THE CREAM OF THE DIARISTS AND MEMOIR WRITERS. THE DIARY AND LETTERS OF MADAME D'ARBLAY (FRANCES BURNEY. )

 WITH NOTES BY W. C. WARD, AND PREFACED BY LORD MACAULAY'S ESSAY. 

 IN THREE VOLUMES. VOL. 1 (1778-1787. )

 CONTENTS

PREFACE-- xi

MADAME D'ARBLAY, by Lord Macaulay -- Xiii

1. (1778) MISS BURNEY PUBLISHES HER FIRSTNOVEL AND FINDS HERSELF FAMOUS -- 59-110 Evelina'. ' and the Mystery attending its Publication--A FirstVisit to Mrs. Thrale and an Introduction to Dr. Johnson--FannyBurney Interviews her Publisher -- Conversation with Mrs. Thraleand Dr. Johnson--Dr. Johnson on some "Ladies" of hisAcquaintance--A Learned Man on "Evelina"--Curiosity regarding theAuthor of "Evelina"--The Members of Dr. Johnson'sHousehold--Anticipated Visit from Mrs. Montagu--Fanny Burney'sIntroduction to a celebrated "Blue-Stocking"--Dr. Johnson'sCompliments and Gross Speeches--Suggested Husbands for FannyBurney--A Streatham Dinner Party. 

2. (1779) THE AUTHOR OF "EVELINA" IN SOCIETY: VISITS BRIGHTON ANDTUNBRIDGE WELLS -- 111-164A Queer Adventure--An Evening at Sir Joshua Reynolds's: aDemonstrative "Evelina" Entbusiast--Fanny Burney's Introductionto Sheridan--An Aristocratic Radical of the Last Century--Mr. Murphy, the Dramatist--A Beauty Weeping at Will--Mr. Murphy'sconcern regarding Fanny Burney's Comedy--A Scene on the BrightonParade--Mr. Murphy finds the Dialogue charming: a CensoriousLady--A Militia Captain officiates as Barber--"Hearts have at yeall"--Giddy Miss Brown--Sophy Streatfield weeps again to order0--"Everything a Bore"--Proposed Match between Mr. Seward and theWeeper-atwill--The Fate of "The Witlings"-- "Quite what we call, "and "Give me leave to tell you"--The Crying Beauty and herMother--A Bewitching Prodigy--At Brighton: A "Cure. "-- Thejealous Cumberlands--An Amusing Character: His Views on manySubjects, page viii

3. (1780) A SEASON AT BATH: MR. THRALE'S DEATH -- 165-201A Youthful Prodigy--Lord Mulgrave on the "Services"--Sarah, Duchess of Marlborough--The Byrons--"Mr. Henry will be soMortified"--All the best Families in the Navy--The Lady of BathEaston--A Fashionable Concert--A Bath Alderman's Raree Show--Flighty Captain Bouchier--A Young and Agreeable Infidel-Ball-roomFlirtations--Further Flirtations--Bath Easton and Sceptical MissW. . . . -- -Curiosity about the "Evelina" Set--Alarm at the NoPopery Riots--Hasty Departure from Batb--The Gordon Riots--ASuggested Visit to Grub-street --Promotion of Fanny Burney'sBrother--The Death of Mr. Thrale. 

4. (1781-2) MISS BURNEY EXTENDS THE CIRCLE OF HER ACQUAINTANCE --202-235 Young Mr. Crutchley ruffles Miss Burney--Miss Burney Sulks on--Too Much of Many Things--A "Poor Wretch of a Painter"--Dr. Johnson in a Rage--The Miserable Host and Melancholy Guest--TwoCelebrated Duchesses discussed--Mr. Crutchley is bantered abouthis Pride--Miss Sopby Streatfield is Commented on--Garrulous Mr. Musgrave--A Parting Shot at Mr. Crutchley--Manager Heliogabalus--Sister Authoresses--A Dinner at Sir joshua's, with Burke andGibbon--A Letter from Burke to Fanny Burney--Miss Burney sits forher Portrait--General Paoli. 

5. (1782-3-4) "CECILIA": A PAEAN OF PRAISE: LAMENTATIONS --236-288At Brighton again. "The Famous Miss Burney"--Dr. JohnsonDogmatises--A Cunning Runaway Heiress--Dr. Johnson a Bore--MissBurney will not be Persuaded to Dance-Dr. Johnson held in generalDread--Miss Monckton's Assembly: Sacques and Ruffles--At MissMonckton's: "Cecilia" extolled by the "Old Wits, " and by Burke--AWriter of Romances--Mrs. Walsingham--Mrs. Siddons--Dr. Johnson'sInmates at Bolt-court--The two Mr. Cambridges Improve uponAcquaintance--Mr. Soame jenyns's Eulogy on "Cecilia"--An ItalianSinger's Views of England--Raptures of the 11 Old Wits" over"Cecilia"--Illness and Death of Mr. Crisp--Dr. Johnson attackedby Paralysis--A Pleasant Day with the Cam-

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bridges--Dr. Johnson's Heroic Forbearance--"Sweet Bewitching Mrs. Locke"--Mrs. Thrale's Second Marriage--A Happy Home--Lady F. 'sAnger at Mrs. Piozzi's Marriage--Dr. Johnson's Failing Health--Dr. Johnson Dying. His Death. 

6. (1785-6) MISS BURNEY IS FAVOURABLY NOTICED BY THE KING ANDQUEEN -- 289-332Royal Generosity to Mrs. Delany--A Visit to Mrs. Delany--RoyalCuriosity about Miss Burney--An Anticipated Royal Interview--Directions for a private encounter with the Royal Family--APanic--"The King! aunt, the King!"--The King categoricallyquestions Miss Burney--The Queen appears upon the Scene--"MissBurney plays--but not to acknowledge it"--A Drawing-room during aFog--Will Miss Burney write any more?--A Musician with aPioboscis--General Conversation: Royalty departs--The King again:Tea Table Etiquette--George III. On Plays and Players--LiteraryTalk with the Queen--The Queen on Roman Catholic Superstitions--On being presented--Directions for coughing, sneezing, or movingbefore the King and Queen--Dr. Burney is Disappointed of aPlace--A Visit to Warren Hastings and his Wife--A Proposal fromthe Queen--Miss Burney accepts the Queen's Offer. 

7. (1786) MISS BURNEY ENTERS UPON HER COURT DUTIES -- 333-372The Queen's Summons--A Military Gourmand--A Succession ofVisitors--The Tea Table of the Keeper of the Robes--EveningCeremonial in the Queen's Dressing Room--The Queen's Toilettes--Congratulatory Visits from Court Officials--InopportuneVisitors--Major Price: Adieu Colonel Polier--Miss Burney'sroutine at Windsor--The Princess Royal--The Court at Kew: A ThreeYear old Princess--A Drawing-room at St. James's--Absence ofState at Kew--Mis Burneys First Evening Out--Casual Callers to bekept off: A New Arrival--The Royal Princesses--Alarming News--TheAttempt against the King--Agitation of the Queen and Princesses--A Privilege is Secured--The Queen continues Anxious--SnuffPreparer-in-Chief--A Supper Mystery--Little Princess Amelia'sBirthday--The Cipher becomes a Number--Display of Loyalty atlittle Kew--"Miss Bernar, the Queen will give you a Gown"--ACrowded Drawing-room--The Keeper of the Robes is very much putout. Page x

8. (1786) ROYAL VISIT TO NUNEHAM, OXFORD, AND BLENHEIM ---373-398A A job's Comforter--The Journey to Nuneham: UngraciousReception--A HastyIntroduction to Lady Harcourt--Apparition ofthe Princesses--From Pillar to Post--"The Equerries Want theLadies"--Summoned to the Queen--A Check for the Colonel--Thanksgiving Service at Nuneham--Royal Visit to Oxford: Receptionby the University--The Royal Family are much Affected--ThePresentations: Retiring Backwards--The Colleges Visited: AStealthy Collation--Retreating from the Royal Presence--Surprisedby the Queen--At Nuneham again--A Lively Breakfast Incident. 9. (1786-7) COURT DUTIES AT WINDSOR AND KEW -- 399-447The Mischief-Making Keeper of the Robes--A Terrace Party--ANervous Reader--Miss Burney Repines at her Position--Madame deGenlis discussed--A Distinguished Astronomer--Effusive Madaine dela Roche--A Dinner Difficulty--An Eccentric Lady--The Wrong GuestInvited--The Princess Royal's Birthday--Arrival of a NewEquerry--Custodian of the Queen's Jewel Box--Tea TableDifficulties--An Equerry's Duties and Discomforts--Royal Cautionsand Confidences--The Queen tired of Her Gewgaws--A Holiday atlast--Tea Room Gambols--A dreadful Mishap--"Is it Permitted?"--The Plump Provost and his Lady--The Equerries Violate theRules--Mr. Turbulent on Court Routine--An Equerry on the CourtConcert--Dr, Herschel's Large Telescope--Illness, and someReflections it gave rise to. PREFACE. 

"The Diary and Letters of Madame D'Arblay, " edited by her niece, Mrs. Barrett, were originally published in seven volumes, duringthe years 1842-1846. The work comprised but a portion of thediary and voluminous correspondence of its gifted writer, for theselection of which Madame D'Arblay, herself in part, and in partMrs. Barrett, were responsible. From this selection the presentone has been made, which, it is believed, will be found toinclude all the most valuable and interesting passages of theoriginal. We can at least claim for this, the first popularedition of the Diary, that we have scrupulously fulfilled MadameD'Arblay's injunction to her former editor, "that whatever mightbe effaced or Omitted, nothing should in anywise be altered oradded to her records. "

Of the Diary itself it is hardly necessary here to say anythingin praise. It has long been acknowledged a classic; it isindubitably the most entertaining, in Some respects the mostvaluable, work of its kind in the English language, Regarded as aseries of pictures of the society of the time, the Diary isunsurpassed for vivid Colouring and truthful delineation. Assuch alone it would possess a strong claim upon our attention, but how largely is our interest increased, when we find that thefigures which fill the most prominent positions in the foregroundof these pictures, are those of the most noble, most gifted, andMost distinguished men of the day! To mention but a few

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 MADAME D'ARBLAY. BY LORD MACAULAY. 

Frances Burney was descended from a family which bore the name ofMacburney, and which, though probably of Irish origin, had beenlong settled in Shropshire and was possessed of considerableestates in that county. Unhappily, many years before her birth, the Macburneys began, as if of set purpose and in a spirit ofdetermined rivalry, to expose and ruin themselves. The heirapparent, Mr. James Macburney offended his father by making arunaway rnatch with an actress from Goodman's -fields - The oldgentleman could devise no more judicious mode of wreakingvengeance on his undutiful boy than by marrying the cook. Thecook gave birth to a son, named Joseph, who succeeded to all thelands of the family, while James was cut off with a shilling. Thefavourite son, however, was so extravagant that he soon became aspoor as his disinherited brother. Both were forced to earn theirbread by their labour. Joseph turned dancing-master and settledin Norfolk. James struck off the Mac from the beginning of hisname and set up as a portrait painter at Chester. Here he had ason, named Charles, well known as the author of the "History ofMusic" and as the father of two remarkable children, of a sondistinguished by learning and of a daughter still more honourablydistinguished by genius. 

Charles early showed a taste for that art of which, at a laterperiod, he became the historian. He was apprenticed to acelebrated musician(1) in London, and He applied himself to studywith vigour and success. He early found a kind and munificentPatron in Fulk Greville, a highborn and highbred man, who seemsto have had in large measure all the accomplishments and all thefollies, all the virtues and all the vices, which, a hundredyears ago, were considered as making up the character of a finegentleman. Under such protection, the young artist had everypros-Page xiv

pect of a brilliant career in the capital. But -his healthfailed. It became necessary for him to retreat from the smoke andriver fog of London to the pure air of the coast. He accepted theplace of organist at Lynn, and settled at that town with a younglady who had recently become his wife. (2)

At Lynn, in June, 1752, Frances Burney was born. (3) Nothing inher childhood indicated that she would, while still a youngwoman, have secured for herself an honourable and permanent placeamong English writers. She was shy and silent. Her brothers andsisters called her a dunce, and not altogether without some showof reason ; for at eight years old she did not know her letters. 

In 1760, Mr. Burney quitted Lynn for London, and took a house inPoland-street; a situation which had been fashionable in thereign of Queen Anne, but which, since that time, had beendeserted by most of its wealthy and noble inhabitants. Heafterwards resided in St. Martin's- street, on the south side ofLeicestersquare. His house there is still well known, and willcontinue to be well known as long as our island retains any traceof civilisation ; for it was the dwelling of Newton, and thesquare turret which distinguishes it from all the surroundingbuildings was Newton's observatory, Mr. Burney at once obtained as many pupils of the mostrespectable description as he had time to attend, and was thusenabled to support his family, modestly indeed, and frugally, butin comfort and independence. His professional merit obtained forhim the degree of Doctor of Music from the University ofOxford;(4) and his works on subjects connected with art gainedfor him a place, respectable, though certainly not eminent, amongmen of letters. 

The progress of the mind of Frances Burney, from her ninth to hertwenty-fifth year, well deserves to be recorded, When hereducation had proceeded no further than the hornbook, she losther mother, and thenceforward she educated herself. Her fatherappears to have been as bad a father as a very honest, affectionate and sweet-tempered man can well be. He loved hisdaughter dearly ; but it never seems to have occurred to him thata parent has other duties to perform to children than that offondling them. It would indeed have been impossible for him tosuperintend their education himself. His professional engagementsoccupied him all day. At seven in the morning, he began to attendhis pupils, and, when London was full, was sometimes employed inteaching

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till eleven at night. He was often forced to carry in his pocketa tin box of sandwiches and a bottle of wine and water, on whichhe dined in a hackney coach while hurrying from one scholar toanother. Two of his daughters he sent to a seminary at Paris; buthe imagined that Frances would run some risk of being pervertedfrom the Protestant faith if she were educated in a Catholiccountry, and he therefore kept her at home. No governess, noteacher of any art or of any language was provided for her. Butone of her sisters showed her how to write ; and, before she wasfourteen, she began to find pleasure in reading. 

it was not, however, by reading that her intellect was formed. Indeed, when her best novels were produced, her knowledge ofbooks was very small. When at the height of her fame, she wasunacquainted with the most celebrated works of Voltaire andMoli6re ; and, what seems still more extraordinary, had neverheard or seen a line of Churchill, who, when she was a girl, wasthe most popular of living poets. It is particularlydeserving of observation that she appears to have been by nomeans a novel reader. Her father's library was large, and he hadadmitted into it so many books which rigid moralists generallyexclude that he felt uneasy, as he afterwards owned, when Johnsonbegan to examine the shelves. But in the whole collection therewas only a single novel, Fielding's "Amelia. "(5)

An education, however, which to most girls would have beenuseless, but which suited Fanny's mind better than elaborateculture, was in constant progress during her passage fromchildhood to womanhood. The great book of human nature wasturned over before her. Her father's social position was verypeculiar. He belonged in fortune and station to the middleclass. His daughters seemed to have been suffered to mix freelywith those whom butlers and waiting-maids call vulgar. We aretold that they were in the habit of playing with the children ofa wigmaker who lived in the adjoining house. Yet few noblescould assemble in the most stately mansions of Grosvenor-squareor St. James's-square a society so various and so brilliant aswas sometimes to be found in Dr. Burney's cabin. His mind, though

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not very powerful or capacious, was restlessly active ; and, inthe intervals of his professional pursuits, he had contrived tolay up much miscellaneous information. His attainments, thesuavity of his temper and the general simplicity of his mannershad obtained for him ready admission to the first literarycircles. While he was still at Lynn, he had won Johnson's heartby sounding with honest zeal the praises of the "EnglishDictionary. " In London, the two friends met frequently andagreed most harmoniously. One tie, indeed, was wanting to theirmutual attachment. Burney loved his own art passionately, andJohnson just knew the bell of St. Clement's church from theorgan. Theyhad, however, many topics in common; and on winternights their conversations were sometimes prolonged till the firehad gone out and the candles had burned away to the wicks. Burney'sadmiration of the powers which had produced "Rasselas"and "The Rambler" bordered on idolatry. He gave a singular proofof this at his first visit to Johnson's ill-furnished garret. The master of the apartment was not at home. The enthusiasticvisitor looked about for some relic which he could carry away, but he could see nothing lighter than the chairs and thefireirons. At last he discovered an old broom, tore somebristles from the stump, wrapped them in silver paper, anddeparted as happy as Louis IX. When the holy nail of St. Deniswas found. (6) Johnson, on the other hand, condescended to growlout that Burney was an honest fellow, a man whom it wasimpossible not to like. 

Garrick, too, was a frequent visitor in Poland-street and St. Martin's-street. That wonderful actor loved the society ofchildren, partly from good nature and partly from vanity. Theecstasies of mirth and terror, which his gestures and play ofcountenance never failed to produce in a nursery, flattered himquite as much as the applause of mature critics. He oftenexhibited all his powers of mimicry for the amusement of thelittle Burneys, awed them by shuddering and crouching as if hesaw a ghost, scared them by raving like a maniac in St. Luke's, and then at once became an auctioneer, a chimney-sweeper or anold woman, and made them laugh till the tears ran down theircheeks. 

But it would be tedious to recount the names of all the men ofletters and artists whom Frances Burney had an opportunity ofseeing and hearing. Colman, Twining, Harris, Baretti, Hawkesworth, Reynolds, Barry, were among those who occasionallysurrounded the tea table and supper tray at her father's modestPage xvii

dwelling. This was not all. The distinction which Dr. Burney hadacquired as a musician and as the historian of music, attractedto his house the most eminent musical performers of that age. The greatest Italian singers who visited England regarded him asthe dispenser of fame in their art, and exerted themselves toobtain his suffrage. Pacchierotti became his intimate friend. The rapacious Agujari, who sang for nobody else under fiftypounds an air, sang her best for Dr. Burney without a fee; and inthe company of Dr. Burney even the haughty and eccentricGabrielli constrained herself to behave with civility. It wasthus in his power to give, with scarcely any expense, concertsequal to those of the aristocracy. On such occasions, the quietstreet in which he lived was blocked up by coroneted chariots, and his little drawing-room was crowded with peers, peeresses, ministers and ambassadors. On one evening, of which we happen tohave a full account, there were present Lord Mulgrave, LordBruce, Lord and Lady Edgecumbe, Lord Barrington from the Waroffice, Lord Sandwich from the Admiralty, Lord Ashburnham, withhis gold key dangling from his pocket, and the French ambassador, M. De Guignes, renowned for his fine person and for his successin gallantry. But the great show of the night was the Russianambassador, Count Orloff, whose gigantic figure was all in ablaze with jewels, and in whose demeanour the untamed ferocity ofthe Scythian might be discerned through a thin varnish of FrenchPoliteness. As he stalked about the small parlour, brushing theceiling with his toupee, the girls whispered to each other, withmingled admiration and borror, that he was the favoured lover ofhis august mistress; that be had borne the chief part in therevolution to which she owed her throne; and that his huge hands, now glittering with diamond rings, had given the last squeeze tothe windpipe of her unfortunate husband. 

With such illustrious guests as these were mingled all the mostremarkable specimens of the race of lions, a kind of game whichis hunted in London every spring with more than Meltonian ardourand perseverance. Bruce, who had washed down steaks cut fromliving oxen with water from the fountains of the Nile, came toswagger and talk about his travels. Ornai lisped broken English, and made all the assembled musicians hold their ears by howlingOtaheitean love-songs, such as those with which Oberea charmedher Opano. 

With the literary and fashionable society which occasionally metunder Dr. Burney's roof, Frances can scarcely be said to havemingled. (7) She was not a musician, and could therefore bear nopart in the concerts. She was shy almost to awkward-

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ness, and she scarcely ever joined in the conversation. Theslightest remark from a stranger disconcerted her, and even theold friends of her father who tried to draw her out could seldomextract more than a Yes or a No. Her figure was small, her facenot distinguished by beauty. She was therefore suffered towithdraw quietly to the background, and, unobserved herself, toobserve all that passed. Her nearest relations were aware thatshe had good sense, but seem not to have suspected that under herdemure and bashful deportment were concealed a fertile inventionand a keen sense of the ridiculous. She had not, it is true, aneye for the fine shades of character. But every markedpeculiarity instantly caught her notice and remained engraven onher imagination. Thus while still a girl she had laid up such astore of materials for fiction as few of those who mix much inthe world are able to accumulate during a long life. She hadwatched and listened to people of every class, from princes andgreat officers of state down to artists living in garrets andpoets familiar with subterranean cookshops. Hundreds ofremarkable persons had passed in review before her, English, French, German, Italian, lords and fiddlers, deans of cathedralsand managers of theatres, travellers leading about newly caughtsavages, and singing women escorted by deputy husbands. 

So strong was the impression made on the mind of Frances by thesociety which she was in the habit of seeing and hearing, thatshe began to write little fictitious narratives as soon as shecould use her pen with ease, which, as we have said, was not veryearly. Her sisters were amused by her stories. But Dr. Burneyknew nothing of their existence ; and in another quarter herliterary propensities met with serious discouragement. When shewas fifteen, her father took a second wife. (8) The new Mrs. Burney soon found out that her daughter-in-law was fond ofscribbling, and delivered several good-natured lectures on thesubject. The advice no doubt was well meant, and might have beengiven by the most judicious friend ; for at that time, fromcauses to which we may hereafter advert, nothing could be moredisadvantageous to a young lady than to be known as a novelwriter. Frances yielded, relinquished her favourite pursuit, andmade a bonfire of all her manuscripts. (9) Page xix -MAD

She now hemmed and stitched from breakfast to dinner withscrupulous regularity. But the dinners of that time were early ;and the afternoon was her own. Though she had given upnovelwriting, she was still fond of using her pen. She began tokeep a diary, and she corresponded largely with a person whoseems to have had the chief share in the formation of her mind. This was Samuel Crisp, an old friend of her father. His name, well known, near a century ago, in the most splendid circles ofLondon, has long been forgotten. His history is, however, sointeresting and instructive, that it tempts us to venture on adigression. Long before Frances Burney was born, Mr. Crisp hadmade his entrance into the world, with every advantage. He was well connected and well educated. His face and figure wereconspicuously handsome; his manners were polished; his fortunewas easy; his character was without stain ; he lived in the bestsociety; he had read much ; he talked well; his taste inliterature, music, painting, architecture, sculpture, was held inhigh esteem. Nothing that the world can give seemed to be wantingto his happiness and respectability, except that he shouldunderstand the limits of his powers, and should not throw awaydistinctions which were within his reach in the pursuit ofdistinctions which were unattainable. " It is an uncontrolledtruth, " says Swift, "that no man ever made an ill figure whounderstood his own talents, nor a good one who mistook them. "Every day brings with it fresh illustrations of this weightysaying ; but the best commentary that we remember is the historyof Samuel Crisp. Men like him have their proper place, and it isa most important one, in the Commonwealth of Letters. It is bythe judgment of such men that the rank of authors is finallydetermined. It is neither to the multitude, nor to the few whoare gifted with great creative genius, that we are to look forsound critical decisions. The multitude, unacquainted with thebest models, are captivated by whatever stuns and dazzles them. They deserted Mrs. Siddons to run after Master Betty; and theynow prefer, we have no doubt, Jack Sheppard to Van Artevelde. Aman of great original genius, on the other hand, a man who hasattained to mastery in some high walk of art, is by no means tobe implicitly trusted as a judge of the performances of others. The erroneous decisions pronounced by such men are withoutnumber. It is commonly supposed that jealousy makes them unjust. But a more creditable explanation may easily be found. The veryexcellence of a work shows that some of the faculties of theauthor have been developed at the expense of the rest - for it isnot given to the human intellect to expand itself widely in alldirections at once and to be at the same time gigantic andwell-proportioned. Whoever becomes pre-eminent in any art, nay, in any style of art, generally does so by devoting himself withintense and exclusive enthusiasm to the pursuit of one kind ofexcellence. His perception of otherPage xx

kinds of excellence is too often impaired. Out of his owndepartment, he blames at random, and is far less to be trustedthan the mere connoisseur, who produces nothing, and whosebusiness is only to judge and enjoy. One painter isdistinguished by his exquisite finishing. He toils day after dayto bring the veins of a cabbage leaf, the folds of a lace veil, the wrinkles of an old woman's face, nearer and nearer toperfection. In the time which he employs on a square foot ofcanvas, a master of a different order covers the walls of apalace with gods burying giants under mountains, or makes thecupola of a church alive with seraphim and martyrs. The morefervent the passion of each of these artists for his art, thehigher the !merit of each in his own line, the more unlikely itis that they will justly appreciate each other. Many persons, who never handled a pencil, probably do far more justice toMichael Angelo than would have been done by Gerard Douw, and farmore justice to Gerard Douw than would have been done by MichaelAngelo. 

It is the same with literature. Thousands, who have no spark ofthe genius of Dryden or Wordsworth, do to Dryden the justicewhich has never been done by Wordsworth, and to Wordsworth thejustice which, we suspect, would never have been done by Dryden. Gray, Johnson, Richardson, Fielding, are all highly esteemed bythe great body of intelligent and well informed men. But Graycould see no merit in "Rasselas, " and Johnson could see no meritin "The Bard. " Fielding thought Richardson a solemn prig, andRichardson perpetually expressed contempt and disgust forFielding's lowness. 

Mr. Crisp seems, as far as we can judge, to have been a maneminently qualified for the useful office of a connoisseur. Histalents and knowledge fitted him to appreciate justly almostevery species of intellectual superiority. As an adviser he wasinestimable. Nay, he might probably have held a respectable rankas a writer if he would have confined himself to some departmentof literature in which nothing more than sense, taste, andreading was required. Unhappily, he set his heart on being agreat poet, wrote a tragedy in five acts on the death ofVirginia, and offered it to Garrick, who was his personal friend. Garrick read, shook his head, and expressed a doubt whether itwould be wise in Mr. Crisp to stake a reputation, which stoodhigh, on the success of such a piece. But the author, blinded byself-love, set in motion a machinery such as none could longresist. His intercessors were the most eloquent man and the mostlovely woman of that generation. Pitt was induced to read"Virginia" and to pronounce it excellent. Lady Coventry, withfingers which might have furnished a model to sculptors, forcedthe manuscript into the reluctant hand of the manager; and, inthe year 1754, the play was brought forward. 

Nothing that skill or friendship could do was omitted. Garrickwrote both prologue and epilogue. The zealous friends of thePage xxi

author filled every box ; and, by their strenuous exertions, thelife of the play was prolonged during ten nights. But thoughthere was no clamorous reprobation, it was universally felt thatthe attempt had failed. When "Virginia" was printed, the pub licdisappointment was even greater than at the representation. Thecritics, the Monthly Reviewers in particular, fell on plot, characters, and diction without mercy, but, we fear, not withoutjustice. We have never met with a copy of the play; but if wemayjudge from the lines which are extracted in the "Gentleman'sMagazine, " and which do not appear to have been malevolentlyselected, we should say that nothing but the acting of Garrickand the partiality of the audience could have saved so feeble andunnatural a drama from instant damnation. The ambition of thepoet was still unsubdued. . When the London season closed, heapplied himself vigorously to the work of removing blemishes. Hedoes not seem to have suspected, what we are strongly inclined tosuspect, that the whole piece was one blemish, and that thepassages which were meant to be fine were, in truth, bursts ofthat tame extravagance into which writers fall when they setthemselves to be sublime and pathetic in spite of nature. Heomitted, added, retouched, and flattered himself with hopes of acomplete success in the following year; but, in the followingyear, Garrick showed no disposition to bring the amended tragedyon the stage. Solicitation and remonstrance were tried in vain. Lady Coventry, drooping under that malady which seems ever toselect what is loveliest for its prey, could render noassistance. The manager's language was civilly evasive; but hisresolution was inflexible. Crisp had committed a great error ;but he had escaped with a very slight penance. His play had notbeen hooted from the boards. It had, on the contrary, beenbetter received than many very estimable performances havebeen-than Johnson's "Irene, " for example, or Goldsmith's"Good-natured Man. " Had Crisp been wise, he would have thoughthimself happy in having purchased self-knowledge so cheap. Hewould have relinquished, without vain repinings, the hope ofpoetical distinction, and would have turned to the many sourcesof happiness which he still possessed. Had he been, on the otherhand, an unfeeling and unblushing dunce, he would have gone onwriting scores of bad tragedies in defiance of censure andderision. But he had too much sense to risk a second defeat, yettoo little to bear his first defeat like a man. The fataldelusion that he was a great dramatist had taken firm possessionof his mind. His failure he attributed to every cause except thetrue one. He complained of the ill-will of Garrick, who appearsto have done everything that ability and zeal could do, and who, from selfish motives, would, of course, have been well pleased if"Virginia" had been as successful as "The Beggar's Opera. " Nay, Crisp complained of the languor of the friends whose partialityhad given him threePage xxii

benefit nights to which he had no claim. He complained of theinjustice of the spectators, when, in truth, he ought to havebeen grateful for their unexampled patience. He lost his temperand spirits, and became a cynic and a hater of mankind. FromLondon be retired to Hampton, and from Hampton to a solitary andlong-deserted mansion, built on a common in one of the wildesttracts of Surrey. (10) No road, not even a sheepwalk, connectedhis lonely dwelling with the abodes of men. The place of hisretreat was strictly concealed from his old associates. In thespring, he sometimes emerged, and was seen at exhibitions andconcerts in London. But he soon disappeared and hid himself, with no society but his books, in his dreary hermitage. Hesurvived his failure about thirty years. A new generation sprangup around him. No memory of his bad verses remained among men. His very name was forgotten. How completely the world had lostsight of him will appear from a single circumstance. We lookedfor his name in a copious Dictionary of Dramatic Authorspublished while he was still alive, and we found only that Mr. Samuel Crisp, of the Custom-house, had written a play called"Virginia, " acted in 1754. To the last, however, the unhappy mancontinued to brood over the injustice of the manager and the pit, and tried to convince himself and others that he had missed thehighest literary honours only because he had omitted some finepassages in compliance with Garrick's judgment. Alas for humannature, that the wounds of vanity should smart and bleed so muchlonger than the wounds of affection! Few people, we believe, whose nearest friends and relations died in 1754, had any acutefeeling of the loss in 1782. Dear sisters, and favouritedaughters, and brides snatched away before the honeymoon waspassed, had been forgotten, or were remembered only with atranquil regret. But Samuel Crisp was still mourning for histragedy, like Rachel weeping for her children, and would not becomforted. "Never, " such was his language twenty-eight yearsafter his disaster, "never give up or alter a tittle unless itperfectly coincides with your inward feelings. I can say this tomy sorrow and my cost. But mum!" Soon after these words werewritten, his life--a life which might have been eminently usefuland happy--ended in the same gloom in which, during more than aquarter of a century, it had been passed. We have thought itworth while to rescue from oblivion this curious fragment ofliterary history. It seems to us at once ludicrous, melancholy, and full of instruction. (11)

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Crisp was an old and very intimate friend of the Burneys. To them alone was confided the name of the desolate old hall inwhich he hid himself like a wild beast in a den. For them werereserved such remains of his humanity as had survived the failureof his play. Frances Burney he regarded as his daughter. Hecalled her his Fannikin; and she in return called him her dearDaddy. In truth, he seems to have done much more than her realfather for the development of her intellect ; for though he was abad poet, he was a scholar, a thinker, and an excellentcounsellor. He was particularly fond of Dr. Burney's concerts. They had indeed, been commenced at his suggestion, and when hevisited London he constantly attended them. But when he grewold, and when gout, brought on partly by mental irritation, confined him to his retreat, he was desirous of having a glimpseof that gay and brilliant world from which he was exiled, and hepressed Fannikin to send him full accounts of her father'sevening parties. A few of her letters to him have beenpublished; and it is impossible to read them without discerningin them all the powers which afterwards produced "Evelina" and"Cecilia"; the quickness in catching every odd peculiarity ofcharacter and manner; the skill in grouping; the humour, oftenrichly comic, sometimes even farcical. 

Fanny's propensity to novel-writing had for a time been keptdown. It now rose up stronger than ever. The heroes andheroines of the tales which had perished in the flames were stillpresent to the eye of her mind. One favourite story, inparticular, haunted her imagination. It was about a certainCaroline Evelyn, a beautiful damsel who made an unfortunate lovematch and died, leaving an infant daughter. Frances began toimage to herself the various scenes, tragic and comic, throughwhich the poor motherless girl, highly connected on one side, meanly connected on the other, might have to pass. A crowd ofunreal beings, good and bad, grave and ludicrous, surrounded thepretty, timid young orphan ; a coarse sea captain ; an ugly, insolent fop, blazing in a superb court dress ; another fop, asugly and as insolent, but lodged on Snow-hill and tricked out insecond-hand finery for the Hampstead ball; an old woman, Page Xxiv

wrinkles and rouge, flirting her fan with the air of a miss ofseventeen and screaming in a dialect made up of vulgar French andvulgar English; a poet, lean and ragged, with a broad Scotchaccent. By degrees these shadows acquired stronger and strongerconsistence ; the impulse which urged Frances to write becameirresistible; and the result was the "History of Evelina. "

Then came, naturally enough, a wish, mingled with many fears, toappear before the public ; for, timid as Frances was, andbashful, and altogether unaccustomed to hear her own praises, itis clear that she wanted neither a strong passion fordistinction, nor a just confidence in her own powers. Her schemewas to become, if possible, a candidate for fame without runningany risk of disgrace. She had not money to bear the expense ofprinting. It was therefore necessary that some bookseller shouldbe induced to take the risk; and such a bookseller was notreadily found. Dodsley refused even to look at the manuscriptunless he were intrusted with the name of the author. Apublisher in Fleet-street, named Lowndes, was more complaisant. Some correspondence took place between this person and MissBurney, who took the name of Grafton, and desired that theletters addressed to her might be left at the OrangeCoffee-house. But, before the bargain was finally struck, Fannythought it her duty to obtain her father's consent. She told himthat she had written a book, that she wished to have hispermission to publish it anonymously, but that she hoped that hewould not insist upon seeing it. What followed may serve toillustrate what we meant when we said that Dr. Burney was as bada father as so goodhearted a man could possibly be. It neverseems to have crossed his mind that Fanny was about to take astep on which the whole happiness of her life might depend, astep which might raise her to an honourable eminence or cover herwith ridicule and contempt. Several people had already beentrusted, and strict concealment was therefore not to be expected. On so grave an occasion, it was surely his duty to give his bestcounsel to his daughter, to win her confidence, to prevent herfrom exposing herself if her book were a bad one, and, if it werea good one, to see that the terms which she made with thepublisher were likely to be beneficial to her. Instead of this, he only stared, burst out a-laughing, kissed her, gave her leaveto do as she liked, and never even asked the name of her work. The contract with Lowndes was speedily concluded. Twenty poundswere given for the copyright, and were accepted by Fanny withdelight. Her father's inexcusable neglect of his duty happilycaused her no worse evil than the loss of twelve or fifteenhundred pounds. (12)

After many delays, "Evelina" appeared in January, 1778. Page xxv

Poor Fanny was sick with terror, and durst hardly stir out ofdoors. Some days passed before anything was heard of the book. It had, indeed, nothing but its own merits to push it into publicfavour. Its author was unknown. The house by which it waspublished, was not, we believe, held high in estimation. No bodyof partisans had been engaged to applaud. The better class ofreaders expected little from a novel about a young lady'sentrance into the world. There was, indeed, at that time adisposition among the most respectable people to condemn novelsgenerally: nor was this disposition by any means without excuse;for works of that sort were then almost always silly and veryfrequently wicked. 

Soon, however, the first faint accents of praise began to beheard: The keepers of the circulating libraries reported thateverybody was asking for "Evelina, " and that some person hadguessed Anstey(13) to be the author. Then came a favourablenotice in the "London Review"; then another still more favourablein the "Monthly. " And now the book found its way to tables whichhad seldom been polluted by marble-covered volumes. Scholars andstatesmen, who contemptuously abandoned the crowd of romances toMiss Lydia Languish and Miss Sukey Saunter, were not ashamed toown that they could not tear themselves away from "Evelina. "Fine carriages and rich liveries, not often seen east ofTemple-bar, were attracted to the publisher's shop inFleet-street. Lowndes was daily questioned about the author, butwas himself as much in the dark as any of the questioners. Themystery, however, could not remain a mystery long. It was knownto brothers and sisters, aunts and cousins: and they were far tooproud and too happy to be discreet. Dr. Burney wept over thebook in rapture. Daddy Crisp shook his fist at his Fannikin inaffectionate anger at not having been admitted to her confidence. The truth was whispered to Mrs. Thrale: and then it began tospread fast. 

The book had been admired while it had been ascribed to men ofletters long conversant with the world and accustomed tocomposition. But when it was known that a reserved, silent youngwoman had produced the best work of fiction that had appearedsince' the death of Smollett, the acclamations were redoubled. What she had done was, indeed, extraordinary. But, as usual, various reports improved the story till it became miraculous. "Evelina, " it was said, was the work of a girl of seventeen. Incredible as this tale was, it continued to be repeated down toour own time. Frances was too honest to confirm it. Probablyshe Was too much a woman to contradict it; and it was long beforeany of her detractors thought of this mode of annoyance. Yetthere was no want of low minds and bad hearts in the generationPage Xxvi

which witnessed her first appearance. There was the enviousKenrick and the savage Wolcot, the asp George Steevens and thepolecat John Williams. It did not, however, occur to them tosearch the parish register of Lynn, in order that they might beable to twit a lady with having concealed her age. That trulychivalrous exploit was reserved for a bad writer(14) of our owntime, whose spite she had provoked by not furnishing him withmaterials for a worthless edition of Boswell's "Life of Johnson, "some sheets of which our readers have doubtless seen roundparcels of better books. 

But we must return to our story. The triumph was complete. Thetimid and obscure girl found herself on the highest pinnacle offame. Great men, on whom she had gazed at a distance with humblereverence, addressed her with admiration, tempered by thetenderness due to her sex and age. Burke, Windham, Gibbon, Reynolds, Sheridan, were among her most ardent eulogists. Cumberland(15) acknowledged her merit, after his fashion, bybiting his lips and wriggling in his chair whenever her name wasmentioned. But it was at Streatham that she tasted, in thehighest perfection, the sweets of flattery mingled with thesweets of friendship. Mrs. Thrale, then at the height ofprosperity and popularity-with gay spirits, quick wit, showy, though superficial, acquirements, pleasing, though not refined, manners, a singularly amiable temper and a loving heart-felttowards Fanny as towards a younger sister. With the Thrales, Johnson was domesticated. He was an old friend of Dr. Burney;but he had probably taken little notice of Dr. Burney's daughters; and Fanny, we imagine, had never in her life dared to speak tohim, unless to ask whether he wanted a nineteenth or a twentiethcup of tea. He was charmed by her tale, and preferred it to thenovels of Fielding, to whom, indeed, he had always been grosslyunjust. He did not, indeed, carry his partiality so far as toplace "Evelina" by the side of "Clarissa" and "Sir CharlesGrandison"; yet he said that his little favourite had done enoughto have made even Richardson feel uneasy. With Johnson's cordialapprobation of the book was mingled a fondness, half gallant, half paternal, for the writer; and this fondness his age andcharacter entitled him to show without restraint. He began byputting her hand to his lips. But he soon clasped her in hishuge arms, and immediately implored her to be a good girl. Shewas his pet, his dear love, his dear little Burney, his littlecharacter-monger. At one time, he broke forth in praise of thegood taste of her caps. At another time, he insisted on teachingher Latin. That, with all his coarseness andPage xxvii

irritability, he was a man of sterling benevolence, has long beenacknowledged. But how gentle and endearing his deportment couldbe, was not known till the recollections of Madame. D'Arblay werepublished. 

We have mentioned a few of the most eminent of those who paidtheir homage to the author of " Evelina. " The crowd of inferioradmirers would require a catalogue as long as that in the secondbook of the " Iliad. " In that catalogue would be Mrs. Cholmondeley, the sayer of odd things; and Seward, much given toyawning; and Baretti, who slew the man in the Haymarket ; andPaoli, talking broken English; and Langton, taller by the headthan any other member of the club; and Lady Millar, who kept avase wherein fools were wont to put bad verses ; and Jerningham, who wrote verses fit to be put into the vase of Lady Millar; andDr. Franklin-not, as some have dreamed, the great PennsylvanianDr. Franklin, who could not then have paid his respects to MissBurney without much risk of being hanged, drawn, and quartered, but Dr. Franklin the less. 

A'tag, uEiwv, ort r6aroC yE 6aoc TEXap6vtoC Atag, i1XX, i rOVJLEi&)V. 

It would not have been surprising if such success had turned evena strong head and corrupted even a generous and affectionatenature. But in the "Diary, " we can find no trace of any feelinginconsistent with a truly modest and amiable disposition. Thereis, indeed, abundant proof that Frances enjoyed with an intense, though a troubled, joy, the honours which her genius had won ;but it is equally clear that her happiness sprang from thehappiness of her father, her sister, and her dear Daddy Crisp. While flattered by the great, the opulent and the learned, whilefollowed along the Steyne at Brighton and the Pantiles atTunbridge Wells by the gaze of admiring crowds, her heart seemsto have been still with the little domestic circle in St. Martin'sstreet. If she recorded with minute diligence all thecompliments, delicate and coarse, which she heard wherever sheturned, she recorded them for the eyes of two or three personswho had loved her from infancy, who had loved her in obscurity, and to whom her fame gave the purest and most exquisite delight. Nothing can be more unjust than to confound these outpourings ofa kind heart, sure of perfect sympathy, with the egotism of abluestocking who prates to all who come near her about her ownnovel or her own volume of sonnets. 

It was natural that the triumphant issue of Miss Burney's firstventure should tempt her to try a second. "Evelina, " though ithad raised her fame, had added nothing to her fortune. Some ofher friends urged her to write for the stage. Johnson promisedto give her his advice as to the composition. Murphy, who wassupposed to understand the temper of the pit as well as any man

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of his time, undertook to instruct her as to stage effect. Sheridan declared that he would accept a play from her withouteven reading it. Thus encouraged, she wrote a comedy named "TheWitlings. " Fortunately, it was never acted or printed. We can, we think, easily perceive, from the little which is said on thesubject in the "Diary, " that "The Witlings" would have beendamned, and that Murpby and Sheridan thought so, though they weretoo polite to say so. Happily Frances had a friend who was notafraid to give her pain. Crisp, wiser for her than he had beenfor himself, read the manuscript in his lonely retreat andmanfully told her that she had failed, and that to removeblemishes here and there would be useless; that the piece hadabundance of wit but no interest, that it was bad as a whole ;that it would remind every reader of the "Femmes Savantes, "which, strange to say, she had never read, and that she could notsustain so close a comparison with Moli6re. This opinion, inwhich Dr. Burney concurred, was sent to Frances in what shecalled "a hissing, groaning, catcalling epistle. " But she had toomuch sense not to know that it was better to be hissed andcatcalled by her Daddy than by a whole sea of heads in the pit ofDrury-lane theatre ; and she had too good a heart not to begrateful for so rare an act of friendship. She returned ananswer which shows how well she deserved to have a judicious, faithful, and affectionate adviser. "I intend, " she wrote, "toconsole myself for your censure by this greatest proof I havereceived of the sincerity, candour, and, let me add, esteem of mydear daddy. And, as I happen to love myself more than my play, this consolation is not a very trifling one. This, however, seriously I do believe, that when my two daddies put their headstogether to concert that hissing, groaning, catcalling epistlethey sent me, they felt as sorry for poor little Miss Bayes asshe could possibly do for herself. You see I do not attempt torepay your frankness with an air of pretended carelessness. But, though somewhat disconcerted just now, I will promise not to letmy vexation live out another day. Adieu, my dear daddy; I won'tbe mortified and I won't be downed; but I will be proud to find Ihave, out of my own family, as well as in it, a friend who lovesme well enough to speak plain truth to me. "

Frances now turned from her dramatic schemes to an undertakingfar better suited to her talents. She determined to write a newtale on a plan excellently contrived for the display of thepowers in which her superiority to other writers lay. It was, intruth, a grand and various picture gallery, which presented tothe eye a long series of men and women, each marked by somestrong peculiar feature. There were avarice and prodigality, thepride of blood and the pride of money, morbid restlessness andmorbid apathy, frivolous garrulity, supercilious silence, aDemocritus to laugh at everything and a Heraclitus to lament overeverything. The work proceeded fast, and in twelve months wascompleted, Page xxix

It wanted something of the simplicity which had been among themost attractive charms of "Evelina"; but it furnished ample proofthat the four years, which had elapsed since "Evelina" appeared, had not been unprofitably spent. Those who saw "Cecilia" inmanuscript pronounced it the best novel of the age. Mrs. Thralelaughed and wept over it. Crisp was even vehement in applause, and offered to insure the rapid and complete success of the bookfor half-a-crown. What Miss Burney received for the copyright isnot mentioned in the " Diary "; but we have observed severalexpressions from which we infer that the sum was considerable. That the sale would be great, nobody could doubt; and Frances nowhad shrewd and experienced advisers, who would not suffer her towrong herself. We have been told that the publishers gave hertwo thousand pounds, and we have no doubt that they might havegiven a still larger sum without being losers. (16)

"Cecilia" was published in the summer of 1782. The curiosity ofthe town was intense. We have been informed by persons whoremember those days, that no romance of Sir Walter Scott was moreimpatiently awaited or more eagerly snatched from the counters ofthe booksellers. High as public expectation was, it was amplysatisfied; and "Cecilia" was placed, by general acclamation, among the classical novels of England. 

Miss Burney was now thirty. Her youth had been singularlyprosperous; but clouds soon began to gather over that clear andradiant dawn. Events deeply painful to a heart so kind as thatof Frances followed each other in rapid succession. She wasfirst called upon to attend the deathbed of her best friend, Samuel Crisp. When she returned to St. Martin's-street afterperforming this melancholy duty, she was appalled by hearing thatJohnson had been struck with paralysis, and, not many monthsLater, she parted from him for the last time with solemntenderness. He wished to look on her once more; and on the daybefore his death she long remained in tears on the stairs leadingto his bedroom, in the hope that she might be called in toreceive his blessing. But he was then sinking fast, and, thoughhe sent her an affectionate message, was unable to see her. Butthis was not the worst. There are separations far more cruelthan those which are made by death. Frances might weep withproud affection for Crisp and Johnson. She had to blush as wellas to weep for Mrs. Thrale. 

Life, however, still smiled upon her. Domestic happiness, friendship, independence, leisure, letters, all these things werehers; and she flung them all away. 

Among the distinguished persons to whom Miss Burney had beenintroduced, none appears to have stood higher in her regard thanMrs. Delany. This lady was an interesting and venerable

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relic of a past age. She was the niece of George Granville, LordLansdowne, who, in his youth, exchanged verses and complimentswith Edmun Waller, and who was among the first to applaud theopening talents of Pope. She had married Dr. Delany, a man knownto his contemporaries as a profound scholar and eloquentpreacher, but remembered in our time chiefly as one of that smallcircle in which the fierce spirit of Swift, tortured bydisappointed ambition, by remorse, and by the approaches ofmadness, sought for amusement and repose. Dr. Delany had longbeen dead. His widow, nobly descended, eminently accomplished, and retaining, in spite of the infirmities of advanced age, thevigour of her faculties, and the serenity of her temper, enjoyedand deserved the favour of the royal family. She had a pensionof three hundred a-year; and a house at Windsor, belonging to thecrown, had been fitted up for her accommodation. At this house, the king and queen sometimes called, and found a very naturalpleasure in thus catching an occasional glimpse of the privatelife of English families. 

In December, 1785, Miss Burney was on a visit to Mrs. Delany atWindsor. The dinner was over. The old lady was taking a nap. Hergrandniece, a little girl of seven, was playing at some Christmasgame with the visitors, when the door opened, and a stoutgentleman entered unannounced, with a star on his breast, and"What? what? what?" in his mouth. A cry of "The king!" was setup. A general scampering followed. Miss Burney owns that shecould not have been more terrified if she had seen a ghost. ButMrs. Delany came forward to pay her duty to her royal friend, andthe disturbance was quieted. Frances was then presented, andunderwent a long examination and crossexamination about all thatshe had written, and all that she meant to write. The queen soonmade her appearance, and his majesty repeated, for the benefit ofhis consort, the information which he had extracted from MissBurney. The good nature of the royal pair might have softenedeven the authors of the "Probationary Odes, "(17) and could notbut be delightful to a young lady who had been brought up a Tory. In a few days the visit was repeated. Miss Burney was more atease than before. His majesty, instead of seeking forinformation, condescended to impart it, and passed sentence onmany great writers, English and foreign. Voltairehe pronounced amonster. Rousseau he liked rather better. "But was there ever, "he cried, " such stuff as great part of Shakspeare? Only one mustnot say so. But what think you? What? Is there not sad stuff?What? What?"

The next day Frances enjoyed the privilege of listening to someequally valuable criticism uttered by the queen touching Goethe, Page xxxi

And Klopstock, and might have learned an important lesson ofeconomy from the mode in which her majesty's library had beenformed. "1 picked the book up on a stall, " said the queen. "Oh, it is amazing what good books there are on stalls!" Mrs. Delany, who seems to have understood from these words that her majestywas in the habit of exploring the booths of Moorfields andHolywell-street in person, could not suppress an exclamation ofsurprise. "Why, " said the queen, "I don't pick them up myself. I have a servant very clever; and if they are not to be had atthe booksellers, they are not for me more than for another. " MissBurney describes this conversation as delightful; and, indeed, wecannot wonder that, with her literary tastes, she should bedelighted at hearing in how magnificent a manner the greatestlady in the land encouraged literature. 

The truth is, that Frances was fascinated by the condescendingkindness of the two great personages to whom she had beenpresented. Her father was even more infatuated than herself. The result was a step of which we cannot think with patience, butrecorded as it is with all its consequences in these volumesdeserves at least this praise, that it has furnished a mostimpressive warning. 

A German lady of the name of Haggerdorn, one of the keepers ofthe queen's robes, retired about this time, and her majestyoffered the vacant post to Miss Burney. When we consider thatMiss Burney was decidedly the most popular writer of fictitiousnarrative then living, that competence, if not opulence, waswithin her reach, and that she was more than usually happy in herdomestic circle, and when we compare the sacrifice which she wasinvited to make with the remuneration which was held out to her, we are divided between laughter and indignation. 

What was demanded of her was that she should consent to be almostas completely separated from her family and friends as if she hadgone to Calcutta, and almost as close a prisoner as if she hadbeen sent to gaol for a libel; that with talents which hadinstructed and delighted the highest living minds, she should nowbe employed only in mixing snuff and sticking pins; that sheshould be summoned by a waiting-woman's bell to a waiting-woman'sduties; that she should pass her whole life under the restraintsof a paltry etiquette, should sometimes fast till she was readyto swoon with hunger, should sometimes stand till her knees haveway with fatigue; that she should not dare to speak or movewithout considering how her mistress might like her words andgestures. Instead of those distinguished men and women, theflower of all political parties, with whom she had been in thehabit of mixing on terms of equal friendship, she was to have forher perpetual companion the chief keeper of the robes, an old hagfrom Germany, of mean understanding, of insolent manners, and oftemper which, naturally savage, had now been exasperated bydisease. Now and then, indeed, poor Frances might console her-Page xxxii

self for the loss of Burke's and Windham's society by joining inthe "celestial colloquy sublime" of his majesty's equerries. 

And what was the consideration for which she was to sell herselfto this slavery? A peerage in her own right? A pension of twothousand a-year for life? A seventy-four for her brother in thenavy? A deanery for her brother in the church? Not so. Theprice at which she was valued was her board, her lodging, theattendance of a man-servant, and two hundred pounds a-year. 

The man who, even when hard pressed by hunger, sells hisbirthright for a mess of pottage, is unwise. But what shall wesay of him who parts with his birthright and does not get eventhe pottage in return ? It is not necessary to inquire whetheropulence be an adequate compensation for the sacrifice of bodilyand mental freedom ; for Frances Burney paid for leave to be aprisoner and a menial. It was evidently understood as one of theterms of her engagement, that, while she was a member of theroyal household, she was not to appear before the public as anauthor; and, even had there been no such understanding, heravocations were such as left her no leisure for any considerableintellectual effort. That her place was incompatible with herliterary pursuits was indeed frankly acknowledged by the kingwhen she resigned. "She had given up, " he said, "five years ofher pen. " That during those five years she might, withoutpainful exertion, without any exertion that would not have been apleasure, have earned enough to buy an annuity for life muchlarger than the precarious salary which she received at Court, isquite certain. The same income, too, which in St. Martin'sstreetwould have afforded her every comfort, must have been foundscanty at St. James's. We cannot venture to speak confidently ofthe price of millinery and jewellery; but we are greatly deceivedif a lady, who had to attend Queen Charlotte on many publicoccasions, could possibly save a farthing out of a salary of twohundred a-year. The principle of the arrangement was, in short, simply this, that Frances Burney should become a slave, andshould be rewarded by being made a beggar. 

With what object their majesties brought her to their palace, wemust own ourselves unable to conceive. Their object could not beto encourage her literary exertions; for they took her from asituation in which it was almost certain that she would write andput her into a situation in which it was impossible for her towrite. Their object could not be to promote her pecuniaryinterest for they took her from a situation where she was likelyto becom rich, and put her into a situation in which she couldnot but continue poor. Their object could not be to obtain aneminentl useful waiting-maid; for it is clear that, though MissBurney was the only woman of her time who could have describedthe death of Harrel, (18) thousands might have been found moreexpert in tying

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ribbons and filling snuff-boxes. To grant her a pension on thecivil list would have been an act of judicious liberalityhonourable to the Court. If this was impracticable, the nextbest thing was to let her alone. That the king and queen meanther nothing but kindness, we do not in the least doubt. Buttheir kindness was the kindness of persons raised high above themass of mankind, accustomed to be addressed with profounddeference, accustomed to see all who approach them mortified bytheir coldness and elated by their smiles. They fancied that tobe noticed by them, to be near them, to serve them, was in itselfa kind of happiness ; and that Frances Burney ought to be full ofgratitude for being permitted to purchase, by the surrender ofhealth, wealth, freedom, domestic affection and literary fame, the privilege of standing behind a royal chair and holding a pairof royal gloves. 

And who can blame them ? Who can wonder that princes should beunder such a delusion when they are encouraged in it by the verypersons who suffer from it most cruelly ? Was it to be expectedthat George III. And Queen Charlotte should understand theinterest of Frances Burney better, or promote it with more zeal, than herself and her father ? No deception was practised. Theconditions of the house of bondage were set forth with allsimplicity. The hook was presented without a bait ; the net wasspread in sight of the bird, and the naked hook was greedilyswallowed, and the silly bird made haste to entangle herself inthe net. 

It is not strange indeed that an invitation to Court should havecaused a fluttering in the bosom of an inexperienced woman. Butit was the duty of the parent to watch over the child, and toshow her, that on one side were only infantine vanities andchimerical hopes, on the other, liberty, peace of mind, affluence, social enjoyments, honourable distinctions. Strangeto say, the only hesitation was on the part of Frances. Dr. Burney was transported out of himself with delight. Not such arethe raptures of a Circassian father who has sold his prettydaughter well to a Turkish slave merchant. Yet Dr. Burney was anamiable man a man of good abilities, a man who had seen much ofthe world. But he seems to have thought that going to Court waslike going to heaven ; that to see princes and princesses was akind of beatific vision ; that the exquisite felicity enjoyed byroyal persons Was not confined to themselves, but wascommunicated by some mysterious efflux or reflection to all whowere suffered to stand at their toilettes or to bear theirtrains. He overruled all his daughter's objections, and himselfescorted her to prison. The door closed. The key was turned. She, looking back with tender regret on all she had left, andforward with anxiety and terror to the new life On which she wasentering, was unable to speak or stand; and he went on his wayhomeward rejoicing in her marvellous prosperity. 

And now began a slavery of five years, of five years taken fromthe best part of life, and wasted in menial drudgery or inrecrea-Page XXXiV

tions duller than menial drudgery, under galling restraints andamidst unfriendly or uninteresting companions. The history of anordinary day was this: Miss Burney had to rise and dress herselfearly, that she might be ready to answer the royal bell, whichrang at half after seven. Till about eight she attended in thequeen's dressing-room, and had the honour of lacing her augustmistress's stays, and of putting on the hoop, gown, andneckhandkerchief. The morning was chiefly spent in rummagingdrawers, and laying fine clothes in their proper places. Thenthe queen was to be powdered and dressed for the day. Twice aweek her majesty's hair was curled and craped; and this operationappears to have added a full hour to the business of thetoilette. It was generally three before Miss Burney was atliberty. Then she had two hours at her own disposal. To thesehours we owe great Part of her "Diary. " At five she had to attendher colleague, Madame Schwellenberg, a hateful old toadeater, asilliterate as a chambermaid, as proud as a Whole German Chapter, rude, peevish, unable to bear solitude, unable to conduct herselfwith common decency in society. With this delightful associate, Frances Burney had to dine and pass the evening. The pairgenerally remained together from five to eleven, and often had noother company the whole time, except during the hour from eightto nine, when the equerries came to tea. If poor Francesattempted to escape to her own apartment, and to forget herwretchedness over a book, the execrable old woman railed andstormed, and complained that she was neglected. Yet, WhenFrances stayed, she was constantly assailed with insolentreproaches. Literary fame was, in the eyes of the German crone, a blemish, a proof that the person -who enjoyed it was meanlyborn, and out of the pale of good society. All her scanty stockof broken English was employed to express the contempt with'which she regarded the author of "Evelina" and "Cecilia. "Frances detested cards, and indeed knew nothing about them; butshe soon found that the least miserable Way of passing an eveningwith Madame Schwellenberg Was at the card-table, and consented, with patient sadness, to give hours which might have called forththe laughter and tears of many generations to the king of clubsand the knave of spades. Between eleven and twelve, the bellrang again. Miss Burney had to pass twenty minutes or half anhour in undressing the queen, and was then at liberty to retireand to dream that she was chatting with her brother by the quiethearth in St, Martin's- street, that she was the centre of anadmiring assembly at Mrs. Crewe's, that Burke was calling herthe first woman of the age, or that Dilly was giving her a chequefor two thousand guineas. 

Men, we must suppose, are less patient than women ; for we areutterly at a loss to conceive how any human being could enduresuch a life while there remained a vacant garret in Grub-street, a crossing in want of a sweeper, a parish workhouse or a parishPage xxxv

vault. And it was for such a life that Frances Burney had givenup liberty and peace, a happy fireside, attached friends, a -wideand splendid circle of acquaintance, intellectual pursuits, inwhich she was qualified to excel, and the sure hope of what toher would have been affluence. 

There is nothing new under the sun. The last great master ofAttic eloquence and Attic wit has left us a forcible and touchingdescription of the misery of a man of letters, who, lulled byhopes similar to those of Frances, had entered the service of oneof the magnates of Rome. "Unhappy that I am, " cries the victimof his own childish ambition: "would nothing content me but thatI must leave mine old pursuits and mine old companions, and thelife which was without care, and the sleep which had no limitsave mine own pleasure, and the walks which I was free to takewhere I listed, and fling myself into the lowest pit of a dungeonlike this? And, O God! for what? Is this the bait which enticedme? Was there no way by which I might have enjoyed in freedomcomforts even greater than those which I now earn by servitude?Like a lion which has been made so tame that men may lead himabout by a thread, I am dragged up and down, with broken andhumbled spirit, at the beels of those to whom, in my own domain, I should have been an object of awe and wonder. And, worst ofall, I feel that here I gain no credit, that here I give nopleasure. The talents and accomplishments, which charmed a fardifferent circle, are here out of place. I am rude in the artsof palaces, and can ill bear comparison with those whose callingfrom their youth up has been to flatter and to sue. Have I, then, two lives, that, after I have wasted one in the service ofothers, there may yet remain to me a second, which I may liveunto myself?"

Now and then, indeed, events occurred which disturbed the, wretched monotony of Francis Burney's life. The Court movedfrom Kew to Windsor, and from Windsor back to Kew. One dullcolonel went out of waiting, and another dull colonel came intowaiting. An impertinent servant made a blunder about tea, andcaused a misunderstanding between the gentlemen and the ladies. A half-witted French Protestant minister talked oddly aboutconjugal fidelity. An unlucky member of the household mentioneda passage in the " Morning Herald " reflecting on the queen ; andforthwith Madame Schwellenberg, began to storm in bad English, and told him that he had made her "what you call perspire!"

