The Sun.
London, England, 1842-11-24 00:00:00

LITERA TURE.

MADAME D'ARBLAY'S DIARY. Vol. V.
Coburn, London, 1842.

We have perused this volume with more satis-
faction than any of its predecessors, for, in the
first place, it is less disgustingly egotistical, and,
secondly, the anecdotal matter is more varied
and entertaining. The authoress is so utterly un-
interesting a personage—notwithstanding her
sublime opinion of herselt'—that we care to know
nothing about her; but it is otherwise with her
sketches and anecdotes of her'illustrious contem-
poraries; these possess a charm which will keep
her "Diary" green in public recollection when
her " Evelina" and " Cecilia" are forgotten by
all but trunk makers and confectioners. In speak-
ing of Burke, whom she frequently met, after
her emancipation from Court servitude, she con-
firms the testimony borne by others of his as-
sociates, as to the extraordinary, indeed, ungo-
vernable excitement he evinced, whenever the
politics of the day were alluded to; and she men-
tions a whimsical anecdote of Charles Fox
having one evening attended a meeting of the
Literary Club, where four High-Church Bishops
were " gathered together," who were of course
horror-struck at the idea of being brought into
su;:li close contact with an apologist of the French
Revolution ! Not the least entertaining portion
of the present volume is devoted to accounts of
those aristocratic 'advocates of monarchy, who,
it may be remembered, emigrated f'rom France in
droves about the period of Louis's execution.
Among these was tilt? Due de Liancourt, who
with difficulty escaped from the Jacobins,
and, on landing from a small fishing-boat at
Hastings, went to the nearest public-house, where,
in order to appear English, he called for " une pot
portere !" Being very thirsty, he drank this off
at a draught, and then called for another, which
he also dispatched in style; but not being suffi-
ciently habituated to such a beverage, his Grace
got dead drunk, which of course completed his
resemblance to a free-born Briton! Madame
D'Arblay tells this story with much unction. By
the bye, she shines in telling anecdotes of this
sort, and relates with infinite humour the be;
haviour of the Duke of Clarence who, on one oc-
casion—it was George the Third's birth-day—
rushed, half-seas over, into the room where she
sat at diviner with that mean, snuffy, dictatorial
German dowager, Madame Schwellenberg (whom
Peter Pindar has made such fun of in his
" Lousiad") and insisted on the whole party
getting drunk in honour of the day ! Fortu-
nately for their credit's sake, the women ma-
naged to gain- exemption, but their male com-
panions were so lustily plied with champagne by
his Royal Highness, that they were soon placed
in a condition which would have justified a Po-
lice Magistrate in exacting five shillings from
them. This Madame Schwellenberg seems to
have sat like an incubus on Madame D'Arblay's
imagination. She was a selfish, irascible, domi-
neering termagant, who fancied that every one
ought to submit unrepining to her caprices, and
who, like most such people, was the veriest syco-
phant to her Royal mistress. 134 h these amiable
creatures took snuff in prodigious quantities;
both were blessed with astounding appetites--
they could each have digested an ostrich—and
were equally stingy in money matters. We be-
lieve, however, that the Royal Charlotte was the
most avaricious of the two, though Madame
Schwellenberg bore away the palm in point of
ugliness. Of Jemmy Boswell, whom our au-
thoress met frequently in society, she invariably
speaks with contempt and dislike. At first, we
were at a loss to account for such decided aver-
sion; but when we met with a passagein the Diary,.
where the King is represented as expressing his
surprise to Madame D'Arblay that she was so
seldom mentioned in " Boswell's Life of John-
son," we at once came to the conclusion that
wounded vanity—for the lady, as her work
Shows abounded in smooth, simpering self-
conceit--Was at the bottom of her dislike to
James. In spite, however, of her would-be
contempt for Johnson's truest friend, time—who
is no respector of persons—is fast doing justice to
both parties. Madame D'Arblay, with her
heaps of common-place novels, is all but for-
gotten ; Boswell still lives, and will live for ever.
And most deservedly so, for throughout his in-
imitable biography, he fairly divides attention
with the illustrious Lexicographer; and we
scarcely know which we relish most—the smart
epigratnmatic sayings, and sagacious aphorisms of
the one, or the unconscious self-conceit, good-
nature, and exquiskte simplicity of character that
the other exhibits in every page. We quote the
following extract descriptive of some of Jemmy
Boswell's diverting peculiarities :
* The beautiful chapel of St. George, repaired and
finished by the best artists at an immense expense,
which was now opened after a very long shutting up
for its preparations, brought innumerable strangers to
Windsor, and, among others, Mr. Boswell.
This I heard, in my way to the chapel, from Mr.
Turbulent; who overtook me, and mentioned having
met Mr. Boswell at the Bishop of Carlisle's the even-
ing before. He proposed bringing him to call upon
me ; hut this I declined, certain how little satisfac-
tion would be given here by the entrance of a man
so famous for compiling anecdotes. But yet I really
wished to see him again, for old acquaintance sake,
and unavoidable amusement from his oddity and good
humour as well as respect for the object of his constant
admiration, my revered Dr. Johnson. I therefore told
Mr. Turbulent I should be extremely glad to speak
with him after the service was over.

