Dr. Warton insisted upon accompanying me home as far as the iron rails, to see me enter my re,,al premises. I did not dare invite him in, without previous knowledge whether I had any such privilege; otherwise, with all his parts, and all his experience, I question whether there is one boy in his school at Winchester who would more have delighted in feeling himself under the roof of a sovereign.

A NERVOUS READER.

Aug. 17.-From the time that the queen condescended to desire to place me in immediate attendance upon her own person, I had always secretly concluded she meant me for her English reader; since the real duties of my office would have had a far greater promise of being fulfilled by thousands of others than by myself. This idea had made the prospect of reading to her extremely awful to me: an exhibition, at any rate, is painful to me, but one in which I considered her majesty as a judge, interested for herself in the sentence she

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should pronounce, and gratified or disappointed according to its tenor-this was an exhibition formidable indeed, and must have been considered as such by anybody in similar circumstances.

Not a book, not a pamphlet, not a newspaper, had I ever seen near the queen, for the first week, without feeling a panic ; I always expected to be called upon. She frequently bid me give her the papers ; I felt that they would be the worst reading I could have, because full of danger, in matter as well as manner: however, she always read them herself.

To-day, after she was dressed, Mrs. Schwellenberg went to her own room; and the queen, instead of leaving mee, as usual, to go to mine, desired me to follow her to her sitting dressing-room. She then employed me in helping her to arrange her work, which is chair covers done in ribbon; and then told me to fetch her a volume of the "Spectator." I obeyed with perfect tranquillity. She let me stand by her a little while without speaking, and then, suddenly, but very gently, said, "Will you read a paper while I work?"

I was quite "consternated!" I had not then the smallest expectation of such a request. I said nothing, and held the book unopened.

She took it from me, and pointed out the place where I should begin. She is reading them regularly through, for the first time. I had no choice: I was forced to obey; but my voice was less obedient than my will, and it became so husky, and so unmanageable, that nothing more unpleasant could be heard. The paper was a curious one enough—all concerning a Court favourite. I could hardly rejoice when my task was over, from my consciousness how ill it was performed. The queen talked of the paper, but forbore saying anything of any sort about the reader. I am sorry, however, to have done so ill.

Miss BURNEY REPINES AT HER POSITION.

(Fanny Burney to Mrs. Philips.) August 20.

. . . . .O my beloved Susan, 'tis a refractory heart I have to deal with!—it struggles so hard to be sad—and silent—and fly from you entirely, since it cannot fly entirely to you. I do all I can to conquer it, to content it, to give it a taste and enjoyment for what is still attainable: but at times I cannot manage 404

it, and it seems absolutely indispensable to my peace to occupy myself in anything rather than in writing to the person most dear to me upon earth! . . . If to you alone I show myself in these dark colours, can you blame the plan that I have intentionally been forming, namely, to wean myself from myself—to lessen all my affections—to curb all my wishes—to deaden all my sensations? This design, my Susan, I formed so long ago as the first day my dear father accepted my offered appointment: I thought that what demanded a complete new system of life, required, if attainable, a new set of feelings for all enjoyment of new prospects, and for lessening regrets at what were quitted, or lost. Such being my primitive idea, merely from my grief of separation, imagine but how it was strengthened and confirmed when the interior of my position became known to me!—when I saw myself expected by Mrs. Schwellenberg, not to be her colleague, but her dependent deputy! not to be her visitor at my own option, but her companion, her humble companion, at her own command! This has given so new a character to the place I had accepted under such different auspices, that nothing but my horror of disappointing, perhaps displeasing, my dearest father, has deterred me,from the moment that I made this mortifying discovery, from soliciting his leave to resign.

But oh my Susan,—kind, good, indulgent as he is to me, I have not the heart so cruelly to thwart his hopes—his views—his happiness, in the honours he conceived awaiting my so unsolicited appointment. The queen, too, is all sweetness, encouragement, and gracious goodness to me, and I cannot endure to complain to her of her old servant. You see, then, my situation; here I must remain!—The die is cast, and that struggle is no more.—To keep off every other, to support the loss of the dearest friends, and best society, and bear, in exchange, the tyranny, the exigeance, the ennui, and attempted indignities of their greatest contrast,- -this must be my constant endeavour.

Amongst my sources of unhappiness in this extraordinary case is, the very favour that, in any other, might counteract it—namely, that of the queen: for while, in a manner the most attractive, she seems inviting my confidence, and deigning to wish my happiness, she redoubles my conflicts never to shock her with murmurs against one who, however to me noxious and persecuting, is to her a faithful and truly devoted old servant. This will prevent my ever having my distress and dis- 405

turbance redressed ; for they can never be disclosed. Could I have, as my dear father conceived, all the time to myself, my friends, my leisure, or my own occupations, that is not devoted to my official duties, how different would be my feelings, how far more easily accommodated to my privations and sacrifices! Little does the queen know the slavery I must either resist or endure. And so frightful is hostility, that I know not which part is hardest to perform.

MADAME DE GENLIs DISCUSSED.

Windsor, Monday Evening.-Madame de la Fite, who calls upon me daily, though I am commonly so much engaged I can scarce speak to her for a moment, came to desire I would let her bring me M. Argant,(215) who was come to Windsor to show some experiment to the king.

Madame de la Fite has long pressed me with great earnestness to write to Madame de Genlis, whose very elegant little note to me I never have answered. Alas! what can I do? I think of her as of one of the first among women—I see her full of talents and of charms—I am willing to believe her good, virtuous, and dignified;—yet, with all this, the cry against her is so violent and so universal, and my belief in her innocence is wholly unsupported by proof in its favour, or any other argument than internal conviction, from what I observed of her conduct and manners and conversation when I saw her in London, that I know not how to risk a correspondence with her, till better able to satisfy others, as well as I am satisfied Myself: most especially, I dare not enter into such an intercourse through Madame de la Fite, whose indiscreet zeal for us both would lead her to tell her successful mediation to everybody she could make hear her. Already she has greatly distressed me upon this subject. Not content with continual importunity to me to write, ever since my arrival, which I have evaded as gently as possible, to avoid giving her my bumiliating reasons, she has now written Madame de Genlis word that I am here, belonging to the same royal household as herself; and then came to tell me, that as we were now so closely connected, she proposed our writing jointly, in the same letter.

All this, with infinite difficulty, I passed over,—pleading my little time; which indeed she sees is true. But when M. Argant was here, she said to me, in French, "M. Argant will imme-

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diately wait upon Madame de Genlis, for he is going to Paris; he will tell her he saw us together, and he will carry her a letter' from me; and surely Miss Burney will not refuse M. Argant the happiness of carrying two lines from one lady so celebrated to another?" I was quite vexed; a few lines answer the same purpose as a few sheets; since, once her correspondent, all that I am hesitating about is as completely over, right or wrong, as if I wrote to her weekly.

As soon as they left me, I hastened to my dear Mrs. Delany, to consult with her what to do. "By all means," cried she, "tell the affair of your difficulties whether to write to her or not, to the queen : it will unavoidably spread, if you enter into such a correspondence, and the properest step you can take, the safest and the happiest, is to have her opinion, and be guided by it. Madame de Genlis is so public a character, you can hardly correspond with her in private, and it would be better the queen should hear of such an intercourse from yourself than from any other."

I entirely agreed in the wisdom of her advice, though I very much doubted my power to exert sufficient courage to speak, unasked, upon any affair of my own. You may be sure I resolved to spare poor Madame de la Fite, in my application, if I made it: "to write, or not to write," was all I wanted to determine; for the rest, I must run any risk rather than complain of a friend who always means well. . . .

An opportunity offered the next morning, for the queen again commanded me to follow her into her saloon ; and there she was so gentle, and so gracious, that I ventured to speak of Madame de Genlis.

It was very fearfully that I took this liberty. I dreaded lest she should imagine I meant to put myself under her direction, as if presuming she would be pleased to direct me. Something, I told her, I had to say, by the advice of Mrs. Delany, which I begged her permission to communicate. She assented in silence, but with a look of the utmost softness, and yet mixed with strong surprise. I felt my voice faltering, and I was with difficulty able to go on,-so new to me was it to beg to be heard, who, hitherto, have always been begged to speak. There is no absolutely accounting for the forcible emotions which every totally new situation and new effort will excite in a mind enfeebled, like mine, by a long succession of struggling agitations. I got behind her chair, that she might not see a distress she might wonder at: for it was not this application 407

itself that affected me ; it was the novelty of my own situation, the new power I was calling forth over my proceedings, and the—O my Susan!—the all that I was changing from—relinquishing-of the past—and hazarding for the future!