A more important occurrence was the royal visit to Oxford. MissBurney went in the queen's train to Nuneham, was utterlyneglected there in the crowd, and could with difficulty find a, servant to show the way to her bedroom or a hairdresser toarrange her curls. She had the honour of entering Oxford in thelast of a long string of carriages which formed the royalprocession, of walking after the queen all day throughrefectories and chapels and of standing, half dead with fatigueand hunqer, Page xxxvi

while her august mistress was seated at an excellent coldcollation. At Magdalene college, Frances was left for a momentin a parlour, where she sank down on a chair. A good-naturedequerry saw that she was exhausted, and shared with her someapricots and bread which he had wisely put into his pockets. Atthat moment the door opened; the queen entered; the weariedattendants sprang up ; the bread and fruit were hastilyconcealed. "I found, " says poor Miss Burney, "that our appetiteswere to be supposed annihilated at the same moment that ourstrength was to be invincible. "

Yet Oxford, seen even under such disadvantages, " revived inher, " to use her own words, a "consciousness to pleasure whichhad long lain nearly dormant. " She forgot, during one moment, that she was a waiting-maid, and felt as a woman of true geniusmight be expected to feel amidst venerable remains of antiquity, beautiful works of art, vast repositories of knowledge, andmemorials of the illustrious dead. Had she still been what shewas before her father induced her to take the most fatal step ofher life, we can easily imagine what pleasure she would havederived from a visit to the noblest of English cities. Shemight, indeed, have been forced to ride in a hack chaise, andmight not have worn so fine a gown of Chambery gauze as that inwhich she tottered after the royal party; but with what delightwould she have then paced the cloisters of Magdalene, comparedthe antique gloom of Merton with the splendour of Christchurch, and looked down from the dome of the Radcliffe library on themagnificent sea of turrets and battlements below! How gladlyshould learned men have laid aside for a few hours Pindar's"Odes" and Aristotle's "Ethics, " to escort the author of"Cecilia" from college to college! What neat little banquetswould she have found set out in their monastic cells! With whateagerness would pictures, medals, and illuminated missals havebeen brought forth from the most mysterious cabinets for heramusement! How much she would have had to hear and to tell aboutJohnson, as she walked over Pembroke, and about Reynolds, in theantechapel of New college. But these indulgences were not forone who had sold herself into bondage. 

About eighteen months after the visit to Oxford, another eventdiversified the wearisome life which Frances led at Court. Warren Hastings was brought to the bar of the House of Peers. The queen and princesses were present when the trial commenced, and Miss Burney was permitted to attend. During the subsequentproceedings, a day rule for the same purpose was occasionallygranted to her; for the queen took the strongest interest in thetrial, and, when she could not go herself to Westminster-hall, liked to receive a report of what passed from a person who hadsingular powers of observation, and who was, moreover, personallyacquainted with some of the most distinguished managers. Theportion of the "Diary" which relates to this celebrated proceed-

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ing is lively and Picturesque. Yet we read it, we own, withpain; for it seems to us to prove that the fine understanding ofFrances Burney was beginning to feel the pernicious influence ofa mode of life which is as incompatible with health of mind asthe air of the Pomptine marshes with health of body. From thefirst day, she espouses the cause of Hastings with a presumptuousvehemence and acrimony quite inconsistent with the modesty andsuavity of her ordinary deportment. She shudders when Burkeenters the Hall at the head of the Commons. She pronounces himthe cruel oppressor of an innocent man. She is at a loss toconceive how the managers can look at the defendant and notblush. Windham comes to her from the managers' box, to offer herrefreshment. "But, " says she, "I could not break bread withhim. " Then again, she exclaims, "Ah, Mr. Windham, how come youever engaged in so cruel, so unjust a cause?" "Mr. Burke sawme, " she says, "and he bowed with the most marked civility ofmanner. " This, be it observed, was just after his openingspeech, a speech which had produced a mighty effect, and whichcertainly, no other orator that ever lived could have made. "Mycurtsy, " she continues, "was the most ungrateful, distant andcold; I could not do otherwise; so hurt I felt to see him thehead of such a cause. " Now, not only had Burke treated her withconstant kindness, but the very last act which he performed onthe day on which he was turned out of the Pay office, about fouryears before this trial, was to make Dr. Burney organist ofChelsea hospital. When, at the Westminster election, Dr. Burneywas divided between his gratitude for this favour and his Toryopinions, Burke in the noblest manner disclaimed all right toexact a sacrifice of principle. "You have little or noobligations to me, " he wrote; "but if you had as many as I reallywish it were in my power, as it is certainly in my desire, to layon you, I hope you do not think me capable of conferring them inorder to subject your mind or your affairs to a painful andmischievous servitude. " Was this a man to be uncivilly treatedby a daughter of Dr. Burney because she chose to differ from himrespecting a vast and most complicated question which he hadstudied deeply guring many years and which she had never studiedat all? It Is clear, from Miss Burney's own statement, that whenshe behaved so unkindly to Mr. Burke, she did not even know ofwhat Hastings was accused. One thing, however, she must haveknown, that Burke had been able to convince a House of Commons, bitterly prejudiced against him, that the charges were wellfounded, and that Pitt and Dundas had concurred with Fox andSheridan in supporting the impeachment. Surely a woman Of farinferior abilities to Miss Burney might have been expected to seethat this never could have happened unless there had been astrong case against the late Governor-general. And there was, asall reasonable men now admit, a strong case against him. Thatthere were great public services to be set off against his great

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crimes is perfectly true. But his services and his crimes wereequally unknown to the lady who so confidently asserted hisperfect innocence, and imputed to his accusers--that is to say, to all the greatest men of all parties in the state-not merelyerror, but gross injustice and barbarity. 

She had, it is true, occasionally seen Mr. Hastings, and hadfound his manners and conversation agreeable. But surely shecould not be so weak as to infer from the gentleness of hisdeportment in a drawing-room that he was incapable of committinga great state crime under the influence of ambition and revenge. A silly Miss, fresh from a boarding- school, might fall into sucha mistake ; but the woman who had drawn the character of Mr. Monckton(19) should have known better. 

The truth is that she had been too long at Court. She wassinking into a slavery worse than that of the body. The iron wasbeginning to enter into the soul. Accustomed during many monthsto watch the eye of a mistress, to receive with boundlessgratitude the slightest mark of royal condescension, to feelwretched at every symptom of royal displeasure, to associate onlywith spirits long tamed and broken in, she was degeneratin- intosomething fit for her place. Queen Charlotte was a violentpartisan of Hastings, had received presents from him, and had sofar departed from the severity of her virtue as to lend hercountenance to his wife, whose conduct had certainly been asreprehensible as that of any of the frail beauties who were thenrigidly excluded from the English Court. The king, it was wellknown, took the same side. To the king and queen, all themembers of the household looked submissively for guidance. Theimpeachment, therefore, was an atrocious persecution ; themanagers were rascals ; the defendant was the most deserving andthe worst used man in the kingdom. This was the cant of thewhole palace, from gold stick in waiting down to the tabledeckersand yeomen of the silver scullery; and Miss Burney canted likethe rest, though in livelier tones and with less bitter feelings. 

The account which she has given of the king's illness containsmuch excellent narrative and description, and will, we think, bemore valued by the historians of a future age than any equalportion of Pepys' or Evelyn's " Diaries. " That account shows alsohow affectionate and compassionate her nature was, But it showsalso, we must say, that her way of life was rapidly impairing herpowers of reasoning and her sense of justice. We do not mean todiscuss, in this place, the question whether the views of Mr. Pitt or those of 'Mr. Fox respecting the regency were the morecorrect. It is, indeed, quite needless to discuss that question; for the censure of Miss Burney falls alike on Pitt and Fox, onmajority and minority. She is angry with the House of Commonsfor presuming to inquire whether the king was mad or

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not and whether there was a chance of his recovering his senses. "melancholy day, " she writes; "news bad both at home and abroad. At home the dear unhappy king still worse ; abroad newexaminations voted of the physicians. Good heavens! what aninsult does this seem from Parliamentary power, to investigateand bring forth to the world every circumstance of such a maladyas is ever held sacred to secrecy in the most private families!How indignant we all feel here, no words can say. " It is properto observe that the motion which roused the indignation at Kewwas made by Mr. Pitt himself, and that if withstood by Mr. Pitt, it would certainly have been rejected. We see therefore, thatthe loyalty of the minister, who was then generally regarded asthe most heroic champion of his prince, was lukewarm indeed whencompared with the boiling zeal which filled the pages of thebackstairs and the women of the bedchamber. Of the Regency bill, Pitt's own bill, Miss Burney speaks with horror. "I shuddered, "she says, "to hear it named. " And again, "Oh, how dreadful willbe the day when that unhappy bill takes place ! I cannot approvethe plan of it. " The truth is that Mr. Pitt, whether a wise andupright statesman or not, was a statesman, and, whatever motiveshe might have for imposing restrictions on the regent, felt thatin some way or other there must be some provision made for theexecution of some part of the kingly office, or that nogovernment would be left in the country. But this was a matterof which the household never thought. It never occurred, as faras we can see, to the exons and keepers of the robes that it wasnecessary that there should be somewhere or other a power in thestate to pass laws, to observe order, to pardon criminals, tofill up offices, to negotiate with foreign governments, tocommand the army and navy. Nay, these enlightened politicians, and Miss Burney among the rest, seem to have thought that anyperson who considered the subject with reference to the publicinterest showed himself to be a bad-hearted man. Nobody wondersat this in a gentleman usher, but it is melancholy to see geniussinking into such debasement. 

During more than two years after the king's recovery, Francesdragged on a miserable existence at the palace. The consolationswhich had for a time mitigated the wretchedness of servitude wereone by one withdrawn. Mrs. Delany, whose society had been agreat resource when the Court was at Windsor, was now dead. Oneof the gentlemen of the royal establishment, Colonel Digby, (20)appears to have been a man of sense, of taste, of some reading, and of prepossessing manners. Agreeable associates were scarcein the prison house, and he and Miss Burney therefore naturallywere attached to each other. She owns that she valued him as afriend, and it would not have been strange if his attentions hadled her to entertain for him a sentiment warmer

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than friendship. He quitted the Court, and married in a waywhich astonished Miss Burney greatly, and which evidently woundedher feelings and lowered him in her esteem. The palace grewduller and duller; Madame Schwellenberg became more and moresavage and insolent; and now the health of poor Frances began togive way; and all who saw her pale face, and emaciated figure andherfeeble walk predicted that her sufferings would soon be over. 

Frances uniformly speaks of her royal mistress and of theprincesses with respect and affection. The princesses seem tohave well'deserved all the praise which is bestowed on them inthe "Diary. " They were, we doubt not, most amiable women. But"the sweet queen, " as she is constantly called in these volumes, is not by any means an object of admiration to us. She had, undoubtedly, sense enough to know what kind of deportment suitedher high station, and self-command enough to maintain thatdeportment invariably. She was, in her intercourse. With MissBurney, generally gracious and affable, sometimes, whendispleased, cold and reserved, but never, under anycircumstances, rude, peevish or violent. She knew how todispense, gracefully and skilfully, those little civilitieswhich, when paid by a sovereign, are prized at many times theirintrinsic value; how to pay a compliment; how to lend a book; howto ask after a relation. But she seems to have been utterlyregardless of the comfort, the health, the life of herattendants, when her own convenience was concerned. Weak, feverish, hardly able to stand, Frances had still to rise beforeseven, in order to dress "the sweet queen, " and to sit up tillmidnight, in order to undress "the sweet queen. " Theindisposition of the handmaid could not, and did not, escape thenotice of her royal mistress. But the established doctrine ofthe Court was that all sickness was to be considered as apretence until it proved fatal. The only way in which theinvalid could clear herself from the suspicion of malingering, asit is called in the army, was to go on lacing and unlacing, tillshe fell down dead at the royal feet. "This, " Miss Burney wrote, when she was suffering cruelly from sickness, watching andlabour, "is by no means from hardness of heart; far otherwise. There is no hardness of heart in any one of them but it isprejudice and want of personal experience. "

Many strangers sympathised with the bodily and mental sufferingsof this distinguished woman. All who saw her saw that her framewas sinking, that her heart was breaking. The last, it shouldseem, to observe the change was her father. At length, in spiteof himself, his eyes were opened. In May, 1790, his daughter hadan interview of three hours with him, the only long interviewwhich they had had since he took her to Windsor in 1786. Shetold him that she was miserable, that she was worn withattendance and want of sleep, that she had no comfort in life, nothing to love, nothing to hope, that her family and friendswere to her as though they were not, and were remembered by herasPage xli

men remember the dead. From daybreak to midnight the samekilling labour, the same recreations, more hateful than labouritself, followed each other without variety, without any intervalof liberty and repose. 

The doctor was greatly dejected by this news; but was too good-natured a man not to say that, if she wished to resign, his houseand arms were open to her. Still, however, he could not bear toremove her from the Court. His veneration for royalty amountedin truth to idolatry. It can be compared only to the grovellingsuperstition of those Syrian devotees who made their childrenpass through the fire to Moloch. When he induced his daughter toaccept the place of keeper of the robes, he entertained, as shetells us, a hope that some worldly advantage or other, not setdown in the contract of service, would be the result of herconnection with the Court. What advantage he expected we do notknow, nor did he probably know himself. But, whatever heexpected, he certainly got nothing. Miss Burney had been hiredfor board, lodging and two hundred a-year. Board, lodging andtwo hundred a-year she had duly received. We have lookedcarefully through the " Diary" in the hope of finding some traceof those extraordinary benefactions on which the doctor reckoned. But we can discover only a promise, never performed, of agown:(21) and for this promise Miss Burney was expected to returnthanks, such as might have suited the beggar with whom SaintMartin, in the legend, divided his cloak. The experience of fouryears was, however, insufficient to dispel the illusion which hadtaken possession of the doctor's mind ; and between the dearfather and "the sweet queen" there seemed to be little doubt thatsome day or other Frances would drop down a corpse. Six monthshad elapsed since the interview between the parent and thedaughter. The resignation was not sent in. The sufferer grewworse and worse. She took bark, but it soon ceased to produce abeneficial effect. She was stimulated with wine ; she wassoothed with opium; but in vain. Her breath began to fail. Thewhisper that she was in a decline spread through the Court. Thepains in her side became so severe that she was forced to crawlfrom the card-table of the old Fury to whom she was tetheredthree or four times in an evening for the purpose of takinghartshorn. Had she been a negrQslave, a humane planter wouldhave excused her fromwork. But her majesty showed no mercy. Thrice a day the accursed bell still rang ; the queen was stillto be dressed for the morning at seven, and to be dressed for theday at noon, and to be undressed at eleven at night. 

But there had arisen, in literary and fashionable society, ageneral feeling of compassion for Miss Burney, and of indignationagainst both her father and the queen. "Is it possible, " said a

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great French lady to the doctor "that your daughter is in Asituation where she is never allowed a holiday?" HoraceWalpolewrote to Frances to express his sympathy. Boswell, boiling overwith good-natured rage, almost forced an entrance into the palaceto see her. "My dear ma'am, why do you stay? It won't do, ma'am- you must resign. We can put up with it no longer. Some veryviolent measures, I assure you, will be taken. We shall addressDr. Burney in a body. " Burke and Reynolds, though less noisy, were zealous in the same cause. Windham spoke to Dr. Burney, butfound him still irresolute. "I will set the club upon him, "cried Windham; "Miss Burney has some very true admirers there, and I am sure they will eagerly assist. " Indeed, the Burneyfamily seem to have been apprehensive that some public affront, such as the doctor's unpardonable folly, to use the mildest termhad richly deserved, would be put upon'him. The medical menspoke out, and plainly told him that his daughter must resign ordie. 

At last paternal affection, medical authority, and the voice ofall London crying shame, triumphed over Dr. Burney's love ofcourts. He determined that Frances should write a letter ofresignation. It was with difficulty that, though her life was atstake, she mustered spirit to put the paper into the queen'shands. "I could not, " so runs the "Diary "summon courage topresent my memorial-my heart always failed me from seeing thequeen's entire freedom from such an expectation. For though Iwas frequently so ill in her presence that I could hardly stand, I saw she concluded me, while life remained, inevitably hers. "

At last, with a trembling hand, the paper was delivered. Thencame the storm. Juno, as in the A_neid, delegated the work ofvengeance to Alecto. The queen was calm and gentle, but MadameSchwellenberg raved like a maniac in the incurable ward of Bedlam! Such insolence! Such ingratitude! Such folly ! Would MissBurneybring utter destruction on herself and her family ? Wouldshe throw away the inestimable advantages of royal protection ?Would she part with privileges which, once relinquished, couldnever be regained " It was idle to talk of health and life. Ifpeople could not live in the palace, the best thing that couldbefall them was to die in it. The resignation was not accepted. The language of the medical men became stronger and stronger. Dr. Burney's parental fears were fully roused; and he explicitlydeclared, in a letter meant to be shown to the queen, that hisdaughter must retire. The Schwellenberg raged like a wild cat. "A scene almost horrible ensued, " says Miss Burney. "She was toomuch enraged for disguise, and uttered the most furiousexpressions of indignant contempt at our proceedings. I am sureshe would gladly have confined us both in the Bastille, hadEngland such a misery, as a fit place to bring us to ourselves, from a daring so outrageous against imperial wishes. " Thispassage deserves notice, as being the only one inPage xliii

in her "Diary, " as far as we have observed, which showsMiss Burney to have been aware that she was a native of a freecountry, and she could not be pressed for a waiting-maid againsther will, that she had just as good a right to live, if shechose, in St. -Martin's-street as Queen Charlotte had to live atSt. James's. 

The queen promised that, after the next birthday, Miss Burneywould be set at liberty. But the promise was ill kept; and herMajesty showed displeasure at being reminded of it. At lengthFrances was informed that in a fortnight her attendance shouldCease. "I heard this, " she says, "with a fearful presentiment Ishould surely never go through another fortnight in so weak andlanguishing and painful a state of health. . . . As the time ofseparation approached, the queen's cordiality rather diminished, and traces of internal displeasure appeared sometimes, arisingfrom an opinion I ought rather to have struggled on, live or die, than to quit her. Yet I am sure she saw how poor was my ownchance, except by a change in the mode of life, and at leastceased to wonder, though she could not approve. " Sweetqueen!What noble candour, to admit that the undutifulness of people whodid not think the honour of adjusting her tuckers worth thesacrifice of their own lives, was, though highly criminal, notaltogether unnatural!

We perfectly understand her majesty's contempt for the lives ofothers where her own pleasure was concerned. But what pleasureshe can have found in having Miss Burney about her, it is not soeasy to comprehend. That Miss Burney was an eminently skilfulkeeper of the robes is not very probable. Few women, indeed, hadpaid less attention to dress. Now and then, in the course offive years, she had been asked to read aloud or to write a copyof verses. But better readers might easily have been found: andher verses were worse than even the Poet Laureate's Birthdayodes. Perhaps that economy, which was among her majesty's mostconspicuous virtues, had something to do with her conduct on thisoccasion. Miss Burney had never hinted that she expected aretiring pension ; and, indeed, would gladly have given thelittle that she had for freedom. But her majesty knew what thepublic thought, and what became her own dignity. She could notfor very shame suffer a woman of distinguished genius, who hadquitted a lucrative career to wait on her, who had served herfaithfully for a pittance during five years, and whoseconstitution had been impaired by labour and watching, to leavethe Court without some mark of royal liberality. George III. , Who, on all occasions where Miss Burney was concerned, seems tohave behaved like an honest, good-natured gentleman, felt this, and said plainly that she was entitled to a provision. Atlength, in return for all the miserywhich she had undergone, andfor the health which she had sacrificed, an annuity of onehundred Pounds was granted to her, dependent on the queen'spleasure. 

Then the prison was opened, and Frances was free once more. 

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Johnson, as Burke observed, might have added a striking page tohis "the Vanity of Human Wishes, if he had lived to see hislittle Burney as she went into the palace andas she came out ofit. 

The pleasures, so long untasted, of liberty, of friendship, ofdomestic affection, were almost too acute forher shattered frame. But happy days and tranquil nights soon restored the health whichthe queen's toilette and Madame Schwellenberg's cardtable hadimpaired. Kind and anxious faces surrounded the invalid. Conversation the most polished and brilliant revived her spirits. Travelling was recommended to her; and she rambled by easyjourneys from cathedral to cathedral, and from watering place towatering place. She crossed the New forest, and visitedStonehenge and Wilton, the cliffs of Lyme, and the beautifulvalley of Sidmouth. Thence she journeyed by Powderham castle, and by the ruins of Glastonbury abbey to Bath, and from Bath, when the winter was approaching, returned well and cheerful toLondon. There she visited her old dungeon, and found hersuccessor already far on the way to the grave, and kept to strictduty, from morning till midnight, with a sprained ankle and anervous fever. 

At this time England swarmed with French exiles, driven fromtheir country by the Revolution. A colony of these refugeessettled at juniper hall, in Surrey, not far from Norbury park, where Mr. Locke, an intimate friend of the Burney family, resided. Frances visited Norbury, and was introduced to thestrangers. She had strong prejudices against them ; for herToryism was far beyond, we do not say that of Mr. Pitt, but thatof Mr. Reeves ; and the inmates of juniper hall were allattached to the constitution of 1791, and were, therefore, moredetested by the royalists of the first emigration than Petion orMarat. But such a woman as Miss Burney could not long resist thefascination of that remarkable society. She had lived withJohnson and Windham, with Mrs. Montague and Mrs. Thrale. Yet shewas forced to own that she had never heard conversation before. The most animated eloquence, the keenest observation, the mostsparkling wit, the most courtly grace, were united to charm her. For Madame de Stal was there, and M. De Talleyrand. There, too, was M. De Narbonne, a noble representative of French aristocracy; and with M. De Narbonne was his friend and follower GeneralD'Arblay, an honourable and amiable man, with a handsome person, frank soldierlike manners, and some taste for letters. 

The prejudices which Frances had conceived against theconstitutional royalists of France rapidly vanished. Shelistened with rapture to Talleyrand and Madame de Stal, joinedwith M. D'Arblay in execrating the Jacobins and in weeping forthe unhappy Bourbons, took French lessons from him, fell in lovewith him, and married him on no better provision than aprecarious annuity of one hundred pounds. Page xlv

Here the "Diary" stops for the present. (22) We will, therefore, bring our narrative to a speedy close, by rapidly recounting themost important events which we know to have befallen Madamed'Arblay during the latter part of her life. 

M. D'Arblay's fortune had perished in the general wreck of theFrench Revolution ; -and in a foreign country his talents, whatever they may have been, could scarcely make him rich. Thetask of providing for the family devolved on his wife. In theyear 1796, she published by subscription her third novel, "Camilla. " It was impatiently expected by the public; and thesum which she obtained for it was, we believe, greater than hadever at that time been received for a novel. 

We have heard that she had cleared more than three thousandguineas. But we give this merely as a rumour. (23) "Camilla, "however, never attained popularity like that which "Evelina" and"Cecilia" had enjoyed; and it must be allowed that there was aperceptible falling off, not, indeed, in humour or in power ofportraying character, but in grace and in purity of style. 

We have heard that, about this time, a tragedy by Madame D'Arblaywas performed without success. We do not know whether it was everprinted ; nor, indeed, have we had time to make any researchesinto its history or merits. (24)

During the short truce which followed the treaty of Amiens, M. D'Arblay visited France. Lauriston and La Fayette representedhis claims to the French government, and obtained a 'Promise thathe should be reinstated in his military rank. M. D'Arblay, however, insisted that he should never be 'required to serveagainst the countrymen of his wife. The First Consul, of course, would not hear of such a condition, and ordered the general'scommission to be instantly revoked. 

Madame D'Arblayjoined her husband at Paris, a short time beforethe war of 1803 broke out, and remained in France ten years, cutoff from almost all intercourse with the land of her

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birth. At length, when Napoleon was on his march to Moscow, shewith great difficulty obtained from his ministers permission tovisit her own country, in company with her son, who was a nativeof England. She returned in time to receive the last blessing ofher father, who died in his eighty-seventh year. In 1814 shepublished her last novel, "The Wanderer, " a book which nojudicious friend to her memory will attempt to draw from theoblivion into which it has justly fallen. (25) In the same yearher son Alexander was sent to Cambridge. He obtained anhonourable place among the wranglers of his year, and was electeda fellow of Christ's college. But his reputation at theUniversity was higher than might be inferred from his success inacademical contests. His French education had not fitted him forthe examinations of the Senate house; but, in pure mathematics, we have been assured by some of his competitors that he had veryfew equals. He went into the Church, and it was thought likelythat he would attain high eminence as a preacher; but he diedbefore his mother, All that we have heard of him leads us tobelieve that he was such a son as such a mother deserved tohave. ' In 1831, Madame D'Arblay published the memoirs of herfather; and on the sixth of January, 1840, she died in hereighty-eighth year. 

 We now turn from the life of Madame D'Arblay to her writings. There can, we apprehend, be little difference of opinion as tothe nature of her merit, whatever differences may exist as to itsdegree. She was emphatically what Johnson called her, acharacter-monger. It was in the exhibition of human passions andwhims that her strength lay; and in this department of art shehad, we think-, very distinguished skill. But, in order that wemay, according to our duty as kings at arms, versed inthe laws ofliterary precedence, marshal her to the exact seat to which sheis entitled, we must carry our examination somewhat further. Page xlvii

There is, in one respect, a remarkable analogy between the facesand the minds of men. No two faces are alike ; and yet very fewfaces deviate very widely from the common standard. Among theeighteen hundred thousand human beings who inhabit London, thereis not one who could be taken by his acquaintance for another;yet we may walk from Paddington to Mile-end without seeing oneperson in whom any feature is so overcharged that we turn roundto stare at it. An infinite number of varieties lies betweenlimits which are not very far asunder. The specimens which passthose limits on either side, form a very small minority. 

It is the same with the characters of men. Here, too, thevariety passes all enumeration. But the cases in which thedeviation from the common standard is striking and grotesque, arevery few. In one mind avarice predominates ; in another pride ;in a third, love of pleasure-just as in one countenance the noseis the most marked feature, while in others the chief expressionlies in the brow, or in the lines of the mouth. But there arevery few countenances in which nose, brow, and mouth do notcontri. Bute, though in unequal degrees, to the general effect ;and so there are very few characters in which one overgrownpropensity makes all others utterly insignificant. 

It is evident that a portrait painter, who was able only torepresent faces and figures such as those -which we pay money tosee at fairs, would not, however spirited his execution might be, take rank among the highest artists. He must always be placedbelow those who have skill to seize peculiarities which do notamount to deformity. The slighter those peculiarities, thegreater is the merit of the limner who can catch them andtransfer them to his canvas. To paint Daniel Lambert or theliving skeleton, the pig-faced lady or the Siamese twins, so thatnobody can mistake them, is an exploit within the reach of a signpainter. A thirdrate artist might give us the squint of Wilkes, and the depressed nose and protuberant cheeks of Gibbon. Itwould require a much higher degree of skill to paint two such menas Mr. Canning and Sir Thomas Lawrence, so that nobody who hadever seen them could for a moment hesitate to assign each pictureto its original. Here the mere caricaturist would be quite atfault. He would find in neither face anything on which he couldlay hold for the Purpose of making a distinction. Two ample baldforeheads, two reg ular profiles, two full faces of the same ovalform, would baffle his art ; and he would be reduced to themiserable shift of writing their names at the foot of hispicture. Yet there was a great difference ; and a person who hadseen them once would no more have mistaken one of them for theother than he would have mistaken Mr. Pitt for Mr. Fox. But thedifference lay in delicate lineaments and shades, reserved forpencils of a rare order, This distinction runs through all the imitative arts. Foote'smimicry was exquisitely ludicrous, but it was all caricature. HePage xlviii

could take off only some strange peculiarity, a stammer or alisp, a Northumbrian burr or an Irish brogue, a stoop or ashuffle. "If a man, " said Johnson, "hops on one leg, Foote canhop on one leg. " Garrick, on the other hand, could seize thosedifferences of manner and pronunciation, which, though highlycharacteristic, are yet too slight to be described, Foote, wehave no doubt, could have made the Haymarket theatre shake withlaughter by imitating a conversation between a Scotchman and aSomersetshire man. But Garrick could have imitated a dialoguebetween two fashionable men both models of the best breeding, Lord Chesterfield, for example, and Lord Albemarle, so that noperson could doubt which was which, although no person could saythat, in any point, either Lord Chesterfield or Lord Albemarlespoke or moved otherwise than in conformity with the usages ofthe best society. 

The same distinction is found in the drama, and in fictitiousnarrative. Highest among those who have exhibited human natureby means of dialogue, stands Shakspeare. His variety is like thevariety of nature, endless diversity, scarcely any monstrosity. The characters of which he has given us an impression as vivid asthat which we receive from the characters of our own associates, are to be reckoned by scores. Yet in all these scores hardly onecharacter is to be found which deviates widely from the commonstandard, and which we should call very eccentric if we met it inreal life. The silly notion that every man has one rulingpassion, and that this clue, once known, unravels all themysteries of his conduct, finds no countenance in the plays ofShakspeare. There man appears as he is, made up of a crowd ofpassions, which contend for the mastery over him, and govern himin turn. What is Hamlet's ruling passion? Or Othello's? OrHarry the Fifth's? Or Wolsey's? Or Lear's? Or Shylock's? OrBenedick's? Or Macbeth's? Or that of Cassius? Or that ofFalconbridge? But we might go on for ever. Take a singleexample-Shylock. Is he so eager for money as to be indifferentto revenge? Or so eager for revenge as to be indifferent tomoney? Or so bent on both together as to be indifferent to thehonour of his nation and the law of Moses? All his propensitiesare mingled with each other, so that, in trying to apportion toeach its proper part, we find the same difficulty whichconstantly meets us in real life. A superficial critic may saythat hatred is Shylock's ruling passion. But how many passionshave amalgamated to form that hatred? It is partly the result ofwounded pride: Antonio has called him dog. It is partly theresult of covetousness: Antonio has hindered him of half amillion; and when Antonio is gone, there will be no limit to thegains of usury. It is partly the result of national andreligious feeling: Antonio has spit on the Jewish gaberdine; andthe oath of revenge has been sworn by the Jewish Sabbath. Wemight go through all the characters which we have mentioned, andthrough fifty more in the same way; for it is the constant mannerof Shakspeare toPage xlix

represent the human mind as lying, not under the absolutedominion of one despotic propensity, but under a mixed governmentin which a hundred powers balance each other. Admirable as hewas in all parts of his art, we most admire him for this, thatwhile he has left us a greater number of striking portraits thanall other dramatists Put together, he has scarcely left us asingle caricature. 

Shakspeare has had neither equal nor second. But among thewriters who, in the point which we have noticed, have approachednearest to the manner of the great master, we have no hesitationin placing Jane Austen, a woman of whom England is justly proud. She has given us a multitude of characters, all, in a certainsense, common-place, all such as we meet every day. Yet they areall as perfectly discriminated from each other as if they werethe most eccentric of human beings. There are, for example, fourclergymen, none of whom we should be surprised to find in anyparsonage in the kingdom--Mr. Edward Ferrers, Mr. Henry Tilney, Mr. Edmund Bertram, and Mr. Elton. They are all specimens of theupper part of the middle class. They have been liberallyeducated. They all lie under the restraints of the same sacredprofession. They are all young. They are all in love. Not oneof them has any hobbyhorse, to use the phrase of Sterne. Not onehas a ruling passion, such as we read of in Pope. Who would nothave expected them to be insipid likenesses of each other? Nosuch thing. Harpagon is not more unlike to Jourdain, JosephSurface is not more unlike to Sir Lucius O'Trigger, than everyone of Miss Austen's young divines to all his reverend -brethren. And almost all this is done by touches so delicate that theyelude analysis, that they defy the powers of description, andthat we know them to exist only by the general effect to whichthey have contributed. 

A line must be drawn, we conceive, between artists of this class-and those poets and novelists whose skill lies in the exhibitingof what Ben Jonson called humours. The words of Ben are so muchto the purpose that we will quote them :-

"When some one peculiar qualityDoth so possess a man, that it doth draw All his affects, hisspirits and his powers, In their confluxions all to run one way, This may be truly said to be a humour. "

There are undoubtedly persons in whom humours such as Bendescribes have attained a complete ascendancy. The avarice ofElwes, the insane desire of Sir Egerton Brydges for a barony, towhich he had no more right than to the crown of Spain, themalevolence which long meditation on imaginary wrongs generatedin the gloomy mind of Bellingham, are instances. The feelingwhich animated Clarkson and other virtuous men against the slavetrade and slavery, is an instance of a more honourable kind. Page l

Seeing that such humours exist, we cannot deny that they areproper subjects for the imitations of art. But we conceive thatthe imitation of such humours, however skilful and amusing, isnot an achievement of the highest order ; and, as such humoursare rare in real life, they ought, we conceive, to be sparinglyintroduced into works which profess to be pictures of real life. Nevertheless, a writer may show so much genius in the exhibitionof these humours as to be fairly entitled to a distinguished andpermanent rank among classics. The chief seats of all, however, the places on the dais and under the canopy, are reserved for thefew who have excelled in the difficult art of portrayingcharacters in which no single feature is extravagantlyover-charged. 

If we have expounded the law soundly, we can have no difficultyin applying it to the particular case before us. Madame D'Arblayhas left us scarcely anything but humours. Almost every one ofher men and women has some one propensity developed to a morbiddegree. In "Cecilia, " for example, Mr. Delville never opens hislips without some allusion to his own birth and station ; or Mr. Briggs, without some allusion to the hoarding of money; or Mr. Hobson, without betraying the self-indulgence and self-importanceof a purseproud upstart; or Mr. Simkins, without uttering somesneaking remark for the purpose of currying favour with hiscustomers; or Mr. Meadows, without expressing apathy andweariness of life; or Mr. Albany, without declaiming about thevices of the rich and the misery of the poor; or Mrs. Belfield, without some-indelicate eulogy on her son ; or Lady Margaret, without indicating jealousy of her husband. Morrice is allskipping, officious impertinence, Mr. Gosport all sarcasm, LadyHonoria all lively prattle, Miss Larolles all silly prattle. Ifever Madame D'Arblay aimed at more, as in the character ofMonckton, we do not think that she succeeded well. (26) We are, therefore, forced to refuse to Madame D'Arblay a place in thehighest rank of art; but we cannot deny that, in the rank towhich she belonged, she had few equals and scarcely any superior. The variety of humours which is to be found in her novels isimmense ; and though the talk of each person separately ismonotonous, the general effect is not monotony, but a very livelyand agreeable diversity. Her plots are rudely constructed andimprobable, if we consider them in themselves. But they areadmirably framed for the purpose of exhibiting striking groups of

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eccentric characters, each governed by his own peculiar whim, each talking his own peculiar jargon, and each bringing out byopposition the oddities of all the rest. We will give oneexample out of many which occur to us. All probability isviolated in order to bring Mr. Delville, Mr. Briggs, Mr. Hobson, and Mr. Albany into a room together. But when we have themthere, we soon forget probability in the exquisitely ludicrouseffect which is produced by the conflict of four old fools, eachraging with a monomania of his own, each talking a dialect of hisown, and each inflaming all the others anew every time he openshis mouth. Madame D'Arblay was most successful in comedy, and, indeed, in comedy which bordered on farce. But we are inclinedto infer from some passages, both in "Cecilia" and "Camilla, "that she might have attained equal distinction in the pathetic. We have formed this judgment less from those ambitious'scenes ofdistress which lie near the catastrophe of each of those novels, than from some exquisite strokes of natural tenderness which takeus, here and there, by surprise. We would mention as examples, Mrs. Hill's account of her little boy's death in "Cecilia, " andthe parting of Sir Hugh Tyrold and Camilla, when the honestbaronet thinks himself dying. 

It is melancholy to think that the whole fame of Madame D'Arblayrests on what she did during the earlier part of her life, andthat everything which she published during the forty-three yearswhich preceded her death lowered her reputation. Yet we have noreason to think that at the time when her faculties ought to havebeen in their maturity, they were smitten with any blight. In"The Wanderer, " we catch now and then a gleam of her genius. Even in the memoirs of her father, there is no trace of dotage. They are very bad; but they are so, as it seems to us, not from adecay of power, but from a total perversion of power. The truthis, that Madame D'Arblay's style underwent a gradual and mostpernicious change-a change which, in degree at least, we believeto be unexampled in literary history, and of which it may beuseful to trace the progress. When she wrote her letters to Mr. Crisp, her early journals and her'first novel, her style was not, indeed, brilliant or energetic ; but it was easy, clear, and freefrom all offensive thoughts. When she wrote "Cecilia" she aimedhigher. She had then lived much in a circle of which Johnson wasthe centre; and she was herself one of his most submissiveworshippers. It seems never to have crossed her mind that thestyle even of his best writings was by no means faultless andthat even had it been faultless, it might not be wise in her toimitate it. Phraseology which is proper in a disguisition on theUnities or in a preface to a dictionary, may be quite out ofplace in a tale of fashionable life. Old gentlemen do notcriticise the reigning modes, nor do

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young gentlemen make love, with the balanced epithets andsonorous cadences which, on occasions of great dignity, a skilfulwriter may use with happy effect. 

In an evil hour the author of "Evelina, " took "The Rambler" forher model. This would not have been wise even if she could haveimitated her pattern as well as Hawkesworth did. But suchimitation was beyond her power. She had her own style. It was atolerably good one; and might, without any violent change, havebeen improved into a very good one. She determined to throw itaway, and to adopt a style in which she could attain excellenceonly by achieving an almost miraculous victory over nature andover habit. She could cease to be Fanny Burney; it was not soeasy to become Samuel Johnson. 

In "Cecilia" the change of manner began to appear. But in"Cecilia" the imitation of Johnson, though not always in the besttaste, is sometimes eminently happy; and the passages which areso verbose as to be positively offensive, are few. There werepeople who whispered that Johnson had assisted his young friend, and that the novel owed all its finest passages to his hand. This was merely the fabrication of envy. Miss Burney's realexcellences were as much beyond the reach of Johnson as his realexcellences were beyond her reach, He could no more have writtenthe Masquerade scene or the Vauxhall scene, than she could havewritten the life of Cowley or the review of Soame jenyns. But wehave not the smallest doubt that he revised "Cecilia, " and thathe re-touched the style of many passages. (27) We know that hewas in the habit of giving assistance of this kind most freely. Goldsmith, Hawkesworth, Boswell, Lord Hailes, Mrs. Williams, wereamong those who obtained his help. Nay, he even corrected thepoetry of Mr. Crabbe, whom, we believe, he had never seen. WhenMiss Burney thought of writing a comedy, he promised to give herhis best counsel, though he owned that he was not particularlywell qualified to advise on matters relating to the stage, Wetherefore think it in the highest degree improbable that hislittle Fanny, when living in habits of the most affectionateintercourse with him, would have brought out an important workwithout consulting him; and, when we look into "Cecilia, " we seesuch traces of his hand in the grave and elevated passages as itis impossible to mistake. Before we conclude this article, wewill give two or three examples. 

When next Madame D'Arblay appeared before the world as a writer, she was in a very different situation. She would not contentherself with the simple English in which "Evelina" had beenwritten. She had no longer the friend who, we are confident, hadpolished and strengthened the style of "Cecilia. " She

page liiihad to write in Johnson's manner without Johnson's aid. Theconsequence was, that in "Camilla" every passage which she meantto be fine is detestable; and that the book has been saved fromcondemnation only by the admirable spirit and force of thosescenes in which she was content to be familiar. 

But there was to be a still deeper descent. After thepublication of "Camilla" Madame D'Arblay resided ten years atParis. During these years there was scarcely any intercoursebetween France and England. It was with difficulty that a shortletter could occasionally be transmitted. All Madame D'Arblay'scompanions were French. She must have written spoken, thought inFrench. Ovid expressed his fear that a shorter exile might haveaffected the purity of his Latin. During a shorter exile Gibbonunlearned his native English. Madame D'Arblay had carried a badstyle to France. She brought back a style which we are really ata loss to describe. It is a sort of broken Johnsonese, abarbarous, patois, bearing the same relation to the language of"Rasselas" which the gibberish of the negroes of Jamaica bears tothe English of the House of Lords. Sometimes it reminds us ofthe finest, that is to say the vilest, parts of Mr. Galt'snovels; sometimes of the perorations of Exeter hall; sometimes ofthe leading articles of the "Morning Post. " But it mostresembles the puffs of Mr. Rowland and Dr. Goss. It matters notwhat ideas are clothed in such a style. The genius of Shakspeareand Bacon united would not save a work so written from generalderision. 

It is only by means of specimens that we can enable our readersto judge how widely Madame D'Arblay's three styles differed fromeach other. 

The following passage was written before she became intimate withJohnson. It is from "Evelina. "

"His son seems weaker in his understanding and more gay in histemper; but his gaiety is that of a foolish, overgrown schoolboy, whose mirth consists in noise and disturbance. He disdains hisfather for his close attention to business and love of money, though he seems himself to have no talents, spirit or generosityto make him superior to either. His chief delight appears to bein tormenting and ridiculing his sisters, who in return mostcordially despise him. Miss Branghton, the eldest daughter, isby no means ugly; but looks proud, ill-tempered and conceited. She hates the city, though without knowing why; for it is easy todiscover she has lived nowhere else. Miss Poly Branghton israther pretty, very foolish, very ignorant, very giddy and, Ibelieve, very good natured. "

This is not a fine style, but simple, perspicuous, and agreeable. We now come to "Cecilia, " written during MissBurney's intimacy with Johnson - and we leave it to our readersto judge whether the following passage was not at least correctedby his hand. 

"It is rather an imaginary than an actual evil and, though a deepwoundPage liv

to pride, no offence to morality. Thus have I laid open to youmy whole heart, confessed my perplexities, acknowledged my vainglory and exposed, with equal sincerity, the sources of my doubtsand the motives of my decision. But now, indeed, how to proceedI know not. The difficulties which are yet to encounter I fearto enumerate, and the petition I have to urge I have scarcecourage to mention. My family, mistaking ambition for honour andrank for dignity, have long planned a splendid connection for me, to which, though my invariable repugnance has stopped anyadvances, their wishes and their views immoveably adhere. I ambut too certain they will now listen to no other. I dread, therefore, to make a trial where I despair of success. I knownot how to risk a prayer with those who may silence me by acommand. "

Take now a specimen of Madame D'Arblay's later style. This isthe way in which she tells us that her father, on his journeyback from the Continent, caught the rheumatism. 

"He was assaulted, during his precipitated return, by the rudestfierceness of wintry elemental strife; through which, with badaccommodations and innumerable accidents, he became a prey to themerciless pangs of the acutest spasmodic rheumatism, which barelysuffered him to reach his home ere, long and piteously, itconfined him, a tortured prisoner, to his bed. Such was thecheck that almost instantly curbed, though it could not subdue, the rising pleasure of his hopes of entering upon a new speciesof existence-that of an approved man of letters ; for it was onthe bed of sickness, exchanging the light wines of France, Italyand Germany, for the black and loathsome potions of theApothecaries' hall, writhed by darting stitches and burning withfiery fever, that he felt the full force of that sublunaryequipoise that seems evermore to hang suspended over theattainment of long-sought and uncommon felicity, just as it isripening to burst forth with enjoyment!"

Here is a second passage from "Evelina. "

"Mrs. Selwyn is very kind and attentive to me. She is extremelyclever. Her understanding, indeed, may be called masculine; butunfortunately her manners deserve the same epithet, for, instudying to acquire the knowledge of the other sex, she has lostall the softness of her own. In regard to myself, however, as Ihave neither courage nor inclination to argue with her, I havenever been personally hurt at her want of gentleness -a virtuewhich nevertheless seems so essential a part of the femalecharacter, that I find myselfmore awkward and less at ease with awoman who wants it than I do with a man. "

This is a good style of its kind, and the following passage from"Cecilia" is also in a good style, though not in a faultless one. We say with confidence-either Sam Johnson or the devil. 

"Even the imperious Mr. Delville was more supportable here thanin London. Secure in his own castle, he looked round him with apride of power and possession which softened while it swelledhim. Hissuperiority was undisputed: his will was withoutcontrol. He was not, as inthe the great capital of the kingdom, surrounded by competitors. No rivalry disturbed his peace; noequality mortified his greatness. All he saw were either vassalsof his power, or guests bending to his pleasure. He abated, there-

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fore, considerably the stern gloom of his haughtiness and soothedhis proud mind by the courtesy of condescension. "

We will stake our reputation for critical sagacity on this, thatno such paragraph as that which we have last quoted can be foundin any of Madame D'Arblay's works except "Cecilia. " Compare withit the following sample of her later style. 

"if beneficence be judged by the happiness which it diffuses, whose claim, by that proof, shall stand higher than that of Mrs. Montagu, from the munificence with which she celebrated herannual festival for those hapless Artificers who perform the mostabject offices of any authorised calling in being the activeguardians of our blazing hearths? Not to vain glory but tokindness of heart, should be adjudged the publicity of thatsuperb charity which made its jetty objects, for one brightmorning, cease to consider themselves as degraded outcasts fromall society. "

We add one or two short samples. Sheridan refused to permit hislovely wife to sing in. Public, and was warmly praised on thisaccount by Johnson. 

"The last of men, " says Madame D'Arblay "was Dr. Johnson to haveabetted squandering the delicacy of integrity by nullifying thelabours of talents. "

The Club, Johnson's Club, did itself no honour by rejecting, onpolitical grounds, two distinguished men-one a Tory, the other aWhig. Madame D'Arblay tells the story thus:--"A similarebullition of political rancour with that which so difficultlyhad been conquered for Mr. Canning foamed over the ballot box tothe exclusion of Mr. Rogers. " . 

An offence punishable with imprisonment is, in this language, anoffence "which produces incarceration. " To be starved to death is"to sink from inanition into nonentity. " Sir Isaac Newton is"the developer of the skies in their embodied movements;" andMrs. Thrale, when a party of clever people sat silent, is said tohave been "provoked by the dullness of a Witurnity that, in themidst of such renowned interlocutors, produced as narcotic atorpor as could have been caused by a dearth the most barren ofall human faculties. "

In truth it is impossible to look at any page of MadameD'Arblay's later works without finding flowers of rhetoric likethese Nothing in the language of those jargonists at whom Mr. Gosport laughed, nothing in the language of Sir Sedley Clarendel, approaches this new Euphuism. (28)Page lvi

It is from no unfriendly feeling to Madame D'Arblay's memorythat we have expressed ourselves, so strongly on the subject ofher style. On the contrary, we conceive that we have reallyrendered a service to her reputation. That her later works werecomplete failures is a fact too notorious to be dissembled, andsome persons, we believe, have consequently taken up a notionthat she was from the first an overrated writer, and that she hadnot the powers which were necessary to maintain her on theeminence on which good luck and fashion had placed her. Webelieve, on the contrary, that her early popularity was no morethan the just reward of distinguished merit, and would never haveundergone an eclipse if she had only been content to go onwriting in her mother tongue. If she failed when she quitted herown province and attempted to occupy one in which she had neitherpart nor lot, this reproach is common to her with a crowd ofdistinguished men. Newton failed when he turned from the coursesof the stars and the ebb and flow of the ocean to apocalypticseals and vials. Bentley failed when he turned from Homer andAristophanes to edit the "Paradise Lost. " Enigo failed when heattempted to rival the Gothic churches of the fourteenth century. Wilkie failed when he took it into his head that the "BlindFiddler" and the "Rent Day" were unworthy of his powers, andchallenged competition with Lawrence as a portrait painter. Suchfailures should be noted for the instruction of posterity, butthey detract little from the permanent reputation of those whohave really done great things. 

Yet one word more. It is not only on account of the intrinsicmerit of Madame D'Arblay's early works that she is entitled tohonourable mention. Her appearance is an important epoch in ourliterary history. "Evelina" was the first tale written by awoman, and purporting to be a picture of life and manners, thatlived or deserved to live. "The Female Quixote" is no exception. That work has undoubtedly great merit, when considered as awild, satirical harlequinade; but if we consider it as a pictureof life and manners, we must pronounce it more absurd than any ofthe romances which it was designed to ridicule. (29)

Indeed, most of the popular novels which preceded "Evelina" weresuch as no lady would have written; and many of them were such asno lady could without confusion own that she had read. The veryname of novel was held in horror among religious people. Indecent families, which did not profess extraordinary sanctity, there was a strong feeling against all such works. SirPage lvii

Anthony Absolute, two or three years before "Evelina" appeared, spoke the sense of the great body of fathers and husbands when hepronounced the circulating library an evergreen tree ofdiabolical knowledge. This feeling on the part of the grave andreflecting increased the evil from which it had sprung. Thenovelist having little character to lose, and having few readersamong serious people, took without scruple liberties which in ourgeneration seem almost incredible. 

Miss Burney did for the English novel what Jeremy Collier(30) didfor the English drama; and she did it in a better way. She firstshowed that a tale might be written in which both the fashionableand the vulgar life of London might be exhibited with great forceand with broad comic humour, and which yet should not contain asingle line inconsistent with rigid morality or even with virgindelicacy. She took away the reproach which lay on a most usefuland delightful species of composition. She vindicated the rightof her sex to an equal share in a fair and noble province ofletters. Several accomplished women have followed in her track. At present, the novels which we owe to English ladies form nosmall part of the literary glory of our Country. No class ofworks is more honourably distinguished by fine observation, bygrace, by delicate wit, by pure moral feeling. Several among thesuccessors of Madame D'Arblay have equalled her; two, we think, have surpassed her. But the fact that she has been surpassedgives her an additional claim to our respect and gratitude; for, in truth, we owe to her not only "Evelina, " "Cecilia, " and"Camilla, " but also "Mansfield Park" and "The Absentee. "

(1) Dr. Arne. -ED. 

(2) The lady's maiden name was Esther Sheepe. She was, by themother's side, of French extraction, from a family of the name ofDubois--a name which will be remembered as that of one of thecharacters in her daughter Fanny's first novel, "Evelina. "-ED. 

(3) She was born on the 13th of June, 1752-ED. 

(4) This degree was conferred upon him on Friday, the 23rd ofJune, 1769. -ED. 

(5) The "Early Diary of Frances Burney, from 1768 to 1778, "recently published, throws some new light upon her education. Itis her own statement that her father's library contained but onenovel-', Amelia " ; yet as a girl we find her acquainted with theworks of Richardson and Sterne, of Marivaux and Pr6vost, with"Rasselas" and the "Vicar of Wakefield. " in history and poetry, moreover, she appears to have been fairly well read, and shefound constant literary employment as her father's amanuensis. As to Voltaire, she notes, on her twenty-first birthday, that shehas just finished the "Heoriade"; but her remarks upon the bookprove how little she was acquainted with the author. She thinkshe "has made too free with religion in giving words to theAlmighty. But M. Voltaire, I understand, is not a man of veryrigid principles at least not in religion" (!). -ED. 

(6) This is not quite accurate. Burney secured the relic in themanner described, not, however, to gratify his own enthusiasm, but to comply with the request of his friend Mr. Bewley, ofMassingham, Norfolk, that he would procure for him some mementoof the great Dr. Johnson. The tuft of the Doctor's hearth-broom, which Burney sent him, half in jest, was preserved with thegreatest care by its delighted recipient. "He thinks it moreprecious than pearls, " wrote Fanny. ("Early Diary, " vol. I, p. 169. ) This incident occurred in 1760. -ED. 

(7) The "Early Diary, " however, proves that, in spite of hershyness, Fanny was very much at home in the brilliant societywhich congregated at her father's house, and occasionally tookher full share in the conversation. Nor do we find her by anymeans avoiding the diversions common to young ladies of her ageand station. She goes to dances, to the play, to the Opera, toRanelagh, and even, on one memorable occasion, to a masquerade--"a very private one, " however. "-ED. 

(8) Mrs. . Stephen Allen, a widow, of Lynn. She was married toDr. Burney (not yet Doctor, however) in October, 1767. His firstwife died on the 28th of September, 1761. -ED. 

(9) There is some difficulty here as to the chronology. "Thissacrifice, " says the editor of "The Diary, " "was made in theyoung authoress's fifteenth year. " This could not be; for thesacrifice was the effect, according to the editor's own showingof the remonstrances of the second Mrs. Burney; and Frances wasin her sixteenth year when her father's second marriage tookplace. 

(10) Chesington, lying between Kingston and Epsom. -ED. 

(11) The picture drawn by Macaulay of Mr. Crisp's wounded vanityand consequent misanthropy is absurdly overcharged. In the firstplace, bis play of "Virginia, " which was first produced at DruryLane on the 25th of February, 1754, actually achieved somethinglike a suc`es d'estime. It ran eleven nights, no contemptiblerun for those days ; was revived both at Drury Lane and at CoventGarden; was printed and reprinted; and all this all in his ownlifetime. It had, in fact, at least as much success as itdeserved, though, doubtless, too little to satisfy the ambitionof its author. In the second place, there is absolutely noevidence whatever that his life was long embittered bydisappointment connected with his tragedy. It is clear, fromMadame D'Arblay's "Memoirs of Dr. Burney, " that Mr. Crisp'sretirement to Chesington, many years after the production of"Virginia, " was mainly due to a straitened income and the gout. Nor was his seclusion unenlivened by friendship. The Burneys, inparticular, visited him from time to time; and Fanny has left usdescriptions of scenes of almost uproarious gaiety, enacted atChesington by this gloomy recluse and his young friends. But weshall hear more of Chesington and its inmates hereafter-ED. 

(12) Scarcely, we think; when her fame was at its height, FannyBurney received no more than 250 pounds for her second novel, "Cecilia. " See the "Early Diary, " vol. Ii. P. 307. -ED, (13) Christopher Anstey, the author of that amusing and wittypoetical satire, the "New Bath Guide. "-ED. 

(14) John Wilson Croker. -ED. 

(15) Richard Cumberland's fame as playwright and novelist canhardly be said to have survived to the present day. Sheridancaricatured him as Sir Fretful Plagiary, in the "Critic. " Weshall meet with him hereafter in "The Diary. "-ED. 

(16) See note ante, p. Xxiv. 

(17) "Probationary Odes for the Laureateship, " a volume of livelysatirical verse published after the appointment of Sir ThomasWarton to that office on the death of William Whitehead, in1785. -ED. 

(18) See "Cecilia, " Book V. Chap. 6. -ED. 

(19) In "Cecilia. "-ED. 

(20) The "Mr. Fairly" of "The Diary. "-ED. (21) Macaulay is mistaken. Fanny did receive the gown, a "lilactabby, " and wore it on the princess royal's birthday, September29, 1786. -ED. 

(22) The fifth volume of " The "Diary" concludes with Fanny'smarriage to M. D'Arblay. The seven volumes of the originaledition were published at intervals, from 1842 to 1846. -ED. 

(23) The rumour was probably not far from correct. "Camilla" waspublished by subscription, at one guinea the set, and thesubscribers numbered over eleven hundred. Four thousand copieswere printed, and three thousand five hundred were sold in threemonths. Within six weeks of its pEublication, Dr. Burney toldLord Orford that about two thousand pounds had already beenrealized. -ED. 

(24) Fanny's tragedy of "Edwy and Elgiva", written during theperiod of her slavery at court, was produced by Sheridan atDrury-lane in March, 1795. It proved a failure, although theleading parts were plaved by Kemble and Mrs. Siddons. Thistragedy, which was never published, is occasionally referred toin her letters of that year. See also an article by Mr. E. S. Shuckburgh, in "Macmillan's Magazine" for February, 1896. -ED. 

(25) We find it difficult to understand Macaulay's estimate of"The Wanderer. " Later critics appear, in general, to have echoedMacaulay without being at the pains of reading the book. If ithas not the naive freshness of "Evelina, " nor the sustainedexcellence of style of "Cecilia, " "The Wanderer" is inferior toneither in the "exhibition of human passions and whims. " Thestory is interesting and full of variety; the characters live, asnone but the greatest novelists have known how to make them. InJuliet, Fanny has given us one of her most fascinating heroines, while her pictures of the fashionable society of Brighthelmstoneare distinguished by a force and vivacity of satire which she hasrarely surpassed. It is true that in both "The Wanderer" and"Camilla" we meet with occasional touches of that peculiarextravagance of style which disfigure, the "Memoirs of Dr. Burney, " but these passages, in the novels, are SO comparativelyinoffensive, and so nearly forgotten in the general power andcharm of the story that we scarcely care to instance them asserious blemishes-ED. 

(26) This criticism of Madame D'Arblay appears to us somewhat toosweeping. It must be remembered that the persons of "onepropensity, " instanced by Macaulay, are all to be found among theminor characters in her novels. The circumstances, moreover, under which they are introduced, are frequently such as to renderthe display of their particular humours not only excusable, butnatural. But surely in others of her creations, in her heroinesespecially, she is justly entitled to the praise of havingportrayed "characters in which no single feature is extravagantlyovercharged. "-ED. 

(27) this conjecture may be considered as finally disposed of byDr. Johnson's explicit declaration that he never saw one wordof"Cecilia" before it was printed. -ED. 

(28) The above "flowers of rhetoric" are taken from the "Memoirsof Dr. Burney, " published in 1832; but it is scarcely just--indeed, it is wholly unjust--to include "Camilla" and "TheWanderer" under the same censure with that book. The literarystyle of the "Memoirs" is the more amazing, since we find MadameD'Arblay, in 1815, correcting in her son the very fault which isthere indulged to so unfortunate an extent. She writes to him -"I beg you, when you write to me, to let your pen paint Yourthoughts as they rise, not as you seek or labour to embellishthem. I remember you once wrote me a letter so very fine fromCambridge, that, if it had not made me laugh, it would have mademe sick. "-ED. 

(29) "The Female Quixote" is the title of a novel by CharlotteLenox, published in 1752. It was written as a satire upon theHeroic Romances, so popular in England during the seventeenthcentury, and the early part of the eighteenth; and scarcelyclaims to be considered as a picture of life and manners. It isa delightful book however, and the character of the heroine, Arabella, is invested with a charm which never, even in the midstof her wildest extravagancies, fails to make itself felt. -ED. 

(30) Author of the famous "Short View of the Immorality and theProfaneness of the English Stage, " published in 1698; a bookwhich, no doubt, struck at a real evil, but which is written in aspirit of violence and bigotry productive rather of amusementthan of conviction. It caused, however, a tremendous sensationat the time, and its effect upon the English drama was veryconsiderable; not an unmixed blessing either. -ED. 

59

 DIARY AND LETTERS OF MADAME D'ARBLAY. 

SECTION 1 (1778. )

MISS BURNEY PUBLISHES HER FIRST NOVEL AND FINDS HERSELF FAMOUS. 

 [Miss Burney's first novel, " Evelina, " had been submitted inmanuscript to the great publisher, Dodsley, who refused to lookat an anonymous work. It was then offered to Lowndes, whopublished it. The negotiations with the publisher were carriedon by Fanny's brother Charles, and her cousin, Edward Burney. These two, with her sisters, and her aunts Anne and Rebecca (Dr. Burney's sisters), appear to have been the only persons entrustedwith the secret. It will be most convenient here, at thecommencement of - The Diary, " to give a few necessary detailsrespecting the Burney family. By his first*wife, Esther Sleepe, Dr. Burney became the father of seven children:--

1. Esther ("Hetty"), born 1749; married, in 1770, her cousinCharles Rousseau Burney, eldest son of Dr. Burney's elderbrother, Richard Burney, of Worcester. Hetty's husband is alwayscalled "Mr. Burney" in the "Diary". He was a musician. 

2. James, the sailor, afterwards Admiral Burney, known to readersof "Elia. " He was born June 5, 1750; accompanied the greatdiscoverer, Captain Cook, on his second and third voyages; servedin the East Indies in 1783, after which he retired from activeservice. In 1785 he married Miss Sally Payne, and the rest ofhis life was devoted to literature and whist. His "History ofthe Discoveries in the South Sea or Pacific Ocean" is still astandard work. James died November 17, 1821. 

3. Charles born June, 1751 ; died young. 

4- Frances" our "Fanny, " born June 13, 1752. 60

5. Susanna Elizabeth, the "peculiar darling of the whole house ofDr. Burney, as well as of his heart"--so Fanny writes of herfavourite sister. She was born about 1755, and married, in thebeginning Of 1781, Captain Molesworth Phillips, who, as Cook'slieutenant of marines, had seen the discoverer murdered bysavages, in February, 1779, and narrowly escaped with his ownlife on that occasion. Susan died January 6, 1800. 

6. Charles, afterwards Dr. Charles, the distinguished Greekscholar; born December 4, 1757. After his death, in 1817, hismagnificent library was purchased for the British Museum, at acost Of 13, 500 pounds. 

7. Charlotte Ann, born about 1759. She married Clement Francis, in February, 1786. He died in 1792, and she married again in1798, Mrs. Barrett, the editress of the "Diary and Letters ofMadame d'Arblay, " was Charlotte's daughter by her first marriage. 

By his second wife, Elizabeth Allen, whom he married in 1767, Dr. Burney had two children--a son, Richard Thomas, and a daughter, Sarah Harriet. The latter followed the career of her famoushalf-sister, and acquired some distinction as a novelist. Cousins Richard and Edward were younger sons of Uncle RichardBurney, of Worcester. Edward was successful as an artist, especially as a book-illustrator. He painted the portrait ofFanny Burney, a reproduction of which forms the frontispiece tothe present volume. Some of his work may be seen in the SouthKensington Museum. 

Chesington, where we shall presently find Fanny on a visit to Mr. Crisp, was an old roomy mansion, standing in the midst of alonely common in Surrey, between Kingston and Epsom. It hadbelonged to Mr. Crisp's friend, Christopher Hamilton, and on hisdeath became the property of his unmarried sister, Mrs. SarahHamilton, who, being in poor circumstances, let part of the houseto a farmer, and took boarders. Of the latter, Mr. Crisp was themost constant, boarding at Chesington for nearly twenty years, and dying there in 1783. Kitty Cooke, whose name occurs in the"Diary, " was the niece of Mrs. Hamilton, and resided with her atChesington. Mrs. Sophia Gast, whom we find a frequent visitorthere, was the sister of Mr. Crisp, and resided at Burford, inOxfordshire. 

