DR. BURNEY’S letters to his daughter bring whiffs of excitement from the “gay world” into the quiet cottage at Bookham.
In an unpublished letter, preserved in the Burney family, dated April 14, 1794, the Doctor describes his first meeting with Madame Piozzi (Mrs. Thrale) after her second marriage - a marriage which had caused so much chagrin to her old friends - especially to Fanny. “Who, among others, should I have met with,” he writes, “at Salomon’s concert this day 7 night but Mr. and Mrs. Piozzi and all the Miss Thrales? The ladies all on the same sofa, and la mère in the middle. Mr. Piozzi caught my eye first, and we approached each other and shook hands, and talked of the music and performers before I knew the ladies were there. But on my hoping that la Signora sa consorte was well, he said she was there, pointing to a sofa close to the orchestra. When I hastened towards it, and met her eyes with their usual fire and good humour, she held out her hand and mine met it with great eagerness and pleasure. ‘Why, here’s Dr. Burney as young as ever.’ ‘Oh, I am but just made up,’ quoth I, ‘indeed, but just got up from a bed of sickness,’ &c. &c. Well, we talked and laughed as usual, and I never saw her more lively, good-humoured and pleasant in my life. My old affection of her all returned, and I would have done anything possible to have shown it with the same empressement as in the best of Johnsonian, Thralian and Streatham times.”
In the “Memoirs” of her father, Fanny, alluding to this meeting, writes: “The Bookhamite Recluse, to whom this occurrence was immediately communicated, received it with true and tender delight. Most joyfully would she, also, have held out her hand to that once-so-dear friend, from whom she could never sever her heart, had she happily been at this Salomonic party.”
Reverting to politics in the same letter the Doctor continues: “Mrs. Crewe says very truly that ‘we are now playing for life or death,’ and adds, ‘may the Jacobins, like true scorpions, finish by stinging each other.’ . . . Her politics and mine now agree in toto.[] Mr. C., still the dupe of Chas F., has gone to Chester, I fear, to oppose the subscription for augmenting the militia and raising a troop of Horse. ‘No danger - all a Ministerial juggle - things in France exaggerated - we might make peace if we would - ’tis a cursed ruinous war - and might have been avoided’; these are the watchwords of our Mountaineers. And there are still Frenchmen here who say that in France tout est tranquille - vive la République!”
After alluding to M. d’Arblay’s earnest desire to defend Lafayette against false accusations and to prove his innocence, Dr. Burney says: “But it would be difficult to convince the friends of our present Government or even that of Lord North . . . and his cause now being taken up by our most violent Jacobins . . . would render the task still more difficult . . . .
“God bless you - pray my best compliments to your industrious and wise gardener. I see nothing better or safer for him to do at present than to dig, delve and plant - but is it doing nothing to be happy?”
In the year (1794) “the happiness of the Hermitage,” writes Madame d’Arblay, “was increased by the birth of a son, who was christened Alexander Charles Louis Piochard d’Arblay; receiving the names of his father, with those of his two godfathers, the Comte de Narbonne and Dr. Charles Burney.” The child was born on December 18, and was baptized in Bookham Church on April 11 following.
We have seen a relic of this happy event in the shape of the baby’s pincushion, now in the ‘‘ Burney parlour” at Camilla Lacey. The pins form the words “F. d’Arblay,” on one side, and on the other “Long live the dear child.”
“Oh, if you could see him now!” writes Fanny to her father, when the baby was nearly five months old. “He enters into all we think, say, mean, and wish! His eyes are sure to sympathise in all our affairs and all our feelings . . . . If he wants to be danced, we see that he has discovered that gaiety is exhilarating to us; if he refuses to be moved, we take notice that he fears to fatigue us. If he will not be quieted without singing, we delight in his early goût for les beaux-arts. If he is immovable to all we can devise to divert him, we are edified by the grand sérieux of his dignity and philosophy.”
A month later she remarks in a postscript: “The bambino is half a year old this day. N. B. - I have not heard the Park or Tower guns. I imagine the wind did not set right!”