With many pauses, and continual hesitation, I then told her that I had been earnestly pressed by Madame de Genlis to correspond with her; that I admired her with all my heart, and, with all my heart, believed all good of her; but that, nevertheless, my personal knowledge of her was too slight to make me wish so intimate an intercourse, which I had carefully shunned upon all occasions but those where my affection as well as my admiration had been interested ; though I felt such a request from such a woman as Madame de Genlis as an honour, and therefore not to be declined without some reason stronger than my own general reluctance to proposals of that sort ; and I found her unhappily, and I really and sincerely believed undeservedly, encircled with such powerful enemies, and accused with so much confidence of having voluntarily provoked them, that I could not, even in my own mind, settle if it were right to connect myself with her so closely, till I could procure information more positive in her favour, in order to answer the attacks of those who asperse her,(216) and who would highly blame me for entering into a correspondence with a character not more unquestionably known to me. I had been desirous to wait, suspended, till this fuller knowledge might be brought about; but I was now solicited into a decision, by M. Argant, who was immediately going to her, and who must either take her a letter from me or show her, by taking none, that I was bent upon refusing her request.

The queen heard me with the greatest attention, and then said, "Have you yet writ to her?"

No, I said; I had had a little letter from her, but I received it just as the Duchess of Portland died, when my whole mind was so much occupied by Mrs. Delany, that I could not answer it. "I will speak to you then," cried she, "very honestly; if you have not yet writ, I think it better you should not write. If you had begun, it would be best to go on; but as you have

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not, it will be the safest way to let it alone. You may easily say, without giving her any offence, that you are now too much engaged to find time for entering into any new correspondence."

I thanked her for this open advice as well as I was able, and I felt the honour its reliance upon my prudence did me, as well as the kindness of permitting such an excuse to be made.

The queen talked on, then, of Madame de Genlis with the utmost frankness; she admired her as much as I had done myself, but had been so assaulted with tales to her disadvantage, that she thought it unsafe and indiscreet to form any connection with her. Against her own judgment, she had herself been almost tormented into granting her a private audience, from the imprudent vehemence of one of Madame de G.'s friends here, with whom she felt herself but little pleased for what she had done, and who, I plainly saw, from that unfortunate injudiciousness, would lose all power of exerting any influence in future. Having thus unreservedly explained herself, she finished the subject, and has never started it since. But she looked the whole time with a marked approbation of my applying to her.

Poor Madame de Genlis! how I grieve at the cloud which hovers over so much merit, too bright to be bid but not to be obscured.

A DISTINGUISHED ASTRONOMER.

In the evening Mr. Herschel(217) came to tea. I had once seen that very extraordinary man at Mrs. de Luc's, but was happy to see him again, for he has not more fame to awaken curiosity, than sense and modesty to gratify it. He is perfectly unassuming, yet openly happy; and happy in the success of those studies which would render a mind less excellently formed presumptuous and arrogant. The king has not a happier subject than this man, who owes wholly to his majesty that he is not wretched : for such was his eagerness to quit all other pursuits to follow astronomy solely, that he was in

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danger of ruin, when his talents, and great and uncommon genius, attracted the king's patronage. He has now not only his pension, which gives him the felicity of devoting all his time to his darling study, but he is indulged in licence from the king to make a telescope according to his new ideas and discoveries, that is to have no cost spared in its construction, and is wholly to be paid for by his majesty.

This seems to have made him happier even than the pension, as it enables him to put in execution all his wonderful projects, from which his expectations of future discoveries are so sanguine as to make his present existence a state of almost perfect enjoyment. Mr. Locke himself would be quite charmed with him. He seems a man without a wish that has its object in the terrestrial globe.

At night, Mr. Herschel, by the king's command, came to exhibit to his majesty and the royal family the new comet lately discovered by his sister, Miss Herschel; and while I was playing at piquet with Mrs. Schwellenberg, the Princess Augusta came into the room, and asked her if she chose to go into the garden and look at it. She declined the offer, and the princess then made it to me. I was glad to accept it, for all Sorts Of reasons.

We found him at his telescope, and I mounted some steps to look through it. The comet was very small, and had nothing grand or striking in its appearance ; but it is the first lady's comet, and I was very desirous to see it. Mr. Herschel then showed me some of his new-discovered universes, with all the good humour with which he would have taken the same trouble for a brother or a sister-astronomer : there is no possibility of admiring his genius more than his gentleness.

EFFUSIVE MADAMF DE LA ROCHE.

I come now to introduce to you, with a new character, some new perplexities from my situation. Madame de la Fite called the next morning, to tell me she must take no denial to forming me a new acquaintance—Madarne de la Roche, a German by birth, but married to a Frenchman;—an authoress, a woman of talents and distinction, a character highly celebrated, and unjustly suffering from an adherence to the Protestant religion.(218)

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"She dies with eagerness to see you," she added, in French, ".and I have invited her to Windsor, where I have told her I have no other feast prepared for her but to show her Dr. Herschel and Miss Burney."

I leave you to imagine if I felt competent to fulfil such a promise : openly, on the contrary, I assured her I was quite unequal to it. She had already, she said, written to Madame de la Roche, to come the next day, and if I would not meet her she must be covered with disgrace. Expostulation was now vain; I could only say that to answer for myself was quite, out of my own power.

"And why?—and wherefore?—and what for?—and surely to me!—and surely for Madame de la Roche!—une femme d'esPrit—mon amie— l'amie de Madame de Genlis," etc., etc., filled up a hurried conference in the midst of my dressing for the queen, till a summons interrupted her, and forced me, half dressed, and all too late, to run away from her, with an extorted promise to wait upon her if I possibly could.

Accordingly I went, and arrived before Madame de la Roche. Poor Madame de la Fite received me in transport; and I soon witnessed another transport, at least equal, to Madame de la Roche, which happily was returned with the same warmth; and it was not till after a thousand embraces, and the most ardent professions—"Ma digne amie!—est il possible?—te vois-je?" etc.—that I discovered they had never before met in their lives!—they had corresponded, but, no more!(219)

This somewhat lessened my surprise, however, when my turn arrived; for no sooner was I named than all the embrassades were transferred to me—"La digne Miss Borni!—l'auteur de C'ecile?- -d'Evelina?—non, ce n'est pas possible!-suis-je si

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heureuse!—oui, je le vois 'a ses yeux!—Ah! que de bonheur!" etc. . . .

Madame de la Roche, had I met her in any other way, might have pleased me in no common degree; for could I have conceived her character to be unaffected, her manners have a softness that would render her excessively engaging. She is now bien pass'ee— no doubt fifty—yet has a voice of touching sweetness, eyes of dove-like gentleness, looks supplicating for favour, and an air and demeanour the most tenderly caressing. I can suppose she has thought herself all her life the model of the favourite heroine of her own favourite romance, and I can readily believe that she has had attractions in her youth nothing short of fascinating. Had I not been present, and so deeply engaged in this interview, I had certainly been caught by her myself; for in her presence I constantly felt myself forgiving and excusing what in her absence I as constantly found past defence or apology.

Poor Madame de la Fite has no chance in her presence for though their singular enthusiasm upon " the people of the literature," as Pacchierotti called them, is equal, Madame de la Fite almost subdues by her vehemence, while Madame de la Roche almost melts by her softness. Yet I fairly believe they are both very good women, and both believe themselves sincere.

I returned still time enough to find Mrs. Schwellenberg with her tea-party ; and she was very desirous to hear something of Madame de la Roche. I was led by this to give a short account of her : not such a one as you have heard, because I kept it quite independent of all reference to poor Madame de la Fite; but there was still enough to make a little narration. Madame de ]a Roche had told me that she had been only three days in England, and had yet made but a beginning of seeing les spectacles and les gens c'el'ebres;—and what do you think was the first, and, as yet, sole spectacle to which she had been carried?—Bedlam!—And who the first, and, as yet, only homme c'el'ebre she had seen—Lord George Gordon!—whom she called le fameux George Gordon, and with whom she had dined, in company with Count Cagliostro.

Sunday, Sept. 17-At the chapel this morning, Madame de la Fite placed Madame de la Roche between herself and me, and proposed bringing her to the Lodge, "to return my visit." This being precisely what I had tried to avoid, and to avoid without shocking Madame de la Fite, by meeting her corre- 412

spondent at her own house, I was much chagrined at such a proposal, but had no means to decline it, as it was made across Madame de la Roche herself.

Accordingly, at about two o'clock, when I came from the queen, I found them both in full possession of my room, and Madame de la Fite occupied in examining my books. The thing thus being done, and the risk of consequences inevitable, I had only to receive them with as little display of disapprobation of their measures as I could help ; but one of the most curious scenes followed I have ever yet been engaged in or witnessed.

As soon as we were seated, Madame de la Fite began with assuring me, aloud, of the "conquest" I had made of Madaine de la Roche, and appealed to that lady for the truth of what she said. Madame de la Roche answered her by rising, and throwing her arms about me, and kissing my cheeks from side to side repeatedly.

Madame de la Fite, as soon as this was over, and we had resumed our seats, opened the next subject, by saying Madame de la Roche had read and adored "Cecilia:" again appealing to her for confirmation of her assertion.