Chesington Hall, the name the old manor house goes by in thelocality, is still standing, and is a plain brick building with asmall bell turret in the roof, but in other respects it has beensomewhat modernized since the days of Fanny Burney. The commonhas been parcelled out into fields, and a picturesque countryroad now gives access to the front entrance to the house. Fromthe lawn at the back a narrow avenue of venerable trees, whichthrow out their long arms in strange grotesque fashion, leadsdirectly to the little village church where Mr. Crisp is buried. -ED. ]61

 "EVELINA" AND THE MYSTERY ATTENDING ITS PUBLICATION. 

This year was ushered in by a grand and most important event! Atthe latter end of January, the literaryworld was favoured withthe first publication of the ingenious, learned, and mostprofound Fanny Burney! I doubt not but this memorable affairwill, in future times, mark the period whence chronologers willdate the zenith of the polite arts in this island!

This admirable authoress has named her most elaborateperformance, "Evelina; or, a Young Lady's Entrance into theWorld. "

Perhaps this may seem a rather bold attempt and title, for afemale whose knowledge of the world is very confined, and whoseinclinations, as well as situation, incline her to a private anddomestic life. All I can urge is, that I have only presumed totrace the accidents and adventures to which a "young woman" isliable; I have not pretended to show the world what it actuallyis, but what it appears to a girl of seventeen, and so far asthat, surely any girl who is past seventeen may safely do? Themotto of my excuse shall be taken from Pope's "Temple of Fame ":

In every work regard the writer's endNone e'er can compass more than they intend. 

About the middle of January, my cousin Edward brought me aparcel, under the name of Grafton. I had, some little timebefore, acquainted both my aunts of my frolic. They will, I amsure, be discreet ; indeed, I exacted a vow from them Of strictsecrecy ; and they love me with such partial kindness, that Ihave a pleasure in reposing much confidence in them. Iimmediately conjectured what the parcel was, and found thefollowing letter. 

Fleet-street, Jan. 7, 1778. 

Sir, I take the liberty to send you a novel, which a gentleman, youracquaintance, said you would hand to him. I beg with expedition, as 'tis time it should be published, and 'tis requisite he firstrevise it, or the reviewers may find a flaw. --I am, sir, yourobedient servant, Thomas Lowndes. 

To Mr. Grafton, To be left at the Orange Coffee-house. 

62

My aunts, now, would take no denial to my reading it to them, inorder to mark errata; and to cut the matter short, I wascompelled to communicate the affair to my cousin Edward, and thento obey their commands. 

Of course, they were all prodigiously charmed with it. My cousinnow became my agent, as deputy to Charles, with Mr. Lowndes, andwhen I had made the errata, carried it to him. 

The book, however, was not published till the latter end of themonth. A thousand little odd incidents happened about this time, but I am not in a humour to recollect them; however, they werenone of them productive of a discovery either to my father ormother. 

My little book, I am told, is now at all the circulatinglibraries. I have an exceeding odd sensation, ,when I considerthat it is now in the power of any and every body to read what Iso carefully hoarded even from my best friends, till this lastmonth or two; and that a work which was so lately lodged, in allprivacy, in my bureau, may now be seen by every butcher andbaker, cobbler and tinker, throughout the three kingdoms, for thesmall tribute of threepence. 

My aunt Anne and Miss Humphries being settled at this time atBrompton, I was going thither with Susan to tea, when Charlotteacquainted me that they were then employed in reading "Evelina"to the invalid, my cousin Richard. My sister had recommended itto Miss Humphries, and my aunts and Edward agreed that they wouldread it, but without mentioning anything of the author. 

This intelligence gave me the utmost uneasiness-I foresaw athousand dangers of a discovery-I dreaded the indiscreet warmthof all my confidants. In truth, I was quite sick withapprehension, and was too uncomfortable to go to Brompton, andSusan carried my excuses. 

Upon her return, I was somewhat tranquillised, for she assured methat there was not the smallest suspicion of the author, and thatthey had concluded it to be the work of a man ! and MissHumphries, who read it aloud to Richard said several things inits commendation, and concluded them by exclaiming, "It's athousand pities the author should lie concealed!"

Finding myself more safe than I had apprehended, I ventured to goto Brompton next day. In my way up-stairs, [ I heard MissHumphries in the midst of Mr. Villars' letter of63

consolation upon Sir John Belmont's rejection of his daughter;and just as I entered the room, she cried out, "How pretty thatis!"

How much in luck would she have thought herself, had she knownwho heard her!

in a private confabulation which I had with my aunt Anne, shetold me a thousand things that had been said in its praise, andassured me they had not for a moment doubted that the work was aman's. 

Comforted and made easy by these assurances, I longed for thediversion of hearing their observations, and therefore (thoughrather mal `a propos) after I had been near two hours in theroom, I told Miss Humphries that I was afraid I had interruptedher, and begged she would go on with what she was reading. 

"Why, " cried she, taking up the book, "we have been prodigiouslyentertained;" and very readily she continued. 

I must own I suffered great difficulty in refraining fromlaughing upon several occasions, -and several times, when theypraised what they read, I was upon the point of saying, "You'arevery good!" and so forth, and I could scarcely keep myself frommaking acknowledgments, and bowing my head involuntarily. However, I got off perfectly safe. 

Monday. --Susan and I went to tea at Brompton, We met MissHumphries coming to town. She told us she had just finished"Evelina, " and gave us to understand that she could not get awaytill she had done it. We heard afterwards from my aunt the mostflattering praises; and Richard could talk Of nothing else. Hisencomiums gave me double pleasure, from being wholly unexpected:for I had prepared myself to hear that he held it extremelycheap. 'It Seems, to my utter amazement, Miss Humphries has guessed theauthor to be Anstey, who wrote the "Bath Guide"! How improbableand how extraordinary a supposition! But they have both of themdone it so much honour that, but for Richard's anger at Evelina'sbashfulness, I never Could believe they did not suspect me. Inever went to Brompton without finding the third volume inRichard's hands; he speaks of all the characters as if they werehis acquaintance, and Praises different parts perpetually: bothhe and Miss Humphries seem to have it by heart, for it is always`a propos to Whatever is the subject of discourse, and theirwhole conversation almost consists of quotations from it. 64

Chesington, June 18. --I came hither the first week in May. Myrecovery from that time to this, has been slow and sure ; but asI could walk hardly three yards in a day at first, I found somuch time to spare, that I could not resist treating myself witha little private sport with "Evelina, " a young lady whom I thinkI have some right to make free with. I had promised Hetty thatshe should read it to Mr. Crisp, at her own particular request ;but I wrote my excuses, and introduced it myself. 

I told him it was a book which Hetty had taken to Brompton, todivert my cousin Richard during his confinement. He was soindifferent about it, that I thought he would not give himselfthe trouble to read it, and often embarrassed me by unluckyquestions, such as, "If it was reckoned clever?" and "What Ithought of it?" and "Whether folks laughed at it?" I alwaysevaded any direct or satisfactory answer; but he was so totallyfree from any idea of suspicion, that my perplexity escaped hisnotice. 

At length, he desired me to begin reading to him. I dared nottrust my voice with the little introductory ode, for as that isno romance, but the sincere effusion of my heart, I could as soonread aloud my own letters, written in my own name and character :I therefore skipped it, and have so kept the book out of hissight, that, to this day, he knows not it is there. Indeed, Ihave, since, heartily repented that I read any of the book tohim, for I found it a much more awkward thing than I had expected: my voice quite faltered when I began it, which, however, Ipassed off for the effect of remaining weakness of lungs; and, inshort, from an invincible embarrassment, which I could not for apage together repress, the book, by my reading, lost all mannerof spirit. 

Nevertheless, though he has by no means treated it with thepraise so lavishly bestowed upon it from other quarters, I hadthe satisfaction to observe that he was even greedily eager to goon with it ; so that I flatter myself the story caught hisattention: and, indeed, allowing for my mauling reading, he gaveit quite as much credit as I had any reason to expect. But, nowthat I was sensible of my error in being 'my own mistress of theceremonies, I determined to leave to Hetty the third volume, andtherefore pretended I had not brought it. He was in a delightfulill humour about it, and I enjoyed his impatience far more than Ishould have done his forbearance. Hetty, therefore, when shecomes, has undertaken to bring it, 65

I have had a visit from my beloved Susy, who, with my mother(31)and little Sally, (32) spent a day here, to my no smallsatisfaction; and yet I was put into an embarrassment, of which Ieven yet know not what will be the end, during their short stay:for Mr. Crisp, before my mother, very innocently said, "O! Susan, pray Susette, do send me the third volume of "Evelina;" Fannybrought me the two first on purpose, I believe, to tantalize me. "

I felt 'myself in a ferment ; and Susan, too, looked foolish, andknew. Not what to answer. As I sat on the same sofa with him, Igave him a gentle shove, as a token, which he could not butunderstand, that he had said something wrong--though I believe hecould not imagine what. Indeed, how should he?

My mother instantly darted forward, and repeated "Evelina, --what's that, pray?"

Again I jolted Mr. Crisp, who, very much perplexed, said, in aboggling manner, that it was a novel-he supposed from thecirculating library--only a trumpery novel. "

Ah, my dear daddy! thought I, you would have devised some othersort of speech, if you knew all! But he was really, as he wellmight be, quite at a loss for what I wanted him to say. 

"You have had it here, then, have you?" continued my mother. 

"Yes-two of the volumes, " said Mr. Crisp. 

"What, had you them from the library?" asked my mother. 

"No, ma'am, " answered I, horribly frightened, "from my sister. "

The truth is, the books are Susan's, who bought them the firstday of publication; but I did not dare own that, as it would havebeen almost an acknowledgment of all the rest. 

She asked some further questions, to which we made the same sortof answers, and then the matter dropped. Whether itrests uponher mind, or not, I cannot tell. 

Two days after, I received from Charlotte a letter the mostintereiting that could be written to me, for it acquainted methat My dear father was, at length, reading my book, which hasnow been published six months. How this has come to pass, I am yet in the dark; but, it seems, that the very Moment almost that my mother and Susan and66

Sally left the house, he desired Charlotte to bring him the"Monthly Review;" she contrived to look over his shoulder as heopened it, which he did at the account of "Evelina; Or, a YoungLady's Entrance into the World. " He read it with greatearnestness, then put it down ; and presently after snatched itup, and read it again. Doubtless, his paternal heart felt someagitation for his girl, in reading a review of herpublication!(33)--how he got at the name, I cannot imagine. 

Soon after he turned to Charlotte, and bidding her come close tohim, he put his finger on the word " Evelina, " and saying, sheknew what it was, bade her -write down the name, and send the manto Lowndes, as if for herself. This she did, and away wentWilliam. 

He then told Charlotte, that he had never known the name of ittill the day before. 'Tis strange how he got at it! He addedthat I had come off vastly well in this review, except for "theCaptain. " Charlotte told him it had also been in "Kenrick'sreview, (34) and he desired her to copy out for him what was saidin both of them. He asked her, too, whether I had mentioned thework was by a lady?

When William returned, he took the books from him, and the momenthe was gone, opened the first volume-and opened it upon the Ode!How great must have been his astonishment, at seeing himself soaddressed!(35) Indeed, Charlotte says he looked all 67

amazement, read a line or two with great eagerness, and their, stopping short, he seemed quite affected, and the tears startedinto his eyes: dear soul! I am sure they did into mine, nay, Ieven sobbed, as I read the account. 

I believe he was obliged to go out before he advanced muchfurther. But the next day I had a letter from Susan, in which Iheard that he had begun reading it with Lady Hales, and MissCoussmaker, and that they liked it vastly!(36) "Lady Hales spokeof it very innocently, in the highest terms, declaring she wassure it was written by somebody in high life, And that it had allthe marks of real genius! She added, "he must be a man of greatabilities!"

How ridiculous! but Miss Coussmaker was a little nearer thetruth, for she gave it as her opinion, that the writer was awoman, for she said there was such a remarkable delicacy in theconversations and descriptions, notwithstanding the grossness andvulgarity of some of the characters, and that all oaths andindelicate words were so carefully, yet naturally avoided, thatshe could not but suspect the writer was a female ; but, sheadded, notwithstanding the preface declared that the writer neverwould be known, she hoped, if the book circulated as she expectedit would, he or she would be tempted to make a discovery. 

Ha! ha! ha!-that's my answer. They little think how well theyare already acquainted with the writer they so much honour!Susan begged to have, then, my father's real and

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final opinion;--and it is such that I almost blush to write, evenfor my own private reading ; but yet is such as I can by no meanssuffer to pass unrecorded, as my whole journal contains nothingso grateful to me. I will copy his own words, according toSusan's solemn declaration of their authenticity. 

"Upon my word I think it the best novel I know, exceptFielding's, and, in some respects, better than his! I have beenexcessively pleased with it; there are, perhaps a few things thatmight have been otherwise. Mirvan's trick upon Lovel is, Ithink, carried too far, -there is something even disgusting in it:however, this instance excepted, I protest I think it will scarcebear an improvement. The language is as good as anybody needwrite--I declare, as good as I would wish to read. LordOrville's character is just what it should be - perfectlybenevolent and upright; and there is a boldness in it that struckme mightily, for he is a man not ashamed of being better than therest of mankind. Evelina is in a new style too, so perfectlyinnocent and natural ; and the scene between her and her father, Sir John Belmont, is a scene for a tragedy! I blubbered at it, and Lady Hales and Miss Coussmaker are not yet recovered fromhearing it, it made them quite ill: indeed, it is wrought up in amost extraordinary manner. "

This account delighted me more than I- can express. How littledid I dream of ever being so much honoured! But the approbationof all the world put together, would not bear any competition, inmy estimation, with that of my beloved father. 

July 25. --Mrs. Cholmondeley has been reading and praising"Evelina, " and my father Is quite delighted at her approbation, and told Susan that I could not have had a greater complimentthan making two such women my friends as Mrs. Thrale(37) and Mrs. Cholmondeley. For they were severe and knowing, and afraid ofpraising `a tort et `a travers, as their opinions are liable tobe quoted. 

Mrs. Thrale said she had only to complain it was too short. Sherecommended it to my mother to read!--how droll!--and she toldher she would be much entertained with it, for there was a greatdeal of human life in it, and of the manners of the presenttimes, and added that it was written "by somebody

69

Who knows the top and the bottom, the highest and the lowest ofmankind. " She has even lent her set to my mother, who brought ithome with her!

By the way, I have again resumed my correspondence with my friendMr. Lowndes. When I sent the errata I desired to have a setdirected to Mr. Grafton, at the Orange Coffee-house, for I had nocopy but the one he sent tne to make the errata from, which Wasincomplete and unbound. However, I heard nothing at all fromhim; and therefore, after some consideration, and much demure Idetermined to make an attempt once more; for my father told me itwas a shame that I, the author, should not have even one set ofmy own work; I ought, he said, to have had six: and indeed, he isoften enraged that Lowndes gave no more for the MS. --but I wassatisfied, -and that sufficed. (38)

I therefore wrote him word, that I supposed, in the hurry of hisbusiness, and variety of his concerns, he had forgotten myrequest, which I now repeated. I also added, that if ever thebook went through another edition, I should be glad to havetimely notice, as I had some corrections and alterations topropose. 

I received an immediate answer, and intelligence from my sisters, that he had sent a set of " Evelina " most elegantly bound. Theanswer I will copy. 

Fleet-street, July 2, 1778. 

Sir, --I bound up a set for you the first day I had them, andhoped by some means to hear from you. The Great World sendhereto buy "Evelina. " A polite lady said, Do, Mr. Lowndes, giveme "Evelina, " I am treated as unfashionable for not having readit. I think the impression will be sold by Christmas. Ifmeantime, or about that time, you favour me with any commands, Ishall be proud to observe them. Your obliged servant, J. Lowndes. To Mr. Grafton. 

(Fanny Burney to Miss S. Burney. )Chesington, Sunday, July 6. 

Your letter, my dearest Susan, and the inclosed one fromLovirrides, have flung me into such a vehement perturbation, thati hardly can tell whether I wake or dream, and it is even Withdifficulty that I can fetch my breath. I have been strol70

ling round the garden three or four times, in hopes of regaininga little quietness. However, I am not very angry at my inwarddisturbance, though it even exceeds what I experienced from the"Monthly Review. "

My dear Susy, what a wonderful affair has this been, and howextraordinary is this torrent of success, which sweeps down allbefore it! I often think it too much, nay, almost wish it wouldhappen to some other person, who had more ambition, whose hopeswere more sanguine, and who could less have borne to be buried inthe oblivion which I even sought. But though it might have beenbetter bestowed, it could by no one be more gratefully received. 

Indeed I can't help being grave upon the subject; for a successso really unexpected almost overpowers me. I wonder at myselfthat my spirits are not more elated. I believe half the flatteryI have had would have made me madly merry; but all serves only toalmost depress me by the fullness of heart it occasions. I havebeen serving Daddy Crisp a pretty trick this morning How he wouldrail if he found it all out ! I had a fancy to dive pretty deeplyinto the real rank in which he held my book; so I told him thatyour last letter acquainted me who was reported to be the authorof "Evelina. " I added that it was a profound secret, and he mustby no means mention it to a human being. He bid me tell himdirectly, according to his usual style of command--but I insistedupon his guessing. 

"I can't guess, " said he - "may be it is you. "

Oddso! thought I, what do you mean by that?

"Pooh, nonsense!" cried I, " what should make you think of me?"

"Why, you look guilty, " answered he. 

This was a horrible home stroke. Deuce take my looks! thought I--I shall owe them a grudge for this ! however I found it was amere random shot, and, without much difficulty, I laughed it toscorn. 

And who do you think he guessed next ?--My father!--there's foryou!--and several questions he asked me, whether he had latelybeen shut up much-and so on. And this was not all--for heafterwards guessed Mrs. Thrale and Mrs. Greville. (39)

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There's honour and glory for you!--I assure you I grinnedprodigiously. 

July 20. -I have had a letter from Susan. She informs me that myfather, when he took the books back to Streatham, actuallyacquainted Mrs. Thrale with my secret. He took an opportunity, when they were alone together, of saying that Upon herrecommendation, he had himself, as well as my mother; beenreading "Evelina. "

Well!" cried she, "and is it not a very pretty book? and a Veryclever book? and a very comical book?

"Why, ', ' answered he. "'tis well enough; but I have something totell you about it. "

"Well? what?" cried she; "has Mrs. Cholmondeley found out theauthor?"

" No, " returned he, " not that I know of, but I believe I have, though but very lately. "

"Well, pray let's hear!" cried she, eagerly, "I want to know himof all things. "

How my father must laugh at the him!--He then, however, undeceived her in regard to that particular, by telling her itwas "our Fanny!" for she knows all about our family, as my fathertalks to'her of his domestic concerns without any reserve. 

A hundred handsome things, of course, followed; and sheafterwards read some of the comic parts to Dr. Johnson, Mr. Thrale, and whoever came near her. How I should have quiveredhad I been there ! but they tell me that Dr. Johnson laughed asheartily as my father himself did. 

Nothing can be more ridiculous than the scenes in which I amalmost perpetually engaged. Mr. Crisp, who is totally withoutsuspicion, says, almost daily, something that has double themeaning he intends to convey; for, as I am often writing, eitherletters, Italian, or some of my own vagaries, he commonly callsme the scribe, and the authoress; asks when I shall print; sayshe will have all my works on royal paper, etc. ; and the otherday, Mrs. Gast, who frequently lectures me about studying toohard, and injuring my health, said-

'Pray, Miss Burney, now you write so much, when do you intend topublish?"

"Publish?" cried Mr. Crisp, "why, she has published; she broughtout a book the other day that has made a great noise "Evelina"--and she bribed the reviewers to speak well of it, and set it agoing. "72

I was almost ready to run out of the room; but, though the hitwas so palpable in regard to the book, what he said of thereviewers was so much the contrary that it checked my alarm:indeed, had he the most remote idea of the truth, be would be thelast man to have hinted at it before a room full of people. 

"Oh!" cried I, as composedly as I could, "that is but a smallpart of my authorship--I shall give you a list of my foliosSoon, "

They had all some jocularity upon the occasion, but I found I wasperfectly safe ; indeed my best security is, that my daddyconcludes the author to be a man, and all the rest follow as heleads. 

Mr. Burney, (40) yesterday, after dinner, said--"Gentlemen andladies, I'll propose a toast"; then filling his glass, he drankto The author of "Evelina!"

Had they known the author was present, they could not have morecivilly accepted the toast; it was a bold kind of drollery in Mr. Burney, for I was fain to drink my own health in a bumper, whichhe filled for me, laughing heartily himself, August 3--I have an immensity to write. Susan has copied me aletter which Mrs. Thrale has written to my father, upon theoccasion of returning my mother two novels by MadameRiccoboni. (41) It is so honourable to me, and so sweet in her, that I must COPY it for my faithful journal. 

Streatham, July 22. 

Dear Sir, I forgot to give you the novels in your carriage, which I nowsend. "Evelina" certainly excels them far enough, both inprobability of story, elegance of sentiment, and general powerover the mind, whether exerted in humour or pathos; add to this, that Riccoboni is a veteran author, and all she ever can be; butI cannot tell what might not be expected from "Evelina, " were sheto try her genius at comedy. 

So far had I written of my letter, when Mr. Johnson returned

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home, full of the praises of the book I had lent him, andprotesting there Were passages in it which Might do honour toRichardson. We talk of it for ever, and he feels ardent afterthe d`enouement; hee "could not get rid of the rogue, " he said. I lent him the second volume, and he is now busy with the other. 

You must be more a philosopher, and less a father, than I wishyou, not to be pleased with this letter ; and the giving suchpleasure yields to nothing but receiving it. Long, my dear sir, may you live to enjoy the just praises of your children! and longmay they live to deserve and delight such a parent! These arethings that you would say in verse - but poetry implies fiction, and all this is naked truth. 

my compliments to Mrs. Burney, and kindest wishes to all yourflock, etc. 

How, sweet, how amiable in this charming woman is her desire ofmaking my dear father satisfied with his scribbler's 'attempt! Ido, indeed, feel the most grateful love for her. But Dr. Johnson's approbation!--It almost crazed me with agreeablesurprise--it gave me such a flight of spirits that I danced a jigto Mr. Crisp, Without any preparation, music, or explanation;--tohis no small amazement and diversion. I left him, however, tomake his own comments upon my friskiness without affording himthe smallest assistance. 

Susan also writes me word, that when my father went last toStreatham, Dr. Johnson was not there, but Mrs. Thrale told him, that when he gave her the first volume of "Evelina, " which shehad lent him, he said, "Why, madam, why, what a charming book youlent me!" and eagerly inquired for the rest. He was particularlypleased with the Snow-hill scenes, and said that Mr. Smith'svulgar gentility was admirably portrayed; and when Sir Clementjoins them, he said there was a shade of character prodigiouslywell marked. Well may it be said, that the greatest winds areever the most candid to the inferior set! I think I should loveDr. Johnson for such lenity to a poor mere worm in literature, even if I were not myself the identical grub he has obliged. 

I now come to last Saturday evening, when my beloved father cameto Chesington, in full health, charming spirits, and allkindness, openness, and entertainment. 

In his way hither he had stopped at Streatham, and he settledwith Mrs. Thrale that he would call on her again in his74

way to town, and carry me with him ! and Mrs. Thrale said, "Weall long to know her. "

I have been in a kind of twitter ever since, for there seemssomething very formidable in the idea of appearing as anauthoress ! I ever dreaded it, as it is a title which must raisemore expectations than I have any chance of answering. Yet I amhighly flattered by her invitation, and highly delighted in theprospect of being introduced to the Streatham society. 

She sent me some very serious advice to write for the theatre, as, she says, I so naturally run into conversations, that"Evelina" absolutely and plainly points out that path to me; andshe hinted how much she should be pleased to be honoured with myconfidence. "

My dear father communicated this intelligence, and a great dealmore, with a pleasure that almost surpassed that with which Iheard it, and he seems quite eager for me to make anotherattempt. He desired to take upon himself the communication to mydaddy Crisp, and as it is now in so many hands that it ispossible accident might discover it to him, I readily consented. 

Sunday evening, as I was going into my father's room, I heard himsay, "The variety of characters--the variety of scenes--and thelanguage--why, she has had very little education but what she hasgiven herself, -less than any of the others!" and Mr. Crispexclaimed, "Wonderful!--it's wonderful!"

I now found what was going forward, and therefore deemed it mostfitting to decamp. About an hour after, as I was passing throughthe hall, I met my daddy (Crisp). His face was all animation andarchness; he doubled his fist at me, and would have stopped me, but I ran past him into the parlour. 

Before supper, however, I again met him, and he would not sufferme to escape ; he caught both my hands, and looked as if he wouldhave looked me through, and then exclaimed, "Why you littlehussy, --you young devil!--an't you ashamed to look me in theface, you Evelina, you! Why, what a dance have you led me aboutit! Young friend, indeed! O you little hussy, what tricks haveyou served me!"

I was obliged to allow of his running on with these gentleappellations for I know not how long, ere he could sufficientlycompose himself after his great surprise, to ask or hear anyparticulars - and then, he broke out every three instants with75

exclamations of astonishment at how I had found time to write somuch unsuspected, and how and where I had picked up such variousmaterials; and not a few times did he, with me, as he had with myfather, exclaim, "wonderful!"

He has, since, made me read him all my letters upon this subject. He said Lowndes would have made an estate had he given me onethousand pounds for it, and that he ought not to have given meless. "You have nothing to do now, " continued he, "but to takeyour pen in hand, for your fame and reputation are made, and anybookseller will snap at what you write. "'

i then told him that I could not but really and unaffectedlyregret that the affair was spread to Mrs. Williams and herfriends. 

"Pho, " said he, "if those who are proper judges think it right, that it should be known, why should you trouble yourself aboutit? You have not spread it, there can be no imputation of vanityfall to your share, and it cannot come out more to your honourthan through such a channel as Mrs. Thrale. "

 A FIRST VISIT TO MRS. THRALE AND ANINTRODUCTION To DR. JOHNSON. 

(an introduction to Mrs. Thrale was practically an introductioninto the most brilliant literary circle of the day. Literarylions of all sizes, from the monarch Johnson downwards, were wontto resort to Streatham, to eat Thrale's dinners, and to enjoy theconversation of his lively wife. At Streatham Dr. Burney hadbeen a welcome guest since 1776, when he commenced his intimacywith the family by giving music lessons to the eldest daughter, Hester Thrale (Johnson's "Queenie"). The head of the house, Henry Thrale, the wealthy brewer and member of Parliament forSouthwark, was a sensible, unassuming man, whom Johnson loved andesteemed, and who returned Johnson's attachment with thesincerest regard. His acquirements, in Johnson's opinion were ofa far more solid character than those Of his wife, whose wit andvivacity, however, gave her more distinction in those brilliantassemblies to which Fanny is now, for the first time, to beintroduced. Mrs. Thrale was in her thirty-eighth year at thedate of Fanny's first visit. -ED. ] -411PSt-I have now to write

August. --I have now to write an account of the most consequentialday I have spent since my birth: namely, my visit. 

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Our journey to Streatham, was the least pleasant part of theday. . For the roads were dreadfully dusty, and I was really inthe fidgets from thinking what my reception might be, and fromfearing they would expect a less awkward and backward kind ofperson than I was sure they would find. 

Mr. Thrale's house is white, and very pleasantly situated, in afine paddock. Mrs. Thrale was strolling about, and came to us aswe got out of the chaise. 

"Ah, " cried she, "I hear Dr. Burney's voice! and you have broughtyour daughter?--well, now you are good!"She then received me, taking both my hands, and with mixedpoliteness and cordiality welcoming me to Streatham. She led me ]Into the house, and addressed herself almost whollyfor a few minutes to my father, as if to give me an assurance shedid not mean to regard me as a show, or to distress or frightenme by drawing me out. Afterwards she took me upstairs, andshowed me the house, and said she had very much wished to see meat Streatham, and should always think herself much obliged to Dr. Burney for his goodness in bringing me, which she looked upon asa very great favour. 

But though we were some time together, and though she was so verycivil, she did not hint at my book, and I love her much more thanever for her delicacy in avoiding a subject which she could notbut see would have greatly embarrassed me. 

When we returned to the music-room, we found Miss Thrale was withmy father. Miss Thrale is a very fine girl, about fourteen yearsof age, but cold and reserved, though full of knowledge andintelligence. 

Soon after, Mrs. Thrale took me to the library ; she talked alittle while upon common topics, and then, at last, she mentioned"Evelina. "

" Yesterday at supper, " said she, "we talked it all over, anddiscussed all your characters - but Dr. Johnson's favourite isMr. Smith. He declares the fine gentleman manqué was neverbetter drawn; and he acted him all the evening, saying he was'all for the ladies!' He repeated whole scenes by heart. Ideclare I was astonished at him. O, you can't imagine how muchhe is pleased with the book; he 'could not get rid of the rogue, 'he told me. But was it not droll, " said she, "that I shouldrecommend it to Dr. Burney? and tease him, so innocently, to readit?"

I now prevailed upon Mrs. Thrale to let me amuse myself, and shewent to dress. I then prowled about to choose some77

book and I saw upon the reading-table, "Evelina. "--I had justfixed upon a new translation of Cicero's "Laelius, " when thelibrary-door was opened, and Mr. Seward(43) entered. I instantlyput away my book, because I dreaded being thought studious andaffected. He offered his service to find anything for me, andthen, in the same breath, ran on to speak of the work with whichI had myself 'favoured the world!'

The exact words he began with I cannot recollect, for I wasactually confounded by the attack; and his abrupt manner ofletting me know he was au fait equally astonished and provokedme. How different from the delicacy of Mr. And Mrs. Thrale. 

When we were summoned to dinner, Mrs. Thrale made my father andme sit on each side of her. I said that I hoped I did not takeDr. Johnson's place;--for he had not yet appeared. 

"No, " answered Mrs. Thrale, "he will sit by you, which I am surewill give him great pleasure. "

Soon after we were seated, this great man entered. I have sotrue a veneration for him, that the very sight of him inspires mewith delight and reverence, notwithstanding the cruel infirmitiesto which he is subject; for he has almost perpetual convulsivemovements, either of his hands, lips, feet, or knees, andsometimes of all together. 

Mrs. Thrale introduced me to him, and he took his place. We hada noble dinner, and a most elegant dessert. Dr. Johnson, in themiddle of dinner, asked Mrs. Thrale what were some little piesthat were near him. 

"Mutton, " answered she, "so I don't ask you to eat any, because Iknow you despise it. "

"No, madam, no, " cried he, "I despise nothing that is so good ofits sort; but I am too proud now to eat of it. Sitting by MissBurney makes me very proud to-day!"

"Miss Burney, " said Mrs. Thrale, laughing, "you must take care ofyour heart if Dr. Johnson attacks it for I assure you he is notoften successless. "

"What's that you say, madam?" cried he; "are you Making mischiefbetween the young lady and me already?"

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A little while after he drank Miss Thrale's health and mine, andthen added: "Tis a terrible thing that we cannot wish youngladies well, without wishing them to become old women!"

"But some people, " said Mr. Seward, "are old and young at thesame time, for they wear so well that they never look old. "

No, sir, no, " cried the doctor, laughing; "that never yet was;you might as well say they are at the same time tall and short. I remember an epitaph to that purpose, which is in--"

(I have quite forgot what, --and also the name it was made upon, but the rest I recollect exactly:)

"----lies buried here;So early wise, so lasting fair, That none, unless her years you told, Thought her a child, or thought her old. "

We left Streatham at about eight o'clock, and Mr. Seward, whohanded me into the chaise, added his interest to the rest, thatmy father would not fail to bring me next week. In short I wasloaded with civilities from them all. And my ride home wasequally happy with the rest of the day, for my kind and mostbeloved father was so happy in my happiness, and congratulated meso sweetly, that he could, like myself, think on no othersubject: and he told me that, after passing through such a houseas that, I could have nothing to fear-meaning for my book, myhonoured book. 

Yet my honours stopped not here ; for Hetty, who, with her sposo, was here to receive us, told me she had lately met Mrs. Reynolds, (44) sister of Sir Joshua; and that she talked very muchand very highly of a new novel called "Evelina"; though without ashadow of suspicion as to the scribbler ; and not contented withher own praise, she said that Sir Joshua, who began it one daywhen he was too much engaged to go on with it, was so muchcaught, that he could think of nothing else, and was quite absentall the day, not knowing a word that was said to him : and, whenhe took it up again, found himself so much interested in it, thathe sat up all night to finish it! Sir Joshua, it seems, vows hewould give fifty pounds to

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know the author! I have also heard, by the means of Charles, (45)that other persons have declared they will find him out!

 FANNY BURNEY INTERVIEWS HER PUBLISHER. 

This intelligence determined me upon going myself to Mr. Lowndes, and discovering what sort of answers he made to such curiousinquirers as I found were likely to address him. But as I didnot dare trust myself to speak, for I felt that I should not beable to act my part well, I asked my mother to accompany me. Weintroduced ourselves by buying the book, for which I had acommission from Mrs. G--. Fortunately Mr. Lowndes himself was inthe shop; as we found by his air of consequence and authority, aswell as his age; for I never saw him before. 

 The moment he had given my mother the book, she asked him if hecould tell her who wrote it. 

"No, " he answered; "I don't know myself. "

"Pho, pho, " said she, "you mayn't choose to tell, but you mustknow. "

"I don't indeed, ma'am, " answered he "I have no honour inkeeping the secret, for I have never been trusted. All I know ofthe matter is, that it is a gentleman of the other end of thetown. "

MY mother made a thousand other inquiries, to which his answerswere to the following effect: that for a great while, he did notknow if it was a man or a woman; but now, he knew that much, andthat he was a master of his subject, and well versed in themanners of the times. 

"For some time, " continued he, "I thought it had been HoraceWalpole's; for he once published a book in this snug manner; butI don't think it is now. I have often people come to inquire ofme who it is; but I suppose he will come Out soon, and then whenthe rest of the world knows it, I shall. Servants often come forit from the other end of the town, and I have asked them diversquestions myself, to see if I could get at the author but I nevergot any satisfaction. "

Just before we came away, upon my mother's still further pressinghim, he said, with a most important face, "Why, to tell you the truth, madam, I have been informed

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that it is a piece of real secret history ; and, in that case, itwill never be known. "

This was too much for me - I grinned irresistibly, and wasobliged to look out at the shop-door till we came away. 

How many ridiculous things have I heard upon this subject! Ihope that next, some particular family will be fixed upon, towhom this secret history must belong! However, I am delighted tofind myself so safe. 

 CONVERSATIONS WITH MRs. THRALE AND DR. JOHNSON. 

Streatham, Sunday, Aug. 23--I know not how to express thefullness of my contentment at this sweet place. All my bestexpectations are exceeded, and you know they were not verymoderate. If, when my dear father comes, Susan and Mr. Crispwere to come too, I believe it would require at least a day'spondering to enable me to form another wish. 

Our journey was charming. The kind Mrs. Thrale would givecourage to the most timid. She did not ask me questions, orcatechise me upon what I knew, or use any means to draw me out, but made it her business to draw herself outthat is, to startsubjects, to support them herself, and to take all the weight ofthe conversation, as if it behoved her to find me entertainment. But I am so much in love with her, that I shall be obliged to runaway from the subject, or shall write of nothing else. 

When we arrived here, Mrs. Thrale showed me my room, which is anexceedingly pleasant one, and then conducted me to the library, there to divert myself while she dressed. 

Miss Thrale soon joined me: and I begin to like her. Mr. Thralewas neither well nor in spirits all day. Indeed, he seems not tobe a happy man, though he has every means of happiness in hispower. But I think I have rarely seen a very rich man with alight heart and light spirits. 

Dr. Johnson was in the utmost good humour. 

There was no other company at the house all day. 

After dinner, I had a delightful stroll with Mrs. Thrale, and shegave me a list of all her " good neighbours " in the town ofStreatham, and said she was determined to take me to see Mr. T--, the clergyman, who was a character i could not but be divertedwith, for he had so furious and so absurd a rage for building, that in his garden he had as many temples, and summer-houses, andstatues as in the gardens of Stow, though81'

he had so little room for them that they all seemed tumbling oneupon another. 

In short, she was all unaffected drollery and sweet good humour. At tea we all met again, and Dr. Johnson was gaily sociable. Hegave a very droll account of the children of Mr. Langton. (46)"Who, " he said, "might be very good children if they were letalone; but the father is never easy when he is not making them dosomething which they cannot do; they must repeat a fable, or aspeech, or the Hebrew alphabet; and they might as well counttwenty, for what they know of the matter: however, the fathersays half, for he prompts every other word. But he could nothave chosen a man who would have been less entertained by suchmeans. "

"I believe not !" cried Mrs. Thrale: "nothing is more ridiculousthan parents cramming their children's nonsense down otherpeople's throats. I keep mine as much out of the way as I can. "

"Yours, madam, " answered he, "are in nobody's way - no childrencan be better managed or less troublesome; but your fault is, atoo great perverseness in not allowing anybody to give themanything. Why Should they not have a cherry, or a gooseberry, aswell as bigger children?"

"Because they are sure to return such gifts by wiping their handsupon the giver's gown or coat, and nothing makes children moreoffensive. People only make the offer to please the parents, andthey wish the poor children at Jericho when they accept it. "

"But, madam, it is a great deal more offensive to refuse them. Let those who make the offer look to their own gowns and coats, for when you interfere, they only wish you at Jericho. "

"It is difficult, " said Mrs. Thrale, "to please everybody. " Shethen asked whether -Mr. Langton took any better care of hisaffairs than formerly?

"No, madam, " cried the doctor, "and never will; he

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complains of the ill effects of habit, and rests contentedly upona confessed indolence. He told his father himself that he had'no turn to economy;' but a thief might as well plead that he had'no turn to honesty. '"

Was not that excellent? At night, Mrs. Thrale asked if I wouldhave anything ? I answered, "No, " but Dr. Johnson said, "Yes: she is used, madam, to suppers; she would like an egg ortwo, and a few slices of ham, or a rasher--a rasher, I believe, would please her better. "

How ridiculous! However, nothing could persuade Mrs. Thrale notto have the cloth laid: and Dr. Johnson was so facetious, that hechallenged Mr. Thrale to get drunk!

"I wish, " said he, "my master(47) would say to me, Johnson, ifyou will oblige me, you will call for a bottle of Toulon, andthen we will set to it, glass for glass, till it is done ; andafter that, I will say, Thrale, if you will oblige me, you willcall for another bottle of Toulon, and then we will set to it, glass for glass, till that is done : and by the time we shouldhave drunk the two bottles, we should be so happy, and such goodfriends, that we should fly into each other's arms, and bothtogether call for the third!"

Now for this morning's breakfast. 

Dr. Johnson, as usual, came last into the library ; he was inhigh spirits, and full of mirth and sport. I had the honour ofsitting next to him: and now, all at once, he flung aside hisreserve, thinking, perhaps, that it was time I should fling asidemine. 

Mrs. Thrale told him that she intended taking me to Mr. T--'s. 

"So you ought, madam, " cried he; "'tis your business to beCicerone to her. "

Then suddenly he snatched my hand, and kissing it, "Ah!" he added, "they will little think what a tartar you carryto them!"

"No, that they won't!" cried Mrs. Thrale; "Miss Burney looks someek and so quiet, nobody would suspect what a comical girl sheis - but I believe she has a great deal of malice at heart. "

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"Oh, she's a toad!" cried the doctor, laughing--"a sly youngrogue! with her Smiths and her Branghtons!"

"Why, Dr. Johnson said Mrs. Thrale, "I hope you are well this morning! if one may judge by yourspirits and good humour, the fever you threatened us with is goneoff. "

He had complained that he was going to be ill last night. 

"Why no, madam, no, " answered he, " "I am not yet well. I couldnot sleep at all; there I lay, restless and uneasy, and thinkingall the time of Miss Burney. Perhaps I have offended. Her, thought I; perhaps she is angry - I have seen her but once and Italked to her of a rasher!--Were you angry?"

I think I need not tell you my answer. 

"I have been endeavouring to find some excuse, " continued he, "and, as I could not sleep, I got up, and looked for someauthority for the word; and I find, madam, it is used by Dryden:in one of his prologues, he says--'And snatch a homely rasherfrom the coals. ' So You must not mind me, madam; I say strangethings, but I mean no harm. "

I was almost afraid he thought I was really idiot enough to havetaken him seriously; but, a few minutes after, he put his hand onmy arm, and shaking his head, exclaimed, "Oh, you are a slylittle rogue!--what a Holborn beau have you drawn!"

"Ay, Miss Burney, " said Mrs, Thrale, "the Holborn beau is DrJohnson's favourite ; and we have all your characters by heart, from Mr. Smith up to Lady Louisa. "

"Oh, Mr. Smith, Mr. Smith is the man !" cried he, laughingviolently. "Harry Fielding never drew so good a character!--such a fine varnish of low politeness!--such a struggle to appeara gentleman! Madam, there is no character better drawnanywhere--in any book or by any author. "

I almost poked myself under the table. Never did I feel sodelicious a confusion since I was born ! But he added a greatdeal more, only I cannot recollect his exact words, and I do notchoose to give him mine. 

About noon when I went into the library, book hunting, Mrs. Thrale came to me. We had a very nice confab about variousbooks, and exchanged opinions and imitations of Baretti; she toldme many excellent tales of him, and I, in return, related mystories. 

She gave me a long and very entertaining account of Dr. Goldsmith, who was intimately known here; but in speaking of "TheGood-natured Man, " when I extolled my favourite84

Croaker, I found that admirable character was a downright theftfrom Dr. Johnson. Look at "The Rambler, " and you will findSuspirius is the man, and that not merely the idea, but theparticulars of the character, are all stolen thence!(48)

While we were yet reading this "Rambler, " Dr. Johnson came in: wetold him what we were about. 

"Ah, madam, " cried he, "Goldsmith was not scrupulous but he wouldhave been a great man had he known the real value of his owninternal resources. "

"Miss Burney, " said Mrs. Thrale, "is fond of his 'Vicar ofWakefield. ' and so am I;--don't you like it, sir?"

" No, madam, it is very faulty ; there is nothing of real life init, and very little of nature. It is a mere fancifulperformance. "

He then seated himself upon a sofa, and calling to me, saidCome, --Evelina, --come and sit by me. "

I obeyed; and he took me almost in his arms, --that is, one of hisarms, for one would go three times, at least, round me, -and, half laughing, half serious, he charged me to "be a good girl!"

"But, my dear, " continued he with a very droll look, "what makesyou so fond of the Scotch? I don't like you for that;--I hatethese Scotch, and so must you. I wish Branghton had sent the dogto jail! That Scotch dog Macartney. "

"Why, sir, " said Mrs. Thrale, " don't you remember he says hewould, but that he should get nothing by it?"

" Why, ay, true, " cried the doctor, see-sawing very solemnly, "that, indeed, is some palliation for his forbearance. But Imust not have you so fond of the Scotch, my little Burney; makeyour hero what you will but a Scotchman. Besides, you writeScotch--you say 'the one'--my dear, that's not English, Never usethat phrase again. "

"Perhaps, " said Mrs. Thrale, "it may be used in Macartney'sletter, and then it will be a propriety. "

"No, madam, no!" cried he; "you can't make a beauty of it - it isin the third volume; put it in Macartney's letter, and welcome--that, or any thing that is nonsense. "

(85

"Why, surely, " cried I, "the poor man is used ill enough by theBranghtons. "

"But Branghton, " said he, "only hates him because of hiswretchedness--poor fellow!--But, my dear love, how should he everhave eaten a good dinner before he came to England? And then helaughed violently at young Branghton's idea. 

"Well, " said Mrs. Thrale, "I always liked Macartney; he is a verypretty character, and I took to him, as the folks say. ""Why, madam, " answered he, "I like Macartney myself. Yes, poorfellow, I liked the man, but I love not the nation. " And then heproceeded, in a dry manner, to make at once sarcastic reflectionson the Scotch, and flattering speeches to me. (49)

 DR. JOHNSON ON SOME "LADIES" OF HIS ACQUAINTANCE

Saturday. --Dr. Johnson was again all himself; and so civil tome!--even admiring how I dressed myself! Indeed, it is well Ihave so much of his favour - for it seems he always speaks hismind concerning the dress of ladies, and all ladies who are hereobey his injunctions implicitly, and alter whatever hedisapproves. This is a part of his character that much surprisesme: but notwithstanding he is sometimes so absent, and always sonear sighted, he scrutinizes into every part of almosteverybody's appearance. They tell me of a Miss Brown, who oftenvisits here, and who has a slovenly way of dressing. "And whenshe comes down in a morning, " says Mrs. Thrale, "her hair will beall loose, and her cap half off; and then Dr. Johnson, who seessomething is wrong, and does not know where the fault is, concludes it is in the cap, and says, "My dear, what do you wearsuch a vile cap for?" "I'll change it, Sir!" cries the poorgirl, "if you don't like it. " Ay, do, 'he says; and away runspoor Miss Brown; but when she gets on another, it's the samething, for the cap has nothing to do with the fault. And thenshe wonders Dr. Johnson should not like the cap, for she thinksit very pretty. And so on with her gown, which he also makes herchange; but if the poor girl86

were to change through all her wardrobe, unless she could put herthings on better, he would still find fault. "

When Dr. Johnson was gone, she told me of my mother's(50) beingobliged to change her dress. 

"Now, " said she " Mrs. Burney had on a very pretty linen jacketand coat, and was going to church; but Dr. Johnson, who, Isuppose, did not like her in a jacket, saw something was thematter, and so found fault with the linen: and he looked andpeered, and then said, 'Why, madam, this won't do! you must notgo to church so!' So away went poor Mrs. Burney, and changed hergown! And when she had done so, he did not like it, but he didnot know why, so he told her she should not wear a black hat andcloak in summer! "How he did bother poor Mrs. Burney! and himselftoo, for if the things had been put on to his mind, he would havetaken no notice of them. "

"Why, " said Mr. Thrale, very drily, "I don't think Mrs. Burney avery good dresser. "

"Last time she came, " said Mrs. Thrale, "she was in a whitecloak, and she told Dr. Johnson she had got her old white cloakscoured on purpose to oblige him! 'Scoured!' says he; 'ay, haveyou, madam?'--so he see-sawed, for he could not for shame findfault, but he did not seem to like the scouring. '

And now let me try to recollect an account he gave of certaincelebrated ladies of his acquaintance: an account in which, hadyou heard it from himself, would have made you die with laughing, his manner is so peculiar, and enforces his humour so originally. It was begun by Mrs. Thrale's apologising to himfor troubling him with some question she thought trifling--O, Iremember! We had been talking of colours, and of the fantasticnames given to them, and why the palest lilac should b called asoupir `etouff`e; and when Dr. Johnson came in, she applied tohim. 

"Why, madam, " said he, with wonderful readiness, "it is called astifled sigh because it is checked in its progress, and only halfa colour. "

I could not help expressing my amazement at his universalreadiness upon all subjects, and Mrs. Thrale said to him, "Sir, Miss Burney wonders at your patience with such stuff, but I tellher you are used to me, for I believe I torment you with morefoolish questions than anybody else dares do. "

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"No, madam, " said he; 'you don't torment me;--you teaze me, indeed, sometimes. "

"Ay, so I do, Dr. Johnson, and I wonder you bear with mynonsense. "

No, madam, you never talk nonsense; you have as much sense andmore wit, than any woman I know. "

"Oh, " cried Mrs. Thrale, blushing, "it is my turn to go under thetable this morning, Miss Burney!"

"And yet, " continued the doctor, with the most comical look, "Ihave known all the wits, from Mrs. Montagu down to Bet Flint. "

"Bet Flint cried Mrs. Thrale -pray, who is she?"

"Such a fine character, madam! She was habitually a slut and adrunkard, and occasionally a thief and a harlot. "

"And, for heaven's sake, how came you to know her?"

"Why, madam, she figured in the literary world, too! Bet Flintwrote her own life, and called herself Cassandra, and it was inverse;--it began:

'When Nature first ordained my birth, A diminutive I was born on earth:And then I came from a dark abode, Into a gay and gaudy world. '(51)

So Bet brought me her verses to correct; but I gave herhalf-a-crown, and she liked it as well. Bet had a fine spirit;--she advertised for a husband, but she had no success, for shetold me no man aspired to her! Then she hired very handsomelodgings and a footboy; and she got a harpsichord, but Bet couldnot play; however, she put herself in fine attitudes, anddrummed. "

Then he gave an account of another of these geniuses, who calledherself by some fine name, I have forgotten what. 

"She had not quite the same stock of virtue, " continued he, "northe same stock of honesty as Bet Flint; but I suppose she enviedher accomplishments, for she was so little moved by the power ofharmony, that while Bet Flint thought she was drumming verydivinely, the other jade had her indicted for a nuisance!"

"And pray what became of her, sir?

88

"Why, madam, she stole a quilt from the man of the house, and hehad her taken up: but Bet Flint had a spirit not to be subdued;so when she found herself obliged to go to jail, she ordered asedan chair, and bid her footboy walk before her. However, theboy proved refractory, for he was ashamed, though his mistresswas not. ""

"And did she ever get out of jail again, sir?""Yes, madam; when she came to her trial the judge acquitted her. 'So now, ' she said to me, 'the quilt is MY own, and now I'll makea petticoat of it. ' Oh, I loved Bet Flint!"(52)

Oh, how we all laughed! Then he gave an account of another lady, who called herself Laurinda, and who also wrote verses and stolefurniture; but he had not the same affection for her, he said, though she too "was a lady who had high notions of honour. "

Then followed the history of another, who called herselfHortensia, and who walked up and down the park repeating a bookof Virgil. But, " said he " "though I know her story, I never hadthe good fortune to see her. "

After this he gave us an account of the famous Mrs. Pinkethman:"And she, " he said, "told me she owed all her misfortunes to herwit; for she was so unhappy as to marry a man who thought himselfalso a wit, though I believe she gave him not implicit credit forit, but it occasioned much contradiction and ill-will. "

"Bless me, sir, " cried Mrs. Thrale, "how can all these vagabondscontrive to get at you, of all people?"

"O the dear creatures!" cried he, laughing heartily, "I can't butbe glad to see them. "

"Why, I wonder, sir, you never went to see Mrs. Rudd, (53) amongthe rest. "

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"Why, madam, I believe I should, " said he, "if it was not for thenewspapers; but I am prevented many frolics that I should likevery well, since I am become such a theme for the papers. "

Now, would you ever have imagined this? Bet Flint, it seems, took Kitty Fisher(54) to see him, but to his no little regret hewas not at home. "And Mrs. Williams, "(55) he added, "did notlove Bet Flint, but Bet Flint made herself very easy about that. "

 A LEARNED MAN ON "EVELINA. "

When we were dressed for dinner, and went into the parlour, wehad the agreeable surprise of seeing Mr. Seward. There was alsoMr. Lort, (56) who is reckoned one of the most learned men alive, and is also a collector of curiosities, , alike in literature andnatural history. His manners are somewhat blunt and odd, and heis altogether out of the common road, without having chosen abetter path. 

The day was passed most agreeably. In the evening we had, asusual, a literary conversation. Mr. Lort produced severalcurious MSS. Of the famous Bristol Chatterton; among others, hiswill, and divers verses written against Dr. Johnson, as aplaceman and pensioner; all of which he read aloud, with a steadyvoice and unmoved countenance. 

I was astonished at him; Mrs. Thrale not much pleased; Mr. Thralesilent and attentive; and Mr. Seward was slily laughing. Dr. Johnson himself listened profoundly and laughed openly. Indeed, I believe he wishes his abusers no other Thiing than a gooddinner, like Pope. (57)

Just as we had got our biscuits and toast-and-water, which makethe Streatham supper, and which, indeed, is all there is anychance of eating after our late and great dinners, Mr. Lortsuddenly said, "Pray, ma'am, have you heard anything of a novel that runs abouta good deal, called 'Evelina'?"

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What a ferment did this question, before such a set, Put me in!I did not know whether he spoke to me, or Mrs. Thrale, and Mrs. Thrale was in the same doubt, and as she owned, felt herself in alittle palpitation for me, not knowing what might come next, Between us both, therefore, he had no answer. "It has been recommended to me, " continued he; "but I have nogreat desire to see it, because it has such a foolish name. YetI have heard a great deal of it, too. "

He then repeated "Evelina"--in a very languishing and ridiculoustone. 

My heart beat so quick against my stays that I almost panted withextreme agitation, from the dread either of hearing some horriblecriticism, or of being betrayed: and I munched my biscuit as if Ihad not eaten for a fortnight. 

I believe the whole party were in some little consternation Dr. Johnson began see-sawing; Mr. Thrale awoke; Mr. E--' who I fearhas picked up some notion of the affair from being so much in thehouse, grinned amazingly; and Mr. Seward, biting his nails andflinging himself back in his chair, I am sure had wickednessenough to enjoy the whole scene. 

Mrs. Thrale was really a little fluttered, but without looking atme, said, "And pray what, Mr. Lort, what have you heard of it?"

"Why they say, " answered he, "that it's an account of a younglady's first entrance into company, and of the scrapes she getsinto; and they say there's a great deal of character in it, but Ihave not cared to look in it, because the name is so foolish--'Evelina'!"

"Why foolish, sir?" cried Dr. Johnson. "Where's the folly ofit?"

"Why, I won't say much for the name myself, " said Mrs. Thrale, "to those who don't know the reason of it, which I found out, butwhich nobody else seems to know. " She then explained the namefrom Evelyn, according to my own meaning. 

"Well, " said Dr. Johnson, " if that was the reason, it is a verygood one. "

"Why, have you had the book here?" cried Mr. Lort, staring. 

"Ay, indeed, have we, " said Mrs. Thrale; "I read it When I waslast confined, and I laughed over it, and I cried over it!"

"O ho!" said Mr. Lort, "this is another thing! If you have hadit here, I will certainly read it. "

"Had it? ay, " returned she; "and Dr. Johnson, who would

91

not look at it at first, was so caught by it when I put it inthe coach with him, that he has sung its praises eversince, --and he says Richardson would have been proud to have written it. "

"O ho! this is a good hearing, " cried Mr. Lort; "if Dr. Johnson can read it, I shall get it with all speed. "

"You need not go far for it, " said Mrs. Thrale, "for it'snow upon yonder table. "

I could sit still no longer; there was something so awkward, souncommon, so strange in my then situation, that I wishedmyself a hundred miles off, and indeed, I had almost chokedmyself with the biscuit, for I could not for my life swallow it:and so I got up, and, as Mr. Lort wen to the table to look for"Evelina, " I left the room, and was forced to call forwater to wash down the biscuit, which literally stuck in mythroat. 

I heartily wished Mr. Lort at jerusalem. I did not much likegoing back, but the moment I recovered breath, Iresolved not to make bad worse by staying longer away: but atthe door of the room, I met Mrs. Thrale, who, asking me if Iwould have some water, took me into a back room, and burst into ahearty fit of laughter. 

"This is very good sport, " cried she; "the man is as innocentabout the matter as a child, and we shall hear what he saysabout it to-morrow morning at breakfast. I made a sign to Dr. Jonnson and Seward not to tell him. "

she found I was not in a humour to think it such good sport asshe did, she grew more serious, . And taking my hand kindly said, "May you never, Miss Burney, know any other pain than that ofhearing yourself praised! and I am sure that you must oftenfeel. "

When I told her how much I dreaded being discovered, and beggther not to betray me any further, she again began laughing, andopenly declared she should not consult me about the matter. Butshe told me that, as soon as I had left the room, when Mr. Lorttook up "Evelina, " he exclaimed contemptuously "Why, it's printedfor Lowndes!" and that Dr. Johnson then told him there werethings and characters in it more than worthy of Fielding. "Oh ho!" cried Mr. Lort; "what, is it better than Fielding?""Harry Fielding, " answered Dr. Johnson, "knew nothingbut the shell of life. "

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"So you, ma'am, " added the flattering Mrs. Thrale, "have foundthe kernel. "

Are they all mad? or do they only want to make me so

 CURIOSITY REGARDING THE AUTHOR OF "EVELINA. "

Streatham, Sept. -- Our Monday's intended great party was verysmall, for people are so dispersed at present in Variousquarters: we had, therefore, only Sir Joshua Reynolds, two MissPalmers, Dr. Calvert, Mr. Rose Fuller, and Lady Ladd. (58) Dr. Johnson did not return. 

Sir Joshua I am much pleased with: I like his ccountenance, and Ilike his manners; the former I think expressive, and sensible;the latter gentle, unassuming, and engaging. 

The dinner, in quantity as well as quality, would have sufficedfor forty people. Sir Joshua said, when the dessert appeared, "Now if all the company should take a fancy to the same dish, there would be sufficient for all the company from any one. "

After dinner, as usual, we strolled out: I ran first into thehall for my cloak-, and Mrs. Thrale, running after me, said in alow voice, "If you are taxed with 'Evelina, ' don't own it; I intend to sayit is mine, for sport's sake. "

You may think how much I was surprised, and how readily I agreednot to own it; but I could ask no questions, for the two MissPalmers followed close, saying, "Now pray, ma'am, tell us who it is?"

"No, no, " cried Mrs. Thrale, "who it is, you must find out. Ihave told you that you dined with the author; but the rest youmust make out as you can. "

Miss Thrale began tittering violently, but I entreated her not tobetray me; and, as soon as I could, I got Mrs. Thrale to tell mewhat all this meant. She then acquainted me, that, when shefirst came into the parlour, she found them all busy in talkingof "Evelina, " and heard that Sir Joshua had declared he wouldgive fifty pounds to know the author!

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"Well, " said Mrs. Thrale, "thus much, then, I Will tell you; theauthor will dine with you to-day. "

They were then all distracted to know the party. 

"Why, " said she, "we shall have Dr. Calvert, Lady Ladd, RoseFuller, and Miss Burney. "

"Miss Burney?" quoth they, "which Miss Burney?"

"Why, the eldest, Miss Fanny Burney; and so out of this list youmust make out the author. "

I shook my head at her, but begged her, at least, to go nofurther. 

"No, no, " cried she, laughing, "leave me alone; the fun will beto make them think it me. "

Howeverp as I learnt at night, when they were gone, Sir Joshuawas so very importunate with Mr. Thrale, and attacked him withsuch eagerness, that he made him confess who it was, as soon asthe ladies retired. 

Well, to return to our walk. The Miss Palmers grew more and moreurgent. 

"Did we indeed, " said the eldest, "dine with the author of'Evelina?'"

"Yes, in good truth did you. "

"Why then, ma'am, it was yourself. "

"I shan't tell you whethir it was or not; but were there notother people at dinner besides me? What think you of Dr. Calvert?"

"Dr. Calvert? no! no; I am sure it was not he: besides, they sayit was certainly written by a woman. "

"By a woman? nay, then, is not here Lady Ladd, and Miss Burney, and Hester?"(59)

"Lady Ladd I am sure it was not, nor could it be Miss Thrale's. O maam! I begin to think it was really yours! Now, was it not, Mrs. Thrale?"

Mrs. Thrale only laughed. 

"A lady of our acquaintance, " said Miss Palmer, "Mrs. Cholmondeley, went herself to the printer, but he would nottell. "

"Would he not?" cried Mrs. Thrale, "why, then, he's an honestman. "

"Oh, is he so?--nay, then, it is certainly Mrs. Thrale's. "

"well, well, I told you before I should not deny it. "

"Miss Burney, " said she, "pray do you deny it?" in a

94

voice that seemed to say, --I must ask round, though rather fromcivility than suspicion. 

"Me?" cried I, "well no: if nobody else will deny it, why shouldI? It does not seem the fashion to deny it. "

"No, in truth, " cried she; "I believe nobody would think ofdenying it that could claim it, for it is the sweetest book inthe world. My uncle could not go to bed till he had finished it, and he says he is sure he shall make love to the author, if everhe meets with her, and it should really be a woman!"

"Dear madam, " cried Miss Offy, "I am sure it was you but why willyou not own it at once?"

"I shall neither own nor deny anything about it. "

"A gentleman whom we know very well, " said Miss Palmer, "when hecould learn nothing at the printer's, took the trouble to go allabout Snow Hill, to see if he could find any silversmith's. ""Well, he was a cunning creature!" said Mrs. Thrale; "but Dr. Johnson's favourite is Mr. Smith. "

"So he is of everybody, " answered she: "he and all that family;everybody says Such a family never was drawn before. But Mrs. Cholmondeley's favourite is Madame Duval; she acts her frommorning to night, and ma-foi's everybody she sees. But though weall want so much to know the author, both Mrs. Cholmondeley andmy uncle himself say they should be frightened to death to be inher company, because she must be such a very nice observer, thatthere would be no escaping her with safety. "

What strange ideas are taken from mere book-reading! But whatfollows gave me the highest delight I can feel. 

"Mr. Burke, "(60) she continued, "doats on it: he began it onemorning at seven o'clock, and could not leave it a moment; he satup all night reading it. He says he has not seen such a book hecan't tell when. "

Mrs. Thrale gave me involuntarily a look of congratulation, andcould not forbear exclaiming, "How glad she was Mr. Burkeapproved it!" This served to confirm the Palmers in theirmistake, and they now, without further questioning, quietly andunaffectedly concluded the book to be really Mrs. Thrale's andMiss Palmer said, --"Indeed, ma'am, you Ought to write a novelevery year: nobody can write like you!"

I was both delighted and diverted at this mistake, and they95

grew so easy and so satisfied under it, that the conversationdropped, and offy went to the harpsichord. 