“My dear Fanny,” writes Dr. Burney, “I have been such an évaporé lately! . . . . Three huge assemblies at Spencer House; two dinners at the Duke of Leeds’; two clubs; a déjeuner at Mrs. Crewe’s villa at Hampstead; a dinner at Lord Macartney’s; two ditto at Mr. Crewe’s; two philosophical conversaziones at Sir Joseph Banks’, Haydn’s benefit; Salomon’s ditto, &c. &c. What profligacy! . . . ’tis all vanity and exhalement of spirit. I am tired to death of it all, while your domestic and maternal joys are as fresh as the roses in your garden.
“. . . I must tell you what happened at Mrs. Crewe’s déjeuner. I arrived late, and met many people coming away, but still found the house and garden full of fashionables. It was a cold-lunch day, and, after eating was over, people went into the bit of a garden to a lottery, or to take a turn. Among the peripatetico-politicians, there was Lord Sheffield, the Master of the Rolls, Canning, with abundance of et ceteras, and Mr. Erskine. On meeting him and Mrs. Erskine we renewed last year’s acquaintance. After we had passed each other several times we got into conversation, and what do you think about, but the reform of Parliament? He told me his whole plan of virtuous representation . . . . It is not to be quite universal suffrage at elections, which are to be triennial, &c.
“‘Well, but,’ says I quietly, ‘can Government go on without influence, or a majority, unless its measures are good?’
“‘Oh, yes; the people will be in good humour and easily governed.’
[Facing Page]
MRS. (AFTERWARDS LADY) CREWE
“‘But, my good sir . . . if it is rendered easy to pull down Mr. Pitt, will it not be easy, likewise, to pull down Mr. Fox, or any successor?’
“He did not seem prepared for so queer a question; he shuffled about and gave me an equivocal No, which more clearly said Yes. All this while he had hold of my arm, and people stared at our intimacy, while that rogue Mrs. Crewe and the Marchioness of Buckingham were upstairs sitting at a window, wondering and laughing at our confabulation.”
The Princess of Wales was at this déjeuner of Mrs. Crewe’s, and, at her request, the Doctor was presented to her. “How do you do, Dr. Burney?” she said. “You and I are not strangers; you are very well known in Germany, and often mentioned there; car enfin, vous étes un homme célèbre.” And referring to him for his opinion in some playful debate, she remarked: “Is it not so, Dr. Burney? You are a wise man and must know of the best.”
“The next time her Royal Highness had music,” continues the Doctor, “I was remembered for a summons to Blackheath . . . and here the Princess had the politeness and condescension to show me her plantations and improvements . . . . The music was so good, and her Royal Highness was so lively, that Mrs. Crewe, whom I had the honour to accompany, could not take leave till past one o’clock in the morning; and it was past six ere my jaded horses and I reached Chelsea College.
“. . . When shall I have done with telling you of mes bonnes fortunes? Betty Carter, Hannah More, Lady Clarges - nay, t’other day at Dickey Coxe’s, I met the Miss Berrys, as lively and accomplished as ever; and I have strong invites to their cottage at Strawberry Hill. What say you to that, ma’am? Torn to pieces, I declare!”
[A Baby’s Pincushion]
CHAPTER XXl. THE “GRAND OUVRAGE”
MADAME D’ARBLAY writes to a friend on June 15, 1795: “I have a long work, which a long time has been in hand, that I mean to publish soon - in about a year. Should it succeed, like ‘Evelina’ and ‘Cecilia,’ it may be a little portion to our bambino. We wish, therefore, to print it for ourselves in this hope; but the expenses of the press are so enormous, so raised by these late Acts, that it is out of the question for us to afford it. We have therefore been led by degrees to listen to counse
l of some friends, and to print it by subscription. This is in many, many ways unpleasant and unpalatable to us both; but the real chance of real use and benefit to our little darling overcomes all scruples, and, therefore, to work we go!
“. . . I once rejected such a plan, formed for me by Mr. Burke, where books were to be kept by ladies - not booksellers . . . but I was an individual then, and had no cares of times to come; now, thank Heaven! this is not the case.”
There was a strong prejudice in those days against the very name of novel. “I own,” she writes to her father, “I do not like calling it a novel; it gives so simply the notion of a mere love-story that I recoil a little from it. I mean this work to be sketches of characters and morals put into action - not a romance. I remember the word novel was long in the way of ‘Cecilia,’ as I was told at the Queen’s house; and it was not permitted to be read by the princesses till sanctioned by a bishop’s recommendation.