"O, oui, oui!" cried her friend, "mais la vraie C'ecile, est Miss Borni! charmante Miss Borni! digne, douce, et aimable—com to me arms! que je vous embrasse millefois!"

Again we were all deranged, and again the same ceremony being performed, we all sat ourselves down. "Cecilia" was hen talked over throughout, in defiance of every obstacle I could put in its way. After this, Madame de la Fite said, in French, that Madame de la Roche had had the most extraordinary life and adventures that had fallen to anybody's lot; and finished with saying, "Eh! ma ch'ere amie, contez-nous un peu."

They were so connected, she answered, in their early part with M. Wieland, the famous author, that they would not be itelligible without his story.

Madame de la Roche, looking down upon her fan, began then the recital. She related their first interview, the gradations of their mutual attachment, his extraordinary talents, his literary fame and name; the breach of their union from motives of prudence in their friends; his change of character from piety to voluptuousness, in consoling himself for her loss with an actress; his various adventures, and various transformations from good to bad, in life and conduct; her own marriage with 413

M. de ]a Roche, their subsequent meeting when she was mother of three children, and all the attendant circumstances.

This narrative was told in so touching and pathetic a manner, and interspersed with so many sentiments of tenderness and of heroism, that I could scarcely believe I was not actually listening to a Clelia, or a Cassandra, recounting the stories of her youth.(220)

When she had done, and I had thanked her, Madame de la Fite demanded of me what I thought of her, and if she was not delightful ? I assented, and Madame de la Roche then, rising, and fixing her eyes, filled with tears, in my face, while she held both my hands, in the most melting accents, exclaimed, "Miss Borni! la plus ch'ere, la plus digne des Angloises! dites-moi-m'aimez-vous!"

I answered as well as I could, but what I said was not very positive. Madame de la Fite came up to us, and desired we might make a trio of friendship, which should bind us to oneanother for life. And then they both embraced me, and both wept for joyful fondness! I fear I seemed very hard-hearted; but no spring was opened whence one tear of mine could flow.

A DINNER DIFFICULTY.

The clock had struck four some time, and Madame de la Fite said she feared they kept me from dinner. I knew it must soon be ready, and therefore made but a slight negative. She then, with an anxious look at her watch, said she feared she was already too late for her own little dinner. I was shocked at a hint I had no power to notice, and heard it in silence—silence unrepressing! for she presently added, "You dine alone, don't you?"

"Y-e-s,—if Mrs. Schwellenberg is not well enough to come down stairs to dinner."

"And can you dine, ma ch'ere mademoiselle—can you dine at that great table alone?"

"I must !—the table is not mine."

"Yes, in Mrs. Schwellenberg's absence it is."

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"It has never been made over to me, and I take no power that is not given to me."

"But the queen, my dearest ma'am—the queen, if she knew such a person as Madame de la Roche was here."

She stopped, and I was quite disconcerted. An attack so explicit, and in presence of Madame de la Roche, was beyond all my expectations. She then went to the window, and exclaimed, "It rains!—Mon Dieu! que ferons-nous?—My poor littel dinner!—it will be all spoilt!—La pauvre Madame de la Roche! une telle femme!"

I was now really distressed, and wished much to invite them both to stay; but I was totally helpless ; and could only look, as I felt, in the utmost embarrassment.

The rain continued. Madame de la Roche could understand but imperfectly what passed, and waited its result with an air of smiling patience. I endeavoured to talk of other things - but Madame de la Fite was restless in returning to this charge. She had several times given me very open hints of her desire to dine at Mrs. Schwellenberg's table ; but I had hitherto appeared not to comprehend them: she was now determined to come home to the point; and the more I saw her determination, the less liable I became to being overpowered by it. At length John came to announce dinner.

Madame de la Fite looked at me in a most expressive manner, as she rose and walked towards the window, exclaiming that the rain would not cease; and Madame de la Roche cast upon me a most tender smile, while she lamented that some accident must have prevented her carriage from coming for her. I felt excessively ashamed, and could only beg them not to be in haste, faithfully assuring them I was by no means disposed for eating.

Poor Madame de la Fite now lost all command of herself, and desiring to speak to me in my own room, said, pretty explicitly, that certainly I might keep anybody to dinner, at so great a table, and all alone, if I wished it.

I was obliged to be equally frank. I acknowledged that I had reason to believe I might have had that power, from the custom of my predecessor, Mrs. Haggerdorn, upon my first succeeding to her ; but that I was then too uncertain of any Of my privileges to assume a single one of them unauthorised by the queen. Madame de la Fite was not at all satisfied, and significantly said,

"But you have sometimes Miss Planta?" 415

"And M. de Luc, too,-he may dine with you

" He also comes to Mrs. Schwellenberg. Mrs. Delany alone, and her niece, come to me; and they have had the sanction of the queen's own desire."

"Mais, enfin, ma ch'ere Miss Burney,—when it rains,—and when it is so late,—and when it is for such a woman as Madame de la Roche!"

So hard pressed, I was quite shocked to resist her ; but I assured her that when my own sisters, Phillips and Francis, came to Windsor purposely to see me, they had never dined at the Lodge but by the express invitation of Mrs. Schwellenberg; and that when my father himself was here, I had not ventured to ask him. This, though it surprised, somewhat appeased her; and we were called into the other room to Miss Planta, who was to dine with me, and who, unluckily, said the dinner would be quite cold.

They begged us both to go, and leave them till the rain was over, or till Madame de la Roche's carriage arrived. I could not bear to do this, but entreated Miss Planta, who was in haste, to go and dine by herself. This, at last, was agreed to, and I tried once again to enter into discourse upon other matters. But how greatly did my disturbance at all this urgency increase, when Madame de la Fite said she was so hungry she must beg a bit of bread and a glass of water!

I was now, indeed, upon the point of giving way; but when I considered, while I hesitated, what must follow-my own necessary apology, which would involve Madame de la Fite in much blame, or my own concealing silence, which would reverse all my plans of openness with the queen, and acquiesced with my own situation-I grew firm again, and having assured her a thousand times of my concern for my little power, I went into the next room : but I sent her the roll and water by John; I was too much ashamed to carry them.

When I returned to them again, Madame de la Fite requested rne to go at once to the queen, and tell her the case. Ah, poor Madame de la Fite Fi to see so little a way for herself, and to suppose me also so every way short-sighted ! I informed her that I never entered the presence of the queen unsummoned. . . .

Again she desired to speak to me in my own room ; and then she told me that Madame de la Roche had a most earnest wish, to see all the royal family; she hoped, therefore, the 416

queen would go to early prayers at the chapel, where, at least she might be beheld : but she gave me sundry hints, not to be misunderstood, that she thought I might so represent the merits of Madame de la Roche as to induce the honour of a private audience.

I could give her no hope of this, as I had none to give for I well knew that the queen has a settled aversion to almost all novels, and something very near it to almost all novelwriters.

She then told me she had herself requested an interview for her with the princess royal, and had told her that if it was too much to grant it in the royal apartments, at least it might take place in Miss Burney's room ! Her royal highness coldly answered that she saw nobody without the queen's commands. . . .

In the end, the carriage of Madame de la Roche arrived, about tea-time, and Madame de la Fite finished with making me promise to relate my difficulties to the queen, that she might give me such orders as to enable me to keep them any other time. To give you the result at once, Miss Planta, of her own accord, briefly related the affair to the queen, dwelling upon my extreme embarrassment, with the most good-natured applause of its motives. The queen graciously joined in commendation of my steadiness, expressed her disapprobation of the indelicacy of poor Madame de la Fite, and added that if I had been overcome, it would have been an encouragement to her to bring foreigners for ever to the Lodge, wholly contrary to the pleasure of the king.

AN ECCENTRIC LADY.

Sept. 25.-Mrs. Delany came to me to dinner, and we promised ourselves the whole afternoon t'ete-'a-t'ete, with no other interruption than what we were well contented to allow to Major Price and General Bud'e. But before we were well settled in my room, after our late dinner in the next, a visitor appeared,-Miss Finch.

We were both sadly vexed at this disappointment ; but you will wonder to hear that I became, in a few minutes, as averse to her going as I had been to her coming : for the Princess Amelia was brought in, by Mrs. Cheveley, to carry away Mrs. Delany to the queen. I had now, therefore, no one, but this chance-comer, to assist me in doing the honours to my two

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beaus; and well as I like their company, I by no means enjoyed the prospect of receiving them alone: not, I protest, and am sure, from any prudery, but simply from thinking that a single female, in a party, either large or small, of men, unless very much used to the world, appears to be in a situation awkward and unbecoming.

I was quite concerned, therefore, to hear from Miss Finch that she meant but a short visit, for some reasons belonging to her carriage ; and when she rose to go, I felt my distaste to this new mode of proceeding so strong, that I hastily related to her my embarrassment, and frankly begged her to stay and help to recreate my guests. She was very much diverted with this distress, which she declared she could not comprehend, but frankly agreed to remain with me; and promised, at my earnest desire, not to publish what I had confessed to her, lest I should gain, around Windsor, the character of a prude.