Not long after, the party broke up, and they took leave. I had no conversation with Sir Joshua all day; but I found myselfmore an object of attention to him than I wished; and he severaltimes spoke to me, though he did not make love!

When they rose to take leave, Miss Palmer, with the air of askingthe greatest of favours, hoped to see me when I returned to town;and Sir Joshua, approaching me with the most profound respect, inquired how long I should remain at Streatham? A week, Ibelieved: and then he hoped, when I left it, they should have thehonour of seeing me in Leicester Square. (61)

In short, the joke is, the people speak as if they were afraid ofme, instead of my being afraid of them. It seems, when they gotto the door, Miss Palmer said to Mrs. Thrale, "Ma'am, so it's Miss Burney after all!"

"Ay, sure, " answered she, "who should it be?"

"Ah! why did not you tell us sooner?" said Offy, "that we mighthave had a little talk about it?"

Here, therefore, end all my hopes of secrecy!

 THE MEMBERS OF DR. JOHNSON'S HOUSEHOLD. 

At tea-time the subject turned upon the domestic economy "' ofDr. Johnson's household. Mrs. Thrale has often acquainted methat his house is quite filled and overrun with all sorts ofstrange creatures, whom he admits for mere charity, and becausenobody else will admit them, --for his charity is unbounded; or, rather, bounded only by his circumstances. 

The account he gave of the adventures and absurdities of the set, was highly diverting, but too diffused for writing--though one ortwo speeches I must give. I think I shall occasionallytheatricalise my dialogues. 

Mrs. Thrale-Pray, Sir, how does Mrs. Williams like all thistribe?

Johnson-Madam, she does not like them at all: but their fondnessfor her is not greater. She and De Mullin(62)

96. 

quarrel incessantly; but as they can both be occasionally ofservice to each other, and as neither of them have a place to goto, their animMOSity does not force them to separate. 

 Mrs. T. -And pray, sir, what is Mr. Macbean?(63)

Dr. J. -Madam, he is a Scotchman: he is a man of great learning, and for his learning I respect him, and I wish to serve him. Heknows many languages, and knows them well; but he knows nothingof life. I advised him to write a geographical dictionary; but Ihave lost all hopes of his doing anything properly, since I foundhe gave as much labour to Capua as to Rome. 

Mr. T. -And pray who is clerk of your kitchen, sir?

Dr. J. -Why, sir, I am afraid there is none; a general anarchyprevails in my kitchen, as I am told by Mr. Levat, (64) who saysit is not now what it used to be!

Mrs. T. -Mr. Levat, I suppose, sir, has the office of keeping thehospital in health? for he Is an apothecary. 

Dr. J. -Levat, madam, is a brutal fellow, but I have a good regardfor him; for his brutality is in his manners, not his mind. 

Mr. T. -But how do you get your dinners drest ?

Dr. J. -Why De Mullin has the chief management of the kitchen; butour roasting is not magnificent, for we hav no jack. 

Mr. T. -No jack? Why, how do they manage without?

Dr. J. -Small joints, I believe, they manage with a string, largerare done at the tavern. I have some thoughts (with profoundgravity) of buying a jack, because I think a jack is some creditto a house. 

Mr. T. -Well, but you'll have a spit, too?

Dr. J. -No, sir, no; that would be superfluous; for we shall neveruse it; and if a jack is seen, a spit will be presumed!

Mrs. T. -But pray, sir, who is the Poll you talk of? She97that you used to abet in her quarrels with Mrs. Williams, andcall out, "At her again, Poll! Never flinch, Poll>"(65)

Dr. J. -Why, I took to Poll very well at first, but she won't doupon a nearer examination. 

Mrs. T. -How came she among you, sir?

Dr. J. -Why I don't rightly remember, but we could spare her verywell from us. Poll is a stupid slut; I had some hopes of her atfirst; but when I talked to her tightly and closely, I could makenothing of her; she was wiggle waggle, and I could never persuadeher to be categorical, I wish Miss Burney would come among us; ifshe would Only give US a week, we should furnish her with amplematerials for a new scene in her next work. 

 ANTICIPATED VISIT FROM MRS. MONTAGU. 

("The great Mrs. Montagu" deserves a somewhat longer notice thancan be conveniently compressed within the limits of a footnote. She was as indisputably, in public estimation, the leadingliterary lady of the time, as Johnson was the leading man ofletters. Her maiden name was Elizabeth Robinson. She was bornat York in the year 1720, and married, in 1742, Edward Montagu, grandson of the first Earl of Sandwich. Her husband's death, in1775, left her in the possession of a handsome fortune. Mrs. Montagu's literary celebrity was by no means dearly bought, forit rested, almost exclusively, on her "Essay on the Writings andGenius of Shakespear, " published by Dodsley in 1769. Indeed, theonly other writings which she committed to the press were three"Dialogues of the Dead, " appended to the Well-known "Dialogues"of her friend, Lord Lyttelton. The "Essay" is an elegantlywritten little work, superficial when regarded in the light ofmodern criticism, but marked by good sense and discrimination. One of the chief objects of the authoress was to defendShakespeare against the strictures of Voltaire, and in this notvery difficult task she has undoubtedly succeeded. Johnson'sopinion of the "Essay" was unfavourable. To Sir JoshuaReynolds's remark, that it did honour to its authoress, hereplied: "Yes Sir: it does her honour, but it would do nobodyelse honour;" and he goes on to observe that "there is not onesentence of true criticism in the book. " But if the

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general applause which the book had excited was out of allproportion to its merits, Johnson's unqualified condemnation wasmore than equally disproportionate to its defects. 

Of Mrs. Montagu's conversational abilities Johnson entertained ahigher opinion. " Sir, " he would say, "that lady exerts moremind in conversation than any person I ever met with" (MissReynolds's Recollections). It was probably, indeed, to the fameof her conversation, and of the has biem parties which assembledat her house, that she owed the greater part of her reputation. She was the acknowledged " Queen of the Blue Stockings, , althoughthe epithet originated with a rival giver of literary parties, Mrs. Vesey, who, replying to the apology of a gentleman whodeclined an invitation to one of her meetings on the plea of wantof dress, exclaimed, "Pho, pho! don't mind dress! Come in yourblue stockings!" The term "Blue Stocking" (bas bleu) wasthenceforward applied to the set which met at Mrs. Vesey's, andwas gradually extended to other coteries of similar character. 

The charitable and beneficient disposition of Mrs. Montagu was asnotorious as her intellectual superiority. It may be interestinghere to observe that after her husband's death, in 1775, shedoubled the income of poor Anna Williams, the blind poetess whoresided with Dr. Johnson, by settling upon her an annuity of tenpounds. The publication of Johnson's "Lives of the Poets, " in1781, occasioned a coolness between the doctor and Mrs. Montagu, on account of the severity with which, in that work, he hadhandled the character of Lord Lyttelton. In September, 1783, however, Dr. Johnson wrote to the lady to announce the death ofher pensioner, Miss Williams; and shortly afterwards he informsMrs. Thrale that he has received a reply "not only civil buttender; so I hope peace is proclaimed. " Mrs. Montagu died at herhouse in Portman Square, in the year 1800. -ED. ]

I was looking over the " Life of Cowley, " which Dr. Johnson hadhimself given me to read, at the same time that he gave to Mrs. Thrale that of Waller. ' But he bade me put it away. 

"Do, " cried he, "put away that now, and prattle with us; I can'tmake this little Burney prattle, and I am sure she prattles well;but I shall teach her another lesson than to sit thus silentbefore I have done with her. "

"To talk, " cried I, "is the only lesson I shall be backward tolearn from you, sir. "

"You shall give me, " cried he, "a discourse upon the passions:come, begin! Tell us the necessity of regulating them

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Watching over and curbing them! Did you ever read Norris's"Theory of Love?"(67)

"No, sir, " said I, laughing, yet staring a little. 

Dr. J. -It is well worth your reading. He will make you see thatinordinate love is the root of all evil" inordinate love ofwealth brings on avarice; of wine, brings on intemperance; ofpower, brings on cruelty; and so on. He deduces from inordinatelove all human frailty. "

Mrs. T. -To-morrow, sir, Mrs. Montagu dines here, and then youwill have talk enough. 

Dr. Johnson began to see-saw, with a countenance stronglyexpressive of inward fun, and after enjoying it Some time insilence, he suddenly, and with great animation, turned to me andcried, "Down with her, Burney!--down with her!--spare her not!--attackher, fight her, and down with her at once! You are a rising wit, and she is at the top; and when I was beginning the world, andwas nothing and nobody, the joy of my life was to fire at all theestablished wits! and then everybody loved to halloo me on. Butthere is no game now; every body would be glad to see meconquered: but then, when I was new, to vanquish the great oneswas all the delight of my poor little dear soul! So at her, Burney--at her, and down with her!"

Oh, how we were all amused! By the way I must tell you that Mrs. Montagu is in very great estimation here, even with Dr. Johnsonhimself, when others do not praise her improperly. Mrs. Thraleranks her as the first of women in the literary way. I shouldhave told you that Miss Gregory, daughter of the Gregory whowrote the "Letters, " or, "Legacy of Advice, " lives with Mrs. Montagu, and was invited to accompany her. (68)

"Mark now, " said Dr. Johnson, "if I contradict her tomorrow. Iam determined, let her say what she will, that I will notcontradict her. "

Mrs. T. -Why, to be sure, sir, you did put her a little out Ofcountenance the last time she came. Yet you were neither rough, nor cruel, nor ill-natured, but still, when a lady changescolour, we imagine her feelings are not quite composed. 

100 '

Dr. J. -Why, madam, I won't answer that I shan't Contradict heragain, if she provokes me as she did then ; but a lessprovocation I will withstand. I believe I am not high in hergood graces already ; and I begin (added he, laughing heartily), to tremble for my admission into her new house. I doubt I shallnever see the inside of it. 

(Mrs. Montagu is building a most superb house. )(69)

Mrs. T. -Oh, I warrant you, she fears you, indeed; but that, youknow, is nothing uncommon: and dearly I love to hear yourdisquisitions; for certainly she is the first woman for literaryknowledge in England, and if in England, I hope I may say in theworld. 

Dr. J. -I believe you may, madam. She diffuses more knowledge inher conversation than any woman I know, or, indeed, almost anyman. Mrs. T. -I declare I know no man equal to her, take away yourselfand Burke, for that art. And you who love magnificence, won'tquarrel with her, as everybody else does, for her love of finery. 

Dr. J. -No, I shall not quarrel with her upon that topic. 

 FANNY BURNEY'S INTRODUCTION TO A CELEBRATED "BLUE-STOCKING. "

Wednesday. -We could not prevail with Dr. Johnson to stay tillMrs. Montagu arrived, though, by appointment, she came veryearly. She and Miss Gregory came by one o'clock. 

There was no party to meet her. She is middle-sized, very thin, and looks infirm ; she has asensible and penetrating countenance, and the air and manner of awoman accustomed to being distinguished, and of great parts. Dr. Johnson, who agrees in this, told us that a Mrs. Hervey, of hisacquaintance, says she can remember Mrs. Montagu trying for thissame air and manner. Mr. Crisp has said the same: however, nobody can now impartially see her, and not confess that she hasextremely well succeeded. 

My expectations, which were compounded of the praise of Mrs. Thrale, and the abuse of Mr. Crisp, were most exactly, answered, for I thought her in a medium way. 

Miss Gregory is a fine young woman, and seems gentle andwell-bred. A bustle with the dog Presto--Mrs. Thrale's favourite--at

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the entrance of these ladies into the library, prevented anyformal reception; but as soon as Mrs. Montagu heard my name, sheinquired very civilly after my father, and made many speechesconcerning a volume of "Linguet, "(70) which she has lost; but shehopes soon to be able to replace it. I am sure he is very highin her favour, because she did me the honour of addressingherself to me three or four times. 

But my ease and tranquillity were soon disturbed: for she had notbeen in the room more than ten minutes, ere, turning to Mrs. Thrale, she said, "Oh, ma'am--but your 'Evelina'--I have not yet got it. I sentfor it, but the bookseller had it not. However, I will certainlyhave it. "

"Ay, I hope so, " answered Mrs. Thrale, "and I hope you Will likeit too; for 'tis a book to be liked. "

I began now a vehement nose-blowing, for the benefit ofhandkerchiefing my face. "

I hope though, " said Mrs. Montagu, drily, "it is not in verse? Ican read anything in prose, but I have a great dread of a longstory in verse. "

"No, ma'am, no; 'tis all in prose, I assure you. 'Tis a novel;and an exceeding--but it does nothing good to be praised toomuch, so I will say nothing more about it: only this, that Mr. Burke sat up all night to read it. "

" Indeed? Well, I propose myself great pleasure from it and I amgratified by hearing it is written by a woman. "

 "And Sir Joshua Reynolds, " continued Mrs. Thrale, "has beenoffering fifty pounds to know the author. "

"Well, I will have it to read on my journey; I am going toBerkshire, and it shall be my travelling book. "

" No, ma'am if you please you shall have it now. Queeny, do lookit for Mrs. Montagu, and let it be put in her carriage, and go totown with her. "

Miss Thrale rose to look for it, and involuntarily I rose too, intending to walk off, for my situation was inexpressiblyawkward; but then I recollected that if I went away, it mightseem like giving Mrs. Thrale leave and opportunity to tell mytale, and therefore I stopped at a distant window, where I busiedmyself in contemplating the poultry. 

"And Dr. Johnson, ma'am, " added my kind puffer, "says

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Fielding never wrote so well--never wrote equal to this book; hesays it is a better picture of life and manners than is to befound anywhere in Fielding. "

"Indeed?" cried Mrs. Montagu, surprised; "that I did not expect, for I have been informed it is the work of a young lady andtherefore, though I expected a very pretty book, I supposed it tobe a work of mere imagination, and the name I thought attractive;but life and manners I never dreamt of finding. "

"Well, ma'am, what I tell you is literally true; and for my part, I am never better pleased than when good girls write cleverbooks--and that this is clever--But all this time we are killingMiss Burney, who wrote the book herself. "

What a clap of thunder was this !-the last thing in the world Ishould have expected before my face? I know not what bewitchedMrs. Thrale, but this was carrying the jest further than ever. All retenu being now at an end, I fairly and abruptly took to myheels, and ran out of the room with the utmost trepidation, amidst astonished exclamations from Mrs, Montagu and MissGregory. 

I was horribly disconcerted, but I am now so irrecoverably in forit, that I begin to leave off reproaches and expostulations;indeed, they have very little availed me while they might havebeen of service, but now they would pass for mere parade andaffectation; and therefore since they can do no good, I gulp themdown. I find them, indeed, somewhat hard of digestion, but theymust make their own way as well as they can. 

I determined not to make my appearance again till dinner was upontable; yet I could neither read nor write, nor indeed do anything but consider the new situation in life into which I am thushurried--I had almost said forced--and if I had, methinks itwould be no untruth. 

Miss Thrale came laughing up after me, and tried to persuade meto return. She was mightily diverted all the morning, and cameto me with repeated messages of summons to attend the company, but I could not brave it again into the roon', and thereforeentreated her to say I was finishing a letter. Yet I was sorryto lose so much of Mrs. Montagu. 

When dinner was upon table, I followed the procession, in atragedy step, as Mr. Thrale will have it, into the diningparlour. Dr. Johnson was returned. 

The conversation was not brilliant, nor do I remember much

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of it; but Mrs. Montagu behaved to me just as I could havewished, since she spoke to me very little, but spoke that littlewith the utmost politeness. But Miss Gregory, though herself amodest girl, quite stared me out of countenance, and never tookher eyes off my face. 

When Mrs. Montagu's new house was talked of, Dr. Johnson, in ajocose manner, desired to know if he should be invited to see it. 

"Ay, sure, " cried Mrs. Montagu, looking well pleased; "or Ishan't like it: but I invite you all to a house warming; I shallhope for the honour of seeing all this company at my new housenext Easter day: I fix the day now that it may be remembered. '

Everybody bowed and accepted the invite but me, and I thoughtfitting not to hear it; for I have no notion of snapping atinvites from the eminent. But Dr. Johnson, who sat next to me, Was determined I should be of the party, for he suddenly clappedhis hand on my shoulder, and called out aloud, "Little Burney, you and I will go together?"

"Yes, surely, " cried Mrs. Montagu, "I shall hope for the pleasureof seeing 'Evelina. '"

"'Evelina>'" repeated he; "has Mrs. Montagu then foundout 'Evelina?'"

"Yes, " cried she, "and I am proud of it: I am proud that a workso commended should be a woman's. "

hhow my face burnt!

"Has Mrs. Montagu, " asked Dr. Johnson, "read 'Evelina?'"

"No, sir, not yet; but I shall immediately, for I feel thegreatest eagerness to read it. "

"I am very sorry, madam, " replied he, "that you have not already, read it, because you cannot speak of it with a full conviction ofits merit: which, I believe, when you have read it, you will havegreat pleasure in acknowledging. "

Some other things were said, but I remember them not, for I couldhardly keep my place: but my sweet, naughty Mrs. Thrale lookeddelighted for me. . . . . . 

When they were gone, how did Dr. Johnson astonish me by asking ifI had observed what an ugly cap Miss Gregory had on? Then takingboth my hands, and looking at me with an expression of muchkindness, he said, "Well, Miss Burney, Mrs. Montagu now will read 'Evelina'". . . . . . 104Mrs. Thrale then told me such civil things. Mrs. Montagu, itseems, during my retreat, inquired very particularly what kind ofbook it was?

"And I told her, " continued Mrs. Thrale, "that it was a pictureof life, manners, and characters. 'But won't she go on, ' saysshe; 'surely she won't stop here?'

"'Why, ' said I, 'I want her to go on in a new path--I want her towrite a comedy. '

"'But, ' said Mrs. Montagu, 'one thing must be considered;Fielding, who was so admirable in novel writing, never succeededwhen he wrote for the stage. '"

"Very well said, " cried Dr. Johnson "that was an answer whichshowed she considered her subject. "

Mrs. Thrale continued :

"'Well, but `a propos, ' said Mrs. Montagu, 'if Miss Burney doeswrite a play, I beg I may know of it; or, if she thinks proper, see it; and all my influence is at her service. We shall all beglad to assist in spreading the fame of Miss Burney. '"

I tremble for what all this will end in. I verily think I hadbest stop where I am, and never again attempt writing: for afterso much honour, so much success--how shall I bear a downfall?

 DR. JOHNSON'S COMPLIMENTS AND GROSS SPEECHES. 

Monday, Sept. 21. -I have had a thousand delightful conversationswith Dr. Johnson, who, whether he loves me or not, I am sureseems to have some opinion of my discretion, for he speaks of allthis house to me with unbounded confidence, neither diminishingfaults, nor exaggerating praise. 

Whenever he is below stairs he keeps me a prisoner, for he doesnot like I should quit the room a moment; if I rise he constantlycalls out, "Don't you go, little Burney!"

Last night, when we were talking of compliments and of grossspeeches, Mrs. Thrale most justly said, that nobody could makeeither like Dr. Johnson. "Your compliments, sir, are madeseldom, but when they are made they have an elegance unequalled;but then when you are angry! who dares make speeches so bitterand so cruel?"

Dr. J. -Madam, I am always sorry when I make bitter speeches, andI never do it, but when I am insufferably vexed. 

Mrs. T-Yes, Sir; but you suffer things to vex you, that105

nobody else would vex at. I am sure I have had my share ofscoldings from YOU!

Dr. J-It is true, you have ; but you have borne it like an angel, and you have been the better for it. 

Mrs. T. -That I believe, sir: for I have received more instructionfrom You than from any man, or any book: and the vanity that youshould think me worth instructing, always overcame the vanity(71)of being found fault with. And so you had the scolding, and Ithe improvement. 

F. B. -And I am sure both make for the honour of both!

Dr J. -I think so too. But Mrs. Thrale is a sweet creature, andnever angry; she has a temper the most delightful of any woman Iever knew. 

Mrs. T-This I can tell you, sir, and without any flattery-- I notonly bear your reproofs when present, but in almost everything Ido in your absence, I ask myself whether you would like it, andwhat you would say to it. Yet I believe there is nobody youdispute with oftener than me. 

F. B. -But you two are so well established with one another, thatyou can bear a rebuff that would kill a stranger. 

Dr. J. -Yes; but we disputed the same before we were so wellestablished with one another. 

Mrs. T. -Oh, sometimes I think I shall die no other death thanhearing the bitter things he says to others. What he says tomyself I can bear, because I know how sincerely he is my friend, and that he means to mend me; but to others it is cruel. 

Dr. J. -Why, madam, you often provoke me to say severe things, byunreasonable commendation. If you would not call for my praise, I would not give you my censure; but it constantly moves myindignation to be applied to, to speak well of a thing which Ithink contemptible. 

F. B. -Well, this I know, whoever I may hear complain of Dr. Johnson's severity, I shall always vouch for his kindness, as faras regards myself, and his indulgence. 

Mrs. T. -Ay, but I hope he will trim you yet, too!

Dr. J. -I hope not: I should be very sorry to say anythingthat should vex my dear little Burney. 

F. B. -If you did, sir, it would vex me more than you can imagine. I should sink in a minute. 

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Mrs-. T. -I remember, sir, when we were travelling in Wales, howyou called me to account for my civility to the people. 'Madam, 'you said, 'let me have no more of this idle commendation ofnothing. Why is it, that whatever You see, and whoever you see, you are to be so indiscriminately lavish of praise?' 'Why! I'lltell you, sir, ' said I, 'when I am with you and Mr. Thrale, andQueeny, I am obliged to be civil for four!'"

There was a cutter for you! But this I must say, for the honourof both--Mrs. Thrale speaks to Dr. Johnson with as muchsincerity, (though with greater softness, ) as he does to her. 

 SUGGESTED HUSBANDS FOR FANNY BURNEY. 

Sept. 26-The present chief sport with Mrs. Thrale is disposing ofme in the holy state of matrimony, and she offers me whoevercomes to the house. This was begun by Mrs. Montagu, who, itseems, proposed a match for me in my absence, with Sir JoshuaReynolds!-no less a man, I assure you!

When I was dressing for dinner, Mrs. Thrale told me that Mr. Crutchley was expected. 

"Who's he?" quoth I. 

" A young man of very large fortune, who was a ward of Mr. Thrale. Queeny, what do you say of him for Miss Burney?"

"Him?" cried she; "no, indeed; what has Miss Burney done to havehim?"

" Nay, believe me, a man of his fortune may offer himselfanywhere. However, I won't recommend him. "

" Why then, ma'am, " cried I, with dignity, "I reject him!"

This Mr. Crutchley stayed till after breakfast the next morning. I can't tell you anything, of him, because I neither like nordislike him. Mr. Crutchley was scarce gone, ere Mr. Smitharrived. Mr. Smith is a second cousin to Mr. Thrale, and amodest pretty sort of young man. He stayed till Friday morning. When he was gone, "What say you to him, Miss Burney?" cried Mrs. Thrale; "I'm sureI offer you variety. "

"Why I like him better than Mr. Crutchley, but I don't think Ishall pine for either of them. "

, Dr. Johnson, " said Mrs. Thrale, "don't you think JerryCrutchley very much improved?"

Dr. J. -Yes, madam, I think he is. 

Mrs. T. -Shall he have Miss Burney?107

Dr. J. -Why, I think not; at least I must know more about him; IMust inquire into his connections, his recreations, hisemployments, and his character, from his intimates, before Itrust Miss Burney with him. And he must come down veryhandsomely with a settlement. I will not have him left to hisgenerosity; for as he will marry her for her wit, and she him forhis fortune, he ought to bid well, and let him come down withwhat he will, his price will never be equal to her worth. 

Mrs. T. -She says she likes Mr. Smith better. 

Dr. J. -Yes, but I won't have her like Mr. Smith without money, better than Mr. Crutchley with it. Besides, if she hasCrutchley, he will use her well, to vindicate his choice. Theworld, madam, has a reasonable claim upon all mankind to accountfor their conduct; therefore, if with his great wealth, hemarries a woman who has but little, he will be more attentive todisplay her merit, than if she was equally rich, --in order toshow that the woman he has chosen deserves from the world all therespect and admiration it can bestow, or that else she would nothave been hischoice. 

Mrs. T. -I believe young Smith is the better man. 

F. B. -Well, I won't be rash in thinking of either; I will takesome time for consideration before I fix. 

Dr. J. -Why, I don't hold it to be delicate to offer marriage toladies, even in jest, nor do I approve such sort of jocularity;yet for once I must break through the rules of decorum, andPropose a match myself for Miss Burney. I therefore nominnateSir J- L-. (72)

Mrs. T. -I'll give you my word, sir, you are not the first to saythat, for my master the other morning, when we were alone, said'What would I give that Sir J-- L--- was married to Miss Burney;it might restore him to our family. ' So spoke his Uncle andguardian. 

F. B. -He, he! Ha, ha! He, he! Ha, ha!

Dr. J. -That was elegantly said of my master, and nobly said, andnot in the vulgar way we have been saying it. And madam, wherewill you find another man in trade who will make such a speech--who will be capable of making such a speech? Well, I am glad mymaster takes so to Miss Burney; I would have everybody take toMiss Burney, so as they allow108me to take to her most! Yet I don't know whether Sir J__ L--should have her, neither; I should be afraid for her; I don'tthink I would hand her to him. 

F. B. -Why, now, what a fine match is here broken off!

Some time after, when we were in the library, he asked me verygravely if I loved reading?

"Yes, " quoth I. 

"Why do you doubt it, sir ?" cried MrsThrale. 

"Because, " answered he, "I never see her with a book in her hand. I have taken notice that she never has been reading whenever Ihave come into the room. "

" Sir, " quoth I, courageously, " I'm always afraid of beingcaught reading, lest I should pass for being studious oraffected, and therefore instead of making a display of books, Ialways try to hide them, as is the case at this very time, for Ihave now your ' Life of Waller' under my gloves behind me. However, since I am piqued to it, I'll boldly produce myvoucher. "

And so saying, I put the book on the table, and opened it with aflourishing air. And then the laugh was on my side, for he couldnot help making a droll face; and if he had known Kitty Cooke, ' Iwould have called out, "There I had you, my lad!"

 A STREATHAm DINNER PARTY. 

Monday was the day for our great party; and the Doctor came home, at MrsThrale's request, to meet them. The party consisted of Mr. C--, who was formerly atimber-merchant, but having amassed a fortune of one million ofpounds, he has left off business. He is a good-natured busy sortof man. ;

Mrs. C--, his lady, a sort of Mrs. Nobody. 

Mr. N--, another rich business leaver-off. 

Mrs. N--, his lady; a pretty sort of woman, who was formerly apupil of Dr. Hawkesworth. I had a great deal of talk with herabout him, and about my favourite miss Kinnaird, whom she knewvery well. 

Mr. George and Mr. Thomas N--, her sons-in-law. 

Mr. R---, of whom I know nothing but that he married intoMrThrale's family. 

Lady Ladd; I ought to have begun with her. I beg her ladyship athousand pardons--though if she knew My offence, 109

I am sure I should not obtain one. She is own sister to Mr. Thrale. She is a tall and stout woman, has an air of mingleddignity and haughtiness, both of which wear off in conversation. She dresses very youthful and gaily, and attends to her personwith no little complacency. She appears to me uncultivated inknowledge, though an adept in the manners of the world, And allthat. She chooses to be much more lively than her brother; butliveliness sits as awkwardly upon her as her pink ribbons. Intalking her over with MrsThrale who has a very proper regard forher, but who, I am sure, cannot be blind to her faults, she gaveme another proof to those I have already of the uncontrolledfreedom of speech which Dr. Johnson exercised to everybody, andwhich everybody receives quietly from him. Lady Ladd has beenvery handsome, but is now, I think, quite ugly--at least she hasthe sort of face I like not. She was a little while ago dressedin so showy a manner as to attract the doctor's notice, and whenhe had looked at her some time, he broke out aloud into thisquotation:

"With patches, paint, and jewels on, Sure Phillis is not twenty-oneBut if at night you Phillis see, The dame at least is forty-three!"

I don't recollect the verses exactly, but such was their purport. 

"However, " said Mrs. Thrale, "Lady Ladd took it very good-naturedly, and only said, 'I know enough of that forty-three--Idon't desire to hear any more of it. '"

Miss Moss, a pretty girl, who played and sung, to the greatfatigue of Mrs. Thrale; Mr. Rose Fuller, Mr. Embry, Mr. Seward, Dr. Johnson, the three Thrales, and myself, close the party. 

In the evening the company divided pretty much into parties, andalmost everybody walked upon the gravel-walk before the windows. I was going to have joined some of them, when Dr. Johnson stoppedme, and asked how I did. 

"I was afraid, sir, " cried I "you did not intend to know meagain, for you have not spoken to me before since your returnfrom town. "

"MY dear, " cried he, taking both my hands, "I was not of You, Iam so near sighted, and I apprehended making some Mistake. " Thendrawing me very unexpectedly towards him, he actually kissed me!

To be sure, I was a little surprised, having no idea of such110

facetiousness from him, However, I was glad nobody was in theroom but MrsThrale, who stood close to us, and Mr. Embry, who waslounging on a sofa at the furthest end of the room. Mrs. Thralelaughed heartily, and said she hoped I was contented with hisamends for not knowing me sooner. 

A little after she said she would go and walk with the rest, ifshe did not fear for my reputation in being left with the doctor"

"However, as Mr. Embry is yonder, I think he'll take some care ofyou, " she added. 

"Ay, madam, " said the doctor, "we shall do very well; but Iassure you I sha'n't part with Miss Burney!"

And he held me by both hands; and when MrsThrale went, he drew mea chair himself facing the window, close to his own; and thust`ete-`a-t`ete we continued almost all the evening. I say t`ete-`a-t`ete, because Mr, Embry kept at an humble distance, andoffered us no interruption And though Mr, Seward soon after camein, he also seated himself at a distant corner, not presuming, hesaid, to break in upon us! Everybody, he added, gave way to thedoctor. 

Our conversation chiefly was upon the Hebrides, for he alwaystalks to me of Scotland, out of sport; and he wished I had beenof that tour--quite gravely, I assure you!

The P-- family came in to tea. When they were gone Mrs. Thralecomplained that she was quite worn out with that tiresome sillywoman Mrs. P--, who had talked of her family and affairs till shewas sick to death of hearing her. 

"Madam, " said Dr. Johnson, "why do you blame the woman for theonly sensible thing she could do--talking of her family and heraffairs? For how should a woman who is as empty as a drum, talkupon any other subject? If you speak to her of the sun, she doesnot know it rises in the east;--if you speak to her of the moon, she does not know it changes at the full ;--if you speak to herof the queen, she does not know she is the king's wife. --how, then, can you blame her for talking of her family and affairs?"(31) Fanny Burney's step-mother. -ED. 

(32) Dr. Burney's daughter by his second wife. 

(33) "Evelina; or a Young Lady's Entrance into the World. -Thisnovel has given us so much pleasure in the perusal, that we donot hesitate to pronounce it one of the most sprightly, entertaining, and agreeable productions of this kind that has oflate fallen under our notice. A great variety of naturalincidents, some of the comic stamp, render the narrativeextremely interesting. The characters, which are agreeablydiversified, are conceived and drawn with propriety, andsupported with spirit. The whole is written with great ease andcommand of language. From this commendation we must, however, except the character of a son of Neptune, whose manners arerather those of a rough, uneducated country squire than those ofa genuine sea-captain. " Monthly Review, April, 1778. 

(34) " Evelina. -The history of a young lady exposed to verycritical situations. There is much more merit, as wellrespecting style as character and incident, than is usually to bemet with in modern novels. " London Review, Feb. , 1778. 

(35) Fanny was no mistress of numbers; but the sincerity andwarm affection expressed in every line of the Ode prefixed to"Evelina, " would excuse far weaker verses. We quote it infull. -ED. 

"Oh, Author of my being !-far more dear

To me than light, than nourishment, or rest, Hygeia's blessings, Rapture's burning tear, Or the life-blood that mantles in-my breast!If in my heart the love of Virtue glows, 'Twas planted there by an unerring rule>From thy example the pure flame arose, Thy life, my precept, --thy good works, my school. Could my weak pow'rs thy num'rous virtues trace, By filial love each fear should be repress'd;The blush of Incapacity I'd chace, And stand, Recorder of thy worth, confess'dBut since my niggard stars that gift refuse, Concealment is the only boon I claimObscure be still the unsuccessful Muse, Who cannot raise, but would not sink, thy fame, Oh! of my life at once the source and joy!If e'er thy eyes these feeble lines survey, Let not their folly their intent destroy;Accept the tribute-but forget the lay. "

(36) Lady Hales was the mother of Miss Coussmaker, having beentwice married, the second time to Sir Thomas Pym Hales, Bart. , who died in 1773. They were intimate friends of the Burneys. -ED. 

(37) Dr. Burney had brought the work under the notice of Mrs. Thrale. Mrs. Cholmondeley was a sister of the famous actress, PegWoffington. Her husband, the Hon. And Rev. Robert Cholmondeley, was the second son of the Earl of Cholmondeley, and nephew ofHorace Walpole. -ED. 

(38) The sum originally paid for "Evelina" was twenty pounds, towhich ten Pounds more were added after the third edition. "Evelina " passed through four editions within a year. -ED. 

(39) Mrs. Greville, the wife of Dr, Burney's friend and earlypatron, Fulke Greville, was Fanny's godmother, and the author ofa much admired "Ode to Indifference. "-ED

(40) Her cousin, Charles Rousseau Burney-Hetty's husband. -ED. 

(41) A French authoress, who wrote about the middle of theeighteenth century. Her novels, according to Dunlop ""A Historyof Fiction, " chap. Xiii. ), "are distinguished by their delicacyand spirit. " Her best works ar: "Miss jenny Salisbury, " "LeMarquis de Cressy, " "Letters of Lady Catesby, " etc. -ED. (42) Mrs. Williams, the blind poetess, who resided in Dr. Johnson's house. She had written to Dr. Burney, requesting theloan of a copy of "Evelina. "-ED. 

(43) william Seward "a great favourite at Streatham, " was the sonof an eminent brewer, Mr. Seward, of the firm of Calvert andSeward, and was born in 1747. He was not yet a "literary lion, "but he published some volumes--"Anecdotes of DistinguishedPersons "--at a later date. He died in 1799. -ED. 

(44) Miss Frances Reynolds--Dr. Johnson's "Renny"--was the sisterof the great Sir Joshua, and a miniature painter of sometalent. -ED. 

(45) Her brother. -ED. 

(46) Bennet Lanpton, of Langton in Lincolnshire, was an old andmuch loved friend of Dr. Johnson, and is frequently mentioned inBoswell's "Life. " He was born about 1737, was educated atOxford, was a good Greek scholar, and, says Boswell, "a gentlemaneminent not only for worth, and learning but for an inexhaustiblefund of entertaining conversation. " . " He succeeded Johnson, onthe death of the latter, as Professor of Ancient History to theRoyal Academy, and died in 1801. Boswell has printed a charmingletter, written by johnson, a few months before his death, toLangton's little daughter jane, then in her seventh year. -ED. 

(47) "My master" was a Common appellation for Mr, Thrale, --andOne which he seems, in earnest, to have deserved. "I know noman, " said johnson, "who is more master of his wife and familythan Thrale, he but holds up a finger, he is obeyed. " (Boswell. )-ED. 

48) Suspirius the Screech Owl. See "Rambler" for Oct. 9, 1750. (This is unjust to Goldsmith. The general idea of the characterof Croaker, no doubt, closely resembles that of Suspirius, andwas probably borrowed from johnson; but the details which makethe part so diverting are entirely of Goldsmith's invention, asanyone may see by comparing "The Good-natured Man" with "TheRambler. "-ED. ]

(49) Mrs. Thrale tells a good story of Johnson's irrationalantipathy to the Scotch. A Scotch gentleman inLondon, "at hisreturn from the Hebrides, asked him, with a firm tone of voice, 'what he thought of his country?' 'That it is a very vilecountry, to be sure, sir, ' returned for answer Dr. Johnson. 'Well sir!' replies the other, somewhat mortified, 'God made it!''Certainly he did, ' answers Mr. Johnson, again, 'but we mustalways remember that He made it for Scotchmen; and--comparisonsare odious, Mr. S. --but God made hell!'--(Anecdotes of Dr. Johnson)-ED. 

(50) Fanny's step-mother. -ED. (51) Boswell prints these lines as follows:

"When first I drew my vital breath, A little minikin I came upon earthAnd then I came from a dark abode, into this gay and gaudy world, "-ED, (52) Malone gives some further particulars about Bet Flint in anote to Boswell's "Life of Johnson. " She was tried, andacquitted, at the Old Bailey in September, 1758, the prosecutrix, Mary Walthow, being unable to prove "that the goods charged tohave been stolen (a counterpane, a silver spoon, two napkins, etc. ) were her property. Bet does not appear to have lived atthat time in a very genteel style; for she paid for her ready-furnished room in Meard's-court, Dean-street, Soho, from whichthese articles were alleged to be stolen, only five shillings aweek. "-ED. 

(53) Margaret Caroline Rudd was in great notoriety about the year1776, from the fame of her powers of fascination, which, it wassaid, had brought a man to the gallows. This man, her lover, washanged in January, 1776, for forgery, and the fascinatingMargaret appeared as evidence against him. Boswell visited herin that year, and to a lady who expressed her disapprobation ofsuch proceedings, Johnson said: "Nay, madam, Boswell is right: Ishould have visited her myself, were it not that they have got atrick of putting every thing into the newspapers. "-ED. 

(54) Kitty Fisher--more correctly, Fischer, her father being aGerman--an even more famous courtesan, who enjoyed thedistinction of having been twice painted by Sir Joshua Reynolds-ED. 

(55) The blind poetess, and inmate of Dr. Johnson's house. -ED. 

(56) Michael Lort, D. D. , Fellow of Trinity College, Cambridge, and subsequently Greek Professor. He was born in 1725, and diedin 1799. -ED. 

(57) "I wished the man a dinner and sat still. "-Pope. 

(58) The Miss Palmers were the nieces of Sir Joshua Reynolds. Mary, the elder, married, in 1792, the Earl of Inchiquin, afterwards created Marquis of Thomond; the younger, Theophila("Offy"), married Robert Lovell Gwatkin, Esq. One of SirJoshua's most charming pictures ("Simplicity") was painted, in1788, from Offy's little daughter. Lady Ladd was the sister ofMr. Thrale. -ED. 

(59) Miss Thrale. -ED. 

(60) Edmund Burke, our "greatest man since Milton, " as Macaulaycalled him. -ED. 

(61) At Sir Joshua's town house, in Leicester Square. The houseis now occupied by Messrs. Puttick and Simpson, theauctioneers. -ED. 

(62) "de Mullin" is Mrs. Desmoulins, the daughter of Johnson'sgodfather, Dr. Swinfen, a physician in Lichfield. Left inextreme indigence by the deaths of her father and husband, shefound for many years an asylum in the house of Dr. Johnson, whomshe survived. -ED. 

(63) Macbean was sometime Johnson's amanuensis. His "Dictionaryof Ancient Geography" was published in 1773, with a Freface byJohnson. -ED

(64) Robert Levett--not Levat, as Fanny writes it--was aLichfield man, "an obscure practiser in pbysick amongst the lowerpeople, " and an old acquaintance of Dr. Johnson's, in whose househe was supported for many years, until his death, at a veryadvanced age, in 1782, "So ended the long life of a very usefuland very blameless man, " Johnson wrote, in communicating theintelligence to Dr, Lawrence. -ED. 

(65) Boswell tells us nothing of Poll, except that she was a MissCarmichael. Domestic dissensions seem to have been the rule withthis happy family, but Johnson's long-suffering wasinexhaustible, On one occasion he writes Mrs. Thrale, "Williamshates everybody; Levett hates Desmoulins, who does not loveWilliams; Desmoulins hates them both; Poll loves none ofthem. "-ED. 

(66) The lives of Cowley and Waller, from Johnson's "Lives of thePoets. " They were not published till 1781, but were already inprint. -ED. 

(67) "The Theory and Regulation of Love: A Moral Essay. " By theRev. John Norris, Oxford, 1688. -ED. 

(68) Miss Gregory was the daughter of a Scotch physician. Shemarried the Rev. Archibald Alison, and was the mother of SirArchibald Alison, the historian. -ED. 

(69) The house in which she died, in Portman Square. -ED. 

(70) No doubt Simon Nicolas Henri Linguet, a French author, whopublished numerous works, historical and political, both beforeand after this date. -ED. 

(71) IN the original edition: perhaps "vexation" was the wordintended. -ED. 

(72) Sir John Ladd, Mr, Thrale's sister's son, a young profligatewho subsequently married, not Miss Burney, but a woman of thetown! Dr. Johnson's satirical verses on his coming of age areprinted near the end of Boswell's "Life. "-ED. 

111

 SECTION 2 (1779)

 THE AUTHOR OF "EVELINA" IN SOCIETY: SHE VISITS BRIGHTON AND TUNBRIDGE WELLS. 

(Fanny's circle of acquaintance was largely extended in 1779, inwhich year she was introduced to Mrs. Horneck and her daughterMary (Goldsmith's "Jessamy Bride"), to Mr. And Mrs. Cholmondeley, to Arthur Murphy, the dramatist, and best of all, RichardBrinsley Sheridan and his beautiful wife. The Hornecks and theCholmondeleys she met at one of those delightful parties at SirJoshua Reynolds's house in Leicester Square, --parties composed ofthe wisest and wittiest in English society of the day, thoughnowhere among the guests could there be found a man of moregenuine worth or more brilliant genius than the mild-manneredhost. Mrs. Horneck had been a noted beauty in her younger days, and she, as well as her two lovely daughters, had been painted bySir Joshua. The elder daughter, Catherine (Goldsmith's "LittleComedy"), was now (1779) Mrs. Bunbury, wife of Henry Bunbury thecaricaturist. Mary, the younger, was at this time abouttwenty-six years of age, and was subsequently married to ColonelGwynn, whom we shall meet with in Fanny's Diary of her Life atCourt. Goldsmith, it is said, had loved Mary Horneck, though theugly little man never ventured to tell his love; but when hedied, five years before her meeting with fanny, the jessamy Bridecaused his coffin to be reopened, and a lock of hair to be cutfrom the dead poet's head. This lock she treasured until her owndeath, nearly seventy years afterwards. 

Mrs. Sheridan's maiden name was Eliza Anne Linley. There isan interesting notice of her in Fanny's "Early Diary" for themonth of April, 1773. "Can I speak of music, and not mentionMiss Linley? The town has rung of no other name this month. Miss Linley is daughter to a musician of Bath, a very sour, ill-bred, severe, and selfish man. She is believed to be veryromantic; she has long been very celebrated for her singing, though never, till within this month, has she been in London. . 

112

She has long been attached to a Mr. Sheridan, a young man ofgreat talents, and very well spoken of, whom it is expected shewill speedily marry. She has performed this Lent at the Oratorioof Drury-lane, under Mr. Stanley's direction. The applause andadmiration she has met with, can only be compared to what isgiven Mr. Garrick. The whole town seems distracted about her. Every other diversion is forsaken. Miss Linley alone engrossesall eyes, ears, hearts. "

The "young man of great talents" was, when Fanny first met him, already renowned as the author of "The Rivals" and "The Schoolfor Scandal. " His wife's extraordinary beauty has beenperpetuated in one of Reynolds's masterpieces, in which she isrepresented as St. Cecilia, sitting at an organ. Her fatherseems to have fully deserved the character which Fanny gives him. In 1772 Eliza, then only nineteen, ran away to France with youngSheridan, who was just of age, and, it is reported, was privatelymarried to him at the time. They were pursued, however, by oldLinley, and Eliza was brought back, to become the rage of thetown as a singer. Her lover married her openly in April, 1773, and thenceforward she sang no more in public. 

Fanny's account of her visits to Tunbridge Wells and Brightonwill recall, to readers of her novels, the delightfully humorousdescriptions of the society at those fashionable resorts, in"Camilla" and "The Wanderer. " Mount Ephraim, at Tunbridge Wells, where Sophy Streatfield resided, will be recognized as the sceneof the accident in which Camilla's life is saved by Sir SedleyClarendel. -ED. ]

 A QUEER ADVENTURE. 

St. Martin's Street, January. 

On Thursday, I had another adventure, and one that has made megrin ever since. A gentleman inquiring for my father, was askedinto the parlour. The then inhabitants were only my mother andme. In entered a square old gentleman, well-wigged, formal, grave and important. He seated himself. My mother asked if hehad any message for my father? "No, none. " Then he regarded me with a certain dry kind of attention forsome time; after which, turning suddenly to my mother, hedemanded, "Pray, ma'am, is this your daughter?"

"Yes, sir. " 113

"O! this is Evelina, is it?"

"No, sir, " cried I, staring at him, and glad none of you were inthe way to say "Yes. "

"No?" repeated he, incredulous; "is not your name Evelina, ma'am?"

"Dear, no, sir, " again quoth I, staring harder. 

"Ma'am, " cried he, drily; "I beg your pardon! I had understoodyour name was Evelina. "

Soon: after, he went away. 

And when he put down his card, who should it prove but Dr. Franklin. (73) Was it not queer?

 AN EVENING AT SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS'S: A DEMONSTRATIVE "EVELINA" ENTHUSIAST. 

Now to this grand visit, which was become more tremendous thanever because of the pamphlet (74) business, and I felt almostashamed to see Sir JOShua, and could not but conclude he wouldthink of it too. 

My mother, who changed her mind, came with me. My fatherpromised to come before the Opera was half over. 

We found the Miss Palmers alone. We were, for near an hour, quite easy, chatty, and comfortable; no pointed speech was made, and no starer entered. But when I asked the elder Miss Palmer ifshe would allow me to look at some of her drawings, she said, "Not unless you will let me see something of yours. "

"Of mine?" quoth I. "Oh, ! I have nothing to show. "

 "I am sure you have; you must have. "

"No, indeed; I don't draw at all. "

"Draw? No, but I mean some of your writing. "

"Oh, I never write--except letters. "

114

"Letters? those are the very things I want to see. "

"Oh, not such as you mean. "

" Oh now, don't say so; I am sure you are about something and ifyou would but show me--"

"No, no, I am about nothing--I am quite out of conceit withwriting. " I had my thoughts full of the vile Warley. 

"You out of conceit?" exclaimed she; "nay, then, if you are, whoshould be otherwise!"

just then, Mrs. And Miss Horneck were announced. You may supposeI thought directly of the one hundred and sixty miles(75)--andmay take it for granted I looked them very boldly in the face!Mrs. Horneck seated herself by my mother. Miss Palmer introducedme to her and her daughter, who seated herself next me; but notone word passed between us!

Mrs. Horneck, as I found in the course of the evening, is anexceedingly sensible, well-bred woman. Her daughter is verybeautiful ; but was low-spirited and silent during the wholevisit. She was, indeed, very unhappy, as Miss Palmer informedme, upon account of some ill news she had lately heard of theaffairs of a gentleman to whom she is shortly to be married. 

Not long after came a whole troop, consisting of Mr. Cholmondeley!--perilous name!--Miss Cholmondeley, and Miss FannyCholmondeley, his daughters, and Miss Forrest. Mrs. Cholmondeley, I found, was engaged elsewhere, but soonexpected. (76) Now here was a trick of Sir Joshua, to make me meetall these people. 

Mr. Cholmondeley is a clergyman; nothing shining either in personor manners, but rather somewhat grim in the first, and glum inthe last. Yet he appears to have humour himself, and to enjoy itmuch in others. 

Miss Cholmondeley I saw too little of to mention. 

Miss Fanny Cholmondeley is a rather pretty, pale girl; very youngand inartificial, and though tall and grown up, treated by herfamily as a child, and seemingly well content to really thinkherself such. She followed me whichever way I turned, and thoughshe was too modest to stare, never ceased watching me the wholeevening. 

Miss Forrest is an immensely tall and not handsome young woman. Further I know not. 

115

Next came my father, all gaiety and spirits. Then Mr. WilliamBurke. (77)

Soon after, Sir Joshua returned home. He paid his compliments toeverybody, and then brought a chair next mine, and said, "So you were afraid to come among us?"

 I don't know if I wrote to you a speech to that purpose, which Imade to the Miss Palmers? and which, I Suppose, they had repeatedto him. He went on, saying I might as, Well fear hobgoblins, andthat I had only to hold up my head to be above them all. 

After this address, his behaviour was exactly what my wisheswould have dictated to him, for my own ease and quietness; for henever once even alluded to my book, but conversed rationally, gaily, and serenely: and so I became more comfortable than I hadbeen ever since the first entrance of company. Our confab wasinterrupted by the entrance of Mr. King; a gentleman who is, itseems, for ever with the Burkes; -and presently LordPalmerston(78) was announced. 

Well, while this was going forward, a violent rapping bespoke, Iwas sure, Mrs. Cholmondeley, and I ran from the standers, andturning my back against the door, looked over Miss Palmer'scards; for you may well imagine, I was really in a tremor at ameeting which so long has been in agitation, and with the personwho, of all persons, has been most warm and enthusiastic for mybook. 

She had not, however, been in the room half an instant, ere, ,myfather came up to me, and tapping me on the shoulder, said, "Fanny, here's a lady who wishes to speak to you. "

I curtsied in silence, she too curtsied, and fixed her eyes fullon my face: and then tapping me with her fan, she cried, 116

"Come, come, you must not look grave upon me. "

Upon this, I te-he'd; she now looked at me yet more earnestly, and, after an odd silence, said, abruptly--

"But is it true?"

"What, ma'am?"

"It can't be!--tell me, though, is it true?"

I could only simper. 

"Why don't you tell me?--but it can't be--I don't believe it!--no, you are an impostor!"

Sir Joshua and Lord Palmerston were both at her side--oh, hownotably silly must I look! She again repeated her question of"Is it true?" and I again affected not to understand her: andthen Sir Joshua, taking hold on her arm, attempted to pull heraway, saying

"Come, come, Mrs. Cholmondeley, I won't have her overpoweredhere!"

I love Sir Joshua much for this, But Mrs. Cholmondeley, turningto him, said, with quickness and vehemence:--

"Why, I a'n't going to kill her! don't be afraid, I sha'n'tcompliment her!-I can't, indeed!"

Then, taking my hand, she led me through them all, to anotherpart of the room, where again she examined my phiz, and viewedand reviewed my whole person. 

"Now, " said she, "do tell me; is it true?"

"What, ma'am?--I don't-I don't know what--"

"Pho! what, -why you know what: in short, can you read? and canyou write?"

"No, ma'am!"

"I thought so, " cried she I have suspected it was a trick, sometime, and now I am sure of it. You are too young by half!-itcan't be!"

I laughed, and would have got away, but she would not let me. 

"No, " cried she, "one thing you must, at least, tell me;--are youvery conceited? Come, answer me, " continued she. "You won't?Mrs. Burney, Dr. Burney, --come here, --tell me if she is notvery conceited?--if she is not eat up with conceit by this time?"

They were both pleased to answer "Not half enough. "

"Well, " exclaimed she, "that is the most wonderful part of all!Why, that is yet more extraordinary than writing the book. "

I then got away from her, and again looked over Miss Palmer'scards : but she was after me in a minute, 117

"Pray, Miss Burney, " cried she, aloud, "do you know any thing ofthis game?"

"No, ma'am. "

"No?" repeated she, "ma foi, that's pity!"(79)

 This raised such a laugh, I was forced to move on; yet everybodyseemed to be afraid to laugh, too, and studying to be delicate, as if they had been cautioned; which, I have since found, wasreally the case, and by Sir Joshua himself. 

Again, however, she was at my side. 

"What game do you like, Miss Burney?" cried she. 

"I play at none, ma'am. "

"No? Pardie, I wonder at that! Did you ever know such a toad?"

Again I moved on, and got behind Mr. W. Burke, who, turninground to me, said, --

"This is not very politic in us, Miss Burney, to play at cards, and have you listen to our follies. "

There's for you! I am to pass for a censoress now. 

Mrs. Cholmondeley hunted me quite round the card-table, fromchair to chair, repeating various speeches of Madame Duval; andwhen, at last, I got behind a sofa, out of her reach, she calledout aloud, " Polly, Polly ! only think! miss has danced with alord

Some time after, contriving to again get near me, she beganflirting her fan, and exclaiming, "Well, miss, I have had a beau, I assure you! ay, and a very pretty beau too, though I don't knowif his lodgings were so prettily furnished, and everything, asMr. Smith's. "(80)

Then, applying to Mr. Cholmondeley, she said, "Pray, sir, what isbecome of my lottery ticket?"

"I don't know, " answered he. 

" Pardie " cried she, "you don't know nothing

I had now again made off, and, after much rambling, I at lastseated myself near the card-table : but Mrs. Cholmondeley wasafter me in a minute, and drew a chair next mine. I now found itimpossible to escape, and therefore forced myself to sit still. Lord Palmerston and Sir Joshua, in a few moments, seatedthemselves by us. 

I must now write dialogue-fashion, to avoid the enormous lengthof Mrs. C. 's name. 

Mrs. C. -I have been very ill; monstrous ill indeed or

118

else I should have been at your house long ago. Sir Joshua, prayhow do you do? you know, I suppose, that I don't come, to seeyou?

Sir Joshua could only laugh, though this was her first address tohim. 

Mrs. C. -Pray, miss, what's your name?

F. B. -Frances, ma'am. 

Mrs. C. -Fanny ? Well, all the Fanny's are excellent andyet, my name is Mary! Pray, Miss Palmers, how are you?--though Ihardly know if I shall speak to you to-night, I thought I shouldhave never got here! I have been so out of humour with thepeople for keeping me. If you but knew, cried I, to whom I amgoing to-night, and who I shall see to-night, you would not darekeep me muzzing here!

During all these pointed speeches, her penetrating eyes werefixed upon me; and what could I do?--what, indeed, could anybodydo, but colour and simper?--all the company watching us, thoughall, very delicately, avoided joining the confab. 

Mrs. C-My Lord Palmerston, I was told to-night that nobody couldsee your lordship for me, for that you supped at my house everynight. Dear, bless me, no ! cried I, not every night! and Ilooked as confused as I was able; but I am afraid I did notblush, though I+ tried hard for it. 

Then, again, turning to me, That Mr. What-d'ye-call-him, in Fleet-street, is a mighty sillyfellow;--perhaps you don't know who I mean?--one T. Lowndes, --butmaybe you don't know such a person?

FB. -No, indeed, I do not!--that I can safely say. 

Mrs. C. -I could get nothing from him: but I told him I hoped hegave a good price ; and he answered me that he always did thingsgenteel. What trouble and tagging we had! Mr. [I cannotrecollect the name she mentioned] laid a wager the writer was aman:--I said I was sure it was a woman: but now we are both out;for it's a girl!

In this comical, queer, flighty, whimsical manner she ran on, till we were summoned to supper ; for we were not allowed tobreak up before: and then, when Sir Joshua and almost everybodywas gone down stairs, she changed her tone, and, with a face andvoice both grave, said:

"Well, Miss Burney, you must give me leave to say One thing toyou; yet, perhaps you won't, neither, will you?"

"What is it, ma'am?"

"Why it is, that I admire you more than any human being and thatI can't help!"119

Then suddenly rising, she hurried down stairs. 

While we were upon the stairs, I heard Miss Palmer say to MissFanny Cholmondeley, "Well, you don't find Miss Burney quite sotremendous as you expected?"

Sir Joshua made me sit next him at supper; Mr. William Burkewas at my other side; though, afterwards, I lost the knight ofplimton, (81) who, as he eats no suppers, made way for Mr. Gwatkin, (82) and, as the table was crowded, himself stood at thefire. He was extremely polite and flattering in his manners tome, and entirely avoided all mention or hint at "Evelina" thewhole evening: indeed, I think I have met more scrupulousdelicacy from Sir Joshua than from anybody, although I have heardmore of his approbation than of almost any other person's. 

Mr. W. Burke was immensely attentive at table; but, lest heshould be thought a Mr. Smith for his pains, he took care, whoever he helped, to add, "You know I am all for the ladies!"

I was glad I was not next Mrs. Cholmondeley; but she frequently, and very provokingly, addressed herself to me; once she calledout aloud, "Pray, Miss Burney, is there anything new coming out?"And another time, "Well, I wish people who can entertainme wouldentertain me!"

These sort of pointed speeches are almost worse than directattacks, for there is no knowing how to look, or what to say, especially where the eyes of a whole company mark the object forWhom they are meant. To the last of these speeches I made nosort of answer but Sir Joshua very good-naturedly turned it fromme, by saying, "Well, let everyone do what they can in their different ways; doyou begin yourself. "

"Oh, I can't!" cried she; "I have tried, but I can't. "

"Oh, so you think, then, " answered he, "that all the world ismade only to entertain you?"

A very lively dialogue ensued. But I grow tired of writing. Onething, however, I must mention, which, at the time, frightened me wofully. 

 "Pray, Sir Joshua, " asked Lord Palmerston, what is this 'Warley'that is just come out?"

Was not this a cruel question? I felt in such a twitter!

120

"Why, I don't know, " answered he; "but the reviewers, my lord, speak very well of it. "

Mrs. C. -Who wrote it?

Sir Joshua. -Mr. Huddisford. 

Mrs. C. -O! I don't like it at all, then! Huddisford What a name!Miss Burney, pray can you conceive anything of such a name asHuddisford?

I could not speak a word, and I dare say I looked no-how. Butwas it not an unlucky reference to me? Sir Joshua attempted akind of vindication Of him; but Lord Palmerston said, drily, "I think, Sir Joshua, it is dedicated to you?"

"Yes, my lord, " answered he. 

"Oh, your servant! Is it so?" cried Mrs. Cholmondeley; "then youneed say no more!"

Sir Joshua laughed, and the subject, to my great relief, wasdropped. 

When we broke up to depart, which was not till near two in themorning, Mrs. Cholmondeley went up to my mother, and begged herpermission to visit in St. Martin's-street. Then, as she leftthe room, she said to me, with a droll sort of threatening look, "You have not got rid of me yet, I have been forcing myself intoyour house. "

I must own I was not at all displeased at this, as I had verymuch and very reasonably feared that she would have been by thenas sick of me from disappointment, as she was before eager for mefrom curiosity. 

When we came away, Offy Palmer, laughing, said to me, "I think this will be a breaking-in to you!"

"Ah, " cried I, "if I had known of your party!"

" You would have been sick in bed, I suppose?"

I would not answer "No, " yet I was glad it was over. And soconcludeth this memorable evening. 

 FANNY BURNEY'S INTRODUCTION TO SHERIDAN. 

On Monday last, my father sent a note to Mrs. Cholmondeley, topropose our waiting on her the Wednesday following; she acceptedthe proposal, and accordingly on Wednesday evening, my father, mother, and self went to Hertford-street. I should have told youthat Mrs. Cholmondeley, when My father some time ago called onher, sent me a message, that if121

I would go to see her, I should not again be stared at orworried; and she acknowledged that my visit at Sir Joshua's hadbeen a formidable one, and that I was watched the whole evening;but that upon the whole, the company behaved extremely well, forthey only ogled!

Well, we were received by Mrs. Cholmondeley with greatpoliteness, and in a manner that showed she intended to throwaside Madame Duval, and to conduct herself towards me in a newstyle. 

Mr. And Misses Cholmondeley and Miss Forrest were with her; butwho else think you?--why Mrs. Sheridan! I was absolutely charmedat the sight of her. I think her quite as beautiful as ever, andeven more captivating; for she has now a look of ease andhappiness that animates her whole face. 

Miss Linley was with her; she is very handsome, but nothing nearher sister: the elegance of Mrs. Sheridan's beauty is unequalledby any I ever saw, except Mrs. Crewe. (83) I was pleased with herin all respects. She is much more lively and agreeable than Ihad any idea of finding her; she was very gay, and veryunaffected, and totally free from airs of any kind. Miss Linleywas very much out of spirits; she did not speak three words thewhole evening, and looked wholly unmoved at all that passed. Indeed, she appeared to be heavy and inanimate. 

Mrs. Cholmondeley sat next me. She is determined, I believe, tomake me like her: and she will, I believe, have full success; forshe is very clever, very entertaining, and very much unlikeanybody else. 

The first subject started was the Opera, and all joined in thepraise of Pacchierotti. (84) Mrs. Sheridan declared she could nothear him without tears, and that he was the first Italian singerwho ever affected her to such a degree. 

Then they talked of the intended marriage of the Duke of Dorset, to Miss Cumberland, and many ridiculous anecdotes were related. The conversation naturally fell upon Mr. Cumberland(85), and hewas finely cut up!

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"What a man is that! ' said Mrs. Cholmondeley: "I Cannot bearhim--so querulous, so dissatisfied, so determined to like nobody, and nothing but himself!"

After this, Miss More(86) was mentioned and I was asked what Ithought of her?

"Don't be formal with me if you are, I sha'n't like you!"

"I have no hope that you will any way!"

