Thursday, June 25.—This morning I was called before five o’clock, though various packages and business had kept me up till near three.
The day was rainy, but the road was beautiful; Windsor great park, in particular, is charming. The crowds increased as we advanced, and at Winchester the town was one head. I saw Dr. Warton, but could not stop the carriage. The king was everywhere received with acclamation. His popularity is greater than ever. Compassion for his late sufferings seems to have endeared him now to all conditions of men.
At Romsey, on the steps of the town-hall, an orchestra was formed, and a band of musicians, in common brown coarse cloth and red neckcloths, and even in carters’ loose gowns, made a chorus of “God save the king,” In which the countless multitude joined, in such loud acclamation, that their loyalty and heartiness, and natural joy, almost surprised me into a sob before I knew myself at all affected by them.
The New Forest Is all beauty, and when we approached Lyndhurst the crowds wore as picturesque an appearance as the landscapes; They were all in decent attire, and, the great space giving them full room, the cool beauty of the verdure between the groups took away all idea of inconvenience, and made their live gaiety a scene to joy beholders.
Carriages of all sorts lined the road-side:-chariots, chaises, landaus, carts, waggons, whiskies, gigs, phatons—mixed and intermixed, filled Within and surrounded without by faces all glee and delight. Such was the scenery for miles before we reached Lyndhurst. The old law of the forest, that his majesty must be presented with two milk-white greyhounds, peculiarly decorated, upon his entrance into the New Forest, gathered together multitudes to see the show. A party, also, of foresters, habited in green, and each with a bugle-horn, met his majesty at the same time.
Arrived at Lyndhurst, we drove to the Duke of Gloucester’s. The royal family were just before us, but the two colonels came and handed us through the crowd. The house, intended for a mere hunting-seat, was built by Charles II., and seems quite unimproved and unrepaired from its first foundation. It is the king’s, but lent to the Duke of Gloucester. It is a straggling, inconvenient, old house, but delightfully situated, in a village,—looking, indeed, at present, like a populous town, from the amazing concourse of people that have crowded into it.
The bow-men and archers and bugle-horns are to attend the king while he stays here, in all his rides.
The Duke of Gloucester was ready to receive the royal family, who are all in the highest spirits and delight.
I have a small old bed-chamber, but a large and commodious parlour, in which the gentlemen join Miss Planta and me to breakfast and to drink tea. They dine at the royal table. We are to remain here some days.
During the king’s dinner, which was in a parlour looking into the garden, he permitted the people to come to the window; and their delight and rapture in seeing their monarch at table, with the evident hungry feeling it occasioned, made a contrast of admiration and deprivation, truly comic. They crowded, however, so excessively, that this can be permitted them no more. They broke down all the paling, and much of the hedges, and some of the windows, and all by eagerness and multitude, for they were perfectly civil and well-behaved.
In the afternoon the royal party came into my parlour; and the moment the people saw the star, they set up such a shout as made a ring all around the village; for my parlour has the same view with the royal rooms into the garden, where this crowd was assembled, and the new rapture was simply at seeing the king in a new apartment!
They all walked out, about and around the village, in the evening, and the delighted mob accompanied them. The moment they stepped out of the house, the people, With voice, struck up “God save the king!” I assure you I cried like a child twenty times in the day, at the honest and rapturous effusions of such artless and disinterested loyalty. The king’s illness and recovery make me tender, as Count Mannuccia said, upon every recollection.
These good villagers continued singing this loyal song during the whole walk, without any intermission, except to shout “huzza!” at the end of every stanza. They returned so hoarse, that I longed to give them all some lemonade. Probably they longed for something they would have called better! ‘Twas well the king could walk no longer; I think, if he had, they would have died singing around him.
June 30.—We continued at Lyndhurst five days and the tranquillity of the life, and the beauty of the country, would have made it very regaling to me indeed, but for the fatigue of having no maid, yet being always in readiness to play the part of an attendant myself.
I went twice to see the house of Sir Phillip Jennings Clerke, my old acquaintance at Streatham. I regretted he was no more; he would so much have prided and rejoiced in shewing his place. His opposition principles would not have interfered with that private act of duty from a subject to a sovereign. How did I call to mind Mrs. Thrale, upon this spot! not that I had seen it with her, or ever before; but that its late owner was one of her sincerest admirers.