I had every reason to be glad that I detained her, for she not only made my meeting with the equerries easy and pleasant, but was full of odd entertainment herself. She has a large portion of whimsical humour, which, at times, is original and amusing, though always eccentric, and frequently, from uttering whatever comes uppermost, accidental.

Among many other flights, she very solemnly declared that she could never keep any body's face in her mind when they were out of her sight. "I have quite forgot," cried she, "the Duke of York already, though I used to see him so continually. Really, it's quite terrible, but I cannot recollect a single trait of anybody when they are the shortest time out of my sight; especially if they are dead;—it's quite shocking, but really i can never remember the face of a person the least in the world when once they are dead!" '

The major, who knows her very well, and who first had introduced her to me on my settling here, was much amused with her rattle; and General Bud'e is always pleased with anything bordering upon the ridiculous. Our evening therefore turned out very well.

THE WRONG GUEST INVITED.

I have something to relate now that both my dearest friends will take great pleasure in hearing, because it appertains to my dignity and consequence. The queen, in the most gracious manner, desired me this morning to send an invitation to M. 418

Mithoff, a German clergyman, to come to dinner; and she added, "I assure you he is a very worthy man, of very excellent character, or I would not ask you to invite him."

Was not this a very sweet manner of making over to me the presidency of the table in Mrs. Schwellenberg's absence?

It was for the next day, and I sent John to him immediately ;-rather awkward, though, to send my compliments to a man I had never seen, and invite him to dine with me. But there was no other mode —I could not name the queen. I knew Miss Port would be happy to make us a trio, and I begged her not to fail me.

But alas!—If awkwardness was removed, something worse was substituted in its place ; my presidency was abolished on the very day it was to be declared, by the sudden return of its rightful superseder. I acquainted her with the invitation I had been desired to send, and I told her I bad also engaged Miss Port. I told of both as humbly as possible, that I might raise no alarms of any intention of rivalry in power.

Mr. Mithoff was not yet come when dinner was announced, nor yet Miss Port; we sat down t'ete-'a-t'ete, myself in some pain for my invitations, my companion well content to shew she would wait for none of my making,

At length came Miss Port, and presently after a tall German clergyman entered the room. I was a little confused by his immediately making up to me, and thanking me in the strongest terms for the honour of my invitation, and assuring me it was the most flattering one he had ever received.

I answered as short as I could, for I was quite confounded by the looks of Mrs. Schwellenberg. Towards me they were directed with reproach, and towards the poor visitor with astonishment: why I could not imagine, as I had frequently heard her speak of M. Mithoff with praise.

Finding nothing was said to him, I was obliged to ask him to take a place at the table myself, which he did; still, and with great glee of manner, addressing himself wholly to me, and never finishing his warm expressions of gratitude for my invitation. I quite longed to tell him I had her majesty's orders for what I had done, that he might cease his most unmerited acknowledgments; but I could not at that time. The dinner went off very ill . nobody said a word but this gentleman, and he spoke only to do himself mischief.

When we all adjourned to Mrs. Schwellenberg's room up- 419

stairs, for coffee, my new guest again poured forth such a torrent of thanks, that I could not resist taking the first opportunity to inform him he owed me no such strong obligation, as I had simply obeyed the commands of the queen.

"The queen!" he exclaimed, with yet greater enchantment; "then I am very happy indeed, madam; I had been afraid at first there was some mistake in the honour you did me."

"It might have seemed a mistake indeed, sir," cried I, "if you supposed I had taken the liberty of making you such an invitation, without the pleasure of knowing you myself."

Mrs. Schwellenberg, just after, calling me aside, said, "For what have you brought me this man?"

I could make no answer, lest he should hear me, for I saw him look uneasily towards us ; and therefore, to end such interrogations, I turned to him, and asked how many days he should continue at Windsor. He looked Surprised, and said he had no thought of leaving it.

It was my turn to look surprised now; I had heard he only came upon her majesty's commands, and was to stay but a day or two. I now began to suspect some mistake, and that my message had gone to a wrong person. I hastened, therefore, to pronounce the name of Mithoff, and my suspicion was changed into certainty, by his telling me, with a stare, that it was not his.

Imagine but my confusion at this information !-the queen's commission so ill executed, M. Mithoff neglected, and some one else invited whose very name I knew not!—nor did he, though my mistake now was visible, tell it me. Yet he looked so much disappointed, that I thought it incumbent upon me, since the blunder must have been my servant's, to do what I could to comfort him. I therefore forced myself forward to talk to him, and pass over the embarrassment but he was modest, and consequently overset, and soon after took his leave.

I then cleared myself to Mrs. Schwellenberg of any voluntary deed in " bringing her this man," and inquired of John how it happened. He told me he had forgot the gentleman's name, but as I had said he was a German clergyman, he had asked for him as such, and thought this must be the right person. I heard afterwards that this is a M. Schrawder, one of the masters of the German language to the princesses. I jDacle all the apologies in my power to him for the error. . . .

The queen, at night, with great good humour, laughed at the 420

mistake, and only desired it might be rectified for the next day. Accordingly it was ; and M. Mithoff had an invitation for the next day, in proper order: that is, from Mrs. Schwellenberg,

THE PRINCEss ROYAL's BIRTHDAY.

Friday, Sept. 29-This day the princess royal entered her twenty-first year. I had the pleasure of being in the room with the queen when she sent for her, early in the morning. Her majesty bid me stop, while she went into another apartment to fetch her birthday gifts. The charming princess entered with so modest, so composed an air, that it seemed as if the day, with all its preparations for splendour, was rather solemn than elevating to her. I had no difficulty, thus alone with her, in offering my best wishes to her. She received them most gracefully, and told me, with the most sensible pleasure, that the King had just been with her, and presented to her a magnificent diamond necklace.

The queen then returned, holding in her hands two very pretty portfolios for her drawings, and a very fine gold etui. The princess, in receiving them with the lowest curtsey, kissed her hand repeatedly, while the queen gave back her kisses upon her cheeks.

The king came in soon after, and the three youngest princesses. They all flew to kiss the princess royal, who is affectionately fond of them all. Princess Amelia shewed how fine she was, and made the queen admire her new coat and frock ; she then examined all the new dresses of her sisters, and then looking towards me with some surprise, exclaimed, " And won't Miss Burney be fine, too?"

I shall not easily forget this little innocent lesson. It seems all the household dress twice on these birthdays—for their first appearance, and for dinner-and always in something distinguished. I knew it not, and had simply prepared for my second attire only, wearing in the morning my usual white dimity great coat. I was a little out of countenance ; and the queen, probably perceiving it, said—

" Come hither, Amelia; who do you think is here-in Miss Burney's room?"

"Lany," answered the quick little creature ; for so she calls Mrs. Delany, who had already exerted herself to come to the Lodge with her congratulations.

The king, taking the hand of the little princess, said they 421

would go and see her ; and turning to the queen as they left the room, called out,

What shall we do with Mrs. Delany?"

"What the king pleases," was her answer.

I followed them to my room, where his majesty stayed some time, giving that dear old lady a history of the concert of the preceding evening, and that he had ordered for this day for the princess royal. It is rather unfortunate her royal highness should have her birth-day celebrated by an art which she even professes to have no taste for, and to hear almost with pain.

The king took Mrs. Delany to breakfast with himself and family.

I wore my memorable present-gown this day in honour of the princess royal. It is a lilac tabby. I saw the king for a minute at night, as he returned from the Castle, and he graciously admired it, calling out "Emily should see Miss Burney's gown now, and she would think her fine enough."

ARRIVAL OF A NEw EQUERRY.

The following evening I first saw the newly-arrived equerry, Colonel Goldsworthy. Mrs. Schwellenberg was ill, and sent for Mr. de Luc, and told me to go into the eating-roorn, and make the tea for her. I instantly wrote to Miss Port, to beg she would come to assist me : she did, and Mrs. Schwellenberg, changing her plan, came downstairs at the same time. The party was Major Price, General Bud'e, Mr. Fisher, and the colonel. Major Price immediately presented us to each other.

"Upon my word!" cried Mrs. Schwellenberg, "you do the honour here in my room!—you might leave that to me, Major Price!"

"What! my brother equerry?" cried he; "No, ma'am, I think I have a right there."

Colonel Goldsworthy's character stands very high for worth and honour, and he is warmly attached to the king, both for his own sake, and from the tie that binds him to all the royal family, of regard for a sister extremely dear to him, Miss Goldsworthy, whose residence here brings him frequently to the palace. He seems to me a man of but little cultivation or literature, but delighting in a species of dry humour, in which he shines most successfully, in giving up himself for its favourite butt. 422

He brought me a great many compliments, he said, from Dr. Warton, of Winchester, where he had lately been quartered with his regiment. He rattled away very amusingly upon the balls and the belles he had seen there, laughing at his own gallantry, and pitying and praising himself alternately for venturing to exert it.