“. . . Will you then suffer mon amour-propre to be saved by the proposals running thus: Proposals for printing by subscription, in six volumes duodecimo; a new work by the author of ‘Evelina’ and ‘Cecilia.’
“How grieved I am you do not like my heroine’s name!”
The name was then Ariella, changed afterwards to Camilla. It seems that Fanny had also changed the name of “Cecilia” before publication, for we have seen the original manuscript[] of that novel, where the name was first given as “Albinia,” and afterwards carefully erased, “Cecilia” being substituted in its place.
Madame d’Arblay’s friends came eagerly forward to assist in the great undertaking. The Dowager-Duchess of Leinster, the Hon. Mrs. Boscawen, Mrs. Crewe, and Mrs. Lock each kept
OLD COTTAGES NEAR MICKLEHAM
Lists and received the names of subscribers, the subscription for a single set being one guinea.
“Mrs. Cooke, my excellent neighbour,” writes Fanny, “came in just now to read me a paragraph of a letter from Mrs. Leigh, of Oxfordshire, her sister . . . . After much of civility about the new work and its author, it finishes thus: ‘Mr. Hastings I saw just now: I told him what was going forward; he gave a great jump and exclaimed, “Well then, now I can serve her, thank Heaven, and I will! I will write to Anderson to engage Scotland, and I will attach the East Indies myself!’”
Warren Hastings had just been finally acquitted after his long trial; and his accuser, Edmund Burke, “disgusted with the result of the impeachment,” had retired into private life. But neither public cares nor family sorrows could lessen Burke’s interest in his friends. He had just lost both his brother and his only son when he wrote to Mrs. Crewe: “As to Miss Burney - the subscription ought to be, for certain persons, five guineas; and to take but a single copy each. The rest as it is. I am sure it is a disgrace to the age and nation if this be not a great thing for her. If every person in England who has received pleasure and instruction from ‘Cecilia’ were to rate its value at the hundredth part of their satisfaction, Madame d’Arblay would be one of the richest women in the kingdom.
“Her scheme was known before she lost two of her most respectful admirers from this house; and this, with Mrs. Burke’s subscription and mine, make the paper I send you.” (He enclosed a bank-note for twenty pounds.)
The names of subscribers flowed in rapidly, till they amounted to more than eleven hundred! We have seen the long list, which is prefixed to the first edition of “Camilla,” and which fills thirty-eight pages of close printing. It comprises almost all the notable persons of the day - statesmen, writers, ladies of the old Blue Stocking Club, scientific men, Windsor courtiers; together with hundreds of unknown admirers of “Evelina” and “Cecilia.” But there is one entry in that list that rivets our attention more than all the rest - “Miss J. Austen, Steventon.” Jane Austen, then a girl of nineteen years of age, thus pays tribute to her earlier sister writer - a writer who had founded the special branch of art - the domestic novel - which she herself adopted and has raised to its highest level.
We find, too, in that same list, the name of Maria Edgeworth, whose spirited pictures of Irish life can never die.
Macaulay, in speaking of the service rendered by Miss Burney to posterity, remarks: “She took away the reproach which lay on a most useful and delightful species of composition. She vindicated the right of her sex to an equal share in a fair and noble province, of letters . . . . No class of works is more honourably distinguished by fine observation, by grace, by delicate wit, by pure moral feeling. Several among the successors of Madame d’Arblay have equalled her; two, we think, have surpassed her. But the fact that she has been surpassed gives her an additional claim to our respect and gratitude; for, in truth, we owe to her, not only ‘Evelina,’ ‘Cecilia,’ and ‘Camilla,’ but also ‘Mansfield Park’ and the ‘Absentee.’”
At the end of the list of subscribers to “Camilla,” there appears a group of French names. Among them we find those of la Princesse d’Hénin, Lally-Tollendal, Narbonne, and the Prince de Poix.
The title-page of the new work is reproduced here.
The work was dedicated, by permission, to the Queen. The dedication is in the form of a letter, and is dated Bookham, June 28, 1796.