Miss Planta and myself drove also to Southampton, by the queen’s direction. It is a pretty clean town, and the views from the Southampton water are highly picturesque: but all this I had seen to far greater advantage, with Mr. and Mrs. and Miss Thrale. Ah, Mrs. Thrale!—In thinking her over, as I saw again the same spot, how much did I wish to see with it the same—once so dear—companion!
On the Sunday we all went to the parish church; and after the service, instead of a psalm, imagine our surprise to hear the whole congregation join in “God save the king!” Misplaced as this was in a church, its intent was so kind, loyal, and affectionate, that I believe there was not a dry eye amongst either singers or hearers. The king’s late dreadful illness has rendered this song quite melting to me. This day we quitted Lyndhurst; not without regret, for so private is its situation, I could stroll about in its beautiful neighbourhood quite alone. THE ROYAL JOURNEY TO WEYMOUTH.
The journey to Weymouth was one scene of festivity and rejoicing. The people were everywhere collected, and everywhere delighted. We passed through Salisbury, where a magnificent arch was erected, of festoons of flowers, for the king’s carriage to pass under, and mottoed with “The king restored,” and “Long live the king,” in three divisions. The green bowmen accompanied the train thus far; and the clothiers and manufacturers here met it, dressed out in white loose frocks, flowers, and ribbons, with sticks or caps emblematically decorated from their several manufactories. And the acclamations with which the king was received amongst them—it was a rapture past description. At Blandford there was nearly the same ceremony.
At every gentleman’s seat which we passed, the owners and their families stood at the gate, and their guests Or neighbours were in carriages all round.
At Dorchester the crowd seemed still increased. The city had so antique an air, I longed to investigate its old buildings. The houses have the most ancient appearance of any that are inhabited that I have happened to see: and inhabited they were indeed! every window-sash was removed, for face above face to peep Out, and every old balcony and all the leads of the houses seemed turned into booths for fairs. It seems, also, the most populous town I have seen; I judge by the concourse of the young and middle-aged—those we saw everywhere alike, as they may gather together from all quarters-but from the amazing quantity of indigenous residers; old women and young children. There seemed families of ten or twelve of the latter in every house; and the old women were so numerous, that they gave the whole scene the air of a rural masquerade.
Girls, with chaplets, beautiful young creatures, strewed the entrance of various villages with flowers.
Gloucester House, which we now inhabit, at Weymouth, is Situated in front of the sea, and the sands of the bay before it are perfectly smooth and soft. The whole town, and Melcomb Regis, and half the county of Dorset, seemed assembled to welcome their majesties.
I have here a very good parlour, but dull, from its aspect. Nothing but the sea at Weymouth affords any life Or Spirit. My bed-room is in the attics. Nothing like living at a Court for exaltation. Yet even with this gratification, which extends to Miss Planta, the house will only hold the females of the party. The two adjoining houses are added, for the gentlemen, and the pages, and some other of the suite, cooks, etc.—but the footmen are obliged to lodge still farther off.
The bay is very beautiful, after its kind; a peninsula shuts out Portland island and the broad ocean.
The king, and queen, and princesses, and their suite, walked out in the evening; an immense crowd attended them—sailors bargemen, mechanics, countrymen; and all united with so vociferous a volley of “God save the king,” that the noise was stunning.
At near ten o’clock Lord Courtown came into my parlour, as it is called, and said the town was all illuminated, and invited Miss Planta and me to a walk upon the sands. Their majesties were come in to supper. We took a stroll under his escort, and found it singularly beautiful, the night being very fine, and several boats and small vessels lighted up, and in motion upon the sea. The illumination extended through Melcomb Regis and Weymouth. Gloucester-row, in which we live, is properly in Melcomb Regis; but the two towns join each other, and are often confounded.
The preparations of festive loyalty were universal. Not a child could we meet that had not a bandeau round its head, cap, or hat, of “God save the king;” all the bargemen wore it in cockades and even the bathing-women had it in large coarse girdles round their waists. It is printed in golden letters upon most of the bathing-machines, and in various scrolls and devices it adorns every shop and almost every house in the two towns.
Gloucester House, Weymouth, Wednesday, July 9.—We are settled here comfortably enough. Miss Planta and I breakfast as well as dine together alone; the gentlemen have a breakfast parlour in the adjoining house, and we meet only at tea, and seldom then. They have all acquaintance here, in this Gloucester-row, and stroll from the terrace or the sands, to visit them during the tea vacation time. .’