CUSTODIAN OF THE QUEEN'S JEWEL Box.

Od. 2-The next day we were all to go to Kew : but Mrs, Schwellenberg was taken ill, and went by herself to town.

The queen sent for me after breakfast, and delivered to me a long box, called here the jewel box, in which her jewels are carried to and from town that are worn on the Drawing-room days. The great bulk of them remain in town all the winter, and remove to Windsor for all the summer, with the rest of the family. She told me, as she delivered the key into my hands, that as there was always much more room in the box than her travelling jewels occupied, I might make what use I pleased of the remaining part ; adding, with a very expressive smile, "I dare say you have books and letters that you may be glad to carry backwards and forwards with you."

I owned that nothing was more true, and thankfully accepted the offer. It has proved to me since a comfort of the first magnitude, in conveying all my choice papers and letters safely in the carriage with me, as well as books in present reading, and numerous odd things. . . .

Friday, Oct. 6. - We returned to Windsor without Mrs. Schwellenberg, who stayed in town for her physician's advice. The queen went immediately to Mrs. Delany, and the princess royal came into my room.

"I beg pardon," she cried, "for what I am going to say: I hope you will excuse my taking such a liberty with you—but, has nobody told you that the queen is always used to have the jewel-box carried into her bedroom?"

"No, ma'am, nobody mentioned it to me. I brought it here because I have other things in it."

"I thought, when I did not see it in mamma's room," cried she, "that nobody had told you of that custom, and so I thought I would come to you myself: I hope you will excuse it?"

You may believe how I thanked her, while I promised to take out my own goods and chattels, and have it conveyed to 423

its proper place immediately. I saw that she imagined the queen might be displeased; and though I could never myself imagine that, for an omission of ignorance, I felt the benevolence of her intention, and received it with great gratitude.

"My dear ma'am," cried she, "I am sure I should be most happy to do anything for you that should be in my power, always; and really Mrs. Schwellenberg ought to have told you this."

Afterwards I happened to be alone with this charming princess, and her sister Elizabeth, in the queen's dressing-room. She then came up to me and said,

"Now will you excuse me, Miss Burney, if I ask you the truth of something I have heard about you?"

"Certainly, ma'am."

"It's such an odd thing, I don't know how to mention it; but I have wished to ask you about it this great while. Pray is it really true that, in your illness last year, you coughed so violently that you broke the whalebone of your stays in two?"

"As nearly true as possible, ma'am;it actually split with the force of the almost convulsive motion of a cough that seemed loud and powerful enough for a giant. I could hardly myself believe it was little I that made so formidable a noise."

"Well, I could not have given credit to it if I had not heard it from yourself! I wanted so much to know the truth, that I determined, at last, to take courage and ask you."

"And pray, Miss Burney," cried the Princess Elizabeth, "had you not a blister that gave you great torture?"

"Yes, ma'am,—in another illness."

"O!—I know how to pity you!—I have one on at this moment!

"And pray, Miss Burney," cried the princess royal, "were not you carried out of town, when you were in such a weak condition that you could not walk?"

"Where could your royal highness hear all this?"

"And were you not almost starved by Sir Richard jebb?" cried Princess Elizabeth.

"And did you not receive great benefit from asses' rnilk?" exclaimed the princess royal.

Again I begged to know their means of hearing all this; but the queen's entrance silenced us all, 424

A LAUDATORY ESTIMATE OF THE QUEEN.

The queen was unremittingly sweet and gracious, never making me sensible of any insufficiency from My single attendance; which, to me, was an opportunity the most favourable in the world for becoming more intimately acquainted with her mind and understanding. For the excellency of her mind I was fully prepared ; the testimony of the nation at large could not be unfaithful ; but the depth and soundness of her understanding surprised me : good sense I expected - to that alone she could owe the even tenor of her conduct, universally approved, though examined and judged by the watchful eye of multitudes. But I had not imagined that, shut up in the confined limits of a Court, she could have acquired any but the most superficial knowledge of the world, and the most partial insight into character. But I find, now, I have only done justice to her disposition, not to her parts, which are truly of that superior order that makes sagacity intuitively supply the place of experience. In the course of this month I spent much time quite alone with her, and never once quitted her presence without fresh admiration of her talents.

There are few points I have observed with more pleasure in her than all that concerns the office which brings me to her in this private and confidential manner. All that breaks from her, in our t'ete-'a-t'etes, upon the subject of dress, is both edifying and amiable. She equips herself for the drawing-room with all the attention in her power; she neglects nothing that she thinks becoming to her appearance upon those occasions, and is sensibly conscious that her high station makes her attire in public a matter of business. As such, she submits to it without murmuring; but a yet stronger consciousness of the real futility of such mere outward grandeur bursts from her, involuntarily, the moment the sacrifice is paid, and she can never refuse herself the satisfaction of expressing her contentment to put on a quiet undress. The great coats are so highly in her favour, from the quickness with which they enable her to finish her toilette, that she sings their praise with fresh warmth every time she is allowed to wear them, archly saying to me, with most expressive eyes, "If I could write—if I could but write!—how I would compose upon a great coat! I wish I were a poetess, that I might make a song upon it—I do think something very pretty might be said about it."

These hints she has given me continually ; but the Muse 425

was not so kind as ever to make me think of the matter again when out of her sight-till, at last, she one day, in putting on this favourite dress, half gravely, said, "I really take it a little ill you won't write something upon these great coats!"

I only laughed, yet, when I left her, I scribbled a few stanzas, copied them very fairly, and took them, as soon as they were finished, into her room ; and there kept them safely in my pocket-book, for I knew not how to produce them, and she, by odd accident, forbore from that time to ask for them, though her repeated suggestion had, at last, conquered my literary indolence.(221)

I cannot here help mentioning a very interesting little scene at which I was present, about this time. The queen had nobody but myself with her, one morning, when the king hastily entered the room, with some letters in his hand, and addressing her in German, which he spoke very fast, and with much apparent interest in what he said, he brought the letters up to her, and put them into her hand. She received them with much agitation, but evidently of a much pleased sort, and endeavoured to kiss his hand as he held them. He would not let her, but made an effort, with a countenance of the highest satisfaction, to kiss hers. I saw instantly in her eyes a forgetfulness, at the moment, that any one was present, while, drawing away her hand, she presented him her cheek. He accepted her kindness with the same frank affection that she offered it; and the next moment they both spoke English, and talked upon common and general subjects.

What they said I am far enough from knowing; but the whole was too rapid to give me time to quit the room ; and I could not but see with pleasure that the queen had received some favour with which she was sensibly delighted, and that the king, in her acknowledgments, was happily and amply paid.

TABLE DIFFICULTIES.

No sooner did I find that my coadjutrix ceased to speak of returning to Windsor,(222) and that I became, by that means, the presidentess of the dinner and teatable, than I formed a grand design—no other than to obtain to my own use the disposal of my evenings.

426

>From the time of my entrance into this Court, to that of which I am writing, I had never been informed that it was incumbent upon me to receive the king's equerries at the teatable ; yet I observed that they always came to Mrs. Schwellenberg, and that she expected them so entirely as never to make tea till their arrival. Nevertheless, nothing of that sort had ever been intimated to me, and I saw no necessity of falling into all her ways, without commands to that purpose : nor could I conclude that the king's gentlemen would expect from me either the same confinement, or readiness of reception, as had belonged to two invalid old ladies, glad of company, and without a single connection to draw them from home. . . .

I could not, however, but be struck with a circumstance that shewed me, in a rather singular manner, my tea-making seemed at once to be regarded as indispensable : this was no other than a constant summons, which John regularly brought me every evening, from these gentlemen, to acquaint me they were come upstairs to the tea-room, and waiting for me.

I determined not to notice this: and consequently, the first time Mrs. Delany was not well enough to give me her valuable society at the Lodge, I went to her house, and spent the evening there; without sending any message to the equerries, as any apology must imply a right on their part that must involve me in future confinement.

This I did three or four times, always with so much success as to gain my point for the moment, but never with such happy consequences as to ensure it me for the time to come; since every next meeting shewed an air of pique, and since every evening had still, unremittingly, the same message for John.

I concluded this would wear away by use, and therefore resolved to give it that chance. One evening, however, when, being quite alone, I was going to my loved resource, John, ere I could get out, hurried to me, "Ma'am, the gentlemen are come up, and they send their compliments, and they wait tea for you."

"Very well," was my answer to this rather cavalier summons, which I did not wholly admire; and I put on my hat and cloak, when I was called to the queen. She asked me whether I thought Mrs. Delany could come to her, as she wished to see her? I offered to go instantly, and inquire.

"But don't tell her I sent you," cried the most considerate queen, "lest that should make her come when it may hurt her: find out how she is, before you mention me." 427

As I now knew I must return myself, at any rate, I slipped into the tea-room before I set off. I found there Colonel Goldsworthy, looking quite glum, General Bud'e, Mr. Fisher, Mr. - Fisher, his brother, and Mr. Blomberg, chaplain to the Prince of Wales.