A few days previously Fanny had written her last directions respecting the production of “Camilla” to her brother Charles, whom she calls her “dear agent.” It was this same brother who long ago had carried her MS. of “Evelina,” in all secrecy, to a printer’s office, little imagining the result that was to follow.
The letter in question, hitherto unpublished,
has been lent to us by a member of the Burney family. In it the writer remarks:
“On that memorable day (Monday, the 20th) can you have the goodness to complete your agency by receiving for us the £750?
. . . Will you ask of the three assembling paymasters when the next set can be ready for the Queen, and give orders for its being conveyed where you recommend for being very handsomely bound in red morocco. It must precede all else. We shall want three other sets bound exactly alike and with the utmost elegance.
“. . . Now, dearest brother, we all - id est my better half, I, and your godson - send you our best thanks for the news that the rest of the copy of ‘Camilla’ is dispatched and goes to the printers, who have been very kind, and will, I hope, make all their exertions to finish in time . . . . The service we have received from your brotherly friendship is beyond all words.
“. . . Will you be so kind as to settle completely with Mr. Payne for us, deducting at once all expenses we are to pay, be they what they may, clear?”
[The Terrace at Windsor in the Eighteenth Century]
CHAPTER XXII. ON THE TERRACE AT WINDSOR
THE first copies of “Camilla; or a Picture of Youth,” in their beautiful binding, reached Bookham early in July, and immediately Madame d’Arblay, accompanied by her husband, set off for Windsor in order to present them herself to the King and Queen.
“I had written the day before,” writes Fanny to her father, “to my worthy old friend Mrs. Agnew, the housekeeper erst of my revered Mrs. Delany, to secure us rooms for one day and night, and to Miss Planta[] to make known I could not set out till late. When we came into Windsor at seven o’clock the way to Mrs. Agnew’s was so intricate that we could not find it, till one of the King’s footmen, recollecting me, I imagine, came forward a volunteer and walked by the side of the chaise to show the postilion the house. N.B. - No bad omen to worldly augurers! Arrived, Mrs. Agnew came forth . . . to conduct us to our destined lodgings.”
Hardly had the travellers settled themselves in their rooms and begun to unpack their trunk when Miss Planta came from the Queen “with orders of immediate attendance.”
“Mrs. Agnew was my maid,” continues
THE FRISEUR
Fanny, “Miss Planta my arranger; my landlord, who was a hairdresser, came to my head, and M. d’Arblay was general superintendent. The haste and the joy went hand-in-hand, and I was soon equipped.
“. . . M.
d’Arblay helped to carry the books as far as the gates . . . . At the first entry towards the Queen’s Lodge we encountered Dr. Fisher and his lady; the sight of me there, in a dress announcing indisputably whither I was hieing, was such an astonishment that they looked at me rather as a recollected spectre than a renewed acquaintance. When we came to the iron rails poor Miss Planta, in much fidget, begged to take the books from M. d’Arblay, terrified, I imagine, lest French feet should contaminate the gravel within! - while he, innocent of her fears, was insisting upon carrying them as far as to the house, till he saw I took part with Miss Planta, and he was then compelled to let us lug in the ten volumes as we could.
“. . . The Queen was in her dressing-room and with only the Princess Elizabeth. Her reception was the most gracious imaginable; yet when she saw my emotion in thus meeting her again, she was herself by no means quite unmoved. I presented my little - yet not small - offering, upon one knee, placing them, as she directed, upon a table by her side, and expressing, as well as I could, my devoted gratitude for her invariable goodness to me. She then began a conversation, in her old style, upon various things and people.”
Presently the King came into the room on purpose to see Madame d’Arblay and to receive his copy of her book.
“. . . The Queen then said: ‘This book was begun here, sir.’
“‘ And what did you write of it here? ‘ cried he. ‘How far did you go? Did you finish any part, or only form the skeleton?’
“‘Just that, sir,’ I answered; ‘the skeleton was formed here, but nothing was completed. I worked it up in my little cottage.’”
Many questions followed from the good-natured and inquisitive King, such as: “About what time did you give to it?” “Are you much frightened? As much frightened as you were before?” He asked if her father had overlooked the work and whether Mr. Lock had seen it? On being answered in the negative, “he seemed comically pleased,” she remarks, “to have it in its first stage, and laughingly said: ‘So you kept it quite snug?’
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