I like this much: I see them just enough to keep up sociability, without any necessary constraint; for I attend the tea-table only at my own hour, and they come, or not, according to chance or their convenience.
The king bathes, and with great success; a machine follows the royal one into the sea, filled with fiddlers, who play “God save the king,” as his majesty takes his plunge!
I am delighted with the soft air and soft footing upon the sands, and stroll up and down them morning, noon, and night. As they are close before the house, I can get to and from them in a moment.
Her majesty has graciously hired a little maid between Miss Planta and me, who comes for the day. We have no accommodation for her sleeping here; but it is an unspeakable relief to our personal fatigues.
Dr. Gisburne is here, to attend his majesty; and the queen has ordered me to invite him to dine at my table. He comes regularly.
(Fanny Burney to Dr. Burney.) Gloucester Rowe, Weymouth, July 13, 1789. My dearest padre’s kind letter was most truly welcome to me. When I am so distant, the term of absence or of silence seems always doubly long to me.
The bay here is most beautiful; the sea never rough, generally calm and gentle, and the sands perfectly smooth and pleasant. I have not bathed, for I have had a cold in my head, which I caught at Lyndhurst, and which makes me fear beginning; but I have hopes to be well enough to-morrow, and thenceforward to ail nothing more. It is my intention to cast away all superfluous complaints into the main ocean, which I think quite sufficiently capacious to hold them; and really my little frame will find enough to carry and manage without them....
His majesty is in delightful health, and much-improved spirits. All agree he never looked better. The loyalty of all this place is excessive; they have dressed out every street with labels of “God save the king:” all the shops have it over the doors: all the children wear it in their caps, all the labourers in their hats, and all the sailors in their voices, for they never approach the house without shouting it aloud, nor see the king, or his shadow, without beginning to huzza, and going on to three cheers. The bathing-machines make it their motto over the windows; and those bathers that belong to the royal dippers wear it in bandeaus on their bonnets, to go into the sea; and have it again, in large letters, round their waists, to encounter the waves. Flannel dresses, tucked up, and no shoes nor stockings, with bandeaus and girdles, have a most singular appearance, and when first I surveyed these loyal nymphs it was with some difficulty I kept my features in order. Nor is this all. Think but Of the Surprise of his majesty when, the first time of his bathing, he had no sooner popped his royal head under water than a band of music, concealed in a neighbouring machine, struck up “God save great George our king.”
One thing, however, was a little unlucky,—when the mayor and burgesses came with the address, they requested leave to kiss hands: this was graciously accorded; but, the mayor advancing, in a common way, to take the queen’s hand, as he might that of any lady mayoress, Colonel Gwynn, who stood by, whispered, “You must kneel, sir!” He found, however, that he took no notice of this hint, but kissed the queen’s hand erect. As he passed him, in his way back, the colonel Said, “You should have knelt, Sir!”
“Sir,” answered the poor mayor, “I cannot.”
“Everybody does, sir.”
“Sir,—I have a wooden leg!”
Poor man! ’twas such a surprise! and such an excuse as no one could dispute. But the absurdity of the matter followed—all the rest did the same; taking the same privilege, by the example, without the same or any cause!
July 15.—The Magnificent, a man-of-war Of 74 guns, commanded by an old captain of James’s (Onslow), is now stationed at the entrance of the bay, for the security at once and pleasure of the king; and a fine frigate, the Southampton, Captain Douglas, is nearer in, and brought for the king to cruise about. Captain Douglas is nephew to Sir Andrew Snape Hammond, who married a cousin of our Mr. Crisp. The king and royal party have been to visit the frigate. Miss Planta and myself went to see the ceremony from a place called the Look-out,—a beautiful spot. But I have not much taste for sea receptions and honours: the firing a salute is SO strange a mode of hospitality and politeness.... Mrs. Gwynn308 is arrived, and means to spend the royal season here. She lodges at the hotel just by, and we have met several times. She is very soft and pleasing, and still as beautiful as an angel. We have had two or three long tête-a-têtes and talked over, with great pleasure, anecdotes Of Our former mutual acquaintances—Dr. Johnson, Sir Joshua Reynolds, Mrs. Thrale, Baretti, Miss Reynolds, Miss Palmer, and her old admirer, Dr. Goldsmith, of whom she relates—as who does not?—a thousand ridiculous traits.
The queen is reading Mrs. Piozzi’s tour309 to me, instead of my reading it to her. She loves reading aloud, and in this work finds me an able commentator. How like herself, how characteristic is every line—Wild, entertaining, flighty, inconsistent, and clever!