The moment I opened the door, General Bud'e presented Mr. Blomberg to me, and Mr. Fisher his brother; I told them, hastily, that I was running away to Mrs. Delany, but meant to return in a quarter of an hour, when I should be happy to have their company, if they could wait so long ; but if they were hurried, my man should bring their tea.

They all turned to Colonel Goldsworthy, who, as equerry in waiting, was considered as head of the party; but he seemed so choked with surprise and displeasure, that he could only mutter something too indistinct to be heard, and bowed low and distantly.

"If Colonel Goldsworthy can command his time, ma'am," cried Mr. Fisher, "we shall be most happy to wait yours."

General Bud6 said the same : the colonel again silently and solemnly bowed, and I curtsied in the same manner, and burried away.

Mrs. Delany was not well ; and I would not vex her with the queen's kind wish for her. I returned, and sent in, by the page in waiting, my account : for the queen was in the concertroom, and I could not go to her. Neither would I seduce away Miss Port from her duty ; I came back, therefore, alone, and was fain to make my part as good as I was able among my beaus.

I found them all waiting. Colonel Goldsworthy received me with the same stately bow, and a look so glum and disconcerted, that I instantly turned from him to meet the soft countenance of the good Mr. Fisher, who took a chair next mine, and entered into conversation with his usual intelligence and mildness. General Bud'e was chatty and well bred, and the two strangers wholly silent.

I could not, however, but see that Colonel Goldsworthy grew less and less pleased. Yet what had I done ?-I had never been commanded to devote my evenings to him, and, if excused officially, surely there could be no private claim from either his situation or mine. His displeasure therefore appeared to me so unjust, that I resolved to take not the smallest notice of it. He never once opened his mouth, neither to me nor to any one else. In this strange manner we drank our tea. When 428

it was over, he still sat dumb - and still I conversed with Mr. Fisher and General Bud'e.

At length a prodigious hemming showed a preparation in the colonel for a speech : it came forth with great difficulty, and most considerable hesitation.

"I am afraid, ma'am,—I am afraid you—you—that is—that we are intruders upon you."

"N-o," answered I, faintly, "why so?"

"I am sure, ma'am, if we are—if you think—if we take too much liberty—I am sure I would not for the world!—I only—your commands—nothing else—"

"Sir!" cried I, not understanding a word.

"I see, ma'am, we only intrude upon you: however, you must excuse my just saying we would not for the world have taken such a liberty, though very sensible of the happiness of being allowed to come in for half an hour,—which is the best half-hour of the whole day; but yet, if it was not for your own commands—"

"What commands, sir?"

He grew still more perplexed, and made at least a dozen speeches to the same no purpose, before I could draw from him anything explicit ; all of them listening silently the whole time, and myself invariably staring. At last, a few words escaped him more intelligible.

"Your messages, ma'am, were what encouraged us to come."

"And pray, sir, do tell me what messages?—I am very happy to see you, but I never sent any messages at all?"

"Indeed, ma'am!" cried he, staring in his turn; "why your servant, little John there, came rapping at our door, at the equerry room, before we had well swallowed our dinner, and said, 'My lady is waiting tea, sir.'"

I was quite confounded. I assured him it was an entire fabrication of my servant's, as I had never sent, nor even thought of sending him, for I was going Out.

"Why to own the truth, ma'am," cried he, brightening up, "I did really think it a little odd to send for us in that hurry, for we got up directly from table, and said, if the lady is waiting, to be sure we must not keep her; and then-when we came-to just peep in, and say you were going out!"

How intolerable an impertinence in John !-it was really no wonder the poor colonel was so glum.

Again I repeated my ignorance of this step ; and he then 429

said "Why, ma'am, he comes to us regularly every afternoon, and says his lady is waiting; and we are very glad to come, poor souls that we are, with no rest all the livelong day but what we get in this good room !-but then-to come, and see ourselves only intruders-and to find you going out, after sending for us!"

I could scarce find words to express my amazement at this communication. I cleared myself instantly from having any the smallest knowledge of John's proceedings, and Colonel Goldsworthy soon recovered all his spirits and good humour, when he was satisfied he had not designedly been treated with such strange and unmeaning inconsistency. He rejoiced exceedingly that he had spoke out, and I thanked him for his frankness, and the evening concluded very amicably. . . .

The evening after, I invited Miss Port, determined to spend it entirely with my beaus, in order to wholly explain away this impertinence. Colonel Goldsworthy now made me a thousand apologies for having named the matter to me at all. I assured him I was extremely glad he had afforded me an opportunity of clearing it. In the course of the discussion, I mentioned the constant summons brought me by John every afternoon. He lifted up his hands and eyes, and protested most solemnly he had never sent a single one.

"I vow, ma'am," cried the colonel, "I would not have taken such a liberty on any account; though all the comfort of my life in this house, is one half-hour in a day spent in this room. After all one's labours, riding, and walking, and standing, and bowing-what a life it is! Well! it's honour ! that's one comfort ; it's all honour ! royal honour !-one has the honour to stand till one has not a foot left ; and to ride till one's stiff, and to walk till one's ready to drop,-and then one makes one's lowest bow, d'ye see, and blesses one's self with joy for the honour!"

AN EQUERRY'S DUTIES AND DISCOMFORTS.

His account of his own hardships and sufferings here, in the discharge of his duty, is truly comic. "How do you like it, ma'am?" he says to me, "though it's hardly fair to ask you yet, because you know almost nothing of the joys of this sort of life. But wait till November and December, and then you'll get a pretty taste of them! Running along in these cold passages, then bursting into rooms fit to bake you, then back 430

again into all these agreeable puffs !-Bless us ! I believe in my heart there's wind enough in these passages to carry a man of war! And there you'll have your share, ma'am, I promise you that! you'll get knocked up in three days, take my word for that."

I begged him not to prognosticate so much evil for me.

"O ma'am, there's no help for it!" cried he; "you won't have the hunting, to be sure, nor amusing yourself with wading a foot and a-half through the dirt, by way of a little pleasant walk, as we poor equerries do!, It's a wonder to me we outlive the first month. But the agreeable puffs of the passages you will have just as completely as any of us. Let's see, how many blasts must you have every time you go to the queen? First, one upon your opening your door; then another, as you get down the three steps from it, which are exposed to the wind from the garden door downstairs; then a third, as you turn the corner to enter the passage; then you come plump upon another from the hall door; then comes another, fit to knock you down, as You turn to the upper passage ; then, just as You turn towards the queen's room, comes another; and last, a whiff from the king's stairs, enough to blow you half a mile off!"

"Mere healthy breezes," I cried, and assured him I did not fear them.

"Stay till Christmas," cried he, with a threatening air, "only stay till then, and let's see what you'll say to them; you'll be laid up as sure as fate! you may take my word for that. One thing, however, pray let me caution you about—don't go to early prayers in November; if you do, that will completely kill you! Oh, ma'am, you know nothing yet of all these matters! only pray, joking apart, let me have the honour just to advise you this one thing, or else it's all over with you, I do assure you!"

It was in vain I begged him to be more merciful in his prophecies; he failed not, every night, to administer to me the same pleasant anticipations.

"Why the princesses," cried he, "used to it as they are, get regularly knocked up before this business is over; off they drop, one by one:—first the queen deserts us; then Princess Elizabeth is done for; then princess royal begins coughing; then Princess Augusta gets the snuffles; and all the poor attendants, my poor sister at their head, drop off, one after another, like so many snuffs of candles: till at last, dwindle, 431

dwindle, dwindle—not a soul goes to the chapel but the king, the parson, and myself; and there we three freeze it out together!"

One evening, when he had been out very late hunting with the king, he assumed so doleful an air of weariness, that had not Miss Port exerted her utmost powers to revive him, he would not have uttered a word the whole night; but when once brought forward, he gave us more entertainment than ever, by relating his hardships.

"After all the labours," cried he, "of the chase, all the riding, the trotting, the galloping, the leaping, the—with your favour, ladies, I beg pardon, I was going to say a strange word, but the—the perspiration—and—and all that—after being wet through over head, and soused through under feet, and popped into ditches, and jerked over gates, what lives we do lead! Well, it's all honour! that's my only comfort! Well, after all this, fagging away like mad from eight in the morning to five or six in the afternoon, home we come, looking like so many drowned rats, with not a dry thread about us, nor a morsel within us—sore to the very bone, and forced to smile all the time! and then after all this what do you think follows?—'Here, Goldsworthy,' cries his majesty: so up I comes to him, bowing profoundly, and my hair dripping down to my shoes; 'Goldsworthy,' cries his majesty. 'Sir,' says I, smiling agreeably, with the rheumatism just creeping all over me ! but still, expecting something a little comfortable, I wait patiently to know his gracious pleasure, and then, 'Here, Goldsworthy, say !' he cries, 'will you have a little barley water?' Barley water in such a plight as that! Fine compensation for a wet jacket, truly!—barley water! I never heard of such a tiling in my life! barley water after a whole day's hard hunting!"

