjugal conduct, in displaying her Superior power over her husband, was our particular theme, till in the midst of it he exclaimed, “How well you will be trained in by Mrs. Schwellenberg — if you come to trial!”
Ah! thought I, the more I suffer through her, the less and less do I feel disposed to run any new and more lasting risk, But I said not this. I only protested I was much less her humble servant than might be supposed.
“How can that be,” cried he, “when you never contest any one point with her?”
Not, I said, in positive wrangling, which could never answer its horrible pain; but still I refused undue obedience when exacted with indignity, and always hastened to retire when offended and affronted.
He took up Mrs. Smith’s “Emmeline,”(302) which is just lent me by the queen; but he found it not piquant and putting it down, begged me to choose him a Rambler.” I had a good deal of difficulty In my decision, as he had already seen almost all I could particularly wish to recommend; and, when he saw me turn over leaf after leaf with some hesitation, he began a serious reproach to me of inflexible reserve. And then away he went.
I hastened immediately to Mrs. Schwellenberg; and found all in a tumult. She had been, she said, alone all the evening, and was going to have sent for me, but found I had my company. She sent for Mlle. Montmoulin but she had a cold; for Miss Gomme, but she could not come because of the snow; for Miss Planta but she was ill with a fever, “what you call head-ache:” she had then “sent to princess royal, who had been to her, and pitied her ver moch, for princess royal was really sensible.”
And all this was communicated with a look of accusation, and a tone of menace, that might have suited an attack upon some hardened felon. . . .
I made no sort of apology nor any other answer than that I had had the honour of Mr. Fairly’s company to tea, which was always a pleasure to me.
I believe something like consciousness whispered her here, that it might really be possible his society was as pleasant as I had found hers, for she then dropped her lamentation, and said she thanked God she wanted nobody, not one; she could always amuse herself, and was glad enough to be alone.
Were it but true!
I offered cards: she refused, because it was too late, though we yet remained together near two hours.
If this a little disordered me, You will not think what followed was matter of composure. While the queen’s hair was rolling up, by the wardrobe woman, at night, Mrs. Schwellenberg happened to leave the room, and almost instantly her majesty, in a rather abrupt manner, said “Is Mr. Fairly here to-night?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“When did he come back?”
I could not recollect.
“I did not know he was here.”
This thunderstruck me; that he should come again, or stay, at least, without apprising his royal mistress, startled me inwardly, and distressed me outwardly.
“I knew, indeed,” she then added, “he was here in the morning, but I understood he went away afterwards.”
The idea of connivance now struck me with a real disdain, that brought back my courage and recollection in full force, and I answered, “I remember, ma’am, he told me he had rode over to Richmond park at noon, and returned here to dinner with Colonel Wellbred, and in the evening he drank tea with me, and said he should sup with General Harcourt.”
All this, spoken with an openness that rather invited than shunned further investigation, seemed to give an immediate satisfaction; the tone of voice changed to its usual com- placency, and she inquired various things concerning the Stuart family, and then spoke upon more common topics.
I concluded it now all over; but soon after Mrs. Sandys went away, and then, very unexpectedly, the queen renewed the subject. “The reason,” she said, “that I asked about Mr. Fairly was that the Schwellenberg sent to ask Miss Planta to come to her, because Mr. Fairly was — no, not with her — he never goes to her.”
She stopped; but I was wholly silent. I felt instantly with how little propriety I could undertake either to defend or to excuse Mr. Fairly, whom I determined to consider as a visitor,, over whom, having no particular influence, I could be charged with no particular responsibility.
After waiting a few minutes,-”With you,” she said, “Mr. Fairly was and the Schwellenberg was alone.”
My spirits quite panted at this moment to make a full Confession of the usage I had endured from the person thus compassionated; but I had so frequently resolved, in moments Of cool deliberation, not even to risk doing mischief to a favourite old servant, that I withstood the impulse; but the inward conflict silenced me from saying anything else.
I believe she was surprised but she added, after a long pause, “I believe — he comes to you every evening when here.”
“I do not know, ma’am, always, when he is here or away; but I am always very glad to see him, for indeed his visits make all the little variety that—”
I hastily stopped, lest she should think me discontented with this strict confinement during this dreadful season; and that I can never be, when it is not accompanied by tyranny and injustice.