"Oh, fie! fie! but as to Miss More--I don't like her at all: thatis, I detest her! She does nothing but flatter and fawn; andthen she thinks ill of nobody. Oh, there's no supporting thecompany of professed flatterers. She gives me such doses of it, that I cannot endure her; but I always sit still and make noanswer, but receive it as if I thought it my due: that is theonly way to quiet her. (87) She is really detestable. I hope, Miss Burney, you don't think I admire all geniuses? The onlyperson I flatter, " continued she, "is Garrick; and he likes it somuch, that it pays one by the spirits it gives him. Other peoplethat I like, I dare not flatter. "

A rat-tat-tat-tat ensued, and the Earl of Harcourt was announced. When he had paid his compliments to Mrs. Cholmondeley, speakingof the lady from whose house he was just come, he said, "Mrs. Vesey(88) 'Is vastly agreeable, but her fear of ceremony isreally troublesome ; for her eagerness to break a circle is such, that she insists upon everybody's sitting with their backs one toanother ; that is, the chairs are drawn into little parties ofthree together, in a confused manner, all over the room. "

"Why, then, " said my father, "they may have the pleasure ofcaballing and cutting up one another, even in the same room. "

"Oh, I like the notion of all things, " cried Mrs. Cholmondeley, "I shall certainly adopt it

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then she drew her chair into the middle of our circle. LordHarcourt turned his round, and his back to most of us, and myfather did the same. You can't imagin. E a more absurdsight. 

Just then the door opened, and Mr. Sheridan entered. 

Was I not in luck? Not that I believe the meeting wasaccidental; but I had more wished to meet him and his wife thanany people I know not. 

I could not endure my ridiculous situation, but replaced myselfin an orderly manner immediately. Mr. Sheridan stared at themall, and Mrs. Cholmondeley said she intended it as a hint for acomedy. 

Mr. Sheridan has a very fine figure, and a good though I don'tthink a handsome face. He is tall, and very upright, and hisappearance and address are at once manly and fashionable, withoutthe smallest tincture of foppery or modish graces. In short, Ilike him vastly, and think him every way worthy his utifulcompanion. 

And let me tell you what I know will give you as much pleasure asit gave me, --that, by all I Could observe in the course of theevening, and we stayed very late, they are extreely happy in eachother: he evidently adores her, and she as evidently idoliseshim. The world has by no means done him justice. 

When he had paid his compliments to all his acquaintance, he wentbehind the sofa on which Mrs. Sheridan and Miss OFFy Cholmondeleywere seated, and entered into earnest conversation with them. 

Upon Lord Harcourt's again paying Mrs. Cholmondeley somecompliment. She said, "Well, my lord, after this I shall be quite sublime for somedays! I shan't descend into common life till--till Saturday. And then I shall drop into the vulgar style--I shall be in the mafoi Way. "

I do really believe she could not resist this, for she had seemeddetermined to be quiet. 

When next there was a rat-tat, Mrs. Cholmondeley and LordHarcourt, and my father again, at the command of the former, moved into the middle of the room, and then Sir Joshua Reynoldsand Dr. Warton(89) entered. 

No further company came. You may imagine there was a

(89) Joseph Warton, author of the "Essay on the Genius andWritings of Pope. "-ED. 124

general roar at the breaking of the circle, and when they gotinto order, Mr. Sheridan seated himself in the place Mrs. Cholmondeley had left, between my father and myself. 

And now I must tell you a little conversation which I did nothear myself till I came home; it was between Mr. Sheridan and myfather. 

"Dr. Burney, " cried the former, "have you no older daughters?Can this possibly be the authoress of 'Evelina'?"

And then he said abundance of fine things, and begged my fatherto introduce him to me. 

"Why, it will be a very formidable thing to her, " answered he, "to be introduced to you. "

"Well then, by and by, " returned he. 

 Some time after this, my eyes happening to meet his, he waivedthe ceremony of introduction, and in a low voice said, "I have been telling Dr. Burney that I have long expected to seein Miss Burney a lady of the gravest appearance, with thequickest parts. "

I was never much more astonished than at this unexpected address, as among all my numerous puffers the name of Sheridan has neverreached me, and I did really imagine he had never deigned to lookat my trash. 

Of course I could make no verbal answer, and he proceeded then tospeak of "Evelina" in terms of the highest praise but I was insuch a ferment from surprise (not to say pleasure that I have norecollection of his expressions. I only remember telling himthat I was much amazed he had spared time to read it, and that herepeatedly called it a most surprising book; and sometime afterhe added, "But I hope, Miss Burney, you don't intend to throwaway your pen?"

"You should take care, sir, " said I, "what you say: for you knownot what weight it may have. "

He wished it might have any, he said, and soon after turned againto my father. 

I protest, since the approbation of the Streathamites, I hav metwith none so flattering to me as this of Mr. Sheridan, in so veryunexpected. 

About this time Mrs. Cholmondeley was making much spO by wishingfor an acrostic on her name. She said she had several timesbegged for one in vain, and began to entertain thoughts ofwriting one herself. 

"For, " said she, "I am very famous for my rhymes, though I nevermade a line of poetry in my life. "125

"An acrostic on your name, " said Mr. Sheridan, "would be a veryformidable task; it must be so long that I think it should bedivided into cantos. ""Miss Burney, " cried Sir Joshua, who was now reseated, "Are not you a writer of verses?"

F. B. -No, sir. 

Mrs C. -O don't believe her. I have made a resolution, Aot tobelieve anything she says. 

Mr. S. -I think a lady should not write verses till she is pastreceiving them. 

Mrs. C. (rising and stalking majestically towards him). -Mr. Sheridan, pray, sir, what may you mean by this insinuation; did Inot say I writ verses? )

Mr. S. - Oh, but you--

Mrs. C. -Say no more, sir! You have made your meaning but tooplain already. There now, I think that's a speech for a tragedy

Some time after, Sir Joshua, returning to his standing-place, entered into confab with Miss Linley and your slave upon variousmatters, during which Mr. Sheridan, joining us, said, "Sir Joshua, I have been telling Miss Burney that she must notsuffer her pen to lie idle--ought she?"

Sir J. -No, indeed, ought she not. 

Mr. S. -Do you then, Sir Joshua, persuade her. But perhaps youhave begun something? May we ask? Will you answer a questioncandidly?

F. B. -I don't know, but as candidly as Mrs. Candour I think Icertainly shall. 

Mr. S. -What then are you about now?

F. B. -Why, twirling my fan, I think!

Mr. S. -No, no; but what are you about at home? However, it isnot a fair question, so I won't press it. 

Yet he looked very inquisitive ; but I was glad to get offwithout any downright answer. 

Sir J-Anything in the dialogue way, I think, she must succeed in;and I am sure invention will not be wanting, Mr. S. -No, indeed ; I think, and say, she should write a comedy. 

SIr J. -I am sure I think so; and hope she will. 

I could only answer by incredulous exclamations. 

"Consider" continued Sir Joshua, " you have already had all theapplause and fame you can have given you in the closet; but theacclamation of a theatre will be new to you. "126

And then he put down his trumpet, and began a violen clapping ofhis hands. 

I actually shook from head to foot ! I felt myself already inDrury Lane, amidst the hubbub of a first night. 

"Oh, no!" cried I, "there may be a noise, but it will b, just thereverse. " And I returned his salute with a hissing. 

Mr. Sheridan joined Sir Joshua Very warmly. 

"O sir, " cried I, "you should not run on so, you don't know whatmischief you may do!"

Mr. S. -I wish I may-I shall be very glad to be accessory, Sir j. -She has, certainly, something of a knack at characters;where she got it I don't know, and how she got it, I can'limagine; but she certainly has it. And to throw it away is---

Mr. S. -Oh, she won't, she will write a comedy, she has promisedme she will!

F. B. -Oh! if you both run on in this manner, I shall--"

I was going to say get under the chair, but Mr. Sheridan, interrupting me with a laugh, said, "Set about one ? very well, that's right. "

"Ay, " cried Sir Joshua, "that's very right. And You (to Mr. Sheridan) would take anything of hers, would you not? unsight, unseen?"(90) What a point blank question! who but Sir Joshuawould have ventured it!

" Yes, " answered Mr. Sheridan, with quickness, "and make her abow and my best thanks into the bargain. "

Now my dear Susy, tell me, did you ever hear the fellow to such aspeech as this! it was all I could do to sit it. 

"Mr. Sheridan, " I exclaimed, "are you not mocking me?"

"No, upon my honour! this is what I have meditated to say to youthe first time I should have the pleasure of seeing you. "

To be sure, as Mrs. Thrale says, if folks are to be spoilt, thereis nothing in the world so pleasant as spoiling ! But I was neverso much astonished, and seldom have been so much delighted, as bythis attack of Mr. Sheridan. Afterwards he took my father aside, and formally repeated his opinion that I should write for thestage, and his desire to see my play, with encomiums the mostflattering of "Evelina. "

And now, my dear Susy, if I should attempt the stage, I think Imay be fairly acquitted of presumption, and however I may fall, that I was strongly pressed to try by Mrs. Thrale, and by Mr. Sheridan, the most successful and powerful of all dramatic livingauthors, will abundantly excuse my temerity. 

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 AN ARISTOCRATIC RADICAL OF THE LAST CENTURY. 

Streatham, February. -I have been here so long, MY dearest Susan, Without writing a word, that now I hardly know where or how tobegin, But I will try to draw up a concise account of what haspassed for this last fortnight, and then endeavour to be moreminute. 

Mrs. Thrale and Dr. Johnson vied with each other in the kindnessof their reception of me. Mr. Thrale was, as usual at first, cold and quiet, but soon, as usual also, warmed into sociality, The next day Sir Philip Jennings Clerke came. He is not at all aman of letters, but extremely well-bred, nay, elegant, in hismanners, and sensible and agreeable in his conversation, He is aprofessed minority man, and very active and zealous in theopposition. He had, when I came, a bill in agitation concerningcontractors--too long a matter to explain upon paper--but whichwas levelled against bribery and corruption in the ministry, andwhich he was to make a motion upon in __the House of Commons thenext week. (91)

Men of such different principles as Dr. Johnson and Sir PhilipYOU W, may imagine, can not have much sympathy or cordiality intheir political debates; however, the very superior abilities ofthe former, and the remarkable good breeding of the latterp havekept both upon good terms; though they have had severalarguments, in which each has exerted his utmost force forconquest. 

The heads of one of their debates I must try to remember, becauseI should be sorry to forget. Sir Philip explained his bill; Dr. Johnson at first scoffed at it; Mr. Thrale betted a guinea themotion would not pass, and Sir Philip, that he should divide ahundred and fifty upon it. 

Sir Philip, addressinghimmself to Mrs. Thrale, hoped she would not suffer the Tories towarp her judgment, and told me he hoped my father had not taintedmy principles; and then

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he further explained his bill, and indeed made it appear soequitable, that Mrs. Thrale gave in to it, and wished her husbandto vote for it. He still bung back ; but, to our generalsurprise, Dr. Johnson having made more particular inquiries intoits merits, first softened towards it, and then declared it avery rational and fair bill, and joined with Mrs, Thrale insoliciting Mr. Thrale's vote. 

Sir Philip was, and with very good reason, quite delighted. Heopened upon politics more amply, and freely declared hisopinions, which were so strongly against the government, and somuch bordering upon the republican principles, that Dr. Johnsonsuddenly took fire; he called back his recantation begged Mr. Thrale not to vote for Sir Philip's bill, and grew' very animatedagainst his antagonist. 

"The bill, " said he, "ought to be opposed by all honest men ! initself, and considered simply it is equitable, and I wouldforward it; but when we find what a faction it is to support andencourage, it ought not to be listened to. All men should opposeit who do not wish well to sedition!"

 These, and several other expressions yet more strong, he madeuse of; and had Sir Philip had less unalterable politeness, Ibelieve they would have had a vehement quarrel. He maintainedhis ground, however, with calmness and steadiness, though he hadneither argument nor wit at all equal to such an opponent. 

Dr. Johnson pursued him with unabating vigour and dexterity, andat length, though he could not convince, he so entirely baffledhim, that Sir Philip was self-compelled to be quiet-which, with avery good grace, he confessed. 

Dr. Johnson then, recollecting himself, and thinking, as he ownedafterwards, that the dispute grew too serious, with a skill allhis own, suddenly and unexpectedly turned it to burlesque; andtaking Sir Philip by the hand at the moment we arose aftersupper, and were separating for the night, "Sir Philip, " said he, "you are too liberal a man for the partyto which you belong; I shall have much pride in the honour ofconverting you; for I really believe, if you were not spoiled bybad company, the spirit of faction would not bav possessed you. Go, then, sir, to the House, but make not your motion! Give upyour bill, and surprise the world by turning to the side of truthand reason. Rise, sir, when they least expect you, and addressyour fellow-patriots to this Purpose:--Gentlemen, I have, formany a weary day, been

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deceived and seduced by you. I have now opened my eyes; I seethat you are all scoundrels--the subversion of all government isyour aim. Gentlemen, I will no longer herd among rascals inwhose infamy my name and character must be included. I thereforerenounce you all, gentlemen, as you deserve to be renounced. ' "

Then, shaking his hand heartily, he added, "Go, sir, go to bed; meditate upon this recantation, and rise inthe morning a more honest man than you laid down. 

 MR. MURPHY, THE DRAMATIST. 

on Thursday, while my dear father was here, who should beannounced but Mr. Murphy;(93) the man of all other strangers tome whom I most longed to see. 

He is tall and well made, has a very gentlemanlike appearance, and a quietness of manner upon his first address that, to me, isvery pleasing. His face looks sensible, and his deportment isperfectly easy and polite. 

When he had been welcomed by Mrs. Thrale, and had gone throughthe reception-salutations of Dr. Johnson and my father, Mrs. Thrale, advancing to me, said, But here is a lady I must introduce to you, Mr. Murphy here isanother F. B. "

"Indeed!" cried he, taking my hand; "is this a sister of MissBrown's?"

"No, no; this is Miss Burney. "

"What!" cried he, staring; "is this--is this--this is not thelady that--that--"

"Yes, but it is, " answered she, laughing. 

"'No, you don't say so? You don't mean the lady that--"

"Yes yes I do; no less a lady, I assure you. "

He then said he was very glad of the honour of seeing me. Isneaked away. When we came upstairs, Mrs. Thrale charged me tomake myself agreeable to Mr. Murphy. 

"He may be of use to you, in what I am most eager for, yourwriting a play: he knows stage business so well; and if you buttake a fancy to one another, he may be more able to

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serve you than all of us put together. My ambition is, thatJohnson should write your prologue, and Murphy your epilogue, then I shall be quite happy. "

At tea-time, when I went into the library, I found Johnsonreading, and Mrs. Thrale in close conference with Mr. Murphy. 

"If I, " said Mr. Murphy, looking very archly, "had writte acertain book--a book I won't name, but a book I have latelyread--I would next write a comedy. "

"Good, " cried Mrs. Thrale, colouring with pleasure; "you think sotoo?"

"Yes, indeed; I thought so while I was reading it; it struc merepeatedly. "

" Don't look at me, Miss Burney, " cried Mrs. Thrale, "for this isno doing of mine. Well, I wonder what Miss Burney will do twentyyears hence, when she can blush no more; for now she can neverhear the name of her book. "

Mr. M. -Nay, I name no book; at least no author: how can I, for Idon't know the author; there is no name given to it: I only say, whoever wrote that book ought to write a comedy. Dr. Johnsonmight write it for aught I know. 

F. B. -Oh, yes!

Mr. M. -Nay, I have often told him he does not know his ownstrength, or he would write a comedy, and so I think. 

Dr. J. (laughing)-Suppose Burney and I begin together?

Mr. M. -Ah, I wish you would! I wish you would Beaumont andFletcher us!

F. B. -My father asked me, this morning, how my head stood. If heshould have asked me this evening, I don't know what answer Imust have made. 

Mr. M. -I have no wish to turn anybody's head: I speak what Ireally think;--comedy is the forte of that book. I laughed overit most violently: and if the author--I won't say who [all thetime looking away from me]--will write a comedy I will mostreadily, and with great pleasure, give any advice or assistancein my power. 

"Well, now you are a sweet man!" cried Mrs. Thrale, who lookedready to kiss him. "Did not I tell you, Miss Burney, that Mr. Murphy was the man?"

Mr. M. -All I can do, I shall be very happy to do; and at least Iwill undertake to say I can tell what the sovereigns of the uppergallery will bear: for they are the most formidable part of anaudience. I have had so much experience in this

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sort of work, that I believe I can always tell what will behissed at least. And if Miss Burney will write, and will showme--

. Dr. J. - Come, come, have done with this now; why should youoverpower her? Let's have no more of it. I don't mean todissent from what you say; I think well of it, and approve of it;but you have said enough of it. 

Mr. Murphy, who equally loves and reverences Dr. Johnson, instantly changed the subject. 

Yesterday, at night, I asked Dr. Johnson if he would permit me totake a great liberty with him? He assented with the mostencouraging smile. And then I said, "I believe, sir, you heard part of what passed between Mr. Murphyand me the other evening, concerning-a a comedy. Now, if Ishould make such an attempt, would you be so good as to allow me, any time before Michaelmas, to put it in the coach, for you tolook over as you go to town?"

"To be sure, my dear!--What, have you begun a comedy then?

I told him how the affair stood. He then gave me advice whichjust accorded with my wishes, viz. , not to make known that I hadany such intention; to keep my own counsel; not to whisper eventhe name of it; to raise no expectations, which were alwaysprejudicial, and finally, to have it performed while the townknew nothing of whose it was. I readily assured him of my heartyconcurrence in his opinion; but he somewhat distressed me when Itold him that Mr. Murphy must be in my confidence, as he hadoffered his services, by desiring he might be the last to see it. 

What I shall do, I know not, for he has, himself, begged to bethe first. Mrs. Thrale, however, shall guide me between them. He spoke highly of Mr. Murphy, too, for he really loves him. Hesaid he would not have it in the coach, but I should read it tohim; however, I could sooner drown or hang!

When I would have offered some apology for the attempt, he stoptme, and desired I would never make any. 

"For, " said he, "if it succeeds, it makes its own apology, ifnot---"

"ifnot, " quoth I, "I cannot do worse than Dr. Goldsmith, when hisplay(94) failed, --go home and cry"

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He laughed, but told me, repeatedly (I mean twice, which, forhim, is very remarkable), that I might depend upon all theservice in his power; and, he added, it would be well to makeMurphy the last judge, " for he knows the stage, " he said, and Iam quite ignorant of it. "

Afterwards, grasping my hand with the most affectionate warmth, he said, "I wish you success! I wish you well ! my dear little Burney !"

When, at length, I told him I could stay no longer, and bid himgood night, he said, "There is none like you, my dear littleBurney ! there is none like you !--good night, my darling!"

 A BEAUTY WEEPING AT WILL, I find Miss Streatfield' a very amiable girl, and extremelyhandsome; not so wise as I expected, but very well; however, hadshe not chanced to have had so uncommon an education, withrespect to literature or learning, I believe she would not havemade her way among the wits by the force of her natural parts. 

Mr. Seward, you know, told me that she had tears at command, andI begin to think so too, for when Mrs. Thrale, who had previouslytold me I should see her cry, began coaxing her to stay, andsaying, "If you go, I shall know you don't love me so well asLady Gresham, "--she did cry, not loud indeed, nor much, but thetears came into her eyes, and rolled down her fine cheeks. 

"Come hither, Miss Burney, " cried Mrs. Thrale, "come and see MissStreatfield cry! "

I thought it a mere badinage. I went to them, but whenI saw real tears, I was shocked, and saying "No, I won't look

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NE at her, " ran away frightened, lest she should think I laughedat her, which Mrs. Thrale did so openly, that, as I told her, hadshe served me so, I should have been affronted with her everafter. 

miss Streatfield, however, whether from a sweetness not to beruffled, or from not perceiving there was any room for takingoffence, gently wiped her eyes, and was perfectly composed!

 MR. MURPHY'S CONCERN REGARDING FANNY BURNEY'S COMEDY. 

Streatham, May, Friday. Once more, my dearest Susy, Iwill attempt journalising, and endeavour, according to mypromise, to keep up something of the kind during our absence, however brief and curtailed. 

To-day, while Mrs. Thrale was chatting with me in my room, we sawMr. Murphy drive into the courtyard. Down stairs flew Mrs. Thrale, but, in a few minutes, up she flew again, 'crying, "Mr. Murphy is crazy for your play--he won't let me rest for it--do pray let me run away with the first act. "

Little as I like to have it seen in this unfinished state, shewas too urgent to be resisted, so off she made with it. 

I did not shew my phiz till I was summoned to dinner. Mr. Murphy, probably out of flummery, made us wait some minutes, and, when he did come, said, I had much ado not to keep you all longer, for I could hardly getaway from some new acquaintances I was just making. "

As he could not stay to sleep here, he had only time, afterdinner, to finish the first act. He was pleased to commend itvery liberally; he has pointed out two places where he thinks Imight enlarge, but has not criticised one word; on the contrary, the dialogue he has honoured with high praise. 

Brighthelmstone, May 26. The road from Streatham hither isbeautiful: Mr. , Mrs. , Miss Thrale, and Miss Susan Thrale, and I, travelled in a coach, with four horses, and two of the servantsin a chaise, besides two men on horseback; so we were obliged tostop for some time at three places on the road. 

We got home by about nine o'clock. Mr. Thrale's house is in WestStreet, which is the court end of the town here, as well134

as in London. 'Tis a neat, small house, and I have a snugcomfortable room to myself. The sea is not many yards from ourwindows. Our journey was delightfully pleasant, the day beingheavenly, the roads in fine order, the prospects charming, andeverybody good-humoured and cheerful. 

Thursday. Just before we went to dinner, a chaise drove up tothe door, and from it issued Mr. Murphy. He met with, a veryjoyful reception; and Mr. Thrale, for the first time in his life, said he was "a good fellow": for he makes it a sort Of TUle tosalute him with the title of "scoundrel, " or "rascal. " They arevery old friends; and I question if Mr. Thrale loves any man sowell. 

He made me many very flattering speeches, of his eagerness to goon with my play, to know what became of the several characters, and to what place I should next conduct them; assuring me thatthe first act had run in his head ever since he had read it. 

In the evening we all, adjourned to Major H-'s, where, besideshis own family, we found Lord Mordaunt, son to the Earl ofPeterborough, --a pretty, languid, tonnish young man; Mr. Fisher, who is said to be a scholar, but is nothing enchanting as agentleman; young Fitzgerald, as much the thing as ever; and Mr. Lucius Corcannon. 

Mr. Murphy was the life of the party: he was in good spirits, ,and extremely entertaining; he told a million of stories, admirably well; but stories won't do upon paper, therefore Ishall not attempt to present you with them. 

This morning, as soon as breakfast was over, Mr. Murphy said, "I must now go to the seat by the seaside, with my new set ofacquaintance, from whom I expect no little entertainment. "

"Ay, " said Mrs. Thrale, "and there you'll find us all! I believethis rogue means me for Lady Smatter; but Mrs. Voluble(96) mustspeak the epilogue, Mr. Murphy. "

"That must depend upon who performs the part, " answered he. 

"Don't talk of it now, " cried I, "for Mr. Thrale knows nothing ofit. "

"I think, " cried Mr. Murphy, "you might touch upon his characterin 'Censor. '"

"Ay, " cried Mr. Thrale, "I expect a knock some time or

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other; but, when it comes, I'll carry all my myrmidons to cat-call!"

Mr. Murphy then made me fetch him the second act, and walked offwith it. 

 A SCENE ON THE BRIGHTON PARADE. 

We afterwards went on the parade, where the soldiers weremustering, and found Captain Fuller's men all half intoxicated, and laughing so violently as we passed by them, that they couldhardly stand upright. The captain stormed at them most angrily;but, turning to us, said, " These poor fellows have just been paid their arrears, and it isso unusual to them to have a sixpence in their pockets, that theyknow not how to keep it there. "

The wind being extremely high, our caps and gowns were blownabout most abominably; and this increased the risibility of themerry light infantry. Captain 'Fuller's desire to keep ordermade me laugh as much as the men's incapacity to obey him; for, finding our flying drapery provoked their mirth, he went up tothe biggest grinner, and, shaking him violently by the shoulders, said, "What do you laugh for, sirrah? do you laugh at theladies?" and, as soon as he had given the reprimand, it struckhim. To be so ridiculous, that he was obliged to turn quickround, and commit the very fault he was attacking most furiously. 

 MR. MURPHY CONSIDERS THE DIALOGUE IS CHARMING: A CENSORIous LADY. 

After tea, the bishop, his lady, Lord Mordaunt, and Mrs. H--seated themselves to play at whist, and Mr. Murphy, coming Up tome, said, "I have had no opportunity, Miss Burney, to tell you how much Ihave been entertained this morning, but I have a great deal tosay to you about it; I am extremely pleased with it, indeed. Thedialogue is charming; and the--"

"What's that?" cried Mrs. Thrale, "Mr. Murphy always flirtingwith Miss Burney? And here, too, where everybody's watched!"

And she cast her eyes towards Mrs. H--, who is as censorious acountry lady as ever locked up all her ideas in a136

country town. She has told us sneering anecdotes of every womanand every officer in Brighthelm stone. Mr. Murphy, checked byMrs. Thrale's exclamation, stopt the conversation, and said hemust run away, but would return in half-an-hour. 

"Don't expect, however, Miss Burney, " he said, "I shall bringwith me what you are thinking of; no, I can't part with it yet! "

 What! at it again cried Mrs. Thrale. " This flirting isincessant ; but it's all to Mr. Murphy's credit. "

Mrs. Thrale told me afterwards, that she made these speeches todivert the attention of the company from our subject; for thatshe found they were all upon the watch the moment Mr. Murphyaddressed me, and that the bishop and his lady almost threw downtheir cards, from eagerness to discover what he meant. 

The supper was very gay: Mrs. Thrale was in high spirits, and herwit flashed with incessant brilliancy; Mr. Murphy told severalstories with admirable humour; and the Bishop of Peterborough wasa worthy third in contributing towards general entertainment. Heturns out most gaily sociable. Mrs. H-- was discussed, and, poorlady, not very mercifully. 

Mrs. Thrale says she lived upon the Steyn, for the pleasure ofviewing, all day long, who walked with who, how often the samepersons were seen together, and what visits were made bygentlemen to ladies, or ladies to gentlemen. "She often tells me, " said the captain, ," of my men. 'Oh, ' shesays, 'Captain Fuller, your men are always after the ladies!'"

"Nay, " cried Mrs. Thrale, "I should have thought the officersmight have contented her; but if she takes in the soldiers too, she must have business enough. "

"Oh, she gets no satisfaction by her complaints; for I only say, 'Why, ma'am, we are all young!--all young and gay!--and how canwe do better than follow the ladies?'"

 A MILITIA CAPTAIN OFFICIATES As BARBER. 

Saturday, May 29. After breakfast, Mrs. And Miss Thrale took meto Widget's, the milliner and library-woman on the Steyn. Aftera little dawdling conversation, Captain Fuller came in to have alittle chat. He said he had just gone 137

through a great operation--"I have been, " he said, "cutting offthe hair of all my men. "

"And why ?

"Why, the Duke of Richmond ordered that it should be done, andthe fellows swore that they would not submit to it; so I wasforced to be the operator myself. I told them they would look assmart again when they had got on their caps; but it went muchagainst them, they vowed, at first, they would not bear suchusage; some said they would sooner be run through the body, andothers, that the duke should as soon have their heads. I toldthem I would soon try that, and fell to work myself with them. "

"And how did they bear it ?

"Oh, poor fellows, with great good-nature, when they found hishonour was their barber: but I thought proper to submit tobearing all their oaths, and all their jokes; for they had noother comfort but to hope I should have enough of it, and suchsort of wit. Three or four of them, however, escaped, but IShall find them out. I told them I had a good mind to cut my ownhair off too, and then they would have a Captain Crop. I shallsoothe them to-morrow with a present of new feathers for alltheir caps. "

 "HEARTS HAVE AT YE ALL. "

Streatham, Sunday, June 13. After church we all strolled thegrounds, and the topic of our discourse was Miss Streatfield. Mrs. Thrale asserted that she had a power of captivation that wasirresistible ; that her beauty, joined to her softness, hercaressing manners, her tearful eyes, and alluring looks, wouldinsinuate her into the heart of any man she thought worthattacking. 

Sir Philip(97) declared himself of a totally different opinion, ?, :'and quoted Dr. Johnson against her, who had told him that, taking away her Greek, she was as ignorant as a butterfly. 

Mr. Seward declared her Greek was all against her, with him, forthat, instead of reading Pope, Swift, or "The Spectator"-- booksfrom which she might derive useful knowledge and improvement--ithad led her to devote all her reading time to the first eightbooks of Homer. 

"But, " said Mrs. Thrale, "her Greek, you must own, has

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made all her celebrity:--you would have heard no more of her thanof any other pretty girl, but for that. "

"What I object to, " said Sir Philip, "is her avowed Preferencefor this parson. Surely it is very indelicate in any lady to letall the world know with whom she is in love ! "

"The parson, " said the severe Mr. Seward, "I suppose, spokefirst, --or she would as soon have been in love with you, or withme!"

You will easily believe I gave him no pleasant look. He wantedme to slacken my pace, and tell him, in confidence, my privateopinion of her : but I told him, very truly, that as I knew herchiefly by account, not by acquaintance, I had not absolutelyformed my opinion. 

"Were I to live with her four days, " said this odd man, "Ibelieve the fifth I should want to take her to church. "

"You'd be devilish tired of her, though, " said Sir Philip, "inhalf a year. A crying wife will never do!"

"Oh, yes, " cried he, "the pleasure of soothing her would makeamends. "

"Ah, " cried Mrs. Thrale, "I would insure her power of cryingherself into any of your hearts she pleased. I made her cry toMiss Burney, to show how beautiful she looked in tears. " "

"If I had been her, " said Mr. Seward, "I would never have visitedyou again. "

"Oh, but she liked it, " answered Mrs. T. , "for she knows how wellshe does it. Miss Burney would have run away, but she cameforward on purpose to show herself. I would have done so bynobody else - but Sophy Streatfield is never happier than whenthe tears trickle from her fine eyes in company. "

"Suppose, Miss Burney, " said Mr. Seward, "we make her the heroineof our comedy? and call it "Hearts have at ye all?"

"Excellent, " cried I, "it can't be better. "

 GIDDY MISS BROWN. 

At dinner we had three persons added to our company, --my dearfather, Miss Streatfield, and Miss Brown. 

Miss Brown, as I foresaw, proved the queen of the day. MissStreatfield requires longer time to make conquests. She is, indeed, much more really beautiful than Fanny Brown; but FannyBrown is much more showy, and her open, goodhumoured, gay, laughing face inspires an almost immediate wish of conversing andmerry-making with her. Indeed, the two139

days she spent here have raised her greatly in my regard. Sheis a charming girl, and so natural, and easy, and sweet-tempered, that there is no being half an hour in her company withoutardently wishing her well. 

Next day at breakfast, our party was Sir Philip, Mr. Fuller, MissStreatfield, Miss Brown, the Thrales, and I. 

The first office performed was dressing Miss Brown. She had puton bright, jonquil ribbons. Mrs. Thrale exclaimed against themimmediately; Mr. Fuller half joined her, and away she went, andbrought green ribbons of her own, which she made Miss Brown runup stairs with to put on. This she did with the utmost goodhumour; but dress is the last thing in which she excels; for shehas lived so much abroad, and so much with foreigners at home, that she never appears habited as an Englishwoman, nor as ahigh-bred foreigner, but rather as an Italian Opera-dancer; andher wild, careless, giddy manner, her loud hearty laugh, andgeneral negligence of appearance, contribute to give her that airand look. I like her so much, that I am quite sorry she is notbetter advised, either by her own or some friend's judgment. 

Miss Brown, however, was queen of the breakfast: for though hergiddiness made everybody take liberties with her, her goodhumourmade everybody love her, and her gaiety made everybody desirousto associate with her. Sir Philip played with her as with ayoung and sportive kitten; Mr. Fuller laughed and chatted withher; and Mr. Seward, when here, teases and torments her. Thetruth is, he cannot bear her, and she, in return, equally fearsand dislikes him, but still she cannot help attracting hisnotice. 

 SOPHY STREATFIELD AGAIN WEEPS TO ORDER. 

Wednesday, June 16. --We had. At breakfast a scene, of its sort, the most curious I ever saw. 

The persons were Sir Philip, Mr. Seward, Dr. Delap, (98) MissStreatfield, Mrs. And Miss Thrale, and I. The discourse turningI know not how, upon Miss Streatfield, Mrs. Thrale said, "Ay I made her cry once for Miss Burney as pretty as could be, but nobody does cry so pretty as the S. S. I'm sure, when shecried for Seward, I never saw her look half so lovely. "

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"For Seward?" cried Sir Philip; "did she cry for Seward? What ahappy dog! I hope she'll never cry for me, for if she does, Iwon't answer for the consequences!"

"Seward, " said Mrs. Thrale, "had affronted Johnson, and thenJohnson affronted Seward, and then the S. S. Cried. "

"OH, " cried Sir Philip, "that I had but been here!"

"Nay, " answered Mrs. Thrale, "you'd only have seen how like threefools three sensible persons behaved: for my part, I was quitesick of it, and of them too. "

Sir P. - But what did Seward do? was he not melted?

Mrs. T. -Not he; he was thinking only of his own affront, andtaking fire at that. 

Mr. S. -Why, yes, I did take fire, for I went and planted my backto it. 

S. S. -And Mrs. Thrale kept stuffing me with toast-and-water. 

Sir P. -But what did Seward do with himself? Was not he inextacy? What did he do or say?

Mr. S. -Oh, I said pho, pho, don't let's have any more of this, --it's making it of too much consequence: no more piping, pray. 

Sir P. -Well, I have heard so much of these tears, that I wouldgive the universe to have a sight of them. 

Mrs. T. -Well, she shall cry again if you like it. 

S. S. -No, pray, Mrs. Thrale. 

Sir P. - Oh, pray, do ! pray let me see a little of it. 

Mrs. T. -Yes, do cry a little, Sopby [in a wheedling voice], praydo! Consider, now, you are going to-day, and it's very hard ifyou won't cry a little: indeed, S. S. , you ought to cry. 

Now for the wonder of wonders. When Mrs, Thrale, in a coaxingvoice, suited to a nurse soothing a baby, had run on for sometime, --while all the rest of us, in laughter, joined in therequest, --two crystal tears came into the soft eyes of the

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S. S. , and rolled gently down her cheeks! Such a sight I neversaw before, nor could I have believed. She offered not toconceal ordissipate them: on the contrary, she really contrivedto have them seen by everybody. She looked, indeed, uncommonlyhandsome; for her pretty face was not, like Chloe's, blubbered;it was smooth and elegant, and neither her features norcomplexion were at all ruffled; nay, indeed, she was smiling allthe time. 

"Look, look!" cried Mrs. Thrale; "see if the tears are not comealready. "

Loud and rude bursts of laughter broke from us all at once. How, indeed, could they be restrained? Yet we all stared, and lookedand re-looked again and again, twenty times, ere we could believeour eyes. Sir Philip, I thought, would have died in convulsions;for his laughter and his politeness, struggling furiously withone another, made him almost black in the face. Mr. Sewardlooked half vexed that her crying for him was now so much loweredin its flattery, yet grinned incessantly; Miss Thrale laughed asmuch as contempt would allow her: but Dr. Delap seemed petrifiedwith astonishment. 

When our mirth abated, Sir Philip, colouring violently with hisefforts to speak, said, "I thank you, ma'am, I'm much obliged to you. "

But I really believe he spoke without knowing what he was saying. 

"What a wonderful command, " said Dr. Delap, very gravely, "thatlady must have over herself!"

She now took out a handkerchief, and wiped her eyes. 

"Sir Philip, " cried Mr. Seward, "how can you suffer her to dryher own eyes?--you, who sit next her?"

"I dare not dry them for her, " answered he, "because I am not theright man. "

"But if I sat next her, " returned he, "she would not dry themherself. "

"I wish, " cried Dr. Delap, "I had a bottle to put them in; 'tis athousand'pities they should be wasted. "

"There, now, " said Mrs. Thrale, "she looks for all the world asif nothing had happened; for, you know, nothing has happened!"

"Would you cry, Miss Burney, " said Sir Philip, "if we asked you?"

"She can cry, I doubt not, " said Mr. Seward, "on any Properoccasion. "

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"But I must know, " said I, "what for. "I did not say this loud enough for the S. S. To hear me, but if Ihad, she would not have taken it for the reflection it meant. She seemed, the whole time, totally insensible to the numerousstrange and, indeed, impertinent speeches which were made and tobe very well satisfied that she was only manifesting a tendernessof disposition, that increased her beauty of countenance. Atleast, I can put no other construction upon her conduct whichwas, without exception, the strangest I ever saw. Without anypretence of affliction, -to weep merely because she was bid, though bid in a manner to forbid any one else, --to be in goodspirits all the time, --to see the whole company expiring oflaughter at her tears, without being at all offended, and, atlast, to dry them up, and go on with the same sort ofconversation she held before they started!

 " EVERYTHING A BORE. "

Sunday, June 20, -While I was sitting with Mr. Thrale, in thelibrary, Mr. Seward entered. As soon as the first inquiries wereover, he spoke about what he calls our comedy, and he pressed andteazed me to set about it. But he grew, in the evening, soqueer, so ennuy`e, that, in a fit of absurdity, I called him "Mr. Dry;" and the name took so with Mrs. Thrale, that I know not whenhe will lose it. Indeed, there is something in this young man'salternate drollery and lassitude, entertaining qualities andwearying complaints, that provoke me to more pertness than Ipractise to almost anybody. 

The play, he said, should have the double title of "TheIndifferent Man, or Everything a Bore;" and I protested Mr. Dryshould be the hero. And then we ran on, jointly planning asuccession of ridiculous scenes;--he lashing himself prettyfreely though not half so freely, or so much to the purpose, as Ilashed him; for I attacked him, through the channel of Mr, Dry, upon his ennui, his causeless melancholy, his complaininglanguors, his yawning inattention, and his restless discontent. You may easily imagine I was in pretty high spirits to go so far:in truth, nothing else could either have prompted or excused myfacetiousness : and his own manners are so cavalier, that theyalways, with me, stimulate a sympathising return. 

He repeatedly begged me to go to work, and commit the projectedscenes to paper: but I thought that might be carry-

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ing the jest too far; for as I was in no humour to spare him, writtten raillery might, perhaps, have been less to his tastethan verbal. 

He challenged me to meet him the next morning, before breakfast, in the library, that we might work together at some scenes, but Ithought it as well to let the matter drop, and did not make myentry till they were all assembled. 

He, however, ran upon nothing else ; and, as soon aswe happened to be left together, he again attacked me. 

"Come, " said he, "have you nothing ready yet? I dare say youhave half an act in your pocket. "

"No, " quoth I, "I have quite forgot the whole business; I wasonly in the humour for it last night. "

"How shall it begin?" cried he; "with Mr. Dry in his study?-- hisslippers just on, his hair about his ears, --exclaiming, 'O what abore is life!--What is to be done next?"

"Next?" cried I, "what, before he has done anything at all?"

"Oh, he has dressed himself, you know. --Well, then he takes up abook--"

"For example, this, " cried I, giving him Clarendon's History. 

He took it up in character, and flinging it away, cried

"No--this will never do, --a history by a party writer isvodious. "

I then gave him Robertson's "America. "

"This, " cried he, "is of all reading the most melancholy;--anaccount of possessions we have lost by our own folly. "

I then gave him Baretti's "Spanish Travels. "

"Who, " cried he, flinging it aside, "can read travels by a fellowwho never speaks a word of truth. "

Then I gave him a volume of "Clarissa. "

"Pho, " cried he, "a novel writ by a bookseller!--there is but onenovel now one can bear to read, --and that's written by a younglady. "

I hastened to stop him with Dalrymple's Memoirs, and thenproceeded to give him various others, upon all which he madesevere, splenetic, yet comical comments;--and we continued thusemployed till he was summoned to accompany Mr. Thrale to town. 

The next morning, Wednesday, I had some very serious talk withMr. Seward, --and such as gave me no inclination for railery, though it was concerning his ennui; on the contrary, I resolved, athe the moment, never to rally him upon that subject again, forhis account of himself filled me with compassion. 144

He told me that he had never been well for tbree hours in a dayin his life, and that when he was thought only tired he wasreally so ill that he believed scarce another man would stay incompany. I was quite shocked at this account, and told him, honestly, that I had done him so little justice as to attributeall his languors to affectation. 

 PROPOSED MATCH BETWEEN MR. SEWARD AND THE WEEPER-AT-WILL. 

When Mrs. Thrale joined us, Mr. Seward told us he had just seenDr. Jebb. --Sir Richard, I mean, --and that he had advised him tomarry. 

"No, " cried Mrs. Thrale, "that will do nothing for you; but ifyou should marry, I have a wife for you. "

"Who?" cried he, "the S. S. ?"

"The S. S. ?--no!--she's the last person for you, --her extremesoftness, and tenderness, and weeping, would add languor tolanguor, and irritate all your disorders; 'twould be drink to adropsical man. "

"No, no, -it would soothe me. "

"Not a whit ! it would only fatigue you. The wife for you isLady Anne Lindsay. She has birth, wit, and beauty, she has nofortune, and she'd readily accept you; and she is such a spiritthat she'd animate you, I warrant you! O, she would trim youwell! you'd be all alive presently. She'd take all the care ofthe money affairs, --and allow you out of them eighteen pence aweek! That's the wife for you!"

Mr. Seward was by no means " agreeable " to the proposal; heturned the conversation upon the S. S. , and gave us an account oftwo visits he had made her, and spoke in favour of her manner ofliving, temper, and character. When he had run on in this strainfor some time, Mrs. Thrale cried, "Well, so you are grown very fond of her?"

"Oh dear, no!" answered he, drily, "not at all!"

" Why, I began to think, " said Mrs. Thrale, "you intended tosupplant the parson. "

"No, I don't: I don't know what sort of an old woman she'd make;the tears won't do then. Besides, I don't think her so sensibleas I used to do. "

"But she's very pleasing, " cried I, "and very amiable. "

"Yes, she's pleasing, --that's certain; but I don't think shereads much; the Greek has spoilt her. "145

"Well, but you can read for yourself. "

"That's true ; but does she work well?"

"I believe she does, and that's a better thing. "

"Ay; so it is, " said he, saucily, "for ladies; ladies shouldrather write than read. "

"But authors, " cried I, "before they write should read. "

Returning again to the S. S. , and being again rallied about herby Mrs. Thrale, who said she believed at last he would endthere, -he said, "Why, if I must marry--if I was bid to choose between that andracking on the wheel, I believe I should go to her. "

We all laughed at this exquisite compliment; but, as he said, itwas a compliment, for though it proved no passion for her, itproved a preference. 

"However, " he continued, "it won't do. "

"Upon my word, " exclaimed I, "you settle it all your own way!--the lady would be ready at any rate!"

"Oh yes ! any man might marry Sophy Streatfield. "

I quite stopt to exclaim against him. 

"I mean, " said he, "if he'd pay his court to her. "

 THE FATE OF "THE WITLINGS. "

(Fanny Burney to Mr. Crisp. )Friday, July 30This seems a strange, unseasonable period for myundertaking, but yet, my dear daddy, when you have read myconVersation with Mr. Sheridan, I believe you will agree that Imust have been wholly insensible, nay, almost ungrateful, toresist encouragement such as he gave me--nay, more thanencouragement, entreaties, all of which he warmly repeated to myfather. 

Now, as to the play itself, I own I had wished to have been thebearer of it when I visit Chesington; but you seem so urgent, andmy father himself is so desirous to carry it you, that I havegiven that plan up. 

O my dear daddy, if your next letter were to contain your realopinion of it, how should I dread to open it! Be, however, ashonest as your good nature and delicacy will allow you to be, andassure yourself I shall be very certain that all your criticismswill proceed from your earnest wishes to obviate146

those of others, and that you would have much more pleasure inbeing my panegyrist. 

As to Mrs. Gast, I should be glad to know what I would refuse toa sister of yours. Make her, therefore, of your coterie, if sheis with you while the piece is in your possession. 

And now let me tell you what I wish in regard to this affair. Ishould like that your first reading should have nothing to dowith me-that you should go quick through it, or let my fatherread it to you-forgetting all the time, as much as you can, thatFannikin is the writer, or even that it is a play in manuscript, and capable of alterations ;-and then, when you have done, Ishould like to have three lines, telling me, as nearly as you cantrust my candour, its general effect. After that take it to yourown desk, and lash it at your leisure. 

(Fanny Burney to Dr. Burney. )

The fatal knell, then, is knolled, and down among the dead mensink the poor " Witlings "-for ever, and for ever, and for ever!

I give a sigh, whether I will or not, to their memory! for, however worthless, they were mes enfans. You, my dear sir, whoenjoyed, I really think, even more than myself, the astonishingsuccess of my first attempt, would, I believe, even more thanmyself, be hurt at the failure of my second; and I am sure Ispeak from the bottom of a very honest heart, when I mostsolemnly declare, that upon your account any disgrace wouldmortify and afflict me more than upon my own ; for whateverappears with your knowledge, will be naturally supposed to havemet with your approbation, and, perhaps, your assistance;therefore, though all particular censure would fall where itought--upon me--yet any general censure of the whole, and theplan, would cruelly, but certainly involve you in its severity. 

You bid me open my heart to you, --and so, my dearest sir, I will, for it is the greatest happiness of my life that I dare besincere to you. I expected many objections to be raised--athousand errors to be pointed out-and a million of alterations tobe proposed; but the suppression of the piece were words I didnot expect; indeed, after the warm approbation of Mrs. Thrale, and the repeated commendations and flattery of Mr. Murphy, howcould I?

I do not, therefore, pretend to wish you should think a

147

decision, for which I was so little prepared, has given me nodisturbance ; for I must be a far more egregious witling than anyof those I tried to draw, to imagine you could ever credit that Iwrote without some remote hope of success now--though I literallydid when I composed "Evelina"!

But ny mortification is not at throwing away the characters, orthe contrivance;--it is all at throwing away the time, --which Iwith difficulty stole, and which I have buried in the meretrouble of writing. 

(Fanny Burney to Mr. Crisp. )

Well! there are plays that are to be saved, and plays that arenot to be saved! so good night, Mr. Dabbler!--good night, LadySmatter, --Mrs. Sapient, --Mrs. Voluble, --Mrs. Wheedle, --Censor, --Cecilia, --Beaufort, --and you, you great oaf, Bobby!--good night!good night!

And good morning, Miss Fanny Burney!--I hope you have opened youreyes for some time, and will not close them in so drowsy a fitagain--at least till the full of the moon. 

I won't tell you, I have been absolutely ravie with delight atthe fall of the curtain; but I intend to take the affair in thetant miemx manner, and to console myself for your censure by thisgreatest proof I have ever received of the sincerity, candour, and, let me add, esteem, of my dear daddy. And as I happen tolove myself rather more than my play, this consolation is not avery trifling one. 

As to all you say of my reputation and so forth, I perceive thekindness of your endeavours to put me in humour with myself, andprevent my taking huff, which, if I did, I should deserve toreceive, upon any future trial, hollow praise from you, --and therest from the public. 

The only bad thing in this affair is, that I cannot take thecomfort of my poor friend Dabbler, by calling you a crabbedfellow, because you write with almost more kindness than everneither can I (though I try hard) persuade myself that you havenot a grain of taste in your whole composition. This, however, seriously I do believe, that when my two daddies put their headstogether to concert for me that hissing, groaning, catcallingepistle they sent me, they felt as sorry for poor little MissBayes as she could possibly do for herself. (100)

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"QUITE WHAT WE CALL, " AND "GIVE ME LEAVE To TELL YOU. "

We had Lady Ladd at Streatham; Mr. Stephen Fuller, the sensible, but deaf old gentleman I have formerly mentioned, dined herealso; as did Mr. R--, (101) whose trite, settled, tonish emptinessof discourse is a never-failing source of laughter and diversion. 

"Well, I say, what, Miss Burney, so you had a very good partylast Tuesday?--what we call the family party--in that Sort ofway? Pray who had you?"

"Mr. Chamier. "(102)

"Mr. Chamier, ay? Give me leave to tell you, Miss Burney, thatMr. Chamier is what we call a very sensible man!"

"Certainly. And Mr. Pepys. "(103)

"Mr. Pepys? Ay, very good--very good in that sort of way. I amquite sorry I could not be here; but I was so much indisposed--quite what we call the nursing party. "

"I'm very sorry; but I hope little Sharp(104) is well?

"Ma'am, your most humble! you're a very good lady, indeed!--quitewhat we call a good lady! Little Sharp is perfectly well: thatsort of attention, and things of that sort, ---the bow-wow systemis very well. But pray, Miss Burney, give me leave to ask, inthat sort of way, had you anybody else?"

Yes, Lady Ladd and Mr. Seward. "

"So, so!--quite the family system! Give me leave to tell you, Miss Burney, this commands attention!--what we call a respectableinvitation! I am sorry I could not come, indeed; for we youngmen, Miss Burney, we make it what we call a sort of rule to takenotice of this sort of attention. But I was extremelyindisposed, indeed--what we call the walnut system

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had quite--- Pray what's the news, Miss Burney?--in that sort ofway, is there any news?"

"None, that I have heard. Have you heard any?"

"Why, very bad! very bad, indeed!--quite what we call poor oldEngland! I was told, in town, --fact--fact, I assure you--thatthese Dons intend us an invasion this very month, they and theMonsieurs intend us the respectable salute this very month;--thepowder system, in that sort of way! Give me leave to tell you, Miss Burney, this is what we call a disagreeable visit, in thatsort of way. "

I think, if possible, his language looks more absurd upon papereven than it sounds in conversation, from the perpetualrecurrence of the same words and expressions---

 THE CRYING BEAUTY AND HER MOTHER. 

Brighthelmstone, October 12-On Tuesday Mr. , Mrs. , Miss Thrale, and "yours, ma'am, yours, " set out on their expedition. The daywas very pleasant, and the journey delightful. 

We dined very comfortably at Sevenoaks, and thence made but onestage to Tunbridge. It was so dark when we went through the townthat I could see it very indistinctly. The Wells, however, areabout seven miles yet further, so that we saw that night nothing; but I assure you, I felt that I was entering into a new countrypretty roughly, for the roads were so sidelum and jumblum, asMiss L-- called those of Teignmouth, that I expected an overturnevery minute. Safely, however, we reached the Sussex Hotel, atTunbridge Wells. 

Having looked at our rooms, and arranged our affairs, weproceeded to Mount Ephraim, where Miss Streatfield resides. Wefound her with only her mother, and spent the evening there. 

Mrs. Streatfield is very--very little, but perfectly well made, thin, genteel, and delicate. She has been quite beautiful, andhas still so much of beauty left, that to call it only theremains of a fine face seems hardly doing her justice. She isvery lively, and an excellent mimic, and is, I think, as muchsuperior to her daughter in natural gifts as her daughter is toher in acquired ones: and how infinitely preferable are partswithout education to education without parts!

The fair S. S. Is really in higher beauty than I have ever yetseen her; and she was so caressing, so soft, so amiable, that Ifelt myself insensibly inclining to her with an affectionate

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regard. "If it was not for that little, gush, " as Dr. DelapSaid, I should certainly have taken a very great fancy to her ;but tears so ready-oh, they blot out my fair opinion of her! Yetwhenever I am with her, I like, nay, almost love her, for hermanners are exceedingly captivating ; but when I quit her, I donot find that she improves by being thought over-no, nor talkedover; for Mrs. Thrale, who is always disposed to half adore herin her presence, can never converse about her without excitingher own contempt by recapitulating what has passed. This, however, must always be certain, whatever may be doubtful, thatshe is a girl in no respect like any other. 

But I have not yet done with the mother: I have told you of hervivacity and her mimicry, but her character is yet not half told. She has a kind of whimsical conceit and odd affectation, that, joined to a very singular sort of humour, makes her always seemto be rehearsing some scene in a comedy. She takes off, if shementions them, all her own children, and, though she quite adoresthem, renders them ridiculous with all her power. She laughs atherself for her smallness and for her vagaries, just with thesame ease and ridicule as if she were speaking Of some otherperson ; and, while perpetually hinting at being old and broken, she is continually frisking, flaunting, and playing tricks, likea young coquet. 

When I was introduced to her by Mrs. Thrale, who said, "Give me leave, ma'am, to present to you a friend of yourdaughter's--Miss Burney, " she advanced to me with a trippingpace, and, taking one of my fingers, said, "Allow me, ma'am, willyou, to create a little -acquaintance with you. "

And, indeed, I readily entered into an alliance with her, for Ifound nothing at Tunbridge half so entertaining, except, indeed, Miss Birch, of whom hereafter. 

 A BEWITCHING PRODIGY. 

Tunbridge Wells is a place that to me appeared very Singular; thecountry is all rock, and every part of it is either up or downhill, scarce ten yards square being level ground in the wholeplace: the houses, too, are scattered about in a strange wildmanner, and look as if they had been dropt where they stand byaccident, for they form neither streets nor squares, but seemstrewed promiscuously, except, indeed, where the shopkeeperslive, who have got two or three dirty little lanes, much likedirty little lanes in other places, 151

In the evening we all went to the rooms. The rooms, asthey are called, consisted for this evening, of only oneapartment, as there was not company enough to make morenecessary, and a very plain, unadorned, and ordinary apartmentthat was. 

The next morning we had the company of two young ladies atbreakfast-the S. S. And a Miss Birch, a little girl but ten yearsold, whom the S. S. Invited, well foreseeing how much we shouldall be obliged to her. This Miss Birch is a niece of thecharming Mrs. Pleydell, (105) and so like her, that I should havetaken her for her daughter. Yet she is not, now, quite sohandsome; but as she will soon know how to display her beauty tothe utmost advantage, I fancy, in a few years, she will yet moreresemble her lovely and most bewitching aunt. Everybody, shesaid, tells her how like she is to her aunt Pleydell. 

As you, therefore, have seen that sweet woman, only imagine herten years old, and you will see her sweet niece. Nor does theresemblance rest with the person; she sings like her, laughs likeher, talks like her, caresses like her, and alternately softensand animates just like her. Her conversation is not merely likethat of a woman already, but like that of a most uncommonlyinformed, cultivated, and sagacious woman; and at the same timethat her understanding is thus wonderfully premature, she can, atpleasure, throw off all this rationality, and make herself a mereplayful, giddy, romping child. One moment, with mingled gravityand sarcasm, she discusses characters, and the next, withschoolgirl spirits, she jumps round the room; then, suddenly, sheasks, "Do you know such or such a song?" and instantly, withmixed grace and buffoonery, singles out an object, and sings it;and then, before there has been time to applaud her, she runsinto the middle of the room, to try some new step in a dance; andafter all this, without waiting till her vagaries grow tiresome, she flings herself, with an affectionate air upon somebody's lap, and there, composed and thoughtful, she continues quiet till sheagain enters into rational conversation. 

 Her voice is really charming--infinitely the most powerful, aswell as sweet, I ever heard at her age. Were she well andconstantly taught, she might, I should think, do anything, --

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for two or three Italian songs, which she learnt out of only fivemonths' teaching by Parsons, she sung like a little angel, withrespect to taste, feeling, and expression; but she now learns ofnobody, and is so fond of French songs, for the sake, she says, of the sentiment, that I fear she will have her wonderfulabilities all thrown away. Oh, how I wish my father had thecharge of her!

She has spent four years out of her little life in France, whichhas made her distractedly fond of the French operas, "Rose etColas, " "Annette et Lubin, " etc. , and she told us the story quitethrough of several I never heard of, always singing the sujetwhen she came to the airs, and comically changing parts in theduets. She speaks French with the same fluency as English, andevery now and then, addressing herself to the S. S. --"Que je vousadore!"--"Ah, permettez que je me mette `a vos pieds!" etc. , witha dying languor that was equally laughable and lovely. 

When I found, by her taught songs, what a delightful singer shewas capable of becoming, I really had not patience to hear herlittle French airs, and entreated her to give them up, but thelittle rogue instantly began pestering me with them, singing oneafter another with a comical sort of malice, and following meround the room, when I said I would not listen to her, to say, "But is not this pretty?--and this?--and this?" singing away withall her might and main. 

She sung without any accompaniment, as we had no instrument ; butthe S. S. Says she plays too, very well. Indeed, I fancy she cando well whatever she pleases. 

We hardly knew how to get away from her when the carriage wasready to take us from Tunbridge, and Mrs. Thrale was so muchenchanted with her that she went on the Pantiles and bought her avery beautiful inkstand. 

"I don't mean, Miss Birch, " she said, when she gave it her, "topresent you this toy as to a child, but merely to beg you will dome the favour to accept something that may make you now and thenremember us. "

She was much delighted with this present, and told me, in awhisper, that she should put a drawing of it in her journal. 

So you see, Susy, other children have had this whim. Butsomething being said of novels, the S. S. Said--

"Selina, do you ever read them?"--And, with a sigh, the littlegirl answered--

"But too often!---I wish I did not:153

The only thing i did not like in this seducing little creaturewas our leave-taking. The S. S. Had, as we expected, her fineeyes suffused with tears, and nothing would serve the littleSelina, who admires the S. S. Passionately, but that she, also, must weep-and weep, therefore, she did, and that in a manner aspretty to look at, as soft, as melting, and as little to herdiscomposure, as the weeping of her fair exemplar. The child'ssuccess in this pathetic art made the tears of both appear to thewhole party to be lodged, as the English merchant says, "verynear the eyes!"

Doubtful as it is whether we shall ever see this sweet syrenagain, nothing, as Mrs. Thrale said to her, can be more certainthan that we shall hear of her again, let her go whither shewill. 

Charmed as we all were with her, we all agreed that to have thecare of her would be distraction! "She seems the girl in theworld, " Mrs. Thrale wisely said, "to attain the highest reach ofhuman perfection as a man's mistress!--as such she would be asecond Cleopatra, and have the world at her command. "

Poor thing! I hope to heaven she willescape such sovereignty andsuch honours!

 AT BRIGHTON: A "CURE. " THE JEALOUS CUMBERLANDS. 

We left Tunbridge Wells, and got, by dinner time, to our firststage, Uckfield. Our next stage brought us to Brighthelmstone, where I fancy we shall stay till the Parliament calls away Mr. Thrale. (106)

 The morning after our arrival, our first visit was from MrKipping, the apothecary, a character so curious that Foote(107)designed him for his next piece, before he knew he had alreadywritten his last. He is a prating, good-humoured old gossip, whoruns on in as incoherent and unconnected a style of discourse asRose Fuller, though not so tonish. 

The rest of the morning we spent, as usual at this place, uponthe Steyn, and in booksellers' shops. Mrs. Thrale entered allour names at Thomas's, the fashionable bookseller; but we find hehas now a rival, situated also upon the Steyn, who seems to carryaway all the custom and all the company. This is a Mr. Bowen, who is just come from London, and who

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seems just the man to carry the world before him as a shop, keeper. Extremely civil, attentive to watch opportunities Ofobliging, and assiduous to make use of them--skilful indiscovering the taste or turn of mind of his Customers, andadroit in Putting in their way just such temptations as they areleast able to withstand. Mrs. Thrale, at the same time that shesees his management and contrivance, so much admires his sagacityand dexterity, that, though open-eyed, she is as easily wroughtupon to part with her money, as any of the many dupes in thisplace, whom he persuades to require indispensably whatever heshows them. He did not, however, then at all suspect who I was, for he showed me nothing but schemes for raffles, and books, pocket-cases, etc. , which weie put up for those purposes. It isplain I c I can have no authoress air, since so discerning abookseller thought me a fine lady spendthrift, who only wantedoccasions to get rid of money. 

Sunday morning, as we came out of church, we saw Mrs. Cumberland, one of her sons, and both her daughters. Mrs. Thrale spoke tothem, but I believe they did not recollect me. They are reckonedthe flashers of the place, yet everybody laughs at them for theirairs, affectations, and tonish graces and impertinences. 

In the evening, Mrs. Dickens, a lady of Mrs. Thrale'sacquaintance, invited us to drink tea at the rooms with her, which we did, and found them much more full and lively than thepreceding night. The folks of most consequence with respect torank, were Lady Pembroke and Lady Di Beauclerk, (108) both of whomhave still very pleasing remains of the beauty for which theyhave been so much admired. But the present beauty, whose remainsour children i. E. Nieces) may talk of, is a Mrs. Musters, anexceedingly pretty woman, who is the reigning toast of theseason. 

While Mrs. Thrale, Mrs. Dickens, and I were walking about aftertea, we were joined by a Mr. Cure, a gentleman of the former'sacquaintance. After a little while he said-

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"Miss Thrale is very much grown since she was here last year ;and besides, I think she's vastly altered. "

"Do you, sir, " cried she, "I can't say I think so. "

"Oh vastly!--but young ladies at that age are always altering. To tell you the truth, I did not know her at all. "

This, for a little while, passed quietly; but soon after, heexclaimed, "Ma'am, do you know I have not yet read 'Evelina?"

"Have not you so, sir?" cried she, laughing. 

"No, and I think I never shall, for there's no getting it. Thebooksellers say they never can keep it a moment, and the folksthat hire it keep lending it from one to another in such a mannerthat it is never returned to the library. It's very provoking. "

"But, " said Mrs. Thrale, "what makes you exclaim about it so tome?"

"Why, because, if you recollect, the last thing you said to mewhen we parted last year, was--be sure you read 'Evelina. ' So assoon as I saw you I recollected it all again. But I wish MissThrale would turn more this way. "

"Why, what do you mean, Mr. Cure? do you know Miss Thrale now?"

"Yes, to be sure, " answered he, looking full at me, "though Iprotest I should not have guessed at her had I seen her withanybody but you. "

"Oh ho!" cried Mrs. Thrale, laughing, "so you mean Miss Burneyall this time. "

Mr. Cure looked aghast. As soon, I suppose, as he was able, herepeated, in a low voice, "Miss Burney! so then that lady is theauthoress of 'Evelina' all this time. "

And, rather abruptly, he left us and joined another party. 

I suppose he told his story to as many as he talked to, for, in ashort time, I found myself so violently stared at that I couldhardly look any way without being put quite out ofcountenance, -particularly by young Mr. Cumberland, a handsome, soft-looking youth, who fixed his eyes upon me incessantly, though but the evening before, when I saw him at Hicks's, helooked as if it would have been a diminution of his dignity tohave regarded me twice. One thing proved quite disagreeable tome, and that was the whole behaviour of the whole tribe of theCumberlands, which I must explain, 156

Mr. Cumberland, (109) when he saw Mrs. Thrale, flew With eagernessto her and made her take his seat, and he talked to her, withgreat friendliness and intimacy, as he has been always accustomedto do, -and inquired very particularly concerning her daughter, expressing an earnest desire to see her. But when, some timeafter, Mrs. Thrale said, "Oh, there is my daughter, with MissBurney, " he changed the discourse abruptly, --never came near MissThrale, and neither then nor since, when he has met Mrs. Thrale, has again mentioned her name: and the whole evening lie seemeddetermined to avoid us both. 

Mrs. Cumberland contented herself with only looking at me as at aperson she had no reason or business to know. 

The two daughters, but especially the eldest, as well as the son, were by no means so quiet; they stared at me every time I camenear them as if I had been a thing for a show; surveyed me fromhead to foot, and then again, and again returned to my face, withso determined and so unabating a curiosity, that it really mademe uncomfortable. 

All the folks here impute the whole of this conduct to its havingtranspired that I am to bring out a play this season;for Mr. Cumberland, though in all other respects an agreeable anda good man, is so notorious for hating and envying and spitingall authors in the dramatic line, that he is hardly decent in hisbehaviour towards them. 

He has little reason, at present at least, to bear me anyill-will; but if he is capable of such weakness and malignity asto have taken an aversion to me merely because I can make use ofpen and ink, he deserves not to hear of my having suppressed myplay, or of anything else that can gratify so illiberal adisposition. 

Dr. Johnson, Mr. Cholmondeley, and Mr. And Mrs. Thrale have allrepeatedly said to me, "Cumberland no doubt hates you heartily bythis time;" but it always appeared to me a speech of mingled funand flattery, and I never dreamed of its being possible to betrue. 

A few days since, after tea at Mrs. Dickens's, we all went to therooms. There was a great deal of company, and among them theCumberlands. The eldest of the girls, who was walking with Mrs. Musters, quite turned round her whole person every time we passedeach other, to keep me in sight, and stare at me as long aspossible; so did her brother, 157

I never saw anything so ill-bred and impertinent; I protest I wasready to quit the rooms to avoid them - till at last Miss Thrale, catching Miss Cumberland's eye, gave her so full, determined, anddowning a stare, that whether cured by shame or by resentment, she forbore from that time to look at either of us. Miss Thrale, with a sort of good-natured dryness, said, "Whenever you aredisturbed with any of these starers, apply to me, --I'll warrantI'll cure them. I dare say the girl hates me for it ; but whatshall I be the worse for that? I would have served masterDickey(110) so too, only I could not catch his eye. "

Oct. 20-We have had a visit from Dr. Delap. He told me that hehad another tragedy, and that I should have it to read. 

He was very curious to see Mr. Cumberland, who, it seems, hasgiven evident marks of displeasure at his name whenever Mrs. Thrale has mentioned it. That poor man is so wonderfullynarrow-minded in his authorship capacity, though otherwise good, humane and generous, that he changes countenance at either seeingor hearing of any writer whatsoever. Mrs. Thrale, with whom, this foible excepted, he is a great favourite, is so enraged withhim for his littleness of soul in this respect, that merely toplague him, she vowed at the rooms she would walk all the eveningbetween Dr. Delap and me. I wished so little to increase hisunpleasant feelings, that I determined to keep with Miss Thraleand Miss Dickens entirely. One time, though, Mrs. Thrale, whenshe was sitting by Dr. Delap, called me suddenly to her, and whenI was seated, said, "Now let's see if Mr. Cumberland will comeand speak to me !" But he always turns resolutely another waywhen he sees her with either of us; though at all other times heis particularly fond of her company. 

"It would actually serve him right, " says she, "to make Dr. Delapand you strut at each side of me, one with a dagger, and theother with a mask, as tragedy and comedy. "

"I think, Miss Burney, " said the doctor, "you and I seem to standin the same predicament. What shall we do for the Poor man?suppose we burn a play apiece?"

"Depend upon it, " said Mrs. Thrale, "he has heard, in town, thatyou are both to bring one out this season, and perhaps one of hisown may be deferred on that account. "

On the announcement of the carriage, we went into the next roomfor our cloaks, where Mrs. Thrale and Mr. Cumberland were in deepconversation. 

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"Oh, here's Miss Burney! " said Mrs. Thrale aloud. Mr Cumberlandturned round, but withdrew his eyes instantly; and I, determinednot to interrupt them, made Miss Thrale walk away with me. Inabout ten minutes she left him and we all came home. 

As soon as we were in the carriage, "It has been, " said Mrs. Thrale, warmly, "all I could do not toaffront Mr. Cumberland to-night!"

"Oh, I hope not cried I, "I would not have you for the world!"

" Why, I have refrained ; but with great difficulty. "

And then she told me the conversation she had just had with him. As soon as I made off, he said, with a spiteful tone of voice, "Oh, that young lady is an author, I hear!"

"Yes, " answered Mrs. Thrale, "author of 'Evelina. '"

"Humph, --I am told it has some humour!"

"Ay, indeed! Johnson says nothing like it has appeared foryears!"

"So, " cried he, biting his lips, and waving uneasily in hischair, "so, so!"

" Yes, " continued she, " and Sir Joshua Reynolds told Mr. Thralehe would give fifty pounds to know the author!"

"So, so--oh, vastly well!" cried he, putting his hand on hisforehead. 

"Nay, " added she, "Burke himself sat up all night to finish it!"

This seemed quite too much for him; he put both his hands to hisface, and waving backwards and forwards, said, "Oh, vastly well!--this will do for anything!" with a tone asmuch as to say, Pray, no more!

Then Mrs. Thrale bid him good night, longing, she said, to callMiss Thrale first, and say, "So you won't speak to my daughter?--why, she is no author. "

 AN AMUSING CHARACTER: His VIEWS ON MANY SUBJECTS. 

October 20. -I must now have the honour to present to you a newacquaintance, who this day dined here. 

Mr. B-y, (111) an Irish gentleman, late a commissary in Germany. He is between sixty and seventy, but means to pass for aboutthirty; gallant, complaisant, obsequious, and humble to the fairsex, for whom he has an awful reverence; but when

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not immediately addressing them, swaggering, blustering, puffing, and domineering. These are his two apparent characters; but thereal man is worthy, moral, religious, though conceited andparading. 

He is as fond of quotations as my poor Lady Smatter, (112) and, like her, knows little beyond a song, and always blunders aboutthe author of that. His whole conversation consists in littleFrench phrases, picked up during his residence abroad, and inanecdotes and story-telling, which are sure to be retold dailyand daily in the same words. 

Speaking of the ball in the evening, to which we were all going, "Ah, madam!" said he to Mrs. Thrale, "there was a time when--fol-de-rol, fol-de-rol [rising, and dancing and Singing], fol-de-rol!--I could dance with the best of them; but now a man, forty and upwards, as my Lord Ligonier used to say--but--fol-de-rol!--there was a time!"

"Ay, so there was, Mr. B--y, " said Mrs. Thrale, "and I think youand I together made a very venerable appearance!"

"Ah! madam, I remember once, at Bath, I was called out to dancewith one of the finest young ladies I ever saw. I was justpreparing to do my best, when a gentleman of my acquaintance wasso cruel as to whisper me-- 'B--y! the eyes of all Europe areupon you!' for that was the phrase of the times. 'B--y!' sayshe, 'the eyes of all Europe are upon you!'-- I vow, ma'am, enoughto make a man tremble!-fol-de-rol, fol-de-rol! [dancing]--theeyes of all Europe are upon you!--I declare, ma'am, enough to puta man out of countenance. "

I am absolutely almost ill with laughing. This Mr. B--y halfconvulses me ; yet I cannot make you laugh by writing hisspeeches, because it is the manner which accompanies them, that, more than the matter, renders them so peculiarly ridiculous. His extreme pomposity, the solemn stiffness of his person, theconceited twinkling of his little old eyes, and the quaintimportance of his delivery, are so much more like somepragmatical old coxcomb represented on the stage, than likeanything in real and common life, that I think, were I a man, Ishould sometimes be betrayed into clapping him for acting soWell. As it is, I am sure no character in any comedy I ever sawhas made me laugh more extravagantly. 

He dines and spends the evening here constantly, to my greatsatisfaction. 

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At dinner, when Mrs. Thrale offers him a seat next her, heregularly says, "But where are les charmantes?" meaning Miss T. And me. "I cando nothing till they are accommodated!"

And, whenever he drinks a glass of Wine, he never fails to toucheither Mrs. Thrale's, or my glass, with "est-il permis?"

But at the same time that he is so courteous, he is proud to amost sublime excess, and thinks every person to whom he speakshonoured beyond measure by his notice, nay, he does not even lookat anybody without evidently displaying that such notice is morethe effect of his benign condescension, than of any pretension ontheir part to deserve such a mark of his perceiving theirexistence. But you will think me mad about this man. 

Nov. 3-Last Monday we went again to the ball. Mr. B--y, who wasthere, and seated himself next to Lady Pembroke, at the top ofthe room, looked most sublimely happy! He continues still toafford me the highest diversion. 

As he is notorious for his contempt of all artists, whom he looksupon with little more respect than upon day-labourers, the otherday, when painting was discussed, he spoke of Sir Joshua Reynoldsas if he had been upon a level with a carpenter or farrier. 

"Did you ever, " said Mrs. Thrale, "see his Nativity?"

"No, madam, --but I know his pictures very well; I knew him manyyears ago, in Minorca; he drew my picture there; and then he knewhow to take a moderate price; but now, I vow, ma'am, 'tisscandalous--scandalous indeed! to pay a fellow here seventyguineas for scratching out a head!"

"Sir, " cried Dr. Delap, "you must not run down Sir JoshuaReynolds, because he is Miss Burney's friend. "

"Sir, " answered he, "I don't want to run the man down; I like himwell enough in his proper place; he is as decent as any man ofthat sort I ever knew; but for all that, sir, his prices areshameful. Why, he would not (looking at the poor doctor with anenraged contempt] he would not do your head under seventyguineas!"

"Well, " said Mrs. Thrale, "he had one portrait at the lastexhibition, that I think hardly could be paid enough for; it wasof a Mr. Stuart; I had never done admiring it. "

"What stuff is this, ma'am!" cried Mr. B-y, "how can two or threedabs of paint ever be worth such a sum as that?"161

"Sir, " said Mr. Selwyn(113) (always willing to draw him out), "you know not how much he is improved since you knew him inMinorca; he is now the finest painter, perhaps, in the world. "

"Pho, pho, sir, " cried he, "how can you talk so? you, Mr. Selwin, who have seen so many capital pictures abroad?

"Come, come, sir, " said the ever odd Dr. Delap, "you must not goon so undervaluing him, for, I tell you, he is a friend of MissBurney's. "

"Sir, " said Mr. B--y, "I tell you again I have no objection tothe man; I have dined in his company two or three times; a verydecent man he is, fit to keep company with gentlemen; but, ma'am, what are all your modern dabblers put together to one ancient?nothing!--a set of--not a Rubens among them! I vow, ma'am, not aRubens among them!" . . . . . 

To go on with the subject I left off with last--my favouritesubject you will think it---Mr. B-y. I must inform you that hiscommendation was more astonishing to me than anybody's could be, as I had really taken it for granted he had hardly noticed myexistence. But he has also spoken very well of Dr. Delap-that isto say, in a very condescending manner. " That Mr. Delap, " saidhe, " seems a good sort of . Man ; I wish all the cloth were likehim; but, lackaday! 'tis no such thing; the clergy in general arebut odd dogs. "

Whenever plays are mentioned, we have also a regular speech aboutthem. "I never, " he says, "go to a tragedy, --it's too affecting;tragedy enough in real life: tragedies are only fit for fairfemales; for my part, I cannot bear to see Othello tearing aboutin that violent manner--and fair little Desdemona, ma'am, 'tistoo affecting! to see your kings and your princes tearing theirpretty locks, --oh, there's no standing it! 'A straw-crown'dmonarch, '--what is that, Mrs. Thrale?

'A straw-crown'd monarch in mock majesty. '

I can't recollect now where that is; but for my part, I reallyCannot bear to see such sights. And then out come the whitehandkerchiefs, and all their pretty eyes are wiping, and thencome poison and daggers, and all that kind of thing, --O ma'am, 'tis too much; but yet the fair tender hearts, the pretty littlefemales, all like it!"

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This speech, word for word, I have already heard from himliterally four times. 

When Mr. Garrick was mentioned, he honoured him with much thesame style of compliment as he had done Sir Joshua Reynolds. 

"Ay, ay, " said he, "that Garrick was another of those fellowsthat people run mad about. Ma'am, 'tis a shaine to think of suchthings! an actor living like a person of quality scandalous! Ivow, scandalous!"

"Well, --commend me to Mr. B--y!" cried Mrs. Thrale "for he isyour only man to put down all the people that everybody else setsup. "

"Why, ma'am, " answered he, "I like all these people very well intheir proper places ; but to see such a set of poor beings livinglike persons of quality, --'tis preposterous! common sense, madam, common sense is against that kind of thing. As to Garrick, hewas a very good mimic, an entertaining fellow enough, and allthat kind of thing - but for an actor to live like a person ofquality--oh, scandalous!"

Some time after the musical tribe was mentioned. He was at cardsat the time with Mr. Selwyn, Dr. Delap, and Mr. Thrale, while we"fair females, " as he always calls us, were speaking ofAgujari. (114) He constrained himself from flying out as long ashe was able ; but upon our mentioning her having fifty pounds asong, he suddenly, in a great rage, called out, "Catgut and rosin!ma'am, 'tis scandalous!" . . . 

The other day, at dinner, the subject was married life, and amongvarious husbands and wives Lord L-- being mentioned, Mr. B--ypronounced his panegyric, and called him his friend. Mr. Selwyn, though with much gentleness, differed from him in opinion, anddeclared he could not think well of him, as he knew his lady, whowas an amiable woman, was used very ill by him. 

"How, sir? " cried Mr. B--y. 

"I have known him, " answered Mr. Selwyn, "frequently pinch hertill she has been ready to cry with pain, though she hasendeavoured to prevent its being observed. "

"And I, " said Mrs. Thrale, "know that he pulled her nose, in hisfrantic brutality, till he broke-some of the vessels of it, andwhen she was dying she still found the torture he had

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given her by it so great, that it was one of her lastcomplaints. "

The general, who is all for love and gallantry, far fromattempting to vindicate his friend, quite swelled withindignation It this account, and, after a pause, big with anger, exclaimed, "Wretched doings, sir, wretched doings!"

"Nay, I have known him, " added Mr. Selwyn, "insist upon handingher to her carriage, and then, with an affected kindness, pretendto kiss her hand, instead of which he has almost bit a piece outof it. "

"Pitiful!--pitiful! sir, " cried the General, "I know nothing moreshabby!"

"He was equally inhuman to his daughter, " said Mrs. Thrale, "for, in one of his rages, he almost throttled her. "

"Wretched doings!" again exclaimed Mr. B--y, "what! cruel to afair female! Oh fie! fie! fie!--a fellow who can be cruel tofemales and children, or animals, must be a pitiful fellowindeed. I wish we had had him here in the sea. I should like tohave had him stripped, and that kind of thing, and been wellbanged by ten of our clippers here with a cat-o'-nine-tails. Cruel to a fair female? Oh fie! fie! fie!"

I know not how this may read, but I assure you its sound wasludicrous enough. 

However, I have never yet told you his most favourite story, though we have regularly heard it three or four times a day --Andthis is about his health. 

"Some years ago, " he says, --" let's see, how many? in the year'71, --ay, '71, '72--thereabouts--I was taken very ill, and, byill-luck, I was persuaded to ask advice of one of these Dr. Gallipots:--oh, how I hate them all! Sir, they are the vilestpick-pockets--know nothing, sir! nothing in the world! poorignorant mortals! and then they pretend--In short, sir, I hatethem all!- I have suffered so much by them, sir--lost four yearsof the happiness of my life--let's see, '71, '72, '73, '74--ay, four years, sir!--mistook my case, sir !--and all that kind ofthing. Why, sir, my feet swelled as big as two horses' heads! Ivow I will never consult one of these Dr. Gallipot fellows again!lost me, sir, four years of the happiness of my life!--why, Igrew quite an object!---you would hardly have known me!--lost allthe calves of my legs!--had not an ounce of flesh left!--and asto the rouge--why, my face was the colour of that candle!--thosedeuced Gallipot fellows!--why, they robbed me of four years--letme see, ay, '71, '72--"164

And then it was all given again!

We had a large party of gentlemen to dinner. Among them was Mr. Hamilton, commonly called Single-speech Hamilton, from havingmade one remarkable speech in the House of Commons againstgovernment, and receiving some douceur to be silent ever after. This Mr. Hamilton is extremely tall and handsome; has an air ofhaughty and fashionable superiority; is intelligent, dry, sarcastic, and clever. I should have received much pleasure fromhis conversational powers, had I not previously been prejudicedagainst him, by hearing that he is infinitely artful, double, andcrafty. 

The dinner conversation was too general to be well remembered;neither, indeed, shall I attempt more than partial scrapsrelating to matters of what passed when we adjourned to tea. 

Mr. Hamilton, Mr. Selwyn, Mr. Tidy, and Mr. Thrale seatedthemselves to whist ; the rest looked on : but the General, as healways does, took up the newspaper, and, with various comments, made aloud, as he went on reading to himself, diverted the wholecompany. Now he would cry, "Strange! strange that!"--presently, "What stuff! I don't believe a word of it!"--a little after, "Mr. Bate, (115) I wish your ears were cropped!"--then, "Ha! ha! ha!funnibus! funnibus! indeed!"--and, at last, in a great rage, heexclaimed, "What a fellow is this, to presume to arraign theconduct of persons of quality!"

Having diverted himself and us in this manner, till he had readevery column methodically through, he began all over again, andpresently called out, "Ha! ha! here's a pretty thing!" and then, in a plaintive voice, languished out some wretched verses. 

(73) This was not the famous philosopher and statesman, but theRev. Thomas Franklin, D. D. , who was born in 1721, and died in1784. He published various translations from the classics, aswell as plays and miscellaneous works; but is best known for histranslation of Sophocles, published in 1759. -ED. 

 (74) "Warley: a Satire, " then just published, by a Mr. Huddisford. "Dear little Burney's" name was coupled in it withthat of Sir Joshua Reynolds, in a manner which seemed to implythat Sir Joshua had special reasons for desiring her approbation. It will be remembered that, before he knew that Miss Burney wasthe author of "Evelina, " Sir Joshua had jestingly remarked thatIf the author proved to be a woman, he should be sure to makelove to her. See ante, p. 94. -ED. 

(75) Mrs. Horneck and Mrs. Bunbury (her eldest daughter) haddeclared that they would walk a hundred and sixty miles, to seethe author of "Evelina. "-ED. 

(76) See note 37 ante, p. 68. -ED, (77) A kinsman of the great Edmund Burke, and, like him, apolitician and member of Parliament. Goldsmith has drawn hischaracter in "Retaliation. "

"Here lies honest William, whose heart was a mint, While the owner ne'er knew half the good that was in 't;The pupil of impulse, it forced him along, His conduct still right, with his argument wrongStill aiming at honour, yet fearing to roam, The coachman was tipsy, the chariot drove home;Would-you ask for his merits ? alas! he had none;What was good was spontaneous, his faults were his own. "-ED. 

(78) Henry Temple, second Viscount Palmerston, and father of thecelebrated Lord Palmerston. -ED. 

(79) Mrs. Cholmondeley imitates the language of Madame Duval, thePrench woman in "Evelina. "-ED. 

(80) A character in "Evelina. "-ED. 

(81) Sir Joshua Reynolds, who was born at Plympton, inDevonshire, in 1723-ED. 

(82) Mr. Qwatkin afterwards married Miss Offy Palmer. -ED. 

(83) Afterwards Lady Crewe; the daughter of Mr, and Mrs. Greville, and a famous Political beauty. At a supper after theWestminster election on the Prince of Wales toasting, "True blueand Mrs. Crewe, " the lady responded, "True blue and all ofyou. "-ED. 

(84) A celebrated Italian singer and intimate friend of theBurneys. -ED. 

85) See note (15) ante, p. Xxvi. The intended marriage abovereferred to above came to nothing, Miss Cumberland, the eldestdaughter of the dramatist subsequently marrying Lord EdwardBentinck, son of the Duke of Portland. -ED. 

(86) Miss Hannah More, the authoress. -ED. 

(87) Hannah More gave Dr. Johnson, when she was first introducedto him, such a surfeit of flattery, that at last, losingpatience, he turned to her and said, "Madam, before you flatter aman so grossly to his face, you should consider whether or notyour flattery is worth his having. "-ED. 

(88) Mrs. Vesey was the lady at whose house were held theassemblies from which the term "blue-stocking" first came intouse. (. See ante, p. 98. ) Fanny writes of her in 1779, "She is anexceeding well-bred woman, and of agreeable manners; but all hername in the world must, I think, have been acquired by herdexterity and skill in selecting parties, and by her address inrendering them easy with one another--an art, hoever, that seemsto imply no mean understanding. "-ED. (90) Sheridan was at this time manager of Drury-lane Theatre-ED. 

(91) Sir P. J. Clerke's bill was moved on the 12th of February. It passed the first and second readings, but was afterwards loston the motion for going into committee. It was entitled a "Billfor restraining any person, being a member of the House ofCommons, from being concerned himself, or any person in trust forhim, in any contract made by the commissioners of his Majesty'sTreasury, the commissioners of the Navy, theboard of Ordnance, or by any other person or persons for thepublic service, Unless the said contract shall be made at apublic bidding. "-ED. 

(93) Arthur Murphy, the well-known dramatic author, a veryintimate friend of the Thrales. He was born in Ireland in 1727, and died at Knightsbridge in 1805. Among his most successfulplays were "The Orphan of China " and "The Way to Keep Hirn. "-ED. 

(94) "The', Good-natured Man. "-ED

(95) Sophy Streatfield, a young lady who understood Greek, andwas consequently looked upon as a prodigy of learning. Mrs. Thrale appears to have been slightly jealous of her about thistime, though without serious cause. In January, 1779, she writes(in "Thraliana"): "Mr. Thrale has fallen in love, really andseriously, with Sophy Streatfield; but there is no wonder inthat; she is very pretty, very gentle, soft and insinuating;hangs about him, dances round him, cries when she parts from him, squeezes his hand slily, and with her sweet eyes full of tearslooks fondly in his face--and all for love of me, as shepretends, that I can hardly sometimes help laughing in her face. A man must not be a man, but an it, to resist suchartillery. "-ED. 

(96) Characters in the comedy which Fanny was then engagedupon. -ED. 

(97) Sir Philip Jennings Clerke-ED, (98) The Rev. John Delap, D. D. , born 1725, died 1812. He was aman "of deep learning, but totally ignorant of life and manners, "and wrote several tragedies, two or three of which were acted, but generally without success, -ED. 

(99) Mrs. Piozzi (then Mrs. Thrale) relates this story in her"Anecdotes of Dr. Johnson. " "I came into the room one eveningwhere he [Johnson] and a gentleman [Seward], whose abilities weall respect exceedingly, were sitting. A lady [MissStreatfield], who walked in two minutes before me, had blown 'emboth into a flame by whispering something to Mr. S-d, which heendeavoured to explain away so as not to affront the doctor, whose suspicions were all alive. 'And have a care, sir, ' saidhe, just as I came in, 'the Old Lion will not bear to betickled. ' The other was pale with rage, the lady wept at theconfusion she had caused, and I could only say with LadyMacbeth-- 'Soh! you've displaced the mirth, broke the goodmeeting With most admired disorder. '-ED. 

(100) The following note is in the hand-writing of Miss Burney, at a subsequent period. The objection of Mr. Crisp to the MSplay of 'The Witlings, ' was its resemblance to Moliere's 'FemmesSavantes, ' and consequent immense inferiority. It is, however, acurious fact, and to the author a consolatory one, that she hadliterally never read the 'Femmes Savantes' when she composed 'TheWitlings. '"

(101) Mr. Rose Fuller. -ED. 

(102) Anthony Chamier, M. P. For Tamworth, and an intimate friendof Dr. Burney's. He was Under Secretary of State from 1775 tillhis death in 1780. We find him at one of Dr. Burney's famousmusic-parties in 1775. Fanny writes of him then as "an extremelyagreeable man, and the very pink of gallantry. " ("Early Diary, "vol, ii. P. 106. )-ED. 

(103) Afterwards Sir William Weller Pepys, Master in Chancery, and brother of the physician, Sir Lucas Pepys. He was an ardentlover of literature, and gave "blue-stocking" parties, which Dr. Burney frequently attended. Fanny extols his urbanity andbenevolence. See "Memoirs of Dr. Burney, " vol. Ii. P. 285. -ED. 

(104) His dog. -ED. 

(105) Mrs. Pleydell was a friend of Dr. Burney's, and greatlyadmired for ber beauty and the sweetness of her disposition. Shewas the daughter of Governor Holwell, one of the survivors fromthe Dlac Hole of Calcutta. -ED. 

(106) Mr. Thrale was Member of Parliament for Southwark. -ED. 

(107) Samuel Foote, the famous actor and writer of farces, -ED. 

(108) Lady Diana Spencer, eldest daughter of Charles, second Dukeof Marlborough. She was born in 1734, married in 177 to VicountBolingbroke, divorced from him in 17b8, and married soon after toDr. Johnson's friend, Topbam Beauclerk. Lady Di was an amateurartist, and the productions of her pencil were much admired byHorace Walpole and other persons of fashion. Elizabeth, Countessof Pembroke, was the sister of Lady Di Beauclerk, being thesecond daughter of the Duke of Marlborough. -ED. 

(109) See note (15 ante, p. Xxvi. -Ep. 

(110) Young Cumberland, son of the author. -ED. 

(111) General Blakeney. -ED. 

(112) A character in Fanny's suppressed comedy, "TheWitlings. "-ED. 

(113) Not the celebrated George Selwyn, but a wealthy banker ofthat name. -ED. 

(114) Lucrezia Agujari was one of the most admired Italiansingers of the day. She died at Parma in 1783. -ED. 

(115) The Rev. Henry Bate, afterwards Sir Henry Bate Dudley, editor of the "Morning Post" from its establishment in 1772 till1780, in which year his connection with that paper came to an endin consequence of a quarrel with his coadjutors. On the 1st ofNovember, 1780, he brought out the "Morning Herald" in oppositionto his old paper, the "Post. " He assumed the name of Dudley in1784, was created a baronet in 1813, and died in 1824. Gainsborough has painted the portrait of this ornament of theChurch, who was notorious, in his younger days, for his physicalstrength, and not less so for the very unclerical use which hemade of it. He was popularly known as the "Fighting Parson. "-ED. 

 SECTION 3 (1780-1781-)

 A SEASON AT BATH: MR. THRALE'S DEATH. 

[There is a long hiatus here in the published " Diary, " and uponits resumption we find Fanny at Bath with the Thrales, in April, 1780; but from her letters to Mr. Crisp we learn that shereturned, at Christmas, 1779, to her father's house in St. Martin's -street, and spent there the intervening period, frequently visiting, and being visited by, the Thrales. Bath wasat this time the most fashionable summer resort in the kingdom. Fanny had been there before, in 1776 or 1777, but of that visitno account remains to us. She has recorded, however, in ""Evelina, " her general impression of the place. "The charmingcity of Bath answered all my expectations. The Crescent, theprospect from it, and the elegant symmetry of the Circus, delighted me. The Parades, I own, rather disappointed me; one ofthem is scarce preferable to some of the best paved streets inLondon; and the other, though it affords a beautiful prospect, acharming view of Prior-park and of the Avon, yet wanted somethingin itself of more striking elegance than a mere broad pavement, to satisfy the ideas I had formed of it. 

"At the pump-room, I was amazed at the public exhibition of theladies in the bath; it is true, their heads are covered withbonnets; but the very idea of being seen, in such a situation, bywhoever pleases to look, is indelicate. "

We may be sure Fanny never exhibited herself in such a situation. Of her drinking the waters, even, there is no mention in her Bathjournal Of 1780. But the journal records a continual successionof visits and diversions, and keeps us entertained with the mostlife-like and amusing descriptions of Bath society. The houseoccupied by Mr. Thrale and his party was at the corner of theSouth-parade, and Fanny's room commanded that beautiful prospectof Prior-park and the Avon which had charmed Evelina. 

Amid all these gaieties there are glimpses of more seriousscenes. The Gordon riots took place in June, 1780, and the alarmthey occasioned spread far and wide over the country. Thepresent166

section, too, closes with a melancholy incident--the death of Mr. Thrale. He had been long ailing, and had had a paralytic strokein 1779. He died on the 4th of April, 1781. Probably no onefelt the loss more keenly than Thrale's old friend, 'Dr. Johnson, in whose "Prayers and Meditations" occurs the following touchingentry:--

"Good Friday, 13th April, 1781. On Wednesday, 11th, was buriedmy dear friend Thrale, who died on Wednesday, 4th ; and with himwere buried many of my hopes and pleasures. About five, I think, on Wednesday morning he expired. I felt almost the last flutterof his pulse, and looked for the last time upon the face that forfifteen years had never been turned upon me but with respect orbenignity. "-ED. ]

 A YOUTHFUL PRODIGY. 

Bath, April 7-The journey was very comfortable ; Mr. Thrale wascharmingly well and in very good spirits, and Mrs. Thrale must becharming, well or ill. We only went to Maidenhead Bridge thefirst night, where I found the caution given me by Mr. Smelt, (116) of not attempting to travel near Windsor on ahunting-day, was a very necessary one, as we were with difficultyaccommodated even the day after the hunt; several stragglersremaining at all the inns, and we heard of nothing but the kingand royal huntsmen and huntswomen. The second day we slept atSDeen Hill, and the third day we reached Devizes. 

And here Mrs. Thrale and I were much pleased with our hostess, Mrs. Laurence, who seemed something above her station in her inn. While we were at cards before supper, we were much surprised bythe sounds of a pianoforte. I jumped up, and ran to listenwhence it proceeded. I found it came from the next room, wherethe overture to the "Buona Figliuola" was performing. Theplaying was very decent, but as themusic was not quite new to me, my curiosity was not whole ages insatisfying, and therefore I returned to finish the rubber. 

Don't I begin to talk in an old-cattish manner of cards?

Well, another deal was hardly played, ere we heard the sound of avoice, and out I ran again. The singing, however, detained menot long, and so back I whisked; but the performance, 167 however indifferent in itself yet' surprised us at the Bear

however indifferent in itself, yet surprised us at Devizes, andtherefore Mrs. Thrale determined to know from whom it came. Accordingly, she tapped at the door. A very handsome girl, aboutthirteen years old, with fine dark hair upon a finely-formedforehead, opened it. Mrs. Thrale made an apology for herintrusion, but the poor girl blushed and retreated into a cornerof the room: another girl, however, advanced, and obligingly andgracefully invited us in and gave us all chairs. She was justsixteen extremely pretty, and with a countenance better than herfeatures, though those were also very good. Mrs. Thrale made hermany compliments, which she received with a mingled modesty andpleasure, both becoming and interesting. She was, indeed, asweetly pleasing girl. 

We found they were both daughters of our hostess, and born andbred at Devizes. We were extremely pleased with them, and madethem a long visit, which I wished to have been longer. Butthough those pretty girls struck us so much, the wonder of thefamily was yet to be produced. This was their brother, a mostlovely boy of ten years of age who seems to be not merely thewonder of their family, but of the times, for his astonishingskill in drawing. (117) They protest he has never had anyinstruction, yet showed us some of his productions that werereally beautiful. Those that were copies were delightful, thoseof his own composition amazing, though far inferior. I wasequally struck with the boy and his works. 

We found that he had been taken to town, and that all thepainters had been very kind to him, and Sir Joshua Reynolds hadpronounced him, the mother said, the most promising genius he hadever met with. Mr. Hoare has been so charmed with this sweetboy's drawings that he intends sending him to Italy with his ownson. 

This house was full of books, as well as paintings, drawings, andmusic and all the family seem not only ingenious and industrious, but amiable; added to which, they are strikingly handsome. 

]\

 LORD MULGRAVE ON THE "SERVICES. "

Bath. -I shall now skip to our arrival at this beautiful citywhich I really admire more than I did, if possible, when I firstsaw it. The houses are so elegant, the streets are so beautiful, the prospects so enchanting, I could fill whole pages upon the

168

general beauty of the place and country, but that I have neithertime for myself, nor incitement for you, as I know nothing tiresso much as description. 

Monday. -Lord Mulgrave, Augustus Phipps, Miss Cooper, Dr. Harrington, and Dr. Woodward dined with us. 

I like Lord Mulgrave(118) very much. He has more wit, and agreater readiness of repartee, than any man I have met with thisage. During dinner he was all brilliancy, but I drew myself intoa little scrape with him, from which I much wanted some of hiswit to extricate myself. Mrs. Thrale was speaking of the Houseof Commons, and lamenting that she had never heard any debatesthere. 

"And now, " said she, "1 cannot, for this General Johnson hasturned us all out most barbarously. "

"General Johnson?" repeated Lord Mulgrave. 

"Ay, or colonel--I don't know what the man was, but I know he wasno man of gallantry. "

"Whatever he was, " said his lordship, "I hope he was a landofficer. "

"I hope so too, my lord, " said she. 

"No, no, no, " cried Mr. Thrale, "it was Commodore Johnson. "

"That's bad, indeed said Lord Mulgrave, laughing. "I thought, byhis manners, he had belonged to the army. "

"True, " said I "they were hardly polished enough for the sea. "

This I said `a demi-voix, and meant only for Mrs. Thrale, butLord Mulgrave heard and drew up upon them, and pointing hisfinger at me with a threatening air, exclaimed, "Don't you speak, Miss Burney? What's this, indeed?"

They all stared, and to be sure I rouged pretty high. 

"Miss Burney, " said Mrs. Thrale, "should be more respectful to besure, for she has a brother at sea herself. "

" I know it, " said he, "and for all her, we shall see him comeback from Kamschatka as polished a beau as any he will find. "

Poor Jem! God send him safe back, polished or rough. 

LordMulgrave's brother Edmund is just entered into the army. 

169

"He told me t'other day, " said his lordship, "that he did notlike the thoughts of being a parson. 

"'Very well, ' said I, 'you are old enough to choose for yourself;what will you be then?'

"'Why, a soldier, ' says he. 

"'A soldier? will you so? Why, then, the best thing you can dois to embark with your brother Henry immediately, for you won'tknow what to do in a regiment by yourself. ' Well, no sooner saidthan done! Henry was just going to the West Indies in LordHarrington's regiment, and Edmund ordered a chaise and drove toPortsmouth after him. The whole was settled in half an hour. "

 SARAH, DUCHESS OF MARLBOROUGH. 

My sister Gast, in her younger days, was a great favourite withan old lady who was a particular crony and intimate of old SarahMarlborough, who, though much of the jade, had undoubtedly verystrong parts, and was indeed remarkably clever. When Mrs. Hinde(the old lady) would sometimes talk to her about books, she'd cryout, "Prithee, don't talk to me about books; I never read anybooks but men and cards!" But let anybody read her book, andthen tell me if she did not draw characters with as masterly ahand as Sir Joshua Reynolds. --Mr. Crisp to Fanny Burney (April27. )

 THE BYRONS. 

Sunday-We had Mrs. Byron and Augusta, (119) and Mrs. Lee, to spendthe afternoon. Augusta opened her whole heart to me, as we sattogether, and told me all the affairs of her family. Herbrother, Captain George Byron, is lately returned from the WestIndies, and has brought a wife with him from Earbadoes, though hewas there only three weeks, and knew not this girl he has marriedtill ten days before he left it!--a pleasant circumstance forthis proud family!

Poor Mrs. Byron seems destined for mortification and humiliation;yet such is her native fire, and so wonderful are her spirits, that she bears up against all calamity, and though half mad oneday with sorrow and vexation, is fit the next to entertain anassembly of company;-and so to entertain them as to

170

make the happiest person in the company, by comparison withherself, seem sad. 

Augusta is a very amiably ingenuous girl, and I love her the morefor her love of her sisters: she talked to me of them all, butchiefly of Sophia, the youngest next to herself, but who, havingan independent fortune, has quarrelled with her mother, and liveswith one of her sisters, Mrs. Byron, who married a first cousin, And son of Lord Byron. '

"Ah, Miss Burney, " she says continually, "if you knew Sophy, youwould never bear me! she is so much better than I am, and sohandsome, and so good, and so clever, -and I used to talk to herof you by the hour together. She longs so to know you! 'Come, 'she says, 'now tell me something more about your darling, MissBurney. ' But I ought to hope you may never see her, for if youdid I should be so jealous. "

 MR. HENRY WILL BE SO MORTIFIED. "

Friday was a busy and comical day. We had an engagement of longstanding, to drink tea with Miss L-, whither we all went, and amost queer evening did we spend. 

When we entered, she and all her company were looking out of thewindow; however, she found us out in a few minutes, and made uswelcome in a strain of delight and humbleness at receiving us, that put her into a flutter of spirits, from which she neverrecovered all the evening. 

Her fat, jolly mother took her seat at the top of the room; nextto her sat a lady in a riding habit, whom I soon found to be Mrs. Dobson;(120) below her sat a gentlewoman, prim, upright, neat, and mean; and, next to her, sat another, thin, haggard, wrinkled, fine, and tawdry, with a thousand frippery ornaments andold-fashioned furbelows; she was excellently nick-named, by Mrs. Thrale, the Duchess of Monmouth. On the opposite side was placedMrs. Thrale, and, next to her, Queeny. For my own part, littleliking the appearance of the set, and half dreading Mrs. Dobson, from whose notice I wished to escape, I had made up myself to oneof the now deserted windows, and Mr. Thrale had followed me. Asto Miss L-, she came to stand by me, and her panic, I fancy, returned, for she seemed quite panting with a desire to saysomething, and an incapacity to utter it. 

 171

It proved happy for me that I had taken this place, for in a fewminutes the mean, neat woman, whose name was Aubrey, asked ifMiss Thrale was Miss Thrale?

"Yes, ma'am. "

 "And pray, ma'am, who is that other young lady?" "

A daughter of Dr. Burney's, ma'am. "

"What!" cried Mrs. Dobson, "is that the lady that has favoured uswith that excellent novel?"

"Yes, ma'am. "

. Then burst forth a whole volley from all at once. "Veryextraordinary, indeed!" said one;--"Dear heart, who'd havethought it?" said another, --"I never saw the like in my life!"said a third. And Mrs. Dobson, entering more into detail, beganpraising it through, but chiefly Evelina herself, which she saidwas the most natural character she had ever met in any book. 

Mr. And Mrs. Whalley now arrived, and I was obliged to go to achair-when such staring followed; they could not have openedtheir eyes wider when they first looked at the Guildhall giants!I looked with all the gravity and demureness possible, in orderto keep them from coming plump to the subject again, and, indeedthis, for a while, kept them off. 

Soon after, Dr. Harrington(121) arrived, which closed our party. Miss L-- went whispering to him, and then came up to me, with alook of dismay, and said, "O, ma'am, I'm so prodigiously concerned; Mr. Henry won't come!"

"Who, ma'am?"

"Mr. Henry, ma'am, the doctor's son. But, to be sure, he doesnot know you are here, or else--but I'm quite concerned, indeed, for here now we shall have no young gentlemen!"

"O, all the better, " cried I, "I hope we shall be able to do verywell without. "

"O yes, ma'am, to be sure. I don't mean for any common younggentlemen; but Mr. Henry, ma'am, it's quite another thing;--however, I think he might have come but I did not bappen tomention in my card that you was to be here, and so--but I thinkit serves him right for not coming to see me. "

Soon after the mamma hobbled to me, and began a furious Panegyricupon my book, saying at the same time, 172

"I wonder, Miss, how you could get at them low characters. As tothe lords and ladies, that's no wonder at all ; but, as tot'others, why, I have not stirred night nor morning while I'vebeen reading it; if I don't wonder how you could be so clever!"

And much, much more. And, scarcely had she unburthened herself, ere Miss L-- trotted back to me, crying, in a tone of mingledtriumph and vexation, "Well, ma'am, Mr. Henry will be very much mortified when he knowswho has been here; that he will, indeed; however, I'm sure hedeserves it!"

I made some common sort of reply, that I hoped he was betterengaged, which she vehemently declared was impossible. 

We had now some music. Miss L- sung various old elegies ofJackson, Dr. Harrington, and Linley, and O how I dismalled inhearing them! Mr. Whalley, too, sung "Robin Gray, " and diversother melancholic ballads, and Miss Thrale Sang "Ti seguirofedele. " But the first time there was a cessation of harmony, Miss L- again respectfully approaching me, cried, "O Well, all my comfort is that Mr. Henry will be prodigiouslymortified! But there's a ball to-night, so I suppose he's goneto that. However, I'm sure if he had known of meeting you youngladies here--but it's all good enough for him, for not coming. "

"Nay, " cried I, "if meeting young ladies is a motive with him, hecan have nothing to regret while at a ball, where he will seemany more than he could here. "

"O, ma'am, as to that--but I say no more, because it mayn't beproper; but, to be sure, if Mr. Henry had known--however, he'llbe well mortified!" . . . 

I was not two minutes relieved, ere Miss I- returned, to againassure me how glad she was that Mr. Henry would be mortified. The poor lady was quite heart-broken that we did not meet. 

 ALL THE BEST FAMILIES IN THE NAVY. 

Tuesday. -Lord Mulgrave called this morning. He is returned toBath for only a few days. He was not in his usual spirits; yethe failed not to give me a rub for my old offence, which he seemsdetermined not to forget ; for upon something being said, towhich, however, I had not attended, about seamen, he cast an archglance at me, and cried out, 173

"Miss Burney, I know, will take our parts-if I remember right, she is one of the greatest of our enemies!"

"All the sea captains, " said Mrs. Thrale, "fall upon Miss Burney:Captain Cotton, my cousin, was for ever plaguing her about herspite to the navy. "

This, however, was for the character of Captain Mirvan, (122)which, in a comical and good-humoured way, Captain Cottonpretended highly to resent, and so, he told me, did all thecaptains in the navy. 

Augusta Byron, too, tells me that the admiral, her father, veryoften talks of Captain Mirvan, and though the book is very highin his favour, is not half pleased with the captain's being sucha brute. 

However, I have this to comfort me-that the more I see of seacaptains, the less reason I have to be ashamed of Captain Mirvan;for they have all so irresistible a propensity to wantonmischief--to roasting beaus, and detesting old women, that Iquite rejoice I showed the book to no one ere printed, lest Ishould have been prevailed upon to soften his character. Sometime after, while Lord Mulgrave was talking of Captain G. Byron'smarrying a girl at Barbadoes, whom he had not known a week, heturned suddenly to me, and called out, "See, Miss Burney, what you have to expect--your brother willbring a bride from Kamschatka, without doubt!"

"That, " said I, "may perhaps be as well as a Hottentot, for whenhe was last out, he threatened us with a sister from the Cape ofGood Hope. "

Thursday, -Lord Mulgrave and Dr. Harrington dined here. LordMulgrave was delightful;--his wit is of so gay, so forcible, sosplendid a kind that when he is disposed to exert it, he not onlyengrosses attention from all the rest of the company, but demandsthe full use of all one's faculties to keep pace in understandingthe speeches, allusions, and sarcasms which he sports. But hewill never, I believe, be tired of attacking me about the sea;"he will make me 'eat it that leak, ' I assure YOU. 

During dinner he was speaking very highly of a sea officer whosename, I think, was Reynolds. 

"And who is he?" asked Mrs. Thrale, to which his lordshipanswered, "Brother to Lord--something, but I forget what;" andthen, laughing and looking at me, he added, "We have all thegreat families in the navy--ay, and all the best families, too, 174

--have we not, Miss Burney? The sea is so favourable an elementto genius, that there all high-souled younger brothers with emptypockets are sure of thriving: nay, I can say even more for it, for it not only fosters the talents of the spirited youngerbrothers, it also lightens the dullness even of that Pooranimal--an elder brother; so that it is always the most desirableplace both for best and worst. "

"Well, your lordship is always ready to praise it, " said Mrs. Thrale, "and I only wish we had a few more like you in theservice, --and long may you live, both to defend and to ornamentit!"

"Defence, " answered he with quickness, "it does not want, and, for ornament, it is above all!"

 THE LADY OF BATH EASTON. 

Saturday. -In the afternoon we all went to the Whalleys, where wefound a large and a highly dressed company, at the head of whichsat Lady Miller. (123)

As soon as my discourse was over with Mr. Whalley, Lady Millerarose, and went to Mrs. Thrale, and whispered something to her. Mrs. Thrale then rose, too, and said, "If your ladyship will give me leave, I will first introduce

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my daughter to you "-making Miss Thrale, who was next her mother, make her reverences. "

"And now, " she continued, "Miss Burney, Lady Miller desires to beintroduced to you. "

Up I jumped and walked forward ; Lady Miller, very civilly, morethan met me half way, and said very polite things, of her wish toknow me, and regret that she had not sooner met me, and then weboth returned to our seats. 

Do you know now that notwithstanding Bath Easton is so muchlaughed at in London, nothing here is more tonish than to visitLady Miller, who is extremely curious in her company, admittingfew people who are not of rank or of fame, and excluding of thoseall who are not people of character very unblemished. 

Some time after, Lady Miller took a seat next mine on the sofa, to play at cards, and was excessively civil indeed-scolded Mrs. Thrale for not sooner making us acquainted, and had thepoliteness to offer to take me to the balls herself, as she heardMr. And Mrs. Thrale did not choose to go. 

After all this, it is hardly fair to tell you what I think ofher. However, the truth is, I always, to the best of myintentions, speak honestly what I think of the folks I see, without being biassed either by their civilities or neglect ; andthat you will, allow is being a very faithful historian. 

well then, Lady Miller is a round, plump, coarse looking dame ofabout forty, and while all her aim is to appear an elegant womanof fashion, all her success is to seem an ordinary woman in verycommon life, with fine clothes on. Her manners are bustling, herair is mock-important, and her manners very inelegant. 

So much for the lady of Bath Easton; who, however, seemsextremely good-natured, and who is, I am sure, extremely civil. 

 A FASHIONABLE CONCERT. 

June 4. -To go on with Saturday evening. We left the Whalleys atnine, and then proceeded to Sir J. C--, who had invited us to aconcert at his house. 

We found such a crowd of chairs and carriages we could hardlymake our way. I had never seen any of the family, consisting ofSir J. And three daughters, but had been particularly invited. The two rooms for the company were quite full when we arrived, and a large party was standing upon the first

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floor landing-place. Just as I got up stairs, I was muchsurprised to hear my name called by a man's voice, who stood inthe crowd upon the landing-place, and who said, "Miss Burney, better go up another flight (pointing up stairs)--if you'll take my advice, you'll go up another flight, forthere's no room anywhere else. "

I then recollected the voice, for I could not see the face, ofLord Mulgrave, and I began at first to suppose I must really doas he said, for there seemed not room for a sparrow, and I haveheard the Sharp family do actually send their company all overtheir house when they give concerts. However, by degrees wesqueezed ourselves into the outer room, and then Mrs. Lambartmade way up to me, to introduce me to Miss C--, who is extremelyhandsome, genteel, and pleasing, though tonish, and who did thehonours, in spite of the crowd, in a manner to satisfy everybody. After that, she herself introduced me to her next sister, Arabella, who is very fat, but not ugly. As to Sir J. , He wasseated behind a door in the music-room, where, being lame, he wasobliged to keep still, and I never once saw his face, though Iwas upon the point of falling over him; for, at one time, as Ihad squeezed just into the musicroom, and was leaning against thedoor, which was open, and which Lord Althorp, the Duchess ofDevonshire's brother, was also lolling against, the pressurepushed Sir James's chair, and the door beginning to move, Ithought we should have fallen backwards. Lord Althorp moved offinstantly, and I started forwards without making any disturbance, and then Mr. Travell came to assure me all was safe behind thedoor, and so the matter rested quietly, though not without givingme a ridiculous fright. 

Mr. Travell, ma'am, if I have not yet introduced him to you, Imust tell you -'is known throughout Bath by the name of BeauTravell; he is a most approved connoisseur in beauty, gives theton to all the world, sets up young ladies in the beau monde, andis the sovereign arbitrator of fashions, and decider offashionable people. I had never the honour of being addressed byhim before, though I have met him at the dean's and at Mrs. Lainbart's. So you may believe I was properly struck. 

Though the rooms were so crowded, I saw but two faces I knew---Lord Huntingdon, whom I have drank tea with at Mrs. Cholmley's. (124) and Miss Philips ; but the rest were all showy

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tonish people, who are only to be seen by going to the rooms, which we never do. 

Some time after, Lord Mulgrave crowded in among us, and cried outto me, "So you would not take my advice!"

I told him he had really alarmed me, for I had taken himSeriously. 

He laughed at the notion of sending me up to the garrets, andthen poked himself into the concert-room. 

oh, but I forgot to mention Dr. Harrington, with whom I 'had muchconversation, and who was dry, comical, and very agreeable. Ialso saw Mr. Henry, but as Miss L- was not present, nothingensued. (125)

Miss C- herself brought me a cup of ice, the room being crowdedthat the man could not get near me. How ridiculous to invite somany more people than could be accommodated! Lord Mulgrave wassoon sick of the heat, and finding me distressed what to do withmy cup, he very good -naturedly took it from me, but carried notonly that, but himself also, away, which I did not equallyrejoice at. 

You may laugh, perhaps, that I have all this time said never Aword of the music, but the truth is I heard scarce a note. Therewere quartettos and overtures by gentlemen performers whose namesand faces I know not, and such was the never ceasing rattling andnoise in the card-room, where I was kept almost all the evening, that a general humming of musical sounds, and now and then atwang, was all I could hear. 

Nothing can well be more ridiculous than a concert of this sort;and Dr. Harrington told me that the confusion amongst themusicians was equal to that amongst the company ; for that, whencalled upon to open the concert, they found no music. The MissC--'s had prepared nothing, nor yet solicited their dilettante'sto prepare for them. Miss Harrington, his daughter, who playedupon the harpsichord, and by the very little I could sometimeshear, I believe very well, complained that she had never touchedso vile an instrument, and that she was quite disturbed at beingobliged to play upon it. 

About the time that I got against the door, as I have mentioned, of the music room, the young ladies were preparing to perform, and with the assistance of Mr. Henry, they sang catches. Oh, such singing! worse squalling, more out of tune, and more

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execrable in every respect, never did I hear. We did not getaway till late. 

A BATH ALDERMAN's RAREE SHOW. 

Sunday. -We had an excellent sermon from the Bishop ofPeterborough, who preached merely at the request of Mrs. Thrale. 

At dinner we had the bishop and Dr. Harrington; and the bishop, who was in very high spirits, proposed a frolic, which was, thatwe should all go to Spring Gardens, where he should give us tea, and thence proceed to Mr. Ferry's, to see a very curious houseand garden. Mrs. Thrale pleaded that she had invited company totea at home, but the bishop said we would go early, and shouldreturn in time, and was so gaily authoritative that he gained hispoint. He had been so long accustomed to command, as master ofWestminster school, that he cannot prevail with himself, Ibelieve, ever to be overcome. 

Dr. Harrington was engaged to a patient, and could not be of ourparty. But the three Thrales, the bishop and I, pursued ourscheme, crossed the Avon, had a sweet walk through the meadows, and drank tea at Spring Gardens, where the bishop did the honourswith a spirit, a gaiety, and an activity that jovialised us all, and really we were prodigiously lively. We then walked on to Mr. Ferry's habitation. 

Mr. Ferry is a Bath alderman; his house and garden exhibit thehouse and garden of Mr. Tattersall, enlarged. Just the sametaste prevails, the same paltry ornaments, the same crowd ofbuildings, the same unmeaning decorations, and the sameunsuccessful attempts at making something of nothing. 

They kept us half an hour in the garden, while they werepreparing for our reception in the house, where after paradingthrough four or five little vulgarly showy closets, not rooms, wewere conducted into a very gaudy little apartment, where themaster of the house sat reclining on his arm, as if incontemplation, though everything conspired to show that the houseand its inhabitants were carefully arranged for our reception. The bishop had sent in his name by way of gaining admission. 

The bishop, with a gravity of demeanour difficult to himself tosustain, apologised for our intrusion, and returned thanks forseeing the house and garden. Mr. Ferry started from his pensiveattitude, and begged us to be seated, and then a curtain wasdrawn, and we perceived through a glass a perspective view of 179

ships, boats, and water. This raree-show over, the maid whoofficiated as show-woman had a hint given her and presently atrap-door opened, and up jumped a covered table, ornamented withvarious devices. When we had expressed our delight at this longenough to satisfy Mr. Ferry, another hint was given, and presently down dropped an eagle from the ceiling whose talonswere put into a certain hook in the top of the covering of thetable, and when the admiration at this was over, up again flewthe eagle, conveying in his talons the cover, and leaving underit a repast of cakes, sweetmeats, oranges, and jellies. 

When our raptures upon this feat subsided, the maid receivedanother signal, and then seated herself in an armchair, whichpresently sank down underground, and up in its room came abarber's block, with a vast quantity of black wool on it, and ahigh head-dress. 

This, you may be sure, was more applauded than all the rest; wewere en extase, and having properly expressed our gratitude, weresoon after suffered to decamp. 

 FLIGHTY CAPTAIN BOUCHIER. 

Tuesday. -This morning, by appointment, we met a party at thepump-room, thence to proceed to Spring Gardens, to a publicbreakfast. The folks, however, were not to their time, and wesallied forth only with the addition of Miss Weston and MissByron. 

As soon as we entered the gardens Augusta, who had hold of myarm, called out, "Ah! there's the man I danced with at the ball!and he plagued me to death, asking me if I liked this and that, and the other, and, when I said 'No, ' he asked me what I didlike? So, I suppose he thought me a fool, and so indeed, I am!only you are so good to me that I wrote my sister Sophy word thatyou had almost made me quite vain; and she wrote to me t'otherday a private letter, and told me how glad she was you were comeback, for, indeed, I had written her word I should be quite sickof my life here, if it was not for sometimes seeing you. "

The gentleman to whom she pointed presently made up to us, And Ifound he was Captain Bouchier, the saine who had rattled away atMr. Whalley's. He instantly joined Miss Weston and consequentlyour party, and was in the same style of flighty raillery asbefore. He seems to have a very good understanding, and veryquick parts, but he is rather too conscious of both180

however, he was really very entertaining, and as he abided whollyby Miss Weston, whose delicacy gave way to gaiety and flash, whether she would or not, I was very glad that he made one amongus. 

The rest of the company soon came, and were Mr. And Mrs. Whalley, Mrs. Lambart, Mrs. Aubrey, Colonel Campbell, an old officer andold acquaintance of Mr. Thrale, and some others, both male andfemale, whose names I know not. 

We all sat in one box, but we had three tea-makers. Miss Westonpresided at that to which I belonged, and Augusta, CaptainBouchier, and herself were of our set. And gay enough we were, for the careless rattle of Captain Bouchier, which paid no regardto the daintiness of Miss Weston, made her obliged in her owndefence, to abate her finery, and laugh, and rally, and rail, inher turn. But, at 'last, I really began to fear that thisflighty officer would bring on a serious quarrel, for, amongother subjects he was sporting, he unfortunately started that ofthe Bath Easton vase, which he ridiculed without mercy, and yet, according to all I have heard of it, without any injustice; butMrs. Whalley, who overheard him, was quite irritated with him. Sir John an Lady Miller are her friends, and she thought itincumbent upon her to vindicate even this vain folly, which shedid weakly and warmly, while Captain Bouchier only laughed andridiculed them the more. Mrs. Whalley then coloured, and grewquite enraged, reasoning upon the wickedness of laughing at hergood friends, and talking of generosity and sentiment. Meanwhile, he scampered from side to side to avoid her; laughed, shouted, and tried every way of braving it out; but was compelledat last to be serious, and enter into a solemn defence of hisintentions, which were, he said, to ridicule the vase, not theMillers. 

 A YOUNG AND AGREEABLE INFIDEL. 

Wednesday. -The party was Mr. And Mrs. Vanbrugh--the former a goodsort of man-the latter, Captain Bouchier says, reckons herself awoman of humour, but she kept it prodigious snug; LordHuntingdon, a very deaf old lord Sir Robert Pigot, a very thinold baronet ; Mr. Tyson, a very civil master of the ceremonies ;Mr. And Mrs. White, a very insignificant couple; Sir James C--, abawling old man; two Misses C--, a pair of tonish misses; Mrs. And Miss Byron; Miss W--, and certain others I knew nothing of. 181

Augusta Byron, according to custom, had entered into conversationwith me, and we were talking about her sisters, and her affairs, when Mr. E- -(whose name I forgot to mention) came to inform methat Mrs. Lambart begged to speak to me. She was upon a sofawith Miss W--, who, it seemed, desired much to be introduced tome, and so I took a chair facing them. 

Miss W--- is young and pleasing in her appearance, not pretty, butagreeable in her face, and soft, gentle, and well bred in hermanners. Our conversation, for some time, was upon the commonBath topics; but when Mrs. Lambart left us--called to receivemore company--we went insensibly into graver matters. 

As I soon found, by the looks and expressions of this young ladythat she was of a peculiar cast, I left all choice of subjects toherself, determined quietly to follow as she led ; and very soon, and I am sure I know not how, we had for topics the follies andvices of mankind, and, indeed, she spared not for lashing them. The women she rather excused than defended, laying to the door ofthe men their faults and imperfections; but the men, she said, were all bad--all, in one word, and without exception, sensualists. 

I stared much at a severity of speech for which her softness ofmanner had so ill prepared me ; and she, perceiving my surprise, said, "I am sure I ought to apologise for speaking my opinion to you--you, who have so just and so uncommon a knowledge of humannature. I have long wished ardently to have the honour ofconversing with you ; but your party has, altogether, beenregarded as so formidable, that I have not had courage toapproach it. "

I made--as what could I do else?--disqualifying speeches, and shethen led to discoursing of happiness and misery: the latter sheheld to be the invariable lot of us all; and "one word, " sheadded, "we have in our language, and in all others, for whichthere is never any essential necessity, and that is pleasure!"And her eyes filled with tears as she spoke. 

"How you amaze me!" cried I; "I have met with misanthropesbefore, but never with so complete a one; and I can hardly thinkI hear right when I see how young you are!"\She then, in rather indirect terms, gave me to understand thatshe was miserable at home, and in very direct terms, that she waswretched abroad; and openly said, that to affliction182

she was born, and in affliction she must die, for that the worldwas so vilely formed as to render happiness impossible for itsinhabitants. 

There was something in this freedom of repining that I could byno means approve, and, as I found by all her manner that she hada disposition to even respect whatever I said, I now grew veryserious, and frankly told her that I could not think itconsistent with either truth or religion to cherish such notions. 

"One thing, " answered she, "there is, which I believe might makeme happy, but for that I have no inclination: it is an amorousdisposition; but that I do not possess. I can make myself nohappiness by intrigue. "

"I hope not, indeed!" cried I, almost confounded by herextraordinary notions and speeches; "but, surely, there areworthier objects of happiness attainable!"

"No, I believe there are not, and the reason the men are happierthan us, is because they are more sensual!"

"I would not think such thoughts, " cried I, clasping my handswith an involuntary vehemence, "for worlds!"

The Misses C-- then interrupted us, and seated themselves next tous; but Miss W-- paid them little attention at first, and soonafter none at all; but, in a low voice, continued her discoursewith me, recurring to the same subject of happiness and misery, upon which, after again asserting the folly of ever hoping forthe former, she made this speech, "There may be, indeed, one moment of happiness, which must be thefinding one worthy of exciting a passion which one should dareown to himself. That would, indeed, be a moment worth livingfor! but that can never happen--I am sure not to me--the men areso low, so vicious, so worthless! No, there is not one such tobe found!"

What a strange girl! I could do little more than listen to her, from surprise at all she said. 

"If, however, " she continued, "I had your talents I could, bad asthis world is, be happy in it. There is nothing, there is nobodyI envy like you. With such resources as yours there can never beennui; the mind may always be employed, and always be gay! Oh, if I could write as you write!"

"Try, " cried I, "that is all that is wanting! try, and you willsoon do much better things!"

"O no! I have tried, but I cannot succeed. "

"Perhaps you are too diffident. But is it possible you can

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be serious in so dreadful an assertion as that you are neverhappy? Are you sure that some real misfortune would not show youthat your present misery is imaginary?"

"I don't know, " answered she, looking down, "perhaps it is So, --but in that case 'tis a misery so much the harder to be cured. "

"You surprise me more and more, " cried I; "is it possible you canso rationally see the disease of a disordered imagination, andyet allow it such power over your mind?"