"And pray did you drink it?"

"I drink it?—Drink barley water? no, no; not come to that neither. But there it was, sure enough!—in a jug fit for a sick room, just such a thing as you put upon a hob in a chimney, for some poor miserable soul that keeps his bed! just such a thing as that!—And, 'Here, Goldsworthy,' says his majesty, 'here's the barley water,'"

"And did the king drink it himself?"

"Yes, God bless his majesty! but I was too humble a subject to do the same as the king!—Barley water, quoth I!—Ha! ha!—a fine treat truly! Heaven defend me! I'm not 432

come to that, neither!—bad enough too, but not so bad as that."



ROYAL CAUTIONS AND CONFIDENCES.

Nov. 1.-We began this month by steadily settling ourselves at Kew. A very pleasant circumstance happened to me on this day, in venturing to present the petition of an unfortunate man who had been shipwrecked; whose petition was graciously attended to,'and the money he solicited was granted him. I had taken a great interest in the poor man, from the simplicity and distress of his narration, and took him into one of the parlours to assist him in drawing Up his memorial.

The queen, when, with equal sweetness and humanity, she had delivered the sum to one of her pages to give to him, said to me, "Now, though your account of this poor man makes him seem to be a real object, I must give you one caution : there are so many impostors about, who will try to speak to you, that, if you are not upon your guard, you may be robbed yourself before you can get any help : I think, therefore, you had better never trust yourself in a room alone with anybody you don't know."

I thanked her for her gracious counsel, and promised, for the future, to have my man always at hand.

I was afterwards much touched with a sort of unconscious confidence with which she relieved her mind. She asked me my opinion of a paper in the "Tatler," which I did not recollect; and when she was dressed, and seated in her sitting-room, she made me give her the book, and read to me this paper. It is an account of a young man of a good heart and sweet disposition, who is allured by pleasure into a libertine life, which he pursues by habit, but with constant remorse, and ceaseless shame and unhappiness. It was impossible for me to miss her object: all the mother was in her voice while she read it, and her glistening eyes told the application made throughout.(223) My mind sympathised sincerely, though my tongue did not dare allude to her feelings. She looked pensively down when she had finished it, and before she broke silence, a page came to announce the Duchess of Ancaster.

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THE QUEEN TIRED OF HER GEWGAWS.

Nov. 3.-In the morning I had the honour of a conversation with the queen, the most delightful, on her part, I had ever yet been indulged with. It was all upon dress, and she said so nearly what I had just imputed to her in my little stanzas, that I could scarce refrain producing them ; yet could not muster courage. She told me, with the sweetest grace imaginable, how well she had liked at first her jewels and ornaments as queen,—"But how soon," cried she, "was that over! Believe me, Miss Burney, it is a pleasure of a week,—a fortnight, at most,—and to return no more! I thought, at first, I should always choose to wear them, but the fatigue, and trouble of putting them on, and the care they required, and the fear of losing them,—believe me, ma'am, in a fortnight's time I longed again for my own earlier dress, and wished never to see them more!"

She then still more opened her opinions and feelings. She told me she had never, in her most juvenile years, loved dress and shew, nor received the smallest pleasure from any thing in her external appearance beyond neatness and comfort : yet did not disavow that the first week or fortnight of being a queen, when only in her seventeenth year, she thought splendour sufficiently becoming her station to believe she should thenceforth choose constantly to support it. But her eyes alone were dazzled, not her mind ; and therefore the delusion speedily vanished, and her understanding was too strong to give it any chance of returning,

A HOLIDAY AT LAST.

NOV. 4.-This morning, when I attended the queen, she asked me if I should like to go and see my father at Chesington ? and then gave orders immediately for a chaise to be ready without delay— "And there is no need you should hurry yourself," she added, "for it will do perfectly well if you are back to dinner; when I dress, I will send for Miss Planta."

I thanked her very much, and she seemed quite delighted to give me this gratification. "The first thing I thought of this morning, when I woke," said she, "and when I saw the sun shining in upon the bed, was that this would be a fine morning for Miss Burney to go and see her father."

And soon after, to make me yet more comfortable she found 434

a deputy for my man as well as for myself, condescending to give orders herself that another person might lay the cloth, lest I should be hurried home on that account.

I need not tell my two dear readers how sensibly I felt her goodness, when I acquaint them of its effect upon me ; which was no less than to induce, to impel me to trust her with my performance of her request. just as she was quitting her dressing-room, I got behind her, and suddenly blurted out—

"Your majesty's goodness to me, ma'am, makes me venture to own that there is a command which I received some time ago, and which I have made some attempt to execute."

She turned round with great quickness,—"The great coat?" she cried, "is it that?"

I was glad to be so soon understood, and took it from my pocket book—but holding it a little back, as she offered to take it.

"For your majesty alone," I cried; "I must entreat that it may meet no other eyes, and I hope it will not be looked at when any one else is even in sight!"

She gave me a ready promise, and took it with an alacrity and walked off with a vivacity that assured me she would not be very long before she examined it; though, when I added another little request, almost a condition, that it might not be read till I was far away, she put it into her pocket unopened, and, Wishing me a pleasant ride, and that I might find my father well, she proceeded towards the breakfast parlour.

My dear friends will, I know, wish to see it,-and so they shall; though not this moment, as I have it not about me, and do not remember it completely.(224)

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My breakfast was short, the chaise was soon ready, and forth I sallied for dear—once how dear!—old Chesington! Every step of the road brought back to my mind the first and most loved and honoured friend of my earliest years, and I felt a melancholy almost like my first regret for him, when I considered what joy, what happiness I lost, in missing his congratulations on a situation so much what he would have chosen for me— congratulations which, flowing from a mind such as his, so wise, so zealous, so sincere, might almost have reconciled me to it myself—I mean even then—for now the struggle is over, and I am content enough.

John rode on, to open the gates ; the gardener met him and I believe surprise was never greater than he carried into the house with my name. Out ran dear Kitty Cooke, whose honestly affectionate reception touched me very much,—"O," 436

cried she, "had our best friend lived to see this day when you came to poor old Chesington from Court!"

Her grief, ever fresh, then overflowed in a torrent and I could hardly either comfort her, or keep down the sad regretful recollections rising in my own memory. O my dear Susan, with what unmixed satisfaction, till that fatal period when I paid him my last visit, had I ever entered those gates-where passed the scenes of the greatest ease, gaiety, and native mirth that have fallen to my lot!

Mrs. James Burney next, all astonishment, and our dear James himself, all incredulity, at the report carried before me, came out.(225) Their hearty welcome and more pleasant surprise recovered me from the species of consternation with which I had approached their dwelling, and the visit, from that time, turned out perfectly gay and happy.

My dearest father was already gone to town; but I had had much reason to expect I should miss him, and therefore I could not be surprised. . . .

I left them all with great reluctance: I had no time to walk in the garden,-no heart to ascend the little mount, and see how Norbury hills and woods looked from it!

I set out a little the sooner, to enable me to make another visit, which I had also much at heart,-it was to our aunts at Kingston. I can never tell you their astonishment at sight of me; they took me for my own ghost, I believe, at first, but they soon put my substance to the proof, and nothing could better answer my motives than my welcome, which I need not paint to my Susan, who never sees them without experiencingit. To my great satisfaction, also, my nieces Fanny and Sophy happened to be there at that time.

My return was just in time for my company, which I found increased by the arrival of two more gentlemen, Mr. Fisher and Mr. Turbulent. Mr. Fisher had been ordered to come, that he might read prayers the next day, Sunday. Mr. Turbulent(226) was summoned, I suppose, for his usual occupations; reading with the princesses, or to the queen. Shall I introduce to you this gentleman such as I now think him at once? or wait to let his character open itself to you by

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degrees, and in the same manner that it did to me? So capital a part as you will find him destined to play, hereafter, in my concerns, I mean, sooner or later, to the best of my power, to make you fully acquainted with him. . . .

He took his seat next mine at the table, and assisted me, while Mr. Fisher sat as chaplain at the bottom. The dinner went off extremely well, though from no help of mine. . . . The three men and the three females were all intimately acquainted with one another, and the conversation, altogether, was equal, open, and agreeable.

You may a little judge of this, when I tell you a short speech that escaped Miss Planta. Mr. Turbulent said he must go early to town the next morning, and added, he should call to see Mrs. Schwellenberg, by order of the queen, "Now for heaven's sake, Mr. Turbulent," she cried, eagerly, "don't you begin talking to her of how comfortable we are here !-it will bring her back directly!"

This was said in a half whisper; and I hope no one else heard it. I leave you, my dear friends, to your own comments.

TEA Room GAMBOLS.

Mr. and Mrs. Smelt and Mrs. Delany came to us at teatime. Then, and in their society, I grew more easy and disengaged.