She immediately took up the word, but without the slightest displeasure. “Why here there might be more variety than anywhere, from the nearness to town, except for—”
“ The present situation of things.” I eagerly interrupted her to say, and went on: “Indeed, ma’am, I have scarce a wish to break into the present arrangement, by seeing anybody while the house is in this state; nor have I, from last October, seen one human being that does not live here, except Mr. Smelt, Mr. Fairly, and Sir Lucas Pepys; and they all come upon their own calls, and not for me.”
“T
he only objection,” she gently answered, “to seeing anybody, is that every one who comes carries some sort of information away with them. I assured her I was perfectly content to wait for better times, Here the matter dropped; she appeared satisfied with what I said, and became soft and serene as before the little attack.
Jan. 27.-The intelligence this morning was not very pleasant. I had a conference afterwards with Sir Lucas Pepys, who keeps up undiminished hope. We held our council in the physicians’ room, which chanced to be empty; but before it broke up Colonel Wellbred entered. It was a pleasure to me to see him, though somewhat an embarrassment to hear him immediately lament that we never met, and add that he knew not in what manner to procure himself that pleasure. I joined in the lamentation, and its cause, which confined us all to our cells. Sir Lucas declared my confinement menaced my health, and charged me to walk out, and take air and exercise very sedulously, if I would avoid an illness.
Colonel Wellbred instantly offered me a key of Richmond gardens, which opened into them by a nearer door than what was used in common. I accepted his kindness, and took an hour’s walk,-for the first time since last October; ten minutes in Kew gardens are all I have spent without doors since the middle of that month.
THE SEARCH FOR MR. FAIRLY.
Jan. 30.-To-day my poor royal mistress received the address of the Lords and Commons, of condolence, etc., upon his majesty’s illness. What a painful, but necessary ceremony! It was most properly presented by but few members, and those almost all chosen from the household: a great propriety.
Not long after came Mr. Fairly, looking harassed. “May I,” he cried, “come in? — and-for an hour? Can you allow me entrance and room for that time?”
Much Surprised, for already it was three o’clock, I assented: he then told me he had something to copy for her majesty, which was of the highest importance, and said he could find no quiet room in the house but mine for such a business. I gave him every accommodation in my power. When he had written a few lines, he asked if I was very busy, or could help him? Most readily I offered my services, and then I read to him the original, sentence by sentence, to facilitate his copying; receiving his assurances of my “great assistance” every two lines. In the midst of this occupation, a tap at my door made me precipitately put down the paper to receive-lady Charlotte Finch!
“Can you,” she cried, “have the goodness to tell me any thing of
Mr. Fairly?”
The screen had hidden him; but, gently, — though, I believe ill enough pleased, — he called out himself, “Here is Mr. Fairly.”
She flew up to him, crying, “O, Mr. Fairly, what a search has there been for you, by the queen’s orders! She has wanted you extremely, and no one knew where to find you. They have been to the waiting-room, to the equerries’, all over the garden, to the prince’s house, in your own room, and could find you nowhere, and at last they thought you were gone back to town.”
He calmly answered, while he still wrote on, he was sorry they had had so much trouble, for he had only been executing her majesty’s commands.
She then hesitated a little, almost to stammering, in adding
“So — at last — I said — that perhaps — you might be here!”
He now raised his head from the paper, and bowing it towards me, “Yes,” he cried, “Miss Burney is so good as to give me leave, and there is no other room in the house in Which I can be at rest.”
“So I told her majesty,” answered Lady Charlotte, “though she said she was sure you could not be here; but I said there was really no room of quiet here for any business, and so then I came to see.”
“Miss Burney,” he rejoined, “has the goodness also to help me — she has taken the trouble to read as I go on, which forwards me very much.”
Lady Charlotte stared, and I felt sorry at this confession of a confidence she could not but think too much, and I believe he half repented it, for he added, “This, however, you need not perhaps mention, though I know where I trust!”
He proceeded again with his writing, and she then recollected her errand. She told him that what he was copying was to be carried to town by Lord Aylesbury, but the queen desired to see it first. She then returned to her majesty.
She soon, however, returned again. She brought the queen’s seal, and leave that he might make up the packet, and give it to Lord Aylesbury, without showing it first to her majesty, who was just gone to dinner. With her customary good-humour and good-breeding, she then chatted with me some time, and again departed.
We then went to work with all our might, reading and copying. The original was extremely curious — I am sorry I must make it equally secret.