July 16.—Yesterday we all went to the theatre. The king has taken the centre front box for himself, family, and attendants. The side boxes are too small. The queen ordered places for Miss Planta and me, which are in the front row of a box next but one to the royals. Thus, in this case, Our want of rank to be in their public suite gives us better seats than those high enough to stand behind them.
Lady Sydney, Lady Courtown’s sister, and Miss Townshend, her daughter, are in the intermediate box, and were very sociable. I have met them here occasionally, and like them very well.
‘Tis a pretty little theatre: but its entertainment was quite in the barn style a mere medley,—songs, dances, imitations, and all very bad. But Lord Chesterfield, who is here, and who seems chief director, promises all will be better.
This morning the royal party went to Dorchester, and I strolled upon the sands with Mrs. Gwynn. We overtook a lady, of a very majestic port and demeanour, who solemnly returned Mrs. Gwynn’s salutation, and then addressed herself to me with similar gravity. I saw a face I knew, and of very uncommon beauty; but did not immediately recollect it was Mrs. Siddons. She is come here, she says, solely for her health: she has spent some days with Mrs. Gwynn, at General Harcourt’s. Her husband was with her, and a sweet child. I wished to have tried if her solemnity would have worn away by length of conversation; but I was obliged to hasten home. But my dearest Fredy’s opinion, joined to that of my Sister Esther, satisfies me I was a loser by this necessary forbearance.
Sunday, July 26.—Yesterday we went again to the play, and saw “The Midnight Hour” and “The Commissary.” The latter from the “Bourgeois Gentilhomme,” is comic to convulsion and the burlesque of Quick and Mrs. Wells united made me laugh quite immoderately.310
July 29.—We went to the play, and saw Mrs. Siddons in Rosalind. She looked beautifully, but too large for that shepherd’s dress; and her gaiety sits not naturally upon her,—it seems more like disguised gravity. I must own my admiration for her confined to her tragic powers; and there it is raised so high that I feel mortified, in a degree, to see her so much fainter attempts and success in comedy.
Monday, Aug. 3.—The whole royal party went to see Lulworth Castle, intending to be back to dinner, and go to the play at night, which their majesties had ordered, with Mrs. Siddons to play Lady Townly.311 Dinner-time, however, came and passed, and they arrived not. They went by sea, and the wind proved contrary; and about seven o’clock a hobby groom was despatched thither by land, with intelligence that they had only reached Lulworth Castle at five o’clock. They meant to be certainly back by eight; but sent their commands that the farce might be performed first, and the play wait them.
The manager repeated this to the audience,—already waiting and wearied but a loud applause testified their agreeability to whatever could be proposed. The farce, however, was much sooner over than the passage from Lulworth Castle. It was ten o’clock when they landed! And all this time the audience—spectators rather—quietly waited!
They landed, just by the theatre, and went to the house of Lady Pembroke, who is now here in attendance upon the queen: and there they Sent home for the king’s page, with a wig, etc.; and the queen’s wardrobe woman, with similar decorations; and a message to Miss Planta and me, that we might go at once to the theatre.
We obeyed; and soon after they appeared, and were received with the most violent gusts of joy and huzzas, even from the galleries over their heads, whose patience had not the reward of seeing them at last. Is not this a charming trait of provincial popularity?
Mrs. Siddons, in her looks, and the tragic part, was exquisite.
Aug. 4.—To-day all the royals went to Sherborne Castle. My day being perfectly at liberty, Mrs. Gwynn stayed and spent it with me. The weather was beautiful; the sea-breezes here keep off intense heat in the warmest season. We walked first to see the shrubbery and plantation of a lady, Mrs. B—, who has a very pretty house about a mile and a half out of the town. Here we rested, and regaled ourselves with sweet flowers, and then proceeded to the old castle,-its ruins rather, which we most completely examined, not leaving one stone’ untrod, except such as must have precipitated us into the sea. This castle is built almost in the sea, upon a perpendicular rock, and its situation, therefore, is nobly bold and striking. It is little more now than walls, and a few little winding staircases at its four corners.
I had not imagined my beautiful companion could have taken so much pleasure from an excursion so romantic and lonely; but she enjoyed it very much, clambered about as unaffectedly as if she had lived in rural scenes all her life, and left nothing unexamined.