The sweet little Princess Amelia, who had promised me a visit, came during tea, brought by Mrs. Cheveley. I left every body to play with her, and Mr. Smelt joined in our gambols. We pretended to put her in a phaeton, and to drive about and make visits with her. She entered into the scheme with great spirit and delight, and we waited upon Mrs. Delany and Mrs. Smelt alternately. Children are never tired of playing at being women; and women there are who are never tired, in return, of playing at being children!

In the midst of this frolicking, which at times was rather noisy, by Mr. Smelt's choosing to represent a restive horse, the king entered! We all stopped short, guests, hosts, and horses ; and all, with equal celerity, retreated, making the usual circle for his majesty to move in. The little princess bore this interruption to her sport only while surprised into quiet by the general respect inspired by the king. The instant that wore off, she grew extremely im- 438

patient for the renewal of our gambols, and distressed me most ridiculously by her innocent appeals.

"Miss Burney!—come!—why don't you play?—Come, Miss Burney, I say, play with me!—come into the phaeton again!—why don't you, Miss Burney?"

After a thousand vain efforts to quiet her by signs, I was forced to whisper her that I really could play no longer.

" But why? why, Miss Burney?—do! do come and play with me!—You must, Miss Burney!"

This petition growing still more and more urgent, I was obliged to declare my reason, in hopes of appeasing her, as she kept pulling me by the hand and gown, so entirely with all her little strength, that I had the greatest difficulty to save myselt from being suddenly jerked into the middle of the room: at length, therefore, I whispered, "We shall disturb the king, ma'am!"

This was enough ; she flew instantly to his majesty, who was in earnest discourse with Mr. Smelt, and called out, "Papa, go!"

"What?" cried the king.

"Go! papa,—you must go!" repeated she eagerly.

The king took her up in his arms, and began kissing and playing with her; she strove with all her might to disengage herself, calling aloud "Miss Burney! Miss Burney! take me—come, I say, Miss Burney!—O Miss Burney, come!"

You may imagine what a general smile went round the room at this appeal: the king took not any notice of it, but set her down, and went on with his discourse. She was not, however, a moment quiet till he retired: and then we renewed our diversions, which lasted to her bed-time.

A DREADFUL MISHAP.

Nov. 6.-This morning happened my first disgrace of being too late for the queen-this noon, rather; for in a morning 'tis a disaster that has never arrived to this moment.

The affair thus came to pass. I walked for some time early in Kew gardens, and then called upon Mrs. Smelt. I there heard that the king and queen were gone, privately, to Windsor, to the Lodge : probably for some papers they could not intrust with a messenger. Mr. Smelt, therefore, proposed taking this opportunity of shewing me Richmond gardens, offering to be my security that I should have full time. I 439

accepted the proposal with pleasure, and we set out upon our expedition. Our talk was almost all of the queen. Mr. Smelt wishes me to draw up her character. I owned to him that should it appear to me, on nearer and closer inspection, what it seemed to me then, the task could not be an unpleasant one.

He saw me safe to the Lodge, and there took his leave : and I was going leisurely upstairs, when I met the Princess Amelia and Mrs. Cheveley; and while I was playing with the little princess, Mrs. Cheveley announced to me that the queen had been returned some time, and that I had been sent for immediately.

Thunderstruck at this intelligence, I hastened to her dressing-room; when I opened the door, I saw she was having her hair dressed. To add to my confusion, the Princess Augusta, Lady Effingham, and Lady Frances Howard were all in the room. I stood still at the door, not knowing whether to advance, or wait a new summons. In what a new situation did I feel myself!-and how did I long to give way to my first impulse, and run back to my own room.

In a minute or two, the queen not a little drily said, "Where have you been, Miss Burney?"

I told her my tale,-that hearing she was gone to Windsor, I had been walking in Richmond gardens with Mr. Smelt. She said no more, and I stood behind her chair. The princess and two ladies were seated.

What republican feelings were rising in my breast, till she softened them down again, when presently, in a voice changed from that dryness which had wholly disconcerted me, to its natural tone, she condescended to ask me to look at Lady Frances Howard's gown, and see if it was not very pretty.

This made a dutiful subject of me again in a moment. Yet I felt a discomposure all day, that determined me upon using the severest caution to avoid such a surprise for the future. The Windsor journey having been merely upon business, had been more brief than was believed possible.

When I left the queen, I was told that Mrs. Delany was waiting for me in the parlour. What a pleasure and relief to me to run to that dear lady, and relate to her my mischance, and its circumstances! Mr. Smelt soon joined us there; he was shocked at the accident ; and I saw strongly by his manner how much more seriously such a matter was regarded, than any one, unused to the inside of a Court, could possibly imagine. 440

"IS IT PERMITTED?"

Nov. 8.-This was the birth-day of the Princess Augusta, now eighteen. I could not resist this opportunity of presenting her one of my fairings, though I had some little fear she might think herself past the age for receiving birth-day gifts, except from the royal family: however they had arrived so seemingly 'a propos, and had been so much approved by the queen, that I determined to make the attempt. I took one of the work-boxes, and wrote with a pencil, round the middle ornament, "Est-il permis?"—and then I sent for Miss Makentomb, the princess's wardrobe woman, and begged her to place the box upon her royal highness's table.

At the queen's dressing-time, as I opened the door, her majesty said, " "O, here she is!—Est-il permis?—Come, come in to Augusta!" and made me follow her into the next room, the door of which was open, where the princess was seated at a writing-desk, probably answering some congratulatory letters.

Immediately, in a manner the most pleasing, she thanked me for the little cadeau, saying, "Only one thing I must beg, that you will write the motto with a pen."

The queen seconded this motion, smilingly repeating "Est-il permis?"

And afterwards, in the evening, the Princess Augusta came to the parlour, to fetch Mrs. Delany and Mrs. Smelt, and again said, "Now, will you, Miss Burney—will you write that for me with a pen?"

THE PLUMP PROVOST AND His LADY.

Nov. 23.-In the evening I had a large party of new acquaintance; the provost of Eton, Dr, Roberts, his lady, Mr. Dewes, Miss Port, the Duke of Montagu, General Bud'e, Colonel Goldsworthy, and Madame de la Fite. The party had the royal sanction, I need not tell you. The king and queen are always well disposed to shew civility to the people of Eton and Windsor, and were therefore even pleased at the visit.

The provost is very fat, with a large paunch and gouty legs. He is good-humoured, loquacious, gay, civil, and parading. I am told, nevertheless, he is a poet, and a very good one. This, indeed, appears not, neither in a person such as I have described, nor in manners such as have drawn from me the character just given. 441

Mrs. Roberts is a fine woman, though no longer very young; she is his second wife, and very kind to all his family. She seems good-natured and sensible.

The evening turned out very well: they were so delighted with making a visit under the royal roof, that everything that passed pleased them: and the sight of that disposition helped me to a little more spirit than usual in receiving them.

The king came into the room to fetch Mrs. Delany, and looked much disappointed at missing her; nevertheless, he came forward, and entered into conversation with the provost, upon Eton, the present state of the school, and all that belongs to its establishment. His majestytakes a great interest in the welfare and prosperity of that seminary.

The provost was enchanted by this opportunity of a long and private conference, and his lady was in raptures in witnessing it. She concluded, from that time, that the door would never open, but for the entrance of some of the royal family; and when the equerries came, she whispered me, " Who are they ? " And again, on the appearance of a star on the Duke of Montagu., she said, "Who can that be, Miss Burney?"

THE EQUERRIES VIOLATE THE RULES.

Dec. 10.-Mrs. Delany, upon her recovery,(227) had invited the general and colonel to come to tea any evening. For them to be absent from the Lodge was contrary to all known rules ; but the colonel vowed he would let the matter be tried, and take its course. Mrs. Delany hoped by this means to bring the colonel into better humour with my desertion of the teatable, and to reconcile him to an innovation of which he then must become a partaker.

On the day when this grand experiment was to be made, that we might not seem all to have eloped clandestinely, in case of inquiry, I previously made known to the queen my own intention, and had her permission for my visit. But the gentlemen, determining to build upon the chance of returning before they were missed, gave no notice of their scheme, but followed me to Mrs. Delany's as soon as they quitted their own table. I had sent to speak with General Bud'e in the morning, and then arranged the party: he proposed that the colonel and

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himself should esquire me, but I did not dare march forth in such bold defiance ; I told him, therefore, I must go in a chair.

Mrs. Delany received us with her usual sweetness. We then began amusing ourselves with surmises of the manner in which we should all be missed, if our rooms were visited in our absence ; and the colonel, in particular, drew several scenes, highly diverting, of what he supposed would pass,-of the king's surprise and incredulity, of the hunting up and down of the house in search of him, and of the orders issued throughout the house to examine to what bed-post he had hanged himself,-for nothing less than such an act of desperation could give courage to an equerry to be absent without leave!