Miss BURNEY’s ALARM ON BEING CHASED BY THE KING. Kew Palace, Monday, Feb. 2.-What an adventure had I this morning! one that has occasioned me the severest personal terror I ever experienced in my life.
Sir Lucas Pepys still persisting that exercise and air were absolutely necessary to save me from illness, I have continued my walks, varying my gardens from Richmond to Kew, according to the accounts I received of the movements of the king. For this I had her majesty’s permission, on the representation of Sir Lucas. This morning, when I received my intelligence of the king from Dr. John Willis, I begged to know where I might walk in safety? “In Kew gardens,” he said, “as the king would be in Richmond.”
“Should any unfortunate circumstance,” I cried, “at any time, occasion my being seen by his majesty, do not mention my name, but let me run off without call or notice.” This he promised. Everybody, indeed, is ordered to keep out of sight. Taking, therefore, the time I had most at command, I strolled into the gardens. I had proceeded, in my quick way, nearly half the round, when I suddenly perceived, through some trees, two or three figures. Relying on the instructions of Dr. John, I concluded them to be workmen and gardeners; yet tried to look sharp, and in so doing, as they were less shaded, I thought I saw the person of his majesty!
Alarmed past all possible expression, I waited not to know more, but turning back, ran off with all my might. But what was my terror to hear myself pursued! — to hear the voice of the king himself loudly and hoarsely calling after me, “MISS Burney! Miss Burney!
I protest I was ready to die. I knew not in what state he might be at the time; I only knew the orders to keep out of his way were universal; that the queen would highly disapprove any unauthorized meeting, and that the very action of my running away might deeply, in his present irritable state, offend him. Nevertheless, on I ran, too terrified to stop, and Page 288
In search Of some short passage, for the g)arden is full of labyrinths, by which I might escape.
The steps still pursued me, and Still the poor hoarse and altered voice rang in my ears: — more and more footsteps sounded frightfully behind me, — the attendants all running to catch their eager master, and the voices of the two Doctor Willises loudly exhorting him not to heat himself so unmercifully.
Heavens, how I ran! I do not think I should have felt the hot lava from Vesuvius — at least not the hot cinders — hadd I so run during its eruption. My feet were not sensible that they even touched the ground.
Soon after, I heard other voices, shriller, though less nervous, call out “Stop! stop! stop!”
I could by no means consent: I knew not what was purposed, but I recollected fully my agreement with Dr. John that very morning, that I should decamp if Surprised, and not b named. My own fears and repugnance, also, after a flight and disobedience like this, were doubled in the thought of not escaping; I knew not to what I might be exposed, should the malady be then high, and take the turn of resentment. Still, therefore, on I flew; and such was my speed, so almost incredible to relate or recollect, that I fairly believe no one of the whole party could have overtaken me, if these words, from one of the attendants, had not reached me, “Doctor Willis begs you to stop!”
“I cannot! I cannot!” I answered, still flying on, when he called out, “You must, ma’am; it hurts the king to run.”
As they approached, some little presence of mind happily came to my command it occurred to me that, to appease the wrath of my flight, I must now show some confidence: I therefore faced them as undauntedly as I was able, only charging the nearest of the attendants to stand by my side.
When they were within a few yards of me, the king called out,
“Why did you run away?”
Shocked at a question impossible to answer, yet a little assured by the mild tone of his voice, I instantly forced myself forward, to meet him, though the internal sensation which satisfied me this was a step the most proper, to appease his suspicions and displeasure, was so violently combated by the tremor of my nerves, that I fairly think I may reckon it the greatest effort of personal courage-I have ever made.
A ROYAL SALUTE AND ROYAL CONFIDENCES.
The effort answered : I looked up, and met all his wonted benignity of countenance, though something still of wildness in his eyes. Think, however, of my surprise, to feel him put both his hands round my two shoulders, and then kiss my cheek! * I wonder I did not really sink, so exquisite was my affright when I saw him spread out his arms! Involuntarily, I concluded he meant to crush me: but the Willises, who have never seen him till this fatal illness, not knowing how very extraordinary an action this was from him, simply smiled and looked pleased, supposing, perhaps, it was his customary salutation!
I believe, however, it was but the joy of a heart unbridled, now, by the forms and proprieties of established custom and sober reason. To see any of his household thus by accident, seemed such a near approach to liberty and recovery, that who can wonder it should serve rather to elate than lessen what yet remains of his disorder!
Complete Works of Frances Burney Page 598