We then prowled along the sands at the foot of the adjoining rocks, and picked up sea-weeds and shells but I do not think they were such as to drive Sir Ashton Lever,312 or the Museum keepers, to despair! We had the queen’s two little dogs, Badine and Phillis, for our guards and associates. We returned home to a very late tea, thoroughly tired, but very much pleased. To me it was the only rural excursion I had taken for more than three years. The royal party came not home till past eleven o’clock. The queen was much delighted with Sherborne Castle, which abounds with regal curiosities, honourably acquired by the family.
Aug. 8.—-To-day we went to Lulworth Castle; but not with Mrs. Gwynn. Her majesty ordered our royal coach and four, and directed me to take the two De Lucs.
Lulworth Castle is beautifully situated, with a near and noble view of the sea, It has a spacious and very fine park, and commands a great extent of prospect. It is the property of Mr. Weld, a Roman Catholic, whose eldest brother was first husband of Mrs. Fitzherbert.313 A singular circumstance, that their majesties should visit a house in which, so few years ago, she might have received them.
There is in it a Roman Catholic chapel that is truly elegant,—a Pantheon in miniature,—and ornamented with immense expense and richness. The altar is all of finest variegated marbles, and precious stones are glittering from every angle. The priests’ vestments, which are very superb, and all the sacerdotal array, were shown us as particular favours: and Colonel Goldsworthy comically said he doubted not they had incense and oblations for a week to come, by way of purification for our heretical curiosity.
The castle is built with four turrets. It is not very ancient, and the inside is completely modern, and fitted up with great elegance. It abounds in pictures of priests, saints, monks, and nuns, and is decorated with crosses and Roman Catholic devices without end. They show one room in which two of our kings have slept; Charles II. and poor James II.
We returned home to dinner, and in the evening went to the play. Mrs. Siddons performed Mrs. Oakley. What pity thus to throw away her talents! but the queen dislikes tragedy, and the honour to play before the royal family blinds her to the little credit acquired by playing comedy.
Sunday, Aug 9.—The king had a council yesterday, which brought most of the great officers of state to Weymouth.
In the evening, her majesty desired Miss Planta and me to go to the rooms, whither they commonly go themselves on Sunday evenings, and, after looking round them, and speaking where they choose, they retire to tea in an inner apartment with their own party, but leave the door wide open, both to see and be seen.
The rooms are convenient and spacious: we found them very full. As soon as the royal party came, a circle was formed, and they moved round it, just as before the ball at St. James’s, the king one way with his chamberlain, the new-made Marquis of Salisbury, and the queen the other with the princesses, Lady Courtown, etc. The rest of the attendants planted themselves round in the circle.
I had now the pleasure, for the first time, to see Mr. Pitt but his appearance is his least recommendation; it is neither noble nor expressive. Lord Chatham, the Duke of Richmond, Mr. Villiers, Lord Delawarr, etc., were in the circle, and spoken to a long time each.
Thursday, Aug. 13.—We began our Western tour. We all went in the same order as we set out from Windsor. We arrived at Exeter to a very late dinner. We were lodged at the Deanery; and Dr. Buller, the dean, desired a conference with me, for we came first, leaving the royals at Sir George Young’s. He was very civil, and in highest glee: I had never seen him before; but he told me he introduced himself, by this opportunity, at the express desire of Mrs. Chapone and Mrs. Castle, who were both his relations, as well as of Dr. Warton. I was glad to hear myself yet remembered by them.
The crowds, the rejoicings, the hallooing, and singing, and garlanding, and decorating of all the inhabitants of this old city, and of all the country through which we passed, made the journey quite charming: such happy loyalty as beamed from all ranks and descriptions of men carried close to the heart in sympathetic joy.
We passed all the next day at the Deanery, which was insufficient to our party, that not only the gentlemen, one and all, lodged at the hotel, but even Lady Courtown and the two Lady Waldegraves. I saw nothing of any of them while we stayed at Exeter. I strolled with Miss Planta about the town, which is populous and busy enough, but close and ugly. The principal parade for company, however, takes in a fine view of the country; and the cathedral is old and curious.
