Читать книгу A Georgian Pageant - Frank Frankfort Moore - Страница 6

The condition of the King was becoming worse, and early whispers of the necessity for a Regency grew louder. It was understood that Mrs. Fitzherbert would be made a duchess! Everybody outside the palace sought to stand well in the estimation of the Prince of Wales, and Pitt was pointed out as a traitor to his country because he did his best to postpone the Comus orgy which every one knew would follow the establishing of a Regency. The appointment of the Doctors Willis was actually referred to as a shocking impiety, suggesting as it did a wicked rebellion against the decree of the Almighty, Who, according to Burke, had hurled the monarch from his throne. There were, however, some who did not regard Mr. Burke as an infallible judge on such a point, and no one was more indignant at the mouthings of the rhetorician than Miss Burney. But it seemed as if the approach of the Regency could no longer be retarded. The Willises were unable to certify to any improvement in the condition of the King during the month of January, 1789. It was really not until he had that chase after Fanny Burney in Kew Gardens that a change for the better came about.

Though she was greatly terrified by his affectionate salutation, she could not but have been surprised at the sanity displayed in the monologue that followed; for one of the first of his innumerable questions revealed to her the fact that he was perfectly well aware of what a trial to her patience was the odious Mrs. Schwellenberg. He asked how she was getting on with Mrs. Schwellenberg, and he did so with a laugh that showed her how well he appreciated her difficulties in this direction in the past. Before she could say a word he was making light of the Schwellenberg—adopting exactly the strain that he knew would be most effective with Miss Burney.

“Never mind her—never mind her! Don't be oppressed! I am your friend! Don't let her cast you down—I know that you have a hard time of it—but don't mind her!”

The advice and the tone in which it was given—with a pleasant laugh—did not seem very consistent with what she expected from a madman. Fanny Burney appears up to that moment to have been under the impression that the King and Queen had known nothing of the tyranny and the insults to which she had been subjected by Mrs. Schwellenberg. But now it was made plain to her that the eyes of the Royal couple had been open all the time. If Macaulay had noticed the passage touching upon this point he would have had still stronger grounds for his attack upon their Majesties for their want of consideration for the tire-woman who was supposed never to be tired.

But how much more surprised must Fanny Burney have been when the King went on to talk to her in the most cordially confidential way about her father! It must have been another revelation to her when he showed how fully he realised the ambitions of Dr. Burney. He asked her regarding the progress of the History of Music, at which Dr. Burney had been engaged for several years, and this gave him a chance of getting upon his favourite topic, the music of Handel. But when he began to illustrate some of his impressions on this fruitful theme by singing over the choruses of an oratorio or two—perhaps such trifles as “All we like Sheep,” or “Lift up your Heads,” or the “Hallelujah”—he must have gone far toward neutralising the good opinion she had formed as to his sanity. Fortunately the attendant doctors interposed at this point; but the fact that the distinguished amateur suffered their adverse criticism proves to posterity that the King was even more good-natured than he had been painted by Miss Burney.

On then he went to talk of the subject which must never have been far from Dr. Burney's heart—the Mastership of the King's Band: “Your father ought to have had the post, and not that little poor musician Parsons, who was not fit for it,” he cried. “But Lord Salisbury used your father very ill in that business, and so he did me! However, I have dashed out his name, and I shall put your father's in—as soon as I get loose again. What has your father got at last? Nothing but that poor thing at Chelsea! Oh, fie! fie! But never mind! I will take care of him—I will do it myself!”

Could he have given the devoted daughter of Dr. Burney a more emphatic proof of his complete recovery to sanity than this? Why, it would have convinced Dr. Burney himself!

Alas! although the King may have been very resolute at the moment—he had just been making out a list of new officers of State, and was ready to show her that the name of her father's enemy, Lord Salisbury, was not to be found in it, and he assured her that in future he would rule with a rod of iron—yet before he returned to his ordinary way of life he must have mislaid his list, for poor Dr. Burney remained at his post of organist of Chelsea Hospital. He never attained to the place which he coveted and for which his daughter was sent to five years' Royal servitude, and (incidentally) to achieve for herself that immortality as a chronicler which would certainly never have been won by her as a novelist.

But the King did not confine his conversation to the one topic which he knew was of greatest interest to her. He spoke of Mrs. Delany, who had been the means of introducing Fanny to the Royal circle; and he referred to the ill-treatment which he had received at the hands of one of his pages; but this was the only passage that savoured of unkindness, and the chronicler is unable to do more than hope that the conduct of the pages was one of His Majesty's delusions. Then, with what seems to us to be consummate adroitness, he put some questions to her which she could not but answer. “They referred to information given to him in his illness from various motives, but which he suspected to be false, and which I knew he had reason to suspect,” Miss Burney writes. “Yet was it most dangerous to set anything right, as I was not aware what might be the views of their having been stated wrong. I was as discreet as I knew how to be, and I hope I did no mischief: but this was the worst part of the dialogue.”

We can quite believe that it was, and considering that it was the part of the dialogue which was most interesting to the King, we think that Miss Burney was to be congratulated upon the tact she displayed in her answers. She did not cause the King to be more perturbed than he was when waxing indignant over the conduct of his pages; and there was no need for Dr. Willis to interfere at this point, though he did a little later on. Then submitting with the utmost docility to the control of his excellent attendant, and with another exhortation not to pay any attention to the whims of the Schwellenberg, the gracious gentleman kissed her once more on the cheek and allowed her to take her departure.

So ended this remarkable adventure in Kew Gardens. One can picture Fanny Burney flying to tell the Queen all that had occurred—to repeat everything that her discretion permitted her of the conversation; and one has no difficulty in imagining the effect upon Queen Charlotte of all that she narrated; but it seems rather hard that from Mrs. Schwellenberg should have been withheld the excellent advice given by the King to Miss Burney respecting the German virago.

It would have been impossible either for Fanny Burney or the Queen to come to any conclusion from all that happened except one that was entirely satisfactory to both. King George III was undoubtedly on the high road to recovery, and subsequent events confirmed this opinion. It really seemed that the interview with the author of Evelina marked the turning-point in his malady at this time. Every day brought its record of improvement, and within a fortnight the dreaded Regency Bill, which had been sent up to the Lords, was abandoned. On March 1st there were public thanksgivings in all the churches, followed by such an illumination of London as had not been seen since the great fire. The scene at Kew is admirably described by Miss Burney, who had written some congratulatory lines to be offered by the Princess Amelia to the King. A great “transparency” had been painted by the Queen's order, representing the King, Providence, Health, and Britannia—a truly British tableau—and when this was hung out and illuminated the little Princess “went to lead her papa to the front window.” Then she dropped on her knees and gave him the “copy of verses,” with the postscript:

The little bearer begs a kiss

From dear papa for bringing this.

The “dear papa” took his dear child in his arms, and held her close to him for some time. Nothing could have been more charmingly natural and affecting. For such a picture of Royalty at home we are indebted to Fanny Burney, and, face to face with it, we are selfish enough to feel grateful to Dr. Burney for having given his daughter for five years to discharge a humble duty to her Sovereign and an immortal one to her fellow-countrymen, who have read her Diary and placed it on a shelf between Pepys and de Gramont.