"Yes, for it is the only source from which I draw any shadow offelicity. Sometimes when in the country, I give way to myimagination for whole days, and then I forget the world and itscares, and feel some enjoyment of existence. "

"Tell me what is then your notion of felicity? Whither does yourcastle-building carry you?"

"O, quite out of the world--I know not where, but I am surroundedwith sylphs, and I forget everything besides. "

"Well, you are a most extraordinary character, indeed; I mustconfess I have seen nothing like you!"

"I hope, however, I shall find something like myself, and, likethe magnet rolling in the dust, attract some metal as I go. "

"That you may attract what you please, is of all things the mostlikely; but if you wait to be happy for a friend resemblingyourself, I shall no longer wonder at your despondency. "

"Oh!" cried she, raising her eyes in ecstasy, "could I find sucha one!--male or female--for sex would be indifferent to me. With such a one I would go to live directly. "

I half laughed, but was perplexed in my own mind whether to be-sad or merry at such a speech. 

"But then, " she continued, "after making, should I lose such afriend, I would not survive. "

"Not survive?" repeated I, "what can you mean?"

She looked down, but said nothing. 

"Surely you cannot mean, " said I, very gravely indeed, "to Put aviolent end to your life. "

 "I should not, " said she, again looking up, "hesitate a moment. "

I was quite thunderstruck, and for some time could not say Aword; but when I did speak, it was in a style of exhortation soserious and earnest, I am ashamed to write it to you, lest 'Youshould think it too much. 184

She gave me an attention that was even respectful, but when Iurged her to tell me by what right she thought herself entitledto rush unlicensed on eternity, she said, "By the right ofbelieving I shall be extinct. " I really felt horror-struck. 

 "Where, for heaven's sake, " I cried, "where haveyou picked up such dreadful reasoning?"

"In Hume, " said she; " I have read his Essays repeatedly. "

"I am sorry to find they have power to do so much mischief; youshould not have read them, at least till a man equal to Hume inabilities had answered him. Have you read any more infidelwriters?"

"Yes, Bolingbroke, the divinest of all writers. "

"And do you read nothing upon the right side?"

"Yes, the bible, till I was sick to death of it, every Sundayevening to my mother. "

Have you read Beattie on the Immutability of Truth?"(126)

"No. "

"Give me leave then to recommend it to you. After Hume's Essaysyou ought to read it. And even for lighter reading, if you wereto look at Mason's 'Elegy on Lady Coventry, ' it might be of nodisservice to you. "

This was the chief of our conversation, which indeed made animpression upon me I shall not easily get rid of. A young andagreeable infidel is even a shocking sight, and with herromantic, flighty, and unguarded turn of mind, what could happento her that could give surprise?

 BALL-ROOM FLIRTATIONS. 

Friday. -In the evening was the last ball expected to be at Baththis season, and therefore knowing we could go to no other, itwas settled we should go to this. Of our party

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were Mrs. Byron and Augusta, Miss Philips, and Charlotte Lewis. 

Mrs. Byron was placed at the upper end of the room by Mr. Tyson, because she is honourable, and her daughter next to her; I, ofcourse, the lowest of our party; but the moment Mr. Tyson hadarranged us, Augusta arose, and nothing would satisfy her buttaking a seat not only next to but below me; nor could I for mylife get the better of the affectionate humility with which shequite supplicated me to be content. She was soon after followedby Captain Brisbane, a young officer who had met her in SpringGardens, and seemed much struck with her, and was now presentedto her by Mr. Tyson for her partner. 

Captain Brisbane is a very pretty sort of young man, but did notmuch enliven us. Soon after I perceived Captain Bouchier, who, after talking some time with Mrs. Thrale, and various parties, made up to us, and upon Augusta's being called upon to dance aminuet, took her place, and began a very lively sort ofchit-chat. 

I had, however, no small difficulty to keep him from abusing myfriend Augusta. He had once danced with her, and their commercehad not been much to her advantage. I defended her upon thescore of her amiable simplicity and unaffected ingenuousness, butI could not have the courage to contradict him when he said hehad no notion she was very brilliant by the conversation he hadhad with her. Augusta, indeed, is nothing less than brilliant:but she is natural, artless, and very affectionate. Just beforeshe went to dance her minuet, upon my admiring her bouquet, whichwas the most beautiful in the room, she tore from it the only twomoss roses in it, and so spoilt it all before her exhibition, merely that I might have the best of it. 

Country dances were now preparing, and after a little furtherchat, Captain Bouchier asked me for the honour of my hand, but Ihad previously resolved not to dance, and therefore declined hisoffer. But he took, of the sudden, a fancy to prate with me, andtherefore budged not after the refusal. 

He told me this was the worst ball for company there had been thewhole season ; and, with a wicked laugh that was too Significantto be misunderstood, said, "And, as you have been to no other, perhaps you will give this for a specimen of a Bath ball!"

He told me he had very lately met with Hannah More, and186

then mentioned Mrs. Montagu and Mrs. Carter, whence he tookoccasion to say most high and fine things of the ladies of thepresent age, --their writings, and talents; and I soon found hehad no small reverence for us blue-stockings. 

About this time Charlotte, (127) who had confessedly dressedherself for dancing, but whose pretty face had by some means beenoverlooked, drawled towards us, and asked me why I would notdance?

"I never intended it, " said I, "but I hoped to have seen you. "

"No, " said she, yawning, "no more shall I, --I don't choose. "

"Don't you ?" said Captain Bouchier, dryly, "why not?

"Why, because I don't like it. "

"O fie!" cried he; "consider how cruel that is. "

"I must consider myself, " said she, pertly; "for I don't chooseto heat myself this hot weather. "

just then a young man came forward, and requested her hand. Shecoloured, looked excessively silly, and walked off with him tojoin the dancers. When, between the dances, she came our way, heplagued her, `a la Sir Clement. (128)

"Well, " cried he, "so you have been dancing this hot night! Ithought you would have considered yourself better?"

"Oh, " said she, "I could not help it--I had much rather not;--itwas quite disagreeable to me. "

" No, no, --pardon me there!" said he, maliciously; "I sawpleasure dance first in your eyes; I never saw you look moredelighted: you were quite the queen of smiles!"

She looked as if she could have killed him; and yet, fromgiddiness and good-humour, was compelled to join in the laugh. 

After this we went to tea. When that was over, and we allreturned to the ball-room, Captain Bouchier followed me, andagain took a seat next mine, which he kept, without once moving, the whole night. 

He again applied to me to dance, but I was more steady thanCharlotte; and he was called upon, and reproached by CaptainBrisbane and others for sitting still when there were so fewdancers; but he told them he could not endure being

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pressed into the service, or serving at all under the master ofthe ceremonies. 

Well, I have no more time for particulars, though we had muchmore converse ; for so it happened that we talked all the eveningalmost together, as Mrs. Thrale and Mrs. Byron were engaged witheach other: Miss Thrale, who did not dance, was fairly jockeyedout of her place next me by Captain Bouchier, and the other youngladies were with their partners. Before we broke up, thiscaptain asked me if I should be at the play next night?--"Yes, " Icould not but say, as we had had places taken some time; but Idid not half like it, for his manner of asking plainly implied, "If you go, why I will!"

When we made our exit, he saw me safe out of the rooms, with asmuch attention as if we had actually been partners. As we werenear home we did not get into chairs; and Mr. Travell joined usin our walk. 

"Why, what a flirtationcried Mrs. Thrale; "why, Burney, this is aman of taste!--Pray, Mr. Travell, will it do? What has he. "

"Twenty thousand pounds, ma'am, " answered the beau. 

"O ho! has he so?--Well, well, we'll think of It. "

Finding her so facetious, I determined not to acquaint her withthe query concerning the play, knowing that, if I did, and heappeared there, she would be outrageous in merriment. She is amost dear creature, but never restrains her tongue in anything, nor, indeed, any of her feelings:--she laughs, cries, scolds, sports, reasons, makes fun, --does everything she has aninclination to do, without any study of prudence, or thought ofblame; and pure and artless as is this character, it often drawsboth herself and others into scrapes, which a little discretionwould avoid. 

 FURTHER FLIRTATIONS. 

Saturday morning I spent in visiting. At dinner we had Mrs. Lambart and Colonel Campbell. All the discourse was upon AugustaByron's having made a conquest of Captain Brisbane, and the matchwas soon concluded upon, --at least, they all allowed it would bedecided this night, when she was to go with us to the play; andif Captain Brisbane was there, why then he was in for it, and thething was done. 

Well--Augusta came at the usual time; Colonel Campbell tookleave, but Mrs. Lambart accompanied us to the play:188

and, in the lobby, the first object we saw was Captain Brisbane. He immediately advanced to us, and, joining our party, followedus into our box. 

Nothing could equal the wickedness of Mrs. Thrale and Mrs. Lambart; they smiled at each other with such significance!Fortunately, however, Augusta did not observe them. 

Well, we took our seats, and Captain Brisbane, by getting intothe next box, on a line with ours, placed himself next toAugusta:(129) but hardly had Mrs. T. And L. Composed their faces, ere I heard the box-door open. Every one looked round but me, and I had reasons for avoiding such curiosity, --reasons wellenough founded, for instantly grins, broader than before, widenedthe mouths of the two married ladies, while even Miss Thralebegan a titter that half choaked her, and Augusta, nodding to mewith an arch smirk, said, "Miss Burney, I wish you joy!"

To be sure I could have no doubt who entered, but, veryinnocently, I demanded of them all the cause of their mirth. They scrupled not explaining themselves; and I found my caution, in not mentioning the query that had been put to me, availed menothing, for the captain was already a marked man in my service!

He placed himself exactly behind me, but very quietly andsilently, and did not, for some minutes, speak to me; afterwards, however, he did a little, -except when my favourite, Mr. Lee, whoacted Old Norval, in "Douglas, " was on the stage, and then he wasstrictly silent. I am in no cue to write our discourse ; but itwas pleasant and entertaining enough at the time, and hisobservations upon the play and the players were lively andcomical. But I was prodigiously worried by my own party, whotook every opportunity to inquire how I was entertained and soforth, --and to snigger. 

Two young ladies, who seemed about eighteen, and sat above

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us Were somuch shocked by the death of Douglas, that both burstinto a loud fit of roaring, like little children, --and sobbed on, afterwards, for almost half the farce! I was quite astonished;and Miss Weston complained that they really disturbed her sorrows; but Captain Bouchier was highly diverted, and went to give themcomfort, as if they had been babies, telling them it was allover, and that they need not cry any more. 

Monday. -At breakfast, Mrs. Thrale said, "Ah, you never tell me your love-secrets, but I could tell youone if I chose it!"

This produced entreaties - and entreaties thus much further-

"Why, I know very well who is in love with Fanny Burney!"

I told her that was more than I did, but owned it was notdifficult to guess who she meant, though I could not tell what. 

"Captain Bouchier, " said she. "But you did not tell me so, norhe either; I had it from Mr. Tyson, our master of the ceremonies, who told me you made a conquest of him at the ball; and he knowsthese matters pretty well; 'tis his trade to know them. "

"Well-a-day!" quoth I--"'tis unlucky we did not meet a littlesooner, for this very day he is ordered away with his troop intoNorfolk. "

 BATH EASTON AND SCEPTICAL MISS W

Thursday, June 8. -We went to Bath Easton. Mrs. Lambart went withus. 

The house is charmingly situated, well fitted up, convenient, andpleasant, and not large, but commodious and elegant. Thursday isstill their public day for company, though the business of thevase is over for this season. 

The room into which we were conducted was so much crowded wecould hardly make our way. Lady Miller came to the door, and, asshe had first done to the rest of us, took my hand, and led me upto a most prodigious fat old lady, and introduced me to her. This was Mrs. Riggs, her ladyship's mother, who seems to haveBath Easton and its owners under her feet. 

I was smiled upon with a graciousness designedly marked, andseemed most uncommonly welcome. Mrs. Riggs looked as if shecould have shouted for joy at sight of me! She is190

mighty merry and facetious, Sir John was very quiet, but verycivil. 

I saw the place appropriated for the vase, but at this time itwas removed. As it was hot, Sir John Miller offered us to walkround the house, and see his greenhouse, etc. So away we setoff, Harriet Bowdler accompanying me, and some others following. 

We had not strolled far ere we were overtaken by another party, and among them I perceived Miss W-- my new sceptical friend. Shejoined me immediately, and I found she was by no means in so sada humour as when I saw her last. On the contrary, she seemedflightily gay. 

"Were you never here before?" she asked me. 

"No. "

"No? why what an acquisition you are then! I suppose you willcontribute to the vase?"

"No, indeed!"

"No more you ought; you are quite too good for it. "

"No, not that; but I have no great passion for making the trial. You, I suppose, have contributed?"

"No, never--I can't. I have tried, but I could never writeverses in my life--never get beyond Cupid and stupid. "

"Did Cupid, then, always come in your way? what a mischievousurchin!"

"No, he has not been very mischievous to me this year. "

"Not this year? Oh, very well! He has spared you, then, for awhole twelvemonth!"

She laughed, and we were interrupted by more company. . . 

Some time after, while I was talking with Miss W-- and HarrietBowdler, Mrs. Riggs came up to us, and with an expression ofcomical admiration, fixed her eyes upon me, and for some timeamused herself with apparently watching me. Mrs. Lambart, whowas at cards, turned round and begged me to give her her cloak, for she felt rheumatic; I could not readily find it, and, afterlooking some time, I was obliged to give her my own; but while Iwas hunting, Mrs. Riggs followed me, laughing, nodding, andlooking much delighted, and every now and then saying, "That's right, Evelina--Ah! look for it, Evelina!-Evelina alwaysdid so--she always looked for people's cloaks, and was obligingand well-bred!"

I grinned a little, to be sure, but tried to escape her, by againgetting between Miss W-- and Harriet Bowdler; but Mrs. 

191Riggs still kept opposite to me, expressing from time to time, byuplifted hands and eyes, comical applause, Harriet Bowdlermodestly mumbled some praise, but addressed it to Miss Thrale. Ibegged a truce, and retired to a chair in a corner, at therequest of Miss W-- to have a t`ete-`a-t`ete, for which, however, her strange levity gave me no great desire. She begged to knowif I had written anything else. I assured her never. 

"The 'Sylph, '" said she, "I am told, was yours. "

"I had nothing at all to do with that or anything else that everwas published but 'Evelina;' you, I suppose, read the 'Sylph' forits name's sake?"

"No; I never read novels--I hate them; I never read 'Evelina'till I was quite persecuted by hearing it talked of. 'SirCharles Grandison' I tried once, but could not bear it; SirCharles for a lover! no lover for me! for a guardian or thetrustee of an estate, he might do very well--but for a lover!"

"What--when he bows upon your hand! would not that do?"

She kept me by her side for a full hour, and we again talked overour former conversation; and I enquired what first led her toseeking infidel books?

"Pope, " she said; he was himself a deist, she believed, and hispraise of Bolingbroke made her mad to read his books, and thenthe rest followed easily. She also gave me an account of herprivate and domestic life; of her misery at home, her search ofdissipation, and her incapability of happiness. 

 CURIOSITY ABOUT THE " EVELINA " SET. 

Our conversation would have lasted till leave-taking, but for ourbeing interrupted by Miss Miller, a most beautiful little, girlof ten years old. Miss W- begged her to sing us a French song. She coquetted, but Mrs. Riggs came to us, and said if I wished itI did her grand-daughter great honour, and she insisted upon herobedience. The little girl laughed and complied, and we wentinto another room to hear her, followed by the Misses Caldwell. She sung in a pretty childish manner enough. 

When we became more intimate, she said, "Ma'am, I have a great favour to request of you, if you please!"192

I begged to know what it was, and assured her I would grant it ;and to be out of the way of these misses, I led her to thewindow. 

"Ma'am, " said the little girl, will you then be so good as totell me where Evelina is now?"

I was a little surprised at the question, and told her I had notheard lately. 

"Oh, ma'am, but I am sure you know! " cried she, "for you knowyou wrote it; and mamma was so good as to let me hear her readit; and pray, ma'am, do tell me where she is? and whether MissBranghton and Miss Polly went to see her when she was married toLord Orville?"

I promised her I would inquire, and let her know. 

"And pray, ma'am, is Madame Duval with her now?"And several other questions she asked me, with a childishsimplicity that was very diverting. She took the whole for atrue story, and was quite eager to know what was become of allthe people. And when I said I would inquire, and tell her whenwe next met, "Oh, but, ma'am, " she said, "had not you better write it down, because then there would be more of it, you know?"

 ALARM AT THE No POPERY RIOTS. 

[The disgraceful "No Popery" riots, which filled London withterror, and the whole country with alarm, in June, 1780, wereoccasioned by the recent relaxation of the severe penal lawsagainst the Catholics. The rioters were headed by Lord GeorgeGordon, a crazy enthusiast. Dr. Johnson has given a livelyaccount of the disturbance in his "Letters to Mrs. Thrale, " someexcerpts from which will, perhaps, be not unacceptable to thereader. 

"9th June, 1780. On Friday (June 2) the good protestants met inSaint George's Fields, at the summons of Lord George Gordon; andmarching to Westminster, insulted the lords and commons, who allbore it with great tameness. At night the outrages began by thedemolition of the mass-house by Lincoln's Inn. 

"An exact journal of a week's defiance of government I cannotgive you. On Monday Mr. Strahan, who had been insulted, spoke toLord Mansfield, who had, I think, been insulted too, of thelicentiousness of the populace; and his lordship treated it as avery slight irregularity. On Tuesday night they pulled downFielding's(130) house, and burnt his goods in the street. Theyhad

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gutted on Monday Sir George Savile's house, but the building wassaved. On Tuesday evening, leaving Fielding's ruins, they wentto Newgate to demand their companions, who had been seizeddemolishing the chapel. The keeper could not release them but bythe mayor's permission, which he went to ask; at his return hefound all the prisoners released, and Newgate in a blaze. Theythen went to Bloomsbury, and fastened upon Lord Mansfield'shouse, which they pulled down; and as for his goods, they totallyburnt them. They have since gone to Caen-wood, but a guard wasthere before them. They plundered some papists, I think, andburnt a mass-house in Moorfields the same night. 

"On Wednesday I walked with Dr. Scot to look at Newgate and foundit in ruins, with the fire yet glowing. As I went by, theProtestants were plundering the sessions-house at the Old Bailey. There were not, I believe, a hundred; but they did their work atleisure, in full security, without sentinels without trepidation, as men lawfully employed in full day. Such is the cowardice of acommercial place. On Wednesday they broke open the Fleet, andthe King's Bench, and the Marshalsea, and Woodstreet Compter, andClerkenwell Bridewell, and released all the prisoners. At nightthey set fire to the Fleet, and to the King's Bench, and I knownot how many other places; and one might see the glare ofconflagration fill the sky from many parts. The sight wasdreadful. 

"The King said in council, 'That the magistrates had not donetheir duty, but that he would do his own;' and a proclamation waspublished, directing us to keep our servants within doors, as thepeace was now to be preserved by force. Thesoldiers were sent out to different parts, and the town is now atquiet. 

What has happened at your house(131) you will know: the harm isonly a few butts of beer; and, I think, you may be sure that thedanger is over. "

10th June, 1780. The soldiers are stationed so as to beeverywhere within call. There is no longer any body of rioters, and the individuals are hunted to their holes, and led to prison. Lord George was last night sent to the Tower. . . . 

Government now acts again with its proper force - and we are allunder the protection of the King and the law. "-ED. )

When we came home our newspaper accounts of the tumults In townwith Lord George Gordon and his mob, alarmed us very much ; butwe had still no notion of the real danger you were all in. 

Next day we drank tea with the Dowdlers. At our return

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home we were informed a mob was surrounding a new Roman Catholicchapel. At first we disbelieved it, but presently one of theservants came and told us they were knocking it to pieces; and inhalf an hour, looking out of our windows, we saw it in flames:and listening, we heard loud and violent shouts!

I shall write no particulars - the horrible subject you have hadmore than your share of. Mrs. Thrale and I sat up till fouro'clock, and walked about the parades, and at two we went with alarge party to the spot, and saw the beautiful new buildingconsuming; the mob then were all quiet--all still and silent, andeverybody seemed but as spectators. 

Saturday morning, to my inexpressible concern, brought me noletters from town, and my uneasiness to hear from you made mequite wretched. Mrs. Thrale had letters from Sir Philip Clerkeand Mr. Perkins, to acquaint her that her town-house had beenthree times attacked, but was at last saved by guards; herchildren, plate, money, and valuables all removed. Streathamalso threatened, and emptied of all its furniture. 

The same morning also we saw a Bath and Bristol paper, in whichMr. Thrale was asserted to be a papist. This villanous falsehoodterrified us even for his personal safety, and Mrs. Thrale and Iagreed it was best to leave Bath directly, and travel about thecountry. 

She left to me the task of acquainting Mr. Thrale with theseparticulars, being herself too much disturbed to be capable ofsuch a task. I did it as well as I could, and succeeded so farthat, by being lightly told of it, he treated it lightly, andbore it with much steadiness and composure. We then soon settledto decamp. 

We had no time nor spirits pour prendre cong`e stuff, butdetermined to call upon the Bowdlers and Miss Cooper. They wereall sorry to part, and Miss Cooper, to my equal surprise andpleasure, fairly made a declaration of her passion for me, assuring me she had never before taken so great a fancy to a newacquaintance, and beginning warmly the request I meant to makemyself, of continuing our intimacy in town. 

(Fanny Burney to Dr. Burney. )Bath, June 9, 1780, My dearest sir, How are you? where are you? and what is to come next? Theaccounts from town are so frightful, that I am un-

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easy, not only for the city at large, but for every individual Iknow in it. Does this martial law confine you quite to thehouse? Folks here say that it must, and that no business of anykind can be transacted. Oh, what dreadful times ! Yet I rejoiceextremely that the opposition members have fared little betterthan the ministerial. Had such a mob been confirm(d friends ofeither or of any party, I think the nation must have been attheir disposal ; for, if headed by popular or skilful leaders, who and what could have resisted them?--I mean, if they are asformidable as we are here told. 

Dr. Johnson has written to Mrs. Thrale, without even mentioningthe existence of this mob; perhaps at this very moment he thinksit "a humbug upon the nation, " as George Bodens called theparliament, A private letter to Bull, the bookseller, brought word thismorning that much slaughter has been made by the military amongthe mob. Never, I am sure, can any set of wretches less deservequarter or pity ; yet it is impossible not to shudder at hearingof their destruction. Nothing less, however, would do; they weretoo outrageous and powerful for civil power. 

But what is it they want? who is going to turn papist? who, indeed, is thinking in an alarming way of religion?--this piousmob, and George Gordon excepted?

All the stage-coaches that come into Bath from London are Chalkedover with "No Popery, " and Dr. Harrington called here just now, and says the same was chalked this morning upon his door, and isscrawled in several places about the town. Wagers have been laidthat the popish chapel here will be pulled or burnt down in a fewdays; but I believe not a word of the matter, nor do I find thatanybody is at all alarmed. Bath, indeed, ought to be held sacredas a sanctuary for invalids; and I doubt not but the news of thefiring in town will prevent all tumults out of it. 

Now, if, after all the intolerable provocation given by the mob, after all the leniency and forbearance of the ministry, and afterthe shrinking Of the minority, we shall by and by hear that thisfiring was a massacre--will it not be villanous and horrible?And yet as soon as safety is secured--though by this means aloneall now agree it can be secured--nothing would less surprise methan to hear the seekers of popularity make this assertion. 

Friday night. -The above I writ this morning, before I re-

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collected this was not post-day, and all is altered here since. The threats I despised were but too well grounded, for, to ourutter amazement and consternation, the new Roman Catholic chapelin this town was set on fire at about nine o'clock. It is nowburning with a fury that is dreadful, and the house of the priestbelonging to it is in flames also. The poor persecuted manhimself has I believe escaped with life, though pelted, followed, and very ill used. Mrs. Thrale and I have been walking aboutwith the footmen several times. The whole town is still andorderly. The rioters do their work with great composure, andthough there are knots of people in every corner, all execratingthe authors of such outrages, nobody dares oppose them. Anattempt indeed was made, but it was ill-conducted, faintlyfollowed, and soon put an end to by a secret fear of excitingvengeance. 

Alas! to what have we all lived!--the poor invalids here willprobably lose all chance of life, from terror. Mr. Hay, ourapothecary, has been attending the removal of two, who wereconfined to their beds in the street where the chapel is burning. The Catholics throughout the place are all threatened withdestruction, and we met several porters, between ten and elevenat night, privately removing goods, walking on tiptoe, andscarcely breathing. 

I firmly believe, by the deliberate villany with which this riotis conducted, that it wil! go on in the same desperate way as intown, and only be stopped by the same desperate means. Our planfor going to Bristol is at an end. We are told it would bemadness, as there are seven Romish chapels in it; but we aredetermined upon removing somewhere to-morrow; for why should we, who can go, stay to witness such horrid scenes?

Satarday Afternoon, June 10-I was most cruelly disappointed innot having one word to-day. I am half crazy with doubt anddisturbance in not hearing. Everybody here is terrified todeath. We have intelligence that Mr. Thrale's house in town isfilled with soldiers, and threatened by the mob with destruction. Perhaps he may himself be a marked man for their fury. Weare going directly from Bath, and intend to stop only atvillages. To-night we shall stop at Warminster, not daring to goto Devizes. This place is now well guarded, but still we darenot await the event of to-night; all the catholics in the townhave privately escaped. 

I know not now when I shall hear from you. I am in agony197

for news. Our head-quarters will be Brighthelmstone, where I domost humbly and fervently entreat you to write--do, dearest sir, write, if but one word--if but only you name yourself! Nothingbut your own hand can now tranquillize me. The reports aboutLondon here quite distract me. If it were possible to send ine aline by the diligence to Brighton, how grateful I should be forsuch an indulgence!

 HASTY DEPARTURE FRom BATH. 

(Fanny Burney to Dr. Burney. )Salisbury, June 11, 1780

Here we are, dearest sir, and here we mean to pass this night. 

We did not leave Bath till eight o'clock yesterday evening, atwhich time it was filled with dragoons, militia, and armedconstables, not armed with muskets, but bludgeons: these latterwere all chairmen, who were sworn by the mayor in the morning forpetty constables. A popish private chapel, and the houses of allthe catholics, were guarded between seven and eight, and theinhabitants ordered to keep house. 

We set out in the coach-and-four, with two men on horseback, andgot to Warminster, a small town in Somersetshire, a little beforetwelve. 

This morning two more servants came after us from Bath, andbrought us word that the precautions taken by the magistrateslast night had good success, for no attempt of any sort had beenrenewed towards a riot. But the happiest tidings to me werecontained in a letter which they brought, which had arrived afterour departure, by the diligence, from Mr. Perkins, (132) with anaccount that all was quiet in London, and that Lord G. Gordon wassent to the Tower. I am now again tolerably easy, but I shallnot be really comfortable, or free from some fears, till I hearfrom St. Martin's-street. 

The Borough house has been quite preserved. I know not how longwe may be on the road, but nowhere long", enough for receiving aletter till we come to Brighthelmstone. 

We stopped in our way at Wilton, and spent half the day at thatbeautiful place. 

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just before we arrived there, Lord Arundel had sent to theofficers in the place, to entreat a party of guards immediately, for the safety of his house, as he had intelligence that a mobwas on the road from London to attack it:--he is a catholic. Hisrequest was immediately complied with. 

We intended to have gone to a private town, but find all quiethere, and therefore prefer it as much more commodious. There isno Romish chapel in the town; mass has always been performed forthe catholics of the place at a Mrs. Arundel's in the Close--arelation of his lordship's, whose house is fifteen miles off. Ihave inquired about the Harris's;(133) I find they are here andall well. 

 THE GORDON RIOTS. 

( Charlotte Burney(134) to Fanny Burney. )

I am very sorry, my dear Fanny, to hear how much you havesuffered from your apprehension about us. Susan will tell youwhy none of us wrote before Friday; and she says, she has toldyou what dreadful havoc and devastation- the mob have made herein all parts of the town. However, We are pretty quiet andtranquil again now. Papa goes on with his business pretty muchas usual, and so far from the military keeping people withindoors (as you say in your letter to my father, you suppose to bethe case), the streets were never more crowded--everybody iswandering about in order to see the ruins of the places that themob have destroyed. 

There are two camps, one in St. James's, and the other in HydePark, which together with the military law, makes almost everyone here think he is safe again. I expect we shall all have "apassion for a scarlet coat" now. 

I hardly know what to tell you that won't be stale news. Theysay that duplicates of the handbill that I have enclosed weredistributed all over the town on Wednesday and Thurs;

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day last; however, thank heaven, everybody says now that Mr. Thrale's house and brewery are as safe as we can wish them. There was a brewer in Turnstile that had his house gutted andburnt, because, the mob said, "he was a papish, and sold popishbeer. " Did you ever hear of such diabolical ruffians?

To add to the pleasantness of our situation, there have beengangs of women going about to rob and plunder. Miss Kirwans wenton Friday afternoon to walk in the Museum gardens, and werestopped by a set of women, and robbed of all the money they had. The mob had proscribed the mews, for they said, "the king shouldnot have a horse to ride upon!" They besieged the new SomersetHouse, with intention to destroy it, but were repulsed by somesoldiers placed there for that purpose. 

Mr. Sleepe has been here a day or two, and says the folks atWatford, where he comes from, "approve very Much Of having theCatholic chapels destroyed, for they say it's a shame the popeshould come here!" There is a house hereabouts that they hadchalked upon last week, "Empty, and No Popery!"

I am heartily rejoiced, my dearest Fanny, that you have got awayfrom Bath, and hope and trust that at Brighthelmstone you will beas safe as we are here. 

It sounds almost incredible, but they say, that on Wednesdaynight last, when the mob were more powerful, more numerous, andoutrageous than ever, there was, nevertheless, a number ofexceeding genteel people at Ranelagh, though they knew not buttheir houses might be on fire at the time!

 A SUGGESTED VISIT To GRUB-STREET. 

(Fanny Burney to Mrs. Thrale. )

Since I wrote last I have drunk tea with Dr. Johnson. My fathertook me to Bolt-court, and we found him, most fortunately, withonly one brass-headed cane gentleman. Since that I have had thepleasure to meet him again at Mrs. Reynolds's, when he offered totake me with him to Grub-street, to see the ruins of the housedemolished there in the late riots, by a mob that, as heobserved, could be no friend to the Muses! He inquired if I hadever yet visited Grub-street ? but was obliged to restrain hisanger when I answered "No, " because he acknowledged he had neverpaid his respects to it200

himself. "However, " says he, "you and I, Burney, will gotogether; we have a very good right to go, so we'll visit themansions of our progenitors, and take up our own freedon, together. " There's for you, madam! What can be grander?

 FANNY BURNEY'S BROTHER IS PROMOTED. 

(Fanny Burney to Mrs. Thrale. )Chesington, Nov. 4. 

I had no other adventure in London, but a most delightfulincident has happened since I came hither. We had just done teaon Friday, and Mrs. Hamilton, Kitty, Jem, and Mr. Crisp, weresitting down to cards, when we were surprised by an express fromLondon, and it brought a "Whereas we think fit" from theAdmiralty, to appoint Captain Burney to the command of the"Latona, " during the absence of the Honourable Captain Conway. This is one of the best frigates in the navy, of thirty-eightguns, and immediately, I believe, ready for service. Jem wasalmost frantic with ecstacy of joy: he sang, laughed, drank tohis own success, and danced about the room with Miss Kitty tillHe put her quite out of breath. His hope is to get outimmediately, and have a brush with some of the Dons, Monsieurs, or Mynheers, while he is in possession of a ship of sufficientforce to attack any frigate he may meet. 

[Mrs. Thrale wrote to Fanny from Streatham, Dec. 22:--)I have picked up something to please you; Dr. Johnson pronouncedan actual eulogium upon Captain Burney, to his yesterday'slisteners--how amiable he was, and how gentle in his manner, etc. , tho' he had lived so many years with sailors and savages. 

 THE DEATH OF MR. THRALE. 

(Fanny Burney to Mrs. Thrale(135))mWednesday Evening, April 4, 1781

You bid me write to you, and so I will; you bid me pray for you, and so, indeed, I do, for the restoration of your sweet

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peace of mind. I pray for your resignation to this hard blow, for the continued union and exertion of your virtues with yourtalents, and for the happiest reward their exertion can meetwith, in the gratitude and prosperity of your children. Theseare my prayers for my beloved Mrs. Thrale; but these are not myonly ones; no, the unfailing warmth of her kindness for myself Ihave rarely, for a long time past, slept without firstpetitioning. 

I ran away without seeing you again when I found you repentedthat sweet compliance with my request which I had won from you. For the world would I not have pursued you, had I first seen yourprohibition, nor could I endure to owe that consent to teasingwhich I only solicited from tenderness. Still, however, I thinkyou had better have suffered me to follow you; I might have beenof some use; I hardly could have been in your way. But I grievenow to have forced you to an interview which I would have sparedmyself as well as you, had I foreseen how little it would haveanswered my purpose. 

Yet though I cannot help feeling disappointed, I am notsurprised; for in any case at all similar, I am sure I shouldhave the same eagerness for solitude. 

I tell you nothing of how sincerely I sympathise in youraffliction; yet I believe that Mr. Crutchley and Dr. Johnsonalone do so more earnestly; and I have some melancholy comfort inflattering myself that, allowing for the difference of ourcharacters, that true regard which I felt was as truly returned. Nothing but kindness did I ever meet with; he ever loved to haveme, not merely with his family, but with himself; and gratefullyshall I ever remember a thousand kind expressions of esteem andgood opinion, which are now crowding upon my memory. 

(116) Mr. Smelt was a friend of Dr. Burney's, and highly esteemedby Fanny both for his character and talents. He had been tutorto the Prince of Wales (afterwards George IV. ). We shall meetwith him later. -ED, (117)This boy was afterwards the celebrated painter, Sir ThomasLawrence, President of the Royal Academy. 

(118) Constantine John Phipps, second Baron Mulgrave in the Irishpeerage. He was born in 1744; served with distinction in thenavy, and made a voyage of discovery towards the North Pole in1773. His account of this voyage was published in the followingyear. He became Baron Mulgrave on the death of his father, thefirst Baron, in 1775; was raised to the English peerage under thetitle of Lord Mulgrave in 1790, and died in 1792. -ED. 

(119) Mrs. Byron was the wife of Admiral the Hon. John Byron("Foul-weather Jack"), and grandmother of the poet. Her daughterAugusta subsequently married Vice-Admiral Parker, and died in1824. -ED. 

(120) Mrs. Dobson was authoress of an abridged translation of"Petrarch's Life, " and of the "History of the Troubadours. "-ED. 

(121) Dr. Harrington was a physician, and a friend of Dr. Burney. His son, "Mr. Henry"--the Rev. Henry Harrington--was the editorof "Nugaae Antiquae. ""-ED. 

(122) The rough-mannered, brutal sea-captain in "Evelina. "-ED. 

(123) Lady Miller, of Bath Easton--the lady of the Vase. HoraceWalpole gives an amusing description of the flummery which wasindulged in every week at Bath Easton under her presidency. "Youmust know, that near Bath is erected a new Parnassus, composed ofthree laurels, a myrtle-tree, a weeping-willow, and a view of theAvon, which has now been christened Helicon. Ten years ago therelived a Madam (Briggs], an old rough humourist, who passed for awit; her daughter, who passed for nothing, married to a captain[Miller], full of good-natured officiousness. These good folkswere friends of Miss Rich, who carried me to dine with them atBath Easton, now Pindus. They caught a little of what was thencalled taste, built, and planted, and begot children, till thewhole caravan were forced to go abroad to retrieve. Alas! Mrs. Miller is returned a beauty, a genius, a Sappho, a tenth muse, asromantic as Mademoiselle Scuderi, and as sophisticated as Mrs. Vesey. The captain's fingers are loaded with cameos, his tongueruns over with virt`u; and that both may contribute to theimprovement of their own country, they have introducedbouts-rim`es as a new discovery. They hold a Parnassus-fairevery Thursday, give out rhymes and themes, and all the flux ofquality at Bath contend for the prizes. A Roman vase, dressedwith pink ribands and myrtles, receives the poetry, which isdrawn out every festival: six judges of these Olympic gamesretire and select the brightest compositions, which therespective successful acknowledge, kneel to Mrs. Calliope(Miller), kiss her fair hand, and are crowned by it with myrtle. "Works, vol. V. P. 183-ED. 

(124) Not our old acquaintance, Mrs. Cholmondeley, but a ladywhom Fanny met for the first time during this season at Bath. -ED. 

(125) See ante, note 121, p. 170. -ED. 

(126) Beattie's "Essay on Truth, " published in 1770, andcontaining a feeble attack on Hume. Commonplace as the book is, it was received with rapture by the Orthodox, and Reynoldspainted a fine picture of Beattie, standing with the "Essay"under his arm, while the angel of Truth beside him, drives awaythree demonic figures, in whose faces we trace a resemblance tothe portraits of Hume, Voltaire, and Gibbon. For this piece offlattery the painter was justly rebuked by Goldsmith, whosesympathies were certainly not on the side of infidelity. "It veryill becomeF a mann Of your eminence and character, " said thepoet, "to debase so high a genius as Voltaire before so mean awriter as Beattie. Beattie and his book will be forgotten in tenyears, while Voltaire's fame will last for ever. Take care itdoes not perpetuate this picture, to the shame of such a man asyou. "-ED. 

(127) Charlotte Lewis. -ED. 

(128) Sir Clement Willoughby, a rakish baronet in "Evelina. "-ED. 

(129) This flirtation came to nothing, as Captain Brisbaneproved himself a jilt. The following month Miss Burney wrote toMrs. Thrale as follows:-- "Your account of Miss M-'s being takenin, and taken in by Captain Brisbane, astonishes me! surely nothalf we have heard either of her adorers, or her talents, canhave been true. Mrs. Byron has lost too little to have anythingto lament, except, indeed, the time she sacrificed to foolishconversation, and the civilities she threw away upon so worthlessa subject. Augusta has nothing to reproach herself with, andriches and wisdom must be rare indeed, if she fares not as wellwith respect to both, as she would have done with an adventurerwhose pocket, it seems, was as empty as his head. "-ED. 

(130) Sir John Fielding, the magistrate; brother of thenovelist. -ED. 

(131) Mr Thrale's brewery in Southwark. His town house inGrosvenor Square was threatened by the mob, but escapeddestruction. -ED. 

(132) The manager of Mr. Thrale's brewery. -ED. 

(133) James Harris, of Salisbury, and his family. Mr. Harris wasthe author of "Hermes, an Enquiry concerning Universal Grammar, "and was characterised by Dr. Johnson as a "sound, solid scholar. "He was an enthusiast on the subject of music, and had made Dr. Burney's acquaintance at the opera in 1773. -ED. 

(134) Fanny's younger sister, some of whose lively and amusingletters and fragments of journal are printed in the "EarlyDiary. " Unlike Fanny, she was a bit of a flirt, and she seems tohave been altogether a very charming young woman, who fullysustained the Burney reputation for sprightliness and goodhumour. -ED. 

(135) This letter was written in reply to a few words from Mrs. Thrale, in which, alluding to her husband's sudden death, shebegs Miss Burney to "write to me--pray for me!" The hurried notefrom Mrs. Thrale is thus endorsed by Miss Burney:--"Written a fewhours after the death of Mr. Thrale, which happened by a suddenstroke of apoplexy, on the morning of a day on which half thefashion of London had been invited to an intended assembly at hishouse in Grosvenor Square. " [Mr. Thrale, who had long sufferedfrom ill health, had been contemplating a journey to Spa, andthence to Italy. His physicians, however, were strongly opposedto the scheme, and Fanny writes, just before his death, that itwas settled that a great meeting of hi friends should take place, and that they should endeavour to prevail with him to give it up;in which she has little doubt of their succeeding. -ED. ]

202

 SECTION 4 (1781-2. )

 MISS BURNEY EXTENDS THE CIRCLE OF HER ACQUAINTANCE. 

[During the years 1781 and 1782 Fanny was engaged upon her secondnovel, "Cecilia, " which was published in July, 1782. It is notnecessary here to discuss the merits of a work with whicheveryone ought to be acquainted. We may safely leave the task ofcriticising "Cecilia" to an unimpeachable authority, EdmundBurke, whose magnificent, but just eulogy of the book will befound on page 232 Of the present volume. In the followingsection of " The Diary" Fanny records one of the most memorableevents of her life, --her introduction to Burke, in June, 1782, atSir Joshua Reynolds's house on Richmond Hill. Rer letter to Mr. Crisp, printed in the " Memoirs of Dr. Burney, " gives a moredetailed account than that in the " Diary, " of the conversationwhich passed on this occasion. Other men of genius were present, among them Gibbon the historian, whom she then met for the firsttime; but Fanny had eyes and ears for none but Burke. Nor wasshe singular in yielding thus completely to the fascination ofthe great Irishman's manner and conversation. Wherever heappeared, in what society soever he mingled, Burke was still theman of distinction. As Johnson said, you could not stand under ashed with Burke for a few minutes, during a shower of rain, without feeling that you were in the company of an extraordinaryman. 

Mr. Thrale's death produced no immediate change in the situationof affairs at Streatham. Dr. Johnson's visits were as frequentand as protracted as before; Fanny continued to be numbered amongthe dearest friends of the widow. Not yet had arisen thatinfatuation which eventually alienated from Mrs. Thrale thesympathy of her former friends, and subjected her, justly orunjustly, to such severe and general condemnation. But to thistopic we shall revert at a later period. 

The great brewer had left his wife and family in affluent203

circumstances. The executors to his Will were Dr. Johnson, Mr. Henry Smith, Mr. Cator and Mr. Crutchley, together with Mrs. Thrale. Of the last-named gentleman we shall hear a good deal inthe following pages. He and Mr. Cator were both chosen membersof parliament In the same year--1784: Mr. Cator for Ipswich, Mr. Crutchley for Horsham. Early in the summer following Thrale'sdecease the brewery was sold for the handsome sum of 135, 000pounds, to David Barclay, the Quaker, who took Thrale's oldmanager, Perkins into Partnership. Thus was Vfounded the famoushouse Of Barclay and Perkins. -ED-]

 YOUNG MR. CRUTCHLEY RUFFLES MISS BURNEY. 

Streatham, May. 

Miss Owen and I arrived here without incident, which, in a journey of six or seven miles, was really marvellous. Mrs. Thrale came from the Borough with two of the executors, Dr. Johnson and Mr Crutchley soon after us. She had been sadlyworried, and in the evening frightened us all by again faintingaway. Dear creature! she is all agitation of mind and of body:but she is now wonnderfully recovered though in continual feversabout her affairs, which are mighty difficult and complicateindeed. Yet the behaviour of all the executors is exactly to herwish. Mr. Crutchley, In particular, was he a darling son or onlybrother could not possibly be more truly devoted to her. Indeed. , I am very happy in the revolution in my own mind infavour of this young man, whom formerly I so little liked; for Inow see so much of him, business and inclination uniting to bringhim hither continually, that if he were disagreeable to me, Ishould spend my time in a most comfortless manner. On thecontrary, I both respect and esteem him very highly; for hiswhole conduct manifests so much goodness of heart and excellenceof principle, that he is Un homme comme ill y en a peu; and thatfirst appearance of coldness, pride, reserve, and sneering, allwears off upon further acquaintance, and leaves behind nothingbut good-humour and good-will. And this you must allow to bevery candid, when I tell you that, but yesterday, he affronted meso much by a Piece Of impertinence that I had a very seriousquarrel with im. 

Sunday morning nobody went to church but Mr. Crutchley, MissThrale, and myself; and some time after, when I was 204

sauntering upon the lawn before the house, Mr. Crutchley joinedine. We were returning together into the house, when, Mrs. Thrale, popping her head out of her dressing-room window, calledout, "How nicely these men domesticate among us, Miss Burney! Why, they take to us as natural as life!"

"Well, well, " cried Mr. Crutchley, "I have sent for my horse, andI shall release you early to-morrow morning, I think yonder comesSir Philip. "(136)

"Oh! you'll have enough to do with him, " cried she, laughing; "heis well prepared to plague you, I assure you. "

"Is he?--and what about?"

"Why, about Miss Burney. He asked me the other day what was mypresent establishment. 'Mr. Crutchley and Miss Burney, ' Ianswered. 'How well those two names go together, ' cried he; 'Ithink they can't do better than make a match of it: I willconsent, I am sure, ' he added; and to-day, I dare say, you willhear enough of it. "

I leave you to judge if I was pleased at this stuff thuscommunicated; but Mrs. Thrale, with all her excellence, can giveup no occasion of making sport, however unseasonable, or evenpainful. 

" I am very much obliged to him, indeed cried I, dryly; and Mr. Crutchley called out, "Thank him !-thank him! " in a voice ofpride and of pique that spoke him mortally angry. 

I instantly came into the house, leaving him to talk it out withMrs. Thrale, to whom I heard him add, "So this is Sir Philip'skindness!" and her answer, "I wish you no worse luck!"

Now, what think you of this? was it not highly insolent?--andfrom a man who has behaved to me hitherto with the utmostdeference, good-nature, and civility, and given me a thousandreasons, by every possible opportunity, to think myself very highindeed in his good opinion and good graces? But these rich menthink themselves the constant prey of all portionless girls, andare always upon their guard, and suspicious of some design totake them in. This sort of disposition I had very early observedin Mr. Crutchley, and therefore I had been more distant and coldwith him than with anybody I ever met with ; but latterly hischaracter had risen so much in my mind, and his behaviour was somuch improved, that I had let things take their own course, andno more shunned than I sought him; for I evidently saw his doubtsconcerning me and my plots were

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all at an end, and his civility and attentions were dailyincreasing, so that I had become very comfortable with him, andwell pleased with his society. 

I need not, I think, add that I determined to see as little ofthis most fearful and haughty gentleman in future as was in mypower, since no good qualities can compensate for such arroganceof suspicion; and, therefore, as I had reason enough to supposehe would, in haste, resume his own reserve, I resolved, withoutmuch effort, to be beforehand with him in resuming mine. 

 Miss BURNEY SULKS ON. 

At dinner we had a large and most disagreeable party of Irishladies, whom Mrs. Thrale was necessitated to invite from motivesof business and various connections. 

I was obliged to be seated between Miss O'Riley and Mr. Crutchley, to whom you may believe I was not very courteous, especially as I had some apprehension of Sir Philip. Mr. Crutchley, however, to my great surprise, was quite as civil asever, and endeavoured to be as chatty; but there I begged to beexcused, only answering upon the reply, and that very dryly, for I was indeed horribly provoked with him. 

I was much diverted during dinner by this Miss O'Riley, who tookit in her humour to attack Mr. Crutchley repeatedly, though sodiscouraging a beau never did I see! Her forwardness, and hisexcessive and inordinate coldness, made a contrast that, added toher brogue, which was broad, kept me in a grin irrepressible. 

In the afternoon we had also Mr. Wallace, the attorney general, amost squat and squab looking man. In the evening, when the Irishladies, the Perkinses, Lambarts, and Sir Philip, had gone, Mrs. Thrale walked out with Mr. Wallace, whom she had some business totalk over with; and then, when only Miss Owen, Miss T. , and Iremained, Mr. Crutchley, after repeatedly addressing me, andgaining pretty dry answers, called out suddenly, "Why, Miss Burney! why, what's the matter?"

"Nothing. "

"Why, are you stricken, or smitten, or ill?

"None of the three. "

"Oh, then, you are setting down all these Irish folks. "

"No, indeed; I don't think them worth the trouble. "

"Oh, but I am sure you are; only I interrupted you. "

I went on no further with the argument, and Miss Thrale pro-206

posed our walking out to meet her mother. We all agreed and Mr. Crutchley would not be satisfied without walking near me, thoughI really had no patience to talk with him, and wished him atJericho. 

"What's the matter?" said he; "have you had a quarrel?"

"NO. "

"Are you affronted?"

Not a word. Then again he called to Miss Thrale-

" Why, Queeny--why, she's quite in a rage! What have you done toher?"

I still sulked on, vexed to be teased ; but, though with a gaietythat showed he had no suspicion of the cause, he grew more andmore urgent, trying every means to make me tell him what was thematter, till at last, much provoked, I said-

" I must be strangely in want of a confidant, indeed, to take youfor one!"

"Why, what an insolent speech!" cried he, half serious and halflaughing, but casting up his eyes and hands with astonishment. He then let me be quiet some time, - but in a few minutes renewedhis inquiries, with added eagerness, begging me to tell him ifnobody else. 

A likely matter! thought I; nor did I scruple to tell him, whenforced to answer, that no one had such little chance of successin such a request. 

"Why so?" cried he; "for I am the best person in the world totrust with a secret, as I always forget it. "

He continued working at me till we joined Mrs. Thrale and theattorney-general. And then Miss Thrale, stimulated by him, cameto inquire if I had really taken anything amiss of her. "No, " Iassured her. 

"Is it of me, then?" cried Mr. Crutchley, as if sure I should sayno; but I made no other answer than to desire him to desistquestioning me. . . . 

He then grew quite violent, and at last went on with hisquestions till, by being quite silent, he could no longer doubtwho it was. He seemed then wholly amazed, and entreated to knowwhat he had done; but I tried only to avoid him. 

Soon after the attorney-general took his leave, during whichceremony Mr. Crutchley, coming behind me, exclaimed, -

"Who'd think of this creature's having any venom in her"

"Oh, yes, " answered I, "when she's provoked. "

" But have I provoked you?"

Again I got off. Taking Miss Thrale by the arm, we hurried207

away, leaving him with Mrs. Thrale and Miss Owen. He was presently, however, with us again ; and when he came tomy side and found me really trying to talk of other matters withMiss Thrale, and avoid him, he called out, -

"Upon my life, this is too bad! Do tell me, Miss Burney, what isthe matter? If you won't, I protest I'll call Mrs. Thrale, andmake her work at you herself. "

"I assure you, " answered I, "that it will be to no purpose for Imust offend myself by telling it, and therefore I shall mentionit to nobody. "

"But what in the world have I done?"

"Nothing; you have done nothing. "

"What have I said, then? Only let me beg your pardon, only letme know what it is, that I may beg your pardon. "

I then took up the teasing myself, and quite insisted upon hisleaving us, and joining Mrs. Thrale. He begged me to tell MissThrale, and let her mediate, and entreated her to be his agent;which, in order to get rid of him, she promised; and he thenslackened his pace, though very reluctantly, while we quickenedours. He was, however, which I very little expected, too uneasyto stay long away; and when we had walked on quite out of hearingof Mrs. Thrale and Miss Owen, he suddenly galloped after us. 

"How odd it is of you, " said Miss Thrale, "to come and intrudeyourself in this manner upon anybody that tries so to avoid you!"

"Have you done anything for me?" cried he. I don't believe youhave said a word. "

"Not I, truly!" answered she; "if I can keep my own self, out ofscrapes, it's all I can pretend to. "

"Well, but do tell me, Miss Burney, --pray tell me! indeed, thisis quite too bad; I sha'n't have a wink of sleep all night! If Ihave offended you, I am very sorry indeed; but I am sure I didnot mean--"

"No, sir!" interrupted I, "I don't suppose you did mean to offendme, nor do I know why you should. I expect from you neither goodnor ill, --civility I think myself entitled to, and that is all Ihave any desire for. "

"Good heaven!" exclaimed he. "Tell me, however, but what it is, and if I have said any thing unguardedly, I am extremely sorry, and I most sincerely beg your pardon. If You would tell me, I amsure I could explain it off, because I am sure it has been doneundesignedly. "208

"No, it does not admit of any explanation ; so pray don't mentionit any more. "

"Only tell me what part of the day it was. "

Whether this unconsciousness was real, or only to draw me in sothat he might come to the point, and make his apology withgreater ease, I know not; but I assured him it was in vain heasked, and again desired him to puzzle himself with no furtherrecollections. 

"Oh, " cried he, "but I shall think of every thing I have eversaid to you for this half year. I am sure, whatever it was, itmust have been unmeant and unguarded. "

"That, Sir, I never doubted; and probably you thought me hardenough to hear any thing without minding it. "

"Good heaven, Miss Burney! why, there is nobody I would notsooner offend, --nobody in the world! Queeny knows it. If Queenywould speak, she could tell you so. Is it not true, MissThrale?"

"I shall say nothing about it; if I can keep my own neck out ofthe collar, it's enough for me. "

"But won't it plead something for me that you are sure, and mustbe sure, it was by blunder, and not design? . . . I beg you willthink no more of it. I--I believe I know what it is; and, indeed, I was far from meaning to give you the smallest offence, and Imost earnestly beg your pardon. There is nothing I would not doto assure you how sorry I am. But I hope it will be all over bythe time the candles come. I shall look to see, and I hope--Ibeg--you will have the same countenance again. "

I now felt really appeased, and so I told him. We then talked of other matters till we reached home, though itwas not without difficulty I could even yet keep him quiet. Isee that Mr. Crutchley, though of a cold and proud disposition, is generous, amiable, and delicate, and, when not touched uponthe tender string of gallantry, concerning which he piqueshimself upon invariable hardness and immoveability, hissentiments are not merely just, but refined. 

 Too MUCH OF MANY THINGS. 

Sunday. -We had Mr. And Mrs. Davenant here. They are very livelyand agreeable, and I like them more' and more. Mrs. Davenant isone of the saucy women of the ton, indeed; but she has goodparts, and is gay and entertaining; and her209

sposo, who passionately adores her, though five years her junior, is one of the best-tempered and most pleasant-charactered youngmen imaginable . . . 

"Mrs. Davenant is very agreeable, " said I to Mr. Crutchley, "Ilike her much. Don't you?"

"Yes, very much, " said he; "she is lively and entertaining;" andthen a moment after, "'Tis wonderful, " he exclaimed, "that such athing as that can captivate a man!"

"Nay, " cried I, "nobody more, for her husband quite adores her. ""So I find, " said he; "and Mrs. Thrale says men in general likeher. "

"They certainly do, " cried I, "and all the oddity is in you whodo not, not in them who do. "

"May be so, " answered he, "but it don't do for me, indeed. "

We then came to two gates, and there I stopped short, to waittill they joined us ; and Mr. Crutchley, turning about andlooking at Mrs. Davenant, as she came forward, said, rather in amuttering voice, and to himself than to me, "What a thing for anattachment! No, no, it would not do for me!--too much glare!too much flippancy! too much hoop! too much gauze! too muchslipper! too much neck! Oh, hide it! hide it! muffle it up!muffle it up! If it is but in a fur cloak, I am for muffling itall up!"

 A "POOR WRETCH OF A PAINTER. "

I had new specimens to-day of the oddities of Mr. Crutchley, whomI do not yet quite understand, though I have seen so much of him. In the course of our walks to-day we chanced, at one time, to besomewhat before the rest of the company, band soon got into avery serious conversation; though we began it by his relating amost ludicrous incident which had happened to him last winter. 

There is a certain poor wretch of a villainous painter, one Mr. Lowe, (137) who is in some measure under Dr. Johnson's pro-

210tection, and whom, therefore, he recommends to all the people hethinks can afford to sit for their pictures. Among these he madeMr. Seward very readily, and then applied to Mr. Crutchley. 

"But now, " said Mr. Crutchley, as he told me the circumstance, "Ihave not a notion of sitting for my picture, --for who wants it?I may as well give the man the money without; but no, they allsaid that would not do so well, and Dr. Johnson asked me to givehim my picture. 'And I assure you, sir, ' says he, 'I shall putit in very good company, for I have portraits of some veryrespectable people in my dining-room. ' 'Ay, sir, ' says I, 'that's sufficient reason why you should not have mine, for I amsure it has no business in such society. ' So then Mrs. Thraleasked me to give it to her. 'Ay sure, ma'am, ' says I, 'you do megreat honour; but pray, first, will you do me the favour to tellme what door you intend to put it behind?' However, after all Icould say in opposition, I was obliged to go to the painter's. And I found him in such a condition! a room all dirt and filth, brats squalling and wrangling, up two pair of stairs, and acloset, of which the door was open, that Seward well said wasquite Pandora's box--it was the repository of all the nastiness, and stench, and filth, and food, and drink, and - oh, it was toobad to be borne! and 'Oh!' says I, 'Mr. Lowe, I beg your pardonfor running away, but I have just recollected anotherengagement;' so I poked the three guineas in his hand, and toldhim I would come again another time, and then ran out of thehouse with all my might. "

 DR. JOHNSON IN A RAGE. 

June. --Wednesday--We had a terrible noisy day. Mr. And Mrs. Cator came to dinner, and brought with them Miss Collison, aniece. Mrs. Nesbitt was also here, and Mr. Pepys. (138)

The long war which has been proclaimed among the wits concerningLord Lyttelton's "Life, " by Dr. Johnson, and which a whole tribeof "blues, " with Mrs. Montagu at their head, have vowed toexecrate and revenge, now broke out with all the fury of thefirst actual hostilities, stimulated by long concerted schemesand much spiteful information. Mr. Pepys, Dr. Johnson well knew, was one of Mrs. Montagu's steadiest abettors; and, therefore, ashe had some time determined to

211

defend himself with the first of them he met, this day he fellthe sacrifice to his wrath. 

In a long t`ete-`a-t`ete which I accidentally had with Mr. Pepysbefore the company was assembled, he told me his apprehensions ofan attack, and entreated me earnestly to endeavour to prevent it;modestly avowing he was no antagonist for Dr. Johnson; and yetdeclaring his personal friendship for Lord Lyttelton made him somuch hurt by the "Life, " that he feared he could not discuss thematter without a quarrel, which, especially in the house of Mrs. Thrale, he wished to avoid. 

It was, however, utterly impossible for me to serve him. I couldhave stopped Mrs. Thrale with ease, and Mr. Seward with a hint, had either of them begun the subject; but, unfortunately, in themiddle of dinner, it was begun by Dr. Johnson himself, to opposewhom, especially as he spoke with great anger, would have beenmadness and folly. 

Never before have I seen Dr. Johnson speak with so much passion. 

"Mr. Pepys, " he cried, in a voice the most enraged, "I understandyou are offended by my 'Life of Lord Lyttelton. ' What is it youhave to say against it? Come forth, man Here am I, ready toanswer any charge you can bring!"

"No, sir, " cried Mr. Pepys, "not at present; I must beg leave todecline the subject. I told Miss Burney before dinner that Ihoped it would not be started. "

I was quite frightened to hear my own name mentioned ina . Debatewhich began so seriously; but Dr. Johnson made not -to this anyanswer, he repeated his attack and his challenge, and a violentdisputation ensued, in which this great but mortal man did, toown the truth, appear unreasonably furious and grossly severe. Inever saw him so before, and I heartily hope I never shall again. He has been long provoked, and justly enough, at the sneakingcomplaints and murmurs of the Lytteltonians; and, therefore, hislong-excited wrath, which hitherto had met no object, now burstforth with a vehemence and bitterness almost incredible. 

Mr. Pepys meantime never appeared to so much advantage; hepreserved his temper, uttered all that belonged merely to himselfwith modesty, and all that more immediately related to LordLyttelton with spirit. Indeed, Dr. Johnson, in the very midst ofthe dispute, had the candour and liberality to make him apersonal compliment, by saying

"Sir, all that you say, while you are vindicating one who212

cannot thank you, makes me only think better of you than I everdid before. Yet still I think you do me wrong, " etc. , etc. 

Some time after, in the heat of the argument, he called out, --

" The more my Lord Lyttelton is inquired after, the worse he willappear; Mr. Seward has just heard two stories of him, whichcorroborate all I have related. "

He then desired Mr. Seward to repeat them. Poor Mr. Sewardlooked almost as frightened as myself at the very mention of hisname; but he quietly and immediately told the stories, whichconsisted of fresh instances, from good authorities, of LordLyttelton's illiberal behaviour to Shenstone; and then he flunghimself back in his chair, and spoke no more during the wholedebate, which I am sure he was ready to vote a bore. 

One happy circumstance, however, attended the quarrel, which wasthe presence of Mr. Cator, who would by no means be preventedtalking himself, either by reverence for Dr. Johnson, orignorance of the subject in question; on the contrary, he gavehis opinion, quite uncalled upon every thing that was said byeither party, and that with an importance and pomposity, yet withan emptiness and verbosity, that rendered the whole dispute, whenin his hands, nothing more than ridiculous, and compelled eventhe disputants themselves, all inflamed as they were, to laugh. To give a specimen--one speech will do for a thousand. 

"As to this here question of Lord Lyttelton, I can't speak to itto the purpose, as I have not read his 'Life, ' for I have onlyread the 'Life of Pope;' I have got the books though, for I sentfor them last week, and they came to me on Wednesday, and then Ibegan them; but I have not yet read 'Lord Lyttelton. ' 'Pope' Ihave begun, and that is what I am now reading. But what I haveto say about Lord Lyttelton is this here: Mr. Seward says thatLord Lyttelton's steward dunned Mr. Shenstone for his rent, bywhich I understand he was a tenant of Lord Lyttelton's. Well, ifhe was a tenant of Lord Lyttelton's, why should not he pay hisrent?"

Who could contradict this?

When dinner was quite over, and we left the men to their wine, wehoped they would finish the affair; but Dr. Johnson wasdetermined to talk it through, and make a battle of it, thoughMr. Pepys tried to be off continually. When they were allsummoned to tea, they entered still warm and violent. Mr. Catorhad the book in his hand, and was reading the "Life of213

Lyttelton, " that he might better, he said, understand the cause, though not a creature cared if he had never heard of it. 

Mr. Pepys came up to me and said-

"just what I had so much wished to avoid! I have been crushed inthe very onset. "

I could make him no answer, for Dr. Johnson immediately calledhim off, and harangued and attacked him with a vehemence andcontinuity that quite concerned both Mrs. Thrale and myself, andthat made Mr. Pepys, at last, resolutely silent, however calledupon. This now grew more unpleasant than ever; till Mr. Cator, having some time studied his book, exclaimed--

"What I am now going to say, as I have not yet read the 'Life ofLord Lyttelton' quite through, must be considered as being onlysaid aside, because what I am going to say--"

"I wish, sir, " cried Mrs. Thrale, "it had been all said aside;here is too much about it, indeed, and I should be very glad tohear no more of it. "

This speech, which she made with great spirit and dignity, had anadmirable effect. Everybody was silenced. Mr. Cator, thusinterrupted in the midst of his proposition, looked quite amazed;Mr. Pepys was much gratified by the interference; and Dr. Johnson, after a pause, said-

"Well, madam, you shall hear no more of it; yet I will defendmyself in every part and in every atom!"

And from this time the subject was wholly dropped. This dearviolent doctor was conscious he had been wrong, and therefore hemost candidly bore the reproof. . . . 

When the leave-taking time arrived, Dr. Johnson called to Mr. Pepys to shake hands, an invitation which was most coldly andforcibly accepted. (139)

 THE MISERABLE HOST AND MELANCHOLY GUEST. 

Monday, june 17. -There passed, some time ago, an 'agreement'between Mr. Crutchley and Mr. Seward, that the latter is to makea visit to the former, at his country house in Berkshire; andto-day the time was settled; but a more ridiculous scene

214

never was exhibited. The host elect and the guest elect triedwhich should show least expectation of pleasure from the meeting, and neither of them thought it at all worth while to disguise histerror of being weary of the other. Mr. Seward seemed quitemelancholy and depressed in the prospect of making, and Mr. Crutchley absolutely miserable in that of receiving, the visit. Yet nothing so ludicrous as the distress of both, since nothingless necessary than that either should have such a punishmentinflicted. I cannot remember half the absurd things that passed- but a few, by way of specimen, I will give. 

"How long do you intend to stay with me, Seward?" cried Mr. Crutchley; "how long do you think you can bear it?"

"O, I don't know; I sha'n't fix, " answered the other: just as Ifind it. "

"Well, but--when shall you come? Friday or Saturday? I thinkyou'd better not come till Saturday. "

"Why, yes, I believe on Friday. "

" On Friday! Oh, you'll have too much of it! what shall I dowith you?"

"Why, on Sunday we'll dine at the Lyells'. Mrs. Lyell is acharming woman; one of the most elegant creatures I ever saw. "

"Wonderfully so, " cried Mr. Crutchley; "I like her extremely--aninsipid idiot! She never opens her mouth but in a whisper; Inever heard her speak a word in my life. But what must I do withyou on Monday? will you come away?"

"Oh, no; I'll stay and see it out. "

" Why, how long shall you stay? Why, I must come away myself'onTuesday. "

"O, I sha'n't settle yet, " cried Mr. Seward, very dryly. "I shallput up six shirts, and then do as I find it. "

" Six shirts!" exclaimed Mr. Crutchley '; and then, with equaldryness, added--"Oh, I suppose you wear two a-day. "

And so on. . . . 

June 26. -Mr. Crutchley said he had just brought Mr. Seward totown in his phaeton, alive. He gave a diverting account of thevisit, which I fancy proved much better than either partypretended to expect, as I find Mr. Seward not only went a daysooner, but stayed two days later, than was proposed; and Mr. Crutchley, on his part, said he had invited him to repeat hisvisit at any time when he knew not in what other manner "to knockdown a day or two. When he was at my place, " continued Mr. Crutchley, "he did himself up pretty handsomely;

215

he ate cherries till he complained most bitterly of indigestion, and he poured down madeira and port most plentifully, but withoutrelief. Then he desired to have some peppermint-water, and hedrank three glasses; still that would not do, and he saidhe njust have a large quantity of ginger. We had no such thingin the house. However, he had brought some, it seems, with him, and then he took that, but still to no purpose. At last, hedesired some brandy, and tossed off a glass of that; and, afterall, he asked for a dose of rhubarb. Then we had to send andinquire all over the house for this rhubarb, but our folks hadhardly ever heard of such a thing. I advised him to take a goodbumper of gin and gunpowder, for that seemed almost all he hadleft untried. "

 Two CELEBRATED DUCHESSEs DISCUSSED. 

Wednesday, June 26. -Dr. Johnson, who had been in town . Some days, returned, and Mr. Crutchley came also, as well as my father. Idid not see the two latter till summoned to dinner; and then Dr. Johnson seizing my hand, while with one of his own he gave me ano very gentle tap on the shoulder, half drolly and halfreproachfully called out--

"Ah, you little baggage, you! and have you known how long I havebeen here, and never to come to me?"

And the truth is, in whatever sportive mood he expresses it, hereally likes not I should be absent from him half a minutewhenever he is here, and not in his own apartment. 

Dr. Johnson, as usual, kept me in chat with him 'in the libraryafter all the rest had dispersed ; but when Mr. Crutchleyreturned again, he went upstairs, and, as I was finishing somework I had in hand, Mr. Crutchley, either from civility or asudden turn to loquacity, forbore his books, to talk. 

Among other folks, we discussed the two rival duchesses, Rutlandand Devonshire. (140) "The former, " he said, "must, he

216

fancied, be very weak and silly, as he knew that she enduredbeing admired to her face, and complimented perpetually, bothupon her beauty and her dress;" and when I asked whether he wasone who joined in trying her--

"Me!" cried he, "no, indeed! I never complimented any body; thatis, I never said to any body a thing I did not think, unless Iwas openly laughing at them, and making sport for other people. "

" Oh, " cried I, "if everybody went by this rule, what a world ofconversation would be curtailed! The Duchess of Devonshire, Ifancy, has better parts. "

Oh yes; and a fine, pleasant, open countenance. She came to mysister's once, in Lincolnshire, when I was there, in order to seehare-hunting, which was then quite new to her. "

" She is very amiable, I believe, " said I, "for all her friendslove and speak highly of her. "

"Oh, yes, very much so - perfectly good-humoured and unaffected. And her horse was led, and she was frightened; and we told herthat was the hare, and that was the dog; and the dog pointed tothe hare, and the hare ran away from the dog and then she tookcourage, and then she was timid;--and, upon my word, she did itall very prettily! For my part, I liked it so well, that in halfan hour I took to my own horse, and rode away. "

 MR. CRUTCHLEY IS BANTERED ABOUT HIS PRIDE. 

While we were at church on Sunday morning, we heard a sermon, upon which, by means of a speech I chanced to make, we have beentalking ever since. The subject was treating of humility, anddeclaiming against pride; in the midst of which Mrs. Thralewhispered-

"This sermon is all against us; that is, four of us: Queeny, Burney, Susan, and I, are all as proud as possible--Mr. Crutchleyand Sophy(141) are humble enough. "

 "Good heavens!" cried I, "Mr. Crutchley!--why he is the proudestamong us!"

This speech she instantly repeated, and just at that moment thepreacher said--"Those -who are the weakest are ever the soonestpuffed up. "

He instantly made me a bow, with an expressive laugh, that

217

thanked me for the compliment. To be sure it happened mostuntimely. 

As soon as we came out of church, he called out-

"Well, Miss Burney, this is what I never can forgive! Am I soproud?"

"I am sure if you are, " cried Mrs. Thrale, "you have imposed uponme, for I always thought you the humblest man I knew. Look howBurney casts up her eyes! Why, are you so proud, after all, Mr. Crutchley?"

"I hope not, " cried he, rather gravely "but I little thought ofever going to Streatham church to hear I was the proudest man init. "

"Well, but, " said I, "does it follow you certainly are so becauseI say so?"

"Why yes, I suppose I am if you see it, for you are one that seeall things and people right. "

"Well, it's very odd, " said Mrs. Thrale, "I wonder how she foundyou out. "

"I wonder, " cried I, laughing, "how you missed finding him out. "

"Oh! worse and worse!" cried he. "Why there's no bearing this!"

"I protest, then, " said Mrs. Thrale, "he has always taken me in;he seemed to me the humblest creature I knew; always speaking soill of himself--always depreciating all that belongs to him. "

"Why, I did not say, " quoth I, "that he had more vanity thanother men; on the contrary, I think he has none. "

"Well distinguished, " cried she; "a man may be proud enough, andyet have no vanity. "

"Well, but what is this pride?" cried Mr. Crutchley; "what is itshown in?--what are its symptoms and marks?"

"A general contempt, " answered I, undaunted, "of every body andof every thing. "

"Well said, Miss Burney!" exclaimed Mrs. Thrale. "Why that'strue enough, and so he has. "

"A total indifference, " continued I, "of what is thought of himby others, and a disdain alike of happiness or misery. "

"Bravo, Burney!" cried Mrs. Thrale, "that's true enough!"

"Indeed, " cried Mr. Crutchley, "you are quite mistaken. Indeed, nobody in the world is half so anxious about the opinions ofothers; I am wretched--I am miserable if I think myself thoughtill of; not, indeed, by everybody, but by those218

whose good opinion I have tried--there if I fall, no man Can bemore unhappy. "

"Oh, perhaps, " returned I, "there may be two or three people inthe world you may wish should think well of you, but that isnothing to the general character. "

"Oh, no ! many more. I am now four-and-thirty, and perhaps, indeed, in all my life I have not tried to gain the esteem ofmore than four-and-thirty people, but---"

"Oh, leave out the thirty!" cried I, "and then you may be nearerthe truth. "

"No, indeed: ten, at least, I daresay I have tried for, but, perhaps, I have not succeeded with two. However, I am thus evenwith the world; for if it likes me not, I can do without it--Ican live alone; and that, indeed, I prefer to any thing I canmeet with; for those with whom I like to live are so much aboveme, that I sink into nothing in their society; so I think it bestto run away from them. "

"That is to say, " cried I, "you are angry you cannot yourselfexcel--and this is not pride"

"Why, no, indeed; but it is melancholy to be always behind--tohear conversation in which one is unable to join--"

"Unwilling, " quoth I, "you mean. "

"No, indeed, but really unable; and therefore what can I do sowell as to run home? As to an inferior, I hope I think that ofnobody; and as to my equals, and such as I am on a par with, heaven knows I can ill bear them!--I would rather live alone toall eternity!"

This conversation lasted till we got home, when Mrs. Thrale said-

"Well, Mr. Crutchley, has she convinced you ?"

"I don't know, " cried I, "but he has convinced me. "

"Why, how you smote him, " cried Mrs. Thrale, "but I think youmake your part good as you go on. "

"The great difference, " said I, "which I think there is betweenMr. Seward and Mr. Crutchley, who in some things are very muchalike, is this--Mr. Seward has a great deal of vanity and nopride, Mr. Crutchley a great deal of pride and no vanity. "

"just, and true, and wise!" said dear Mrs. Thrale, "for Seward isalways talking of himself, and always with approbation; Mr. Crutchley seldom mentions himself, and when he does, it is withdislike. And which have I, most pride or most vanity?"

"Oh, most vanity, certa!" quoth I. 

219

At Supper we had only Sir Philip and Mr. Crutchley. Theconversation of the morning was then again renewed. -

"Oh!" cried Mrs. Thrale, "what a smoking did Miss Burney give Mr. Crutchley!"

"A smoking, indeed!" cried He. "Never had I such a one before!Never did I think to get such a character! I had no notion ofit. "

"Nay, then, " said I, "why should you, now?"

"But what is all this?" cried Sir Philip, delighted enough at anymischief between Mr. Crutchley and me, or between any male andfemale, for he only wishes something to go forward, And thinks aquarrel or dispute next best to foridness and flirting. 

"Why, Miss Burney, " answered she, "gave Mr, Crutchley thismorning a noble trimming. I had always thought him very humble, but she shewed me my mistake, and said I had not distinguishedpride from vanity. "

"Oh, never was I so mauled in my life, " said he. 

Enough, however, of this rattle, which lasted till we all went tobed, and which Mrs. Thrale most kindly kept up, by way of riotingme from thinking, and which Mr. Crutchley himself bore with theutmost good nature, from having noticed that I was out ofspirits. . . . 

July 2-The other morning Mrs. Thrale ran hastily into my room, her eyes full of tears, and cried, --

"What an extraordinary man is this Crutchley! I declare he hasquite melted me! He came to me just now, and thinking I wasuneasy I could do no more for Perkins, (142) though he cared nothimself if the man were drowned, he offered to lend him athousand pounds, merely by way of giving pleasure to me!"

 MISS SOPHY STREATHIELD IS COMMENTED ON

Well-it was, I think, Saturday, Aug. 25, that Mrs Thrale broughtme back. (143) We then took up Mr. Crutchley, who had come to histown-house upon business, and who accompanied us thither for avisit of three days. 

In the evening Mr. Seward also came. He has been making thewestern tour, and gave us, with a seriousness that kept mecontinually grinning, some account of a doctor, apothecary, or'chemist' belonging to every town at which he had stopped. 

220

And when we all laughed at his thus following up the faculty, heundauntedly said, --

"I think it the best way to get information; I know no bettermethod to learn what is going forward anywhere than to send forthe chief physician of the place, so I commonly consult him thefirst day I stop at a place, and when I have fee'd him, and madeacquaintance, he puts me in a way to find out what is worthlooking at. "

A most curious mode of picking up a cicerone!

After this, still pursuing his favourite topic, he began toinquire into the particulars of Mr. Crutchley's late illness -but that gentleman, who is as much in the opposite extreme, ofdisdaining even any decent care of himself, as Mr. Seward is inthe other, of devoting almost all his thoughts to his health cutthe matter very short, and would not talk upon it at all. 

"But, if I had known sooner, " said Mr. Seward, "that you wereill, I should have come to see you. "

"Should you?" cried Mr. Crutchley, with a loud laugh; "very kind, indeed!--it would have been charming to see you when I am ill, when I am afraid of undertaking you even when well!"

Some time after Sophy Streatfield was talked of, -Oh, with howmuch impertinence as if she was at the service of any man whowould make proposals to her! Yet Mr. Seward spoke of her withpraise and tenderness all the time, as if, though firmly of thisopinion, he was warmly her admirer. From such admirers and suchadmiration heaven guard me! Mr. Crutchley said but little; butthat little was bitter enough. 

"However, " said Mr. Seward, "after all that can be said, there isnobody whose manners are more engaging, nobody more amiable thanthe little Sophy; and she is certainly very pretty; I must own Ihave always been afraid to trust myself with her. "

Here Mr. Crutchley looked very sneeringly. 

"Nay, squire, " cried Mr. Seward, "she is very dangerous, I cantell you; and if she had you at a fair trial, she would make animpression that would soften even your hard heart. "

"No need of any further trial, " answered he, laughing, "for shehas done that already; and so soft was the impression that it isabsolutely all dissolved!--melted quite away, and not a trace ofit left!"

Mr. Seward then proposed that she should marry Sir John221

Miller, (144) who has just lost his wife and very gravely said, hehad a great mind to set out for Tunbridge, and carry her with himto Bath, and so make the match without delay!

"But surely, " said Mrs. Thrale, "if you fail, you will thinkyourself bound in honour to marry her yourself?"

"Why, that's the thing, " said he; "no, I can't take the littleSophy myself; I should have too many rivals; no, that won't do. "

How abominably conceited and sure these pretty gentlemen are!However, Mr. Crutchley here made a speech that half won my heart. 

"I wish, " said he, "Miss Streatfield was here at this moment tocuff you, Seward!"

"Cuff me!" cried he. "What, the little Sophy!--and why?"

"For disposing of her so freely. I think a man deserves to becuffed for saying any lady will marry him. "

I seconded this speech with much approbation. 

 GARRULOUS MR. MUSGRAVE. 

August, Monday. -We were to have Mr. Cator and other company todinner; and all breakfast Mr. Seward kept plaguing poor Mr. Musgrave, who is an incessant talker, about the difficulty hewould have in making his part good with Mr. Cator, who, heassured him, would out-talk him if he did not take care. And Mr. Crutchley recommended to him to "wait for a sneeze, " in order toput in; so that he was almost rallied into a passion, though, being very good-natured, he made light of it, and it blew over. 

In the middle of dinner I was seized with a violent laughing fit, by seeing Mr. Musgrave, who had sat quite silent, turn verysolemnly to Mr. Seward and say in a reproachful tone, --

"Seward, you said I should be fighting to talk all the talk, andhere I have not spoke once. "

"Well, sir, " cried Mr. Seward, nodding at him, 'why don't you putin?"

"Why, I lost an opportunity just now, when Mr. Cator -talked ofclimates; I had something I could have said about them verywell. "

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After this, however, he made himself amends ; for when we leftthe men to their wine, he began such a violent dispute with MrCator, that Mr. Jenkinson and Mr. Crutchley left the field ofbattle, and went out to join the ladies in their walk round thegrounds ; and that breaking up the party, the rest soon followed. 

By the way, I happened not to walk myself, which was mostludicrously noticed by Mr. Musgrave; who, while we were at tea, suddenly crossed the circle to come up to me, and say, --

"You did not walk, Miss Burney?"

"No, sir. "

"Very much in the right--very much in the right, indeed! Youwere studying? Oh, very right! never lose a moment! Such anunderstanding as yours it would be a shame to neglect; it oughtto be cultivated every moment. "

And then he hurried back to his seat. 

In the evening, when all the company was gone but our threegentlemen, Seward, Crutchley, and Musgrave, we took a walk roundthe grounds by moonlight - and Mr. Musgrave started with raptureat the appearance of the moon, now full, now cloudy, now clear, now obscured, every three yards we moved. 

 A PARTING SHOT AT MR. CRUTCHLEY. 

Friday, Sept. 11. -And now, if I am not mistaken, I come to relatethe conclusion of Mr. Crutchley's most extraordinary summercareer at Streatham, which place, I believe, he has now leftwithout much intention to frequently revisit. However, this ismere conjecture; but he really had a run of ill-luck not veryinviting to a man of his cold and splenetic turn to play the samegame. 

When we were just going to supper, we heard a disturbance amongthe dogs; and Mrs. And Miss Thrale went out to see what was thematter, while Dr. Johnson and I remained quiet. Soon returning, "A friend! a friend!" she cried, and was followed by Mr. Crutchley. He would not eat with us, but was chatty and ingoodhumour, and as usual, when in spirits, saucily sarcastic. For instance, it is generally half my employment in hot eveningshere to rescue some or other poor buzzing idiot of an insect fromthe flame of a candle. This, accordingly, I was performing witha Harry Longlegs, which, after much trial to catch, 223

eluded me, and escaped, nobody could see how. Mr. Crutchleyvowed I had caught and squeezed him to death in my hand. 

"No, indeed, " cried I, "when I catch them, I put them out of thewindow. "

"Ay, their bodies, " said he, laughing; "but their legs, Isuppose, you keep. "

"Not I, indeed; I hold them very safe in the palm of my hand. "

Oh!" said he, "the palm of your hand! why, it would not hold afly! But what have you done with the poor wretch! thrown himunder the table slily?:

"What good would that do?"

"Oh, help to establish your full character for mercy. "

Now was not that a speech to provoke Miss Grizzle herself?However, I only made up a saucy lip. 

"Come, " cried he, offering to take my hand, "where is he? Whichhand is he in? Let me examine?"

"No, no, I thank you; I sha'n't make you my confessor, whenever Itake one. "

He did not much like this; but I did not mean he should. 

Afterwards he told us a most unaccountably ridiculous story of acrying wife. A gentleman, he said, of his acquaintance hadmarried lately his own kept mistress; and last Sunday he haddined with the bride and bridegroom, but, to his utterastonishment, without any apparent reason in the world, in themiddle of dinner or tea, she burst into a violent fit of crying, and went out of the room, though there was not the least quarrel, and the sposo seemed all fondness and attention. 

"What, then, " said I, somewhat maliciously, I grant, "had youbeen saying to er?"

"Oh, thank you!" said he, with a half-affronted bow, "I expectedthis! I declare I thought you would conclude it was me!"

 MANAGER HELIOGABALUS. 

Somebody told me (but not your father) that the Opera singerswould not be likely to get any money out of Sheridan This year. "Why that fellow grows fat, " says I, "like Heliogabalus, upon thetongues of nightingales. " Did I tell you that bright thingbefore?--Mrs. Thrale to Fanny Burney. 224

 SISTER AUTHORESSES. 

(Fanny Burney to Mrs. Philips, late Miss Susan Burney. )February, 1782. 

As I have a frank and a subject, I will leave my bothers, andwrite you and my dear brother Molesworth(145) a little account ofa rout I have just been at, at the house of Mr. Paradise. 

You will wonder, perhaps, in this time of hurry, why I wentthither ; but when I tell you Pacchierotti(146) was there, youwill not think it surprising. 

There was a crowd of company; Charlotte and I went together; myfather came afterwards. Mrs. Paradise received us verygraciously, and led me immediately up to Miss Thrale, who wassitting by the Pac. 

We were very late, for we had waited cruelly for the coach, andPac. Had sung a song out of "Artaxerxes, " composed for a tenor, which we lost, to my infinite regret. Afterwards he sang "Dolcespeme" delightfully. 

Mrs. Paradise, leaning over the Kirwans and Charlotte, who hardlygot a seat all night for the crowd, said she begged to speak tome. I squeezed my great person out, and she then said, -

"Miss Burney, Lady Say and Sele desires the honour of beingintroduced to you. "

Her ladyship stood by her side. She seems pretty near fifty-atleast turned forty ; her head was full of feathers, flowers, jewels, and gew-gaws, and as high as Lady Archer's her dress wastrimmed with beads, silver, persian sashes, and all sorts of finefancies; her face is thin and fiery, and her whole manner spoke alady all alive. 

"Miss Burney, " cried she, with great quickness, and a look allcuriosity, "I am very happy to see you; I have longed to see youa great while. I have read your performance, and I am quitedelighted with it. I think it's the most elegant novel I everread in my life. Such a style! I am quite surprised at it. Ican't think where you got so much invention!"

You may believe this was a reception not to make me veryloquacious. I did not know which way to turn my head. 

225

"I must introduce You, " continued her ladyship, "to my sister;she'll be quite delighted to see you. She has written a novelherself so you are sister authoresseS. A most elegant thing itis, I assure You; almost as pretty as yours, only not quite soelegant. She has written two novels, only one is not so prettyas the other. But I shall insist upon your seeing them. One isin letters, like yours, only yours is prettiest ; it's called the'Mausoleum of Julia'!"

What unfeeling things, thought I, are my sisters! I'm sure Inever heard them go about thus praising me. Mrs. Paradise thenagain came forward, and taking my hand, led me up to herladyship's sister, Lady Hawke, saying aloud, and with a courteoussmirk, "Miss Burney, ma'am, authoress of 'Evelina. '"

"Yes, " cried my friend, Lady Say and Sele, who followed me close, "it's the authoress of 'Evelina, ' so you are sisterauthoresses!"

Lady Hawke arose and curtsied. She is much younger than hersister, and rather pretty; extremely languishing, delicate, andpathetic; apparently accustomed to be reckoned the genius of herfamily, and well contented to be looked upon as a creaturedropped from the clouds. I was then seated between theirladyships, and Lady S. And S. , drawing as near to me as possible, said, -

"Well, and so you wrote this pretty book ! -and pray did yourpapa know of it?"

"No, ma'am; not till some months after the publication. "

"So I've heard - it's surprising! I can't think how you inventedit!--there's a vast deal of invention in it! And you've got somuch humour, too! Now my sister has no humour; hers is allsentiment. You can't think how I was entertained with that oldgrandmother and her son!"

I suppose she meant Tom Branghton for the son. 

"How much pleasure you must have had in writing it; had not you?"

"Y--e--s, ma'am. "

"So has my sister; she's never without a pen in her band; shecan't help writing for her life. When Lord Hawke is travellingabout with her, she keeps writing all the way. "

"Yes, " said Lady Hawke; "I really can't help writing. One hasgreat pleasure in writing the things; has one not, Miss Burney?

226

"Y--e--s, ma'am. "

"But your novel, " cried Lady Say and Sele, "is in such a style!--so elegant! I am vastly glad you made it end happily. I hate anovel that don't end happy. "

"Yes, " said Lady Hawke, with a languid smile, "I was vastly gladwhen she married Lord Orville. I was sadly afraid it would nothave been. "

"My sister intends, " said Lady Say and Sele, "to print her'Mausoleum, ' just for her own friends and acquaintances. "

"Yes, " said Lady Hawke; "I have never printed yet. "

"I saw Lady Hawke's name, " quoth I to my first friend, "ascribedto the play of 'Variety. '"(147)

"Did you indeed?" cried Lady Say, in an ecstasy. "Sister! do youknow Miss Burney saw your name in the newspapers, about theplay!"

"Did she?" said Lady Hawke, smiling complacently. "But I reallydid not write it; I never wrote a play in my life. "

"Well, " cried Lady Say, "but do repeat that sweet part that I amso fond of--you know what I mean; Miss Burney must hear it, --outof your novel, you know!"

Lady H. -No, I can't ; I have forgot it. 

Lady S. -Oh, no! I am sure you have not; I insist upon it. 

Lady H. -But I know you can repeat it yourself; you have so fine amemory; I am sure you can repeat it;

Lady S. -Oh, but I should not do it justice! that's all, --Ishould not do it justice!

Lady Hawke then bent forward, and repeated--"'If, when he madethe declaration of his love, the sensibility that beamed in hiseyes was felt in his heart, what pleasing sensations and softalarms might not that tender avowal awaken!'"

"And from what, ma'am, " cried I, astonished, and imagining I hadmistaken them, "is this taken?"

"From my sister's novel!" answered the delighted Lady Say andSele, expecting my raptures to be equal to her own; "it's in the'Mausoleum, '--did not you know that? Well, I can't think how youcan write these sweet novels! And it's all just like that part. Lord Hawke himself says it's all poetry. For my part, I'm sure Inever could write so. I suppose, Miss Burney, you are producinganother, --a'n't you?"

"No, ma'am. "

227

"oh, I dare say you are. I dare say you are writing one thisVery minute!"

 Mrs. Paradise now came up to me again, followed by a square man, middle-aged, and hum-drum, who, I found was Lord Say and Sele, afterwards from the Kirwans, for though they introduced him tome, I was so confounded by their vehemence and their manners, that I did not hear his name. 

"Miss Burney, " said Mrs. P. , , presenting me to him, "authoress of'Evelina. '"

"Yes, " cried Lady Say and Sele, starting up, "'tis the authoressof 'Evelina!'"

"Of what ? " cried he. 

"Of 'Evelina. ' You'd never think it, --she looks so young, tohave so much invention, and such an elegant style! Well, I couldwrite a play, I think, but I'm sure I could never write a novel. "

"Oh, yes, you could, if you would try, " said Lady Hawke. 

"Oh, no, I could not, " answered she; "I could not get a style--that's the thing--I could not tell how to get a style! and anovel's nothing without a style, you know!"

"Why no, " said Lady Hawke; "that's true. But then you write suchcharming letters, you know!"

"Letters!" repeated Lady S. And S. Simpering; "do you tbink so?Do you know I wrote a long letter to Mrs. Ray just before I camehere, this very afternoon, --quite a long letter! I did, I assureyou!"

Here Mrs. Paradise came forward with another gentleman, younger, slimmer, and smarter, and saying to me, "Sir Gregory PageTurner, " said to him, "Miss Burney, authoress of 'Evelina. '"

At which Lady Say and Sele, In fresh transport, again rose, andrapturously again repeated--

"Yes, she's authoress of 'Evelina'! Have you read it?"

"No; is it to be had?"

"Oh dear, yes! it's been printed these two years! You'd neverthink it! But it's the most elegant novel I ever read in mylife. Writ in such a style!"

"Certainly, " said he very civilly; "I have every inducement toget it. Pray where is it to be had? everywhere, I suppose?"

"Oh, nowhere, I hope, " cried I, wishing at that moment it hadbeen never in human ken. 228

My square friend, Lord Say and Sele, then putting his headforward, said, very solemnly, "I'll purchase it!"

His lady then mentioned to me a hundred novels that I had neverheard of, asking my opinion of them, and whether I knew theauthors? Lady Hawke only occasionally and languidlv joining inthe discourse: and then Lady S. And S. , sudclertl rising, beggedme not to move, for she should be back again in a minute, andflew to the next room. 

I took, however, the first opportunity of Lady Hawke's castingdown her eyes, and reclining her delicate head, to make away fromthis terrible set; and, just as I was got by the pianoforte, where I hoped Pacchierotti would soon present himself, Mrs. Paradise again came to me, and said, -

"Miss Burney, Lady Say and Sele wishes vastly to cultivate youracquaintance, and begs to know if she may have the honour of yourcompany to an assembly at her house next Friday?--and I will domyself the pleasure to call for you if you will give me leave. "

"Her ladyship does me much honour, but I am unfortunatelyengaged, " was my answer, with as much promptness as I couldcommand. 

 A DINNER AT SIR JOSHUA'S, WITH BURKE AND GiBBON. 

June. -Among the many I have been obliged to shirk this year, forthe sake of living almost solely with "Cecilia, " none have hadless patience with my retirement than Miss Palmer, who, bitterlybelieving I intended never to visit her again, has forbornesending me any invitations: but, about three weeks ago, my fatherhad a note from Sir Joshua Reynolds, to ask him to dine atRichmond, and meet the Bishop of St. Asaph, (148) and, therefore, to make my peace, I scribbled a note to Miss Palmer to thispurpose, --

"After the many kind invitations I have been obliged to refuse, will you, my dear Miss Palmer, should I offer to accompany myfather to-morrow, bid me remember the old proverb, 'Those who will not when they may, When they will, they shall have nay?'--F. B. "

This was graciously received; and the next morning Sir Joshua andMiss Palmer called for my father and me, accompanied by LordCork. We had a mighty pleasant ride, Miss

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Palmer and I " made up, " though she scolded most violently aboutmy long absence, and attacked me about the book without mercy. The book, in short, to my great consternation, I find is talkedof and expected all the town over. My dear father himself, I doverily believe, mentions it to everybody; he is fond of it toenthusiasm, and does not foresee the danger of raising suchgeneral expectation, which fills me with the horrors every time Iam tormented with the thought. 

Sir Joshua's house is delightfully situated, almost at the top ofRichmond Hill. We walked till near dinner-time upon the terrace, and there met Mr. Richard Burke, the brother of the orator. MissPalmer, stopping him, said, -

"Are you coming to dine with us?"

"No, " he answered ; "I shall dine at the Star and Garter. "

"How did you come--with Mrs. Burke, or alone?"

"Alone. "

"What, on horseback?"

"Ay, sure!" cried he, laughing; "up and ride! Now's the time. "

And he made a fine flourish with his hand, and passed us. He isjust made under-secretary at the Treasury. He is a tall andhandsome man, and seems to have much dry drollery; but we saw nomore of him. 

After our return to the house, and while Sir Joshua and I weret`ete-`a-t`ete, Lord Cork and my father being still walking, andMiss Palmer having, I suppose, some orders to give about thedinner, the " knight of Plympton " was desiring my opinion of theprospect from his window, and comparing it with Mr. Burke's, ashe told me after I had spoken it, --when the Bishop of St. Asaphand his daughter, Miss Georgiana Shipley, were announced. SirJoshua, to divert himself, in introducing me to the bishop, said, "Miss Burney, my lord; otherwise 'Evelina. '"

The bishop is a well-looking man, and seemed grave, quiet, andsensible. I have heard much more of him, but nothing moreappeared. Miss Georgiana, however, was showy enough for two. She is a very tall and rather handsome girl; but the expressionof her face is, to me, disagreeable. She has almost a constantsmile, not of softness, nor of insipidity, but of selfsufficiencyand internal satisfaction. She is very much accomplished, andher fame for painting and for scholarship, I know You are wellacquainted with. I believe her to have very good parts and muchquickness, but she is so full of herself, so230

earnest to obtain notice, and so happy in her confidence ofdeserving it, that I have been not less charmed with any younlady I have seen for many a day. I have met with her before, atMrs. Pepys', but never before was introduced to her. 

Miss Palmer soon joined us ; and, in a short time, entered morecompany, --three gentlemen and one lady; but there was no moreceremony used of introductions. The lady, I concluded was Mrs. Burke, wife of the Mr. Burke, and was not mistaken. 

One of the gentlemen I recollected to be young Burke, her son, whom I once met at Sir Joshua's in town, and another of them Iknew for Mr. Gibbon: but the third I had never seen before. Ihad been told that the Burke was not expected yet I couldconclude this gentleman to be no other; he had just the air, themanner, the appearance, I had prepared myself to look for in him, and there was an evident, a striking superiority in hisdemeanour, his eye, his motions, that announced him no commonman. 

I could not get at Miss Palmer to satisfy my doubts, and we weresoon called downstairs to dinner. Sir Joshua and the "unknown"stopped to speak with one another upon the stairs; and, when theyfollowed us, Sir Joshua, in taking his place at the table, askedme to sit next to him; I willingly complied. "And then, " headded, "Mr. Burke shall sit on the other side of you. " "Oh, no, indeed!" cried Miss Georgiana, who also had placed herself nextSir Joshua; "I won't consent to that; Mr. Burke must sit next me;I won't agree to part with him. Pray, come and sit down quiet, Mr. Burke. "

Mr. Burke, -for him it was, -smiled and obeyed. 

 "I only meant, " said Sir Joshua, "to have made my peace with Mr. Burke, by giving him that place, because he has been scolding mefor not introducing him to Miss Burney. However, I must do itnow;--Mr. Burke!--Miss Burney!"

We both half rose, and Mr. Burke said, --

" I have been complaining to Sir Joshua that he left me wholly tomy own sagacity; however, it did not here deceive me. "

" Oh dear, then, " said Miss Georgiana, looking a littleconsternated, "perhaps you won't thank me for calling you to thisplace!"

Nothing was said, and so we all began dinner, -youngBurke makinghimself my next neighbour. 231

Captain Phillips(149) knows Mr. Burke. Has he or has he not toldyou how delightful a creature he is? If he has not, pray in myname, abuse him without mercy; if he has, pray ask if he willsubscribe to my account of him, which herewith shall follow. 

He is tall, his figure is noble, his air commanding, his addressgraceful, his voice is clear, penetrating, sonorous, andpowerful, his language is copious, various, and eloquent; hismanners are attractive, his conversation is delightful. 

What says Captain Phillips? Have I chanced to see him in hishappiest hour? or is he all this in common? Since we lostGarrick I have seen nobody so enchanting. 

I can give you, however, very little of what was said, for theconversation was not suivie, Mr. Burke darting from subject tosubject with as much rapidity as entertainment. Neither is thecharm of his discourse more in the matter than the manner: all, therefore, that is related from him loses half its effect in notbeing related by him. Such little sketches as I can recollecttake however. 

>From the window of the dining-parlour, Sir Joshua directed us tolook at a pretty white house which belonged to Lady Di Beauclerk. 

"I am extremely glad, " said Mr. Burke, "to see her at last sowell housed; poor woman! the bowl has long rolled in misery; Irejoice that it has now found its balance. I never, myself, somuch enjoyed the sight of happiness in another, as in that womanwhen I first saw her after the death of her husband. It wasreally enlivening to behold her placed in that sweet house, released from all her cares, a thousand pounds a-year at her owndisposal, and--her husband was dead! Oh, it was pleasant, it wasdelightful to see her enjoyment of her situation!"

"But, without considering the circumstances, " said Mr. Gibbon, "this may appear very strange, though, when they are fairlystated, it is perfectly rational and unavoidable. "

"Very true, " said Mr. Burke, "if the circumstances are notconsidered, Lady Di may seem highly reprehensible. "

He then, addressing himself particularly to me, as the personleast likely to be acquainted with the character of Mr. Beauclerk, drew it himself in strong and marked expressions, describing the misery he gave his wife, his singularill-treatment

232

of her, and the necessary relief the death of such a man mustgive. (150)

He then reminded Sir Joshua of a day in which they had dined atMr. Beauclerk's, soon after his marriage with Lord Bolingbroke'sdivorced wife, in company with Goldsmith, and told a new story ofpoor Goldsmith's eternal blundering. 

 A LETTER FROM BURKE To FANNY BURNEY. 

Whitehall, July 29, 1782. 

Madam, I should feel exceedingly to blame if I could refuse to myselfthe natural satisfaction, and to you the just but poor return, ofmy best thanks for the very great instruction and entertainment Ihave received from the new present you have bestowed on thepublic. There are few--I believe I may say fairly there are noneat all--that will not find themselves better informed concerninghuman nature, and their stock of observation enriched, by readingyour "Cecilia. " They certainly will, letheir experience in lifeand manners be what it may. The arrogance of age must submit tobe taught by youth. You have crowded into a few small volumes anincredible variety of characters; most of them well planned, wellsupported, and well contrasted with each other. If there be anyfault in this respect, It is one in which you are in no greatdanger of being imitated. Justly as your characters are drawn, perhaps they are too numerous. But I beg pardon; I fear it isquite in vain to preach economy to those who are come young toexcessive and sudden opulence. 

I might trespass on your delicacy if I should fill my letter to uwith what I fill my conversation to others. I should betroublesome to you alone If I should tell you all I feel andthink on the natural vein of humour, the tender pathetic, thecomprehensive and noble moral, and the sagacious observance, thatappear quite throughout that extraordinary performance. 

233

In an age distinguished by producing extraordinary women, I hardly dare to tell you where my opinion would place youamongst them. I respect your modesty, that will not endure thecommendations which your merit forces from everybody. 

I have the honour to be, with great gratitude, respect, andesteem, madam, your most obedient and most humble servant, EDM. BURKE. 

My best compliments and congratulations to Dr. Burney on thegreat honour acquired to his family. 

 Miss BURNEY SITS FOR HER PORTRAIT. 

Chesington, Monday, Aug. 12-I Set Out for this ever dear place, accompanied by Edward, (151) who was sent for to paint Mr. Crispfor my father. I am sure you will rejoice in this. I was alittle dumpish in the journey, for I seemed leaving my Susanagain. However, I read a "Rambler" or two, and "composed theharmony of my temper, " as well as I could, for the sake ofEdward, who was not only faultless of this, but who is, I almostthink, faultless of all things. I have thought him more amiableand deserving, than ever, since this last sojourn under the sameroof with him; and, as it happened, I have owed to him almost allthe comfort I have this time met with here. 

We came in a chaise, which was well loaded with canvasses, . Pencils, and painting materials ; for Mr. Crisp was to be threetimes painted, and Mrs. Gast once. My sweet father came downGascoign-lane to meet us, in very pood spirits and very goodhealth. Next came dear daddy Crisp, looking vastly well, and, asusual, high in glee and kindness at the meeting. Then theaffectionate Kitty, the good Mrs. Hamilton, the gentle MissYoung, and the enthusiastic Mrs. Gast. 

The instant dinner was over, to my utter surprise andconsternation, I was called into the room appropriated for Edwardand his pictures, and informed I was to sit to him for Mr. Crisp!Remonstrances were unavailing, and declarations of aversion tothe design were only ridiculed; both daddies interfered, and, when I ran off, brought me back between them, and compelled myobedience;--and from that time to this, nothing has gone forwardbut picture-sitting. 

234

 GENERAL PAOLI. 

(Fanny Burney to Mr. Crisp. )Oct. 15, 1782. 

. . . . . I am very sorry you could not come to Streatham at the timeMrs. Thrale hoped to see you, for when shall we be likely to meetthere again? You would have been much pleased, I am sure, bymeeting with General Paoli, ' who spent the day there, and wasextremely communicative and agreeable. I had seen him in largecompanies, but was never made known to him before; nevertheless, he conversed with me as if well acquainted not only with myself, but my connexions, --inquiring of me when I had last seen Mrs. Montagu? and calling Sir Joshua Reynolds, when he spoke of him, my friend. He is a very pleasing man, tall and genteel in hisperson, remarkably well bred, and very mild and soft in hismanners. 

I will try to give you a little specimen of his conversation, because I know you love to hear particulars of all out-of-thewaypersons. His English is blundering but not unpretty. Speakingof his first acquaintance with Mr. Boswell, --

"He came, " he said, "to my country, and he fetched me some letterof recommending him; but I was of the belief he

235

might be an impostor, and I supposed, in my minte, he was anespy; for I look away from him, and in a moment I look to himagain, and I behold his tablets. Oh! he was to the work ofwriting down all I say! Indeed I was angry. But soon I discoverhe was no impostor and no espy; and I only find I was myself themonster he had come to discern. Oh, -is a very good man! I lovehim indeed; so cheerful! so gay! so pleasant! but at the first, oh! I was indeed angry. "

After this he told us a story of an expectation he had of beingrobbed, and of the protection he found from a very large dog thathe is very fond of. "

I walk out, " he said, "in the night; I go towards the field; Ibehold a man--oh, ugly one! I proceed--he follow; I go on--headdress me. 'You have one dog, ' he says. 'Yes, ' say I to him. 'Is a fierce dog?' he says; 'is he fiery?' 'Yes, ' reply I, 'hecan bite. ' 'I would not attack in the night, ' says he, 'a houseto have such dog in it. ' Then I conclude he was a breaker" so Iturn to him---oh, very rough! not gentle--and I say, very fierce, 'He shall destroy you, if you are ten!'"

Afterwards, speaking of the Irish giant, who is now shown intown, he said, -

"He is so large I am as a baby! I look at him--oh! I find myselfso little as a child! Indeed, my indignation it rises when I seehim hold up his hand so high. I am as nothing; and I find myselfin the power of a man who fetches from me half a crown. "

This language, which is all spoke very pompously by him, soundscomical from himself, though I know not how it may read. 

(136 Sir Philip Jennings Clerke. -ED, (137) Mauritius Lowe, a natural son of Lord Southwell. He sent alarge picture of the Deluge to the Royal Academy in 1783, and wasso distressed at its rejection, that Johnson compassionatelywrote to Sirjoshua Reynolds in his behalf, entreating that theverdict might be re-considered. His intercession was successful, and the picture was admitted. We know nothing of Mr. Lowe'swork. -ED. 

(138) Afterwards Sir William PWeller Pepys. See note (103), ante, p. 148. -ED. 

(139) "The moment he was gone, 'Now, ' says Dr. Johnson, 'is Pepysgone home hating me, who love him better than I did before. Hespoke in defence of his dead friend; but though I hope I spokebetter, who spoke against him, yet all my eloquence will gain menothing but an honest man for my enemy!'" (Mrs. Piozzi's"Anecdotes of Johnson. ")-ED. 

(140) The celebrated Georgiana, Duchess of Devonshire, equallyfamous for her personal attractions and her political enthusiasmin the Whig interest. Her canvassing, and, it is said, herkisses, largely contributed to the return of Charles james Foxfor Westminster in the election of 1784. She was the daughter ofJohn, first Earl Spencer ; was born 1757; married, 1774, toWilliam, fifth Duke of Devonshire; and died, 18o6. Her portraitwas painted by both Reynolds and Gainsborough. 

Mary Isabella, Duchess of Rutland, was the youngest daughter ofthe Duke of Beaufort, and was married, in 1775, to CharlesMariners, fourth Duke of Rutland. She died, 1831. -ED. 

(141) Susan and Sophy were younger daughters of Mrs. Thrale-ED. 

(142) The manager of Mr. Thrale's brewery. -ED. 

(143) i. E. To Streatham: Fanny had been home in the interval. -ED. 

(144) Of Bath Easton: husband of the lady of the "Vase. " Seenote (123), ante, P. 174. -ED. 

(145) Captain Molesworth Phillips, who had recently married SusanBurney. -ED. 

(146) Gasparo Pacchierotti, a celebrated Italian singer, and avery intimate friend of the Burney family. -ED. 

(147) "Variety, " a comedy, was produced at Drury Lane, Feb. 25, 1782, and ran nine nights. Genest calls it a dull play, withlittle or no plot. The author is unknown. -ED. 

(148) Dr. Jonathan Shipley. -ED. 

(149) The husband of Fanny Burney's sister, Susan. -ED. 

(150) Poor Lady Di was throughout unfortunate in her marriages. Her first husband, Lord Bolingbroke, to whom she was married in1757, brutally used her, and drove her to seek elsewhere theaffection which he failed to bestow. She was divorced from himin 1768, and married, immediately afterwards, to TophamBeauclerk, who, in his turn, ill-treated her. Mr. Beauclerk diedin March, 1780. He was greatly esteemed by Johnson, but his goodqualities appear to have been rather of the head than of theheart. -ED. 

(151) Her cousin Edward Burney, the painter. A reproduction ofhis portrait of Fanny forms the frontispiece to the presentvolume. -ED. 

(152) Pasquale Paoli, the famous Corsican general and patriot. He maintained the independence of his country against the Genoesefor nearly ten years. In 1769, upon the submission of Corsica toFrance, to which the Genoese had ceded it, Paoli settled inEngland, where he enjoyed a pension of 1200 pounds a year fromthe English Government. More details respecting this delightfulinterview between Fanny and the General are given in the "Memoirsof Dr. Burney" (vol. Ii. P. 255), from which we select thefollowing extracts:--

"He is a very pleasing man; tall and genteel in his person, remarkably attentive, obliging, and polite; and as soft and mildin his speech, as if he came from feeding sheep in Corsica, likea shepherd; rather than as if he had left the warlike field wherehe had led his armies to battle. 

"When Mrs. Thrale named me, he started back, though smilingly, and said; 'I am very glad enough to see you in the face, MissEvelina, which I have wished for long enough. O charming book!I give it you my word I have read it often enough. It is myfavourite studioso for apprehending the English language; whichis difficult often. I pray you, Miss Evelina, write some morelittle volumes of the quickest. '

"I disclaimed the name, and was walking away; but he followed mewith an apology. 'I pray your pardon, Mademoiselle. My ideasgot in a blunder often. It is Miss Borni what name I meant toaccentuate, I pray your pardon, Miss Evelina. '"-ED. 

236 SECTION 5 (1782-3-4-)

 "CECILIA": A PAEAN OF PRAISE: LAMENTATIONS. 

[" This is the last visit remembered, or, at least, narrated, ofStreatham. " With these words Madame D'Arblay concludes theaccount given in the "Memoirs of Dr. Burney, " of her meeting withGeneral Paoli. In the autumn Of 1782 Mrs. Thrale went, with herdaughters and Dr. Johnson, to Brighthelmstone, where Fanny joinedthem. On their return to London, November 20, the Thralessettled for the winter in Argyle-street, and Fanny repaired toher father's residence in St. Martin's-street. She saw much ofMrs. Thrale during the winter, but in the following April thatlady quitted London for Bath, where she resided until hermarriage with Signor Piozzi in the summer of 1784. Shemaintained an affectionate correspondence with Fanny until afterthe marriage, but from the date of their parting in London, theysaw no more of each other, except for one brief interval in May, 1784, for several years. 

We must here give an account, as concise as possible, of thetransaction which was so bitterly resented by the friends of Mrs. Thrale, but in which her conduct seems to us, taking all thecircumstances fairly into consideration, to have been lessdeserving of condemnation than their uncharitableness. She hadfirst seen Piozzi, an Italian singer, at a party at Dr. Burney'sin 1777, and her behaviour to him on that occasion had certainlyafforded no premonition of her subsequent infatuation. Piozzi, who was nearly of the same age as herself, was, as Miss Sewarddescribes him, "a handsome man, with gentle, pleasing, unaffectedmanners, and with very eminent skill in his profession. " He wasrequested by Dr. Burney to sing; rather unfortunately, it wouldappear, for the company, which included Johnson and theGrevilles, was by no means composed of musical enthusiasts, andMrs. Thrale, in particular, "knew not a flat from a sharp, nor acrotchet from a quaver. " However, he complied; and Mrs. Thrale, after sitting awhile in silence, finding the proceed-

237

ings dull, was seized with a desire to enliven them. "In a fitof utter recklessness, she suddenly, but softly, arose, andstealing on tiptoe behind Signor Piozzi, who was accompanyinghimself on the pianoforte to an animated aria parlante, with hisback to the company and his face to the wall, she ludicrouslybegan imitating him by squaring her elbows, elevating them withecstatic shrugs of the shoulders, and casting up her eyes, whilelanguishingly reclining her head; as if she were not lessenthusiastically, though somewhat more suddenly, struck with thetransports of harmony than himself. 

"But the amusement which such an unlooked-for exhibition -causedto the party, was momentary; for Dr. Burney, shocked lest thepoor signor should observe, and be hurt by this mimicry, glidedgently round to Mrs. Thrale, and, with something betweenpleasantry and severity, whispered to her, 'Because, madam, youhave no ear yourself for music, will you destroy the attention ofall who, in that one point, are otherwise gifted?'"(153)

This deserved rebuke the lively lady took in perfectly good part, and the incident passed without further notice. She does notappear to have met with Piozzi again, Until, in July, 1780, shePppicked him up " at Brighton. She now finds him " amazinglylike her father, " and insists that he shall teach Hester music. >From this point the fever gradually increased. In August, 1781, little more than four months after her husband's death, Piozzihas become "a prodigious favourite" with her; she has evendeveloped a taste for his music, which "fills the mind withemotions one would not be without, though inconvenient enoughsometimes. " In the spring Of 1783, soon after her arrival atBath, they were formally engaged, but the urgent remonstrances ofher friends and family caused the engagement to be broken off, and Piozzi went to Italy. Her infatuation, however, was toostrong to be overcome. Under the struggle, long protracted, herhealth gave way, and at length, by the advice of her doctor, andwith the sullen consent of Miss Thrale, Piozzi was summoned toBath. He, too, had been faithful, and he lost no time in obeyingthe summons. They were married, according to the Roman Catholicrites, in London, and again, on the 25th of July, 1784, in aProtestant church at Bath, her three elder daughters, of whom theeldest, Hester ("Queeny"), was not yet twenty years of age, having quitted Bath before his arrival. 

Mrs. Piozzi left England with her husband and her youngestdaughter, Cecilia, and lived for some years in Italy, where shecompiled her well known "Anecdotes of Dr. Johnson. " Her weddedlife with Piozzi was certainly happy, and he gave her no reasonto repent the step she had taken. The indignation of her formerfriends, especially of Dr. Johnson, was carried to a lengthwhich, the cause being considered, appears little short ofridiculous. Mrs. Thrale's second marriage may have beenill-advised, 238

but it was neither criminal nor disgraceful. Piozzi wasincontestably a respectable man and a constant lover ; but thatan Italian musician, who depended upon his talents for hislivelihood, should become the husband of the celebrated Mrs. Thrale, and the stepfather of four young ladies of fashion, thedaughters of a brewer, and the heiresses to his large fortune, --there was the rub! The dislike of Dr. Johnson and his friendsto the marriage was, from a worldly point of view, justifiableenough, but it argues ill for their generosity of mind that theyshould have attached such overwhelming importance to such pettyconsiderations. Mrs. Piozzi has been blamed for deserting herthree elder daughters; but the fact is, it was her daughters whodeserted her, and refused to recognise her husband. Her onlyfault, if fault it can be called, was in declining to sacrificethe whole happiness of her life to the supposed requirements oftheir rank in society. In condemning her friends for theirseverity and illiberality, we must, however, make an exception infavour of Fanny. She, like the rest, had been averse to thematch, but her cordiality to Mrs. Piozzi remained undiminished;and when, soon after the marriage, their correspondence wasdiscontinued, to be renewed only after the lapse of many years, it was not Fanny, but Mrs. Piozzi, who broke it off, instigated, Fanny always believed, by her husband. 

Her separation from Mrs. Thrale was not the only event whichbrought sorrow to Fanny during the years to which the followingsection of the Diary relates. Mr. Crisp, the person dearest toher of all human beings outside her own family, died atChesington, of an attack of his old malady, the gout, on the 24thof April, 1783, aged seventy-five. Fanny and Susan were with himat the last, and Fanny's love was rewarded, her anguish soothedyet deepened, when, almost with his dying breath, her Daddy Crispcalled her "the dearest thing to him on earth. "

Towards the end of 1784 another heavy blow fell upon Fanny, inthe loss of Dr. Johnson, who died on the 13th of December. Thetouching references in the Diary to his last illness form aninteresting supplement to Boswell's narrative. 

But the picture of Fanny's life during these years is not withoutbright touches. As such we may reckon the great, and deservedsuccess of her novel, "Cecilia"; the commencement of heracquaintance with two ladies who were hereafter to be numberedamong her dearest friends--the venerable Mrs. Delany, and Mrs. Locke, of Norbury Park, Surrey; and last, not least, the growingintimacy between Edmund Burke and the family of Dr. Burney. -ED. ]

239

 AT BRIGHTON AGAIN, THE "FAmous Miss BURNEY. "

Brighthelmstone, Oct. 26. 

My journey was incidentless - but the Moment I came intoBrighthelmstone I was met by Mrs. Thrale, who had most eagerlybeen waiting for me a long while, and therefore I dismounted, andwalked home with her. It would be very superfluous to tell youhow she received me, for you cannot but know, from her impatientletters, what I had reason to expect of kindness and welcome. 

Dr. Johnson received me, too, with his usual goodness, and with asalute so loud, that the two young beaus, Cotton and Swinerton, have never done laughing about it. 

Mrs. Thrale spent two or three hours in my room, talking over allher affairs, and then we wished each other bon repos, and--retired. Grandissima conclusion!

Oh, but let me not forget that a fine note came from Mr. Pepys, who is here with his family, saying he was pressd`e de vivre, andentreating to see Mrs. And Miss T. , Dr. Johnson, and Cecilia athis house the next day. I hate mightily this method of naming mefrom my heroines, of whose honour I think I am more jealous thanof my own. 

Oct. 27-The Pepyses came to visit me in form, but I was dressing;in the evening, however, Mrs. And Miss T. Took me to them. Dr. Johnson would not go ; he told me it was my day, and I should becrowned, for Mr. Pepys was wild about "Cecilia. " We found at Mr. Pepys' nobody but his wife, his brother, Dr. Pepys, (154) and Dr. Pepys' lady, Countess of Rothes. Mr. Pepys received me with suchdistinction, that it was very evident how much the book, with themost flattering opinion of it, was in his head; however, hebehaved very prettily, and only mentioned it by allusions; mostparticularly upon the character of Meadows, which he took variousopportunities of pronouncing to be the "best hit possible" uponthe present race of fine gentlemen. We did not stay with themlong, but called upon Miss Benson, and proceeded to the rooms. Mr. Pepys was very

240

unwilling to part with us, and wanted to frighten me from going, by saying, --

"And has Miss Burney the courage to venture to the Rooms? Iwonder she dares!"

I did not seem to understand him, though to mistake him wasimpossible. However, I thought of him again when I was at therooms, for most violent was the staring and whispering as Ipassed and repassed ! insomuch that I shall by no means be in anyhaste to go again to them. Susan and Sophy Thrale, who were withtheir aunt, Mrs. Scott, told Queeny upon our return that theyheard nothing said, whichever way they turned, but "That's she!""That's the famous Miss Burney!" I shall certainly escape goingany more, if it is in my power. 

Monday, Od. 28. --Mr. Pepys had but just left me, when Mrs. Thralesent Susan with a particular request to see me in her dressing-room, where I found her with a milliner. 

"Oh, Miss Burney, " she cried, "I could not help promising Mrs. Cockran that she should have a sight of you--she has begged it sohard. "

You may believe I stared; and the woman, whose eyes almost lookedready to eat me, eagerly came up to me, exclaiming, -

"Oh, ma'am, you don't know what a favour this is to see you! Ihave longed for it so long! It is quite a comfort to me, indeed. Oh, ma'am, how clever you must be! All the ladies I deal withare quite distracted about 'Cecilia, '--and I got it myself. Oh, ma'am, how sensible you must be! It does my heart good to seeyou. "

 DR. JOHNSON DOGMATISES. 

Oct. 29. -We had a large party at home in the evening. I waspresently engaged by Mr. Pepys, and he was joined by Mr. Coxe, and he by Miss Benson. Mr. Pepys led the conversation, and itwas all upon criticism and poetry. The little set was broken upby my retreat, and Mr. Pepys joined Dr. Johnson, with whom heentered into an argument upon some lines of Gray, and upon Pope'sdefinition of wit, in which he was so roughly confuted, and soseverely ridiculed, that he was hurt and piqued beyond all powerof disguise, and, in the midst of the discourse, suddenly turnedfrom him, and, wishing Mrs. Thrale good night, very abruptlywithdrew. 241

Dr. Johnson was certainly right with respect to the argument andto reason ; but his opposition was so warm, and his wit sosatirical and exulting, that I was really quite grieved to seehow unamiable he appeared, and how greatly he made himselfdreaded by all, and by many abhorred. What pity that he will notcurb the vehemence of his love of victory and superiority. 

The sum of the dispute was this. Wit being talked of, Mr. Pepysrepeated, --

"True wit is Nature to advantage dress'd, What oft was thought, but ne'er so well express'd. "

"That, sir, " cried Dr. Johnson, "is a definition both false andfoolish. Let wit be dressed how it will, it will equally be wit, and neither the more nor the less for any advantage dress cangive it. "

Mr. P. -But, sir, may not wit be so ill expressed, and so obscure, by a bad speaker, as to be lost?

Dr. J. -The fault, then, sir, must be with the hearer. If a mancannot distinguish wit from words, he little deserves to hear it. 

Mr. P. -But, sir, what Pope means--

Dr. J. -Sir, what Pope means, if he means what he says, is bothfalse and foolish. In the first place, 'what oft was thought, 'is all the worse for being often thought, because to be wit, itought to be newly thought. 

Mr. P. -But, sir, 'tis the expression makes it new. 

Dr. J. -How can the expression make it new? It may make it clear, or may make it elegant - but how new? You are confounding wordswith things. 

Mr. P. -But, sir, if one man says a thing very ill, may notanother man say it so much better that--

 Dr. J. -That other man, sir, deserves but small praise for theamendment; he is but the tailor to the first man's thoughts. 

Mr. P. -True, sir, he may be but the tailor; but then thedifference is as great as between a man in a gold lace suit and aman in a blanket. 

Dr. J. -just so, sir, I thank you for that; the difference isprecisely such, since it consists neither in the gold lace suitnor the blanket, but in the man by whom they are worn. 

This was the summary; the various contemptuous sarcasmsintermixed would fill, and very unpleasantly, a quire. 242

 A CUNNING RUNAWAY HEIRESS. 

Oct. 30. -Lady Warren is immensely tall, and extremely beautiful;she is now but just nineteen, though she has been married two orthree years. She is giddy, gay, chatty, goodhumoured, and alittle affected; she hazards all that occurs to her, seems tothink the world at her feet, and is so young and gay and handsomethat she is not much mistaken. She is, in short, an inferiorLady Honoria Pemberton;(155) somewhat beneath her in parts andunderstanding, but strongly in that class of character. I had noconversation with her myself; but her voice is loud and deep, andall she said was for the whole room. 

Marriages being talked of, "I'll tell you, " cried she, "a story;that is, it sha'n't be a story, but a fact. A lady of myacquaintance, who had 650, 000 fortune, ran away to Scotland witha gentleman she liked vastly; so she was a little doubtful ofhim, and had a mind to try him: so when they stopped to dine, andchange horses, and all that, she said, 'Now, as I have a greatregard for you, I dare say you have for me - so I will tell you asecret: I have got no fortune at all, in reality, but only 5, 000pounds; for all the rest is a mere pretence : but if you like mefor myself, and not for my fortune, you won't mind that. ' So thegentleman said, 'Oh, I don't regard it at all, and you are thesame charming angel that ever you was, ' and all those sort ofthings that people say to one, and then went out to see about thechaise. So he did not come back; but when dinner was ready, thelady said 'Pray, where is he?' 'Lor, ma'am, ' said they, 'why, that gentleman has been gone ever so long!' So she came back byherself; and now she's married to somebody else, and has her50, 000 pounds fortune all safe. "

 DR. JOHNSON A BORE. 

Saturday, November 2. -We went to Lady Shelley's. Dr. Johnson, again, excepted in the invitation. He is almost constantlyomitted, either from too much respect or too much fear. I amsorry for it, as he hates being alone, and as, though he scoldsthe others, he is well enough satisfied himself, and having givenvent to all his own occasional anger or ill-humour, he is readyto begin again, and is never aware that those who have so been"downed" by him, never can much covet So

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triumphant a visitor. In contests of wit, the victor is as illoff in future consequences as the vanquished in present ridicule. 

Monday, November 4. -This was a grand and busy day. Mr. Swinertonhas been some time arranging a meeting for all our house, withLady De Ferrars, whom you may remember as Charlotte Ellerker, andher lord and sisters: and this morning it took place, by mutualappointment, at his lodgings, where we met to breakfast. Dr. Johnson, who already knew Lord De Ferrars, and Mrs. And MissThrale, and myself, arrived first and then came the Lord andLady, and Miss Ellerker and her youngest sister, Harriet. LordDe Ferrars is very ugly, but extremely well-bred, gentle, unassuming, sensible, and pleasing. His lady is much improvedsince we knew her in former days, and seems good-humoured, lively, and rather agreeable. Miss Ellerker is nothing altered. 