The next morning, Saturday the 15th, we quitted Exeter, in which there had been one constant mob surrounding the Deanery from the moment of our entrance. We proceeded through a country the most fertile, varied, rural, and delightful, in England, till we came to the end of our aim, Saltram. We passed through such beautiful villages, and so animated a concourse of people, that the whole journey proved truly delectable. Arches of flowers were-erected for the royal family to pass under at almost every town, with various loyal devices, expressive of their satisfaction in this circuit. How happy must have been the king!-how deservedly! The greatest conqueror could never pass through his dominions with fuller acclamations of joy from his devoted subjects than George III. experienced, simply from having won their love by the even tenor of an unspotted life, which, at length, has vanquished all the hearts of all his subjects.
Our entrance at Saltram was, personally to Miss Planta and me, very disagreeable: we followed immediately after the royals and equerries and so many of the neighbouring gentry, the officers, etc., were assembled to receive them, that we had to make our way through a crowd of starers the most tremendous, while the royals all stood at the windows, and the other attendants in the hall.
The house is one of the most magnificent in the kingdom. It accommodated us all, even to every footman, without by any means filling the whole. The state apartments on the ground floor are superb, hung with crimson damask, and ornamented with pictures, some few of the Spanish school, the rest by Sir Joshua Reynolds, Angelica, and some few by other artists.
Its view is noble; it extends to Plymouth, Mount Edgecumbe, and the neighbouring fine country. The sea at times fills up a part of the domain almost close to the house, and then its prospect is Complete.
Sunday, Aug. 16.—Lord Courtown brought me a very obliging message from Lady Mount-Edgecumbe, who had been here at noon to kiss hands, on becoming a countess from a baroness. She sent to invite me to see her place, and contrive to dine and spend the day there. Her majesty approves the Mount-Edgecumbe invitation.
Aug. 18.—This morning the royals were all at a grand naval review. I spent the time very serenely in my favourite wood, which abounds in seats of all sorts and then I took a fountain Pen, and wrote my rough journal for copying to my dear Sorelle.314
In the evening, Lord Courtown, opening my parlour door, called out, “May one come in?”
“May one?” exclaimed Colonel Goldsworthy; “may two, may three,—may four?—I like your one, indeed!”
And in they all entered, and remained in sociable conversation till they were all called, late, to cards.
Aug. 19.—Again this morning was spent by the royals at Plymouth dock—by me in strolls round the house. The wood here is truly enchanting—the paths on the slant down to the water resemble those of sweet Norbury park.
The tea, also, was too much the same to be worth detailing. I will only mention a speech which could not but divert me, of Mr. Alberts, the queen’s page. He said nobody dared represent to the king the danger of his present continual exertion in this hot weather,—“unless it is Mr. Fairly,” he added, “who can say anything, in his genteel roundabout way.”
Aug. 21.—To-day the royals went to Mount-Edgecumbe, and her majesty had commissioned Lady Courtown to arrange a plan for Miss Planta and me to see Plymouth Dock. According, therefore, to her ladyship’s directions, we set off for that place, and, after a dull drive of about five miles, arrived at the house of the commissioner, Admiral La Forey. Here Mrs. La Forey and her daughters were prepared to expect us, and take the trouble of entertaining us for the day.
Three large and populous towns, Plymouth, Stockton, and Dock,315 nearly join each other. Plymouth is long, dirty, ill built, and wholly unornamented with any edifice worth notice. Stockton is rather neater,-nothing more. Dock runs higher and Is newer, and looks far cleaner and more habitable. The commissioner’s is the best-situated house in Dock: it is opposite a handsome quay, on an arm of the sea, with a pretty paved walk, or terrace, before the house, which seems used as a mall by the inhabitants, and is stored with naval offices innumerable.
The two ladies received us very pleasantly. Mrs. La Forey Is well bred, in the formal way; but her eldest daughter, Mrs. Molloy, is quite free from stiffness, yet perfectly obliging, very easy, very modest, and very engaging, and, when dressed for a ball in the evening, very handsome. She does not become a déshabille, but cannot look otherwise than pleasing and agreeable, from her manners and countenance.
Captain Molloy, her husband, was gone to attend in the naval procession that conducted the royals to Mount-Edgecumbe, where he expected to dine; but he had left a younger officer, Lieutenant Gregory, to do the honours of the naval show to us.
The commissioner himself is yet more formal than his lady, but equally civil. An unmarried daughter appeared next, who seems sensible and good humoured, but very plain.
We sallied forth to the dockyard, with these two daughters, and Lieutenant Gregory, a very pleasing and well-bred young officer. How often I wished my dear James had happened to be here, in any employment, at this time!