Accordingly, at the gate of the choir, Mr. Tur-
bulent brought him to me. We saluted with mutual
glee ; his comic-serious face and manner have lost
nothing of their wonted singularity ; nor yet have
his mind and language, as you will soon confess. .
" I am 'extremely glad to see you indeed," he
cried, " but very sorry to see you here. My dear
ma'am, why do you stay ?—it won't do, ma'am ! you
must resign ! We can put up with it no longer. I.
told my good host the Bishop so last night ; we are all
grown quite outrageous !"
Whether I laughed the most, or stared the most, I
am at a loss to say ; but 1 hurried away from the
cathedral, not to have such treasonable declarations
overheard, for we were surrounded by a multitude.
He accompanied me, however, not losing one mo-
ment in continuing his exhortations : " If you- do not
quit, ma'am, very soon, some violent measures, I as-
sure you will be taken. We shall address Dr. Bur-
ney in a body ; I am ready to make the harangue
myself. We shall fall upon him all at once."
I stopped him to inquire about Sir Joshua ; he said
he saw him very often, and that his spirits were very
good. I asked about Mr. Burke's book. " 0," cried
he, " It will come out next week : 'tis the first book
in the world, except my own, and that's coming out
also very soon; only I want your help."
" My help?"
" Yes, madam ; you must give me some of your
choice little notes of the Doctor's ; we have seen him
long enough upon stilts ; I want to show him in a
new light. Grave Sam, and great Sam, and solemn
Sam, and learned Sam,—all these he bath appeared
over and over. Now I want to entwine a wreath of
the graces across his brow; I want to show him as
gay Sam, agreeable Sam, pleasant Sam ; so you
must help me with some of his beautiful billets to
yourself."
I evaded this by declaring I had not any stores at
hand. He proposed a thousand curious expedients to
get at them, but I was invincible.
Then I was hurrying on, lest I should he too late.
He followed eagerly, and again exclaimed, " But,
ma'am, as I tell you, this wont do—you must resign
off-hand ! Why, I would farm you out myself for
double, treble the money ! I wish I had the regula-
tion of such a farm,—yet lam no farmer-general. But
I should like to farm you, and so I will tell Dr. Bur-
ney. I mean to address him ; I have a speech ready
for the first opportunity.
He then told me his ' Life of Dr. Johnson " was
nearly printed, and took a proof-sheet out of his pocket
to show me, with crowds passing and repassing,
knowing me well, and staring well at him ; for we
were now at the iron rails of the Queen's Lodge.
I stopped; I could not ask him in : I saw he ex-
pected it, and was reduced to apologise, and tell him
I must attend the Queen immediately.
He uttered again stronger and stronger exhorta-
tions for my retreat, accompanied by expressions
which I was obliged to check in their bud. But find-
ing he had no chance for entering, he stopped me
again at the gate, and said he would read me a part
of his work.
There was no refusing this : and he began with a
letter of Dr. Johnson's to himself. He read it in
strong imitation of the Doctor's manner, very well,
and not caricature. But Mrs. Schwellenberg was
at her window, a crowd was gathering to stand round
the rails, and the King and Queen and Royal Fa-
mily now approached from the Terrace. I made a