The dockyard you will dispense with my describing. It is a noble and tremendous sight, and we were shown it with every advantage of explanation. It was a sort of sighing satisfaction to see such numerous stores of war’s alarms!-ropes, sails, masts, anchors,—and all in the finest symmetry, divided and subdivided, as if placed only for show, The neatness and exactness of all the arrangement of those stores for tempest, filled me with admiration; so did the whole scene—though not with pleasure. All assurances, however well to be depended upon, of safety, are but so many indications of danger. While we were seeing the anchor business,—which seemed performed by Vulcanic demons, so black they looked, so savage was their howl in striking the red-hot iron, and so coarse and slight their attire,—we were saluted with three cheers, from the accidental entrance of Lord Stopford, Lord Courtown’s son, and Mr. Townshend, his nephew, a son of Lord Sydney, just made a lord of the Admiralty. And the sound, in those black regions, where all the light was red-hot fire, had a Very fine demoniac effect. In beating the anchor they all strike at the same instant, giving about three quick strokes to one slow stroke; and were they not to time them with the most perfect conformity, they must inevitably knock out one another’s brains. The sight of this apparently continual danger gave to the whole the appearance of some wild rite performed from motives of superstition in some uncivilised country.
While we were yet in the dockyard we were joined by two sea-captains, Captain Molloy and Captain Duckworth. Captain Molloy is a sensible and agreeable man, but somewhat haughty, and of conscious consequence. Captain Duckworth is both sensible and amiable in his style of conversation, and has a most perfect and kind openness of manner and countenance; but he greatly amused me by letting me see how much I amused him. I never surprised him looking near me, without seeing on his face so irresistible a simper, that I expected him every moment to break forth; never even trying to keep a grave face, except when I looked at him in full front. I found he knew “Burney, of the Bristol,” as he called our James, and I named and conversed about him by every opportunity.
Captain Molloy invited us, when we had exhausted the show on land, to see his ship. I dislike going anywhere beyond the reach of the Humane society, but could not be left without breaking up the party: this was my first water-excursion, though two had been proposed to me at Weymouth, which I had begged leave to decline.
All, however, was smooth and calm, and we had the best possible navigators. We went to the ship in Captain Molloy’s large boat, which was very trim and neat, and had all its rowers new dressed and smart for royal attendance, as it followed the king in all his water-excursions. The Ship is the Bombay Castle, of seventy-four guns. It had the Admiralty flag hoisted, as Lord Chatham had held a board there in the morning. It is a very fine ship, and I was truly edified by the sight of all its accommodations, ingenuity, utility, cleanliness, and contrivances. A man-of-war, fitted out and manned, is a glorious and a fearful sight!
In going over the ship we came to the midshipmen’s mess, and those young officers were at dinner, but we were taken in: they were lighted by a few candles fastened to the wall in sockets. Involuntarily I exclaimed, “Dining by candle-light at noon-day!” A midshipman, starting forward, said, “Yes’, ma’am, and Admiral Lord Hood did the same for seven years following!”
I liked his spirit so much that I turned to him, and said I was very glad they looked forward to such an example, for I had a brother in the service, which gave me a warm interest in its prosperity. This made the midshipman so much my friend, that we entered into a detailed discourse upon the accommodations of their cabin, mess, etc., and various other matters. I liked him much, though I know not his name; but my constant Captain Duckworth kept me again wholly to his own cicerone-ing, when I turned out of the cabin.
A little, however, he was mortified to find me a coward upon the water. I assured him he should cure me if he could convince me there was no reason for fear. He would not allow of any, but could not disprove it.
“Tell me,” I said, “and honestly,—should we be overturned in the boat while out at sea, what would prevent our being drowned?” He would not suppose such an accident possible.
I pressed him, however, upon the possibility it might happen once in a century, and he could not help laughing, and answered, “O, we should pick you all up!”—I desired to know by what means. “Instruments,” he said. I forced him, after a long and comic resistance, to show me them. Good heaven! they were three-pronged iron forks,—very tridents of Neptune!
I exclaimed with great horror, “These!—why, they would tear the body to pieces!”
“O,” answered he calmly, “one must not think of legs and arms when life is in danger.”
I would not, however, under such protection, refuse sailing round Mount-Edgecumbe, which we did in Captain Molloy’s boat, and just at the time when the royals, in sundry garden- chairs, were driving about the place. It was a beautiful view the situation is delightful. But Captain Molloy was not in the best harmony with its owners, as they had disappointed his expectations of an Invitation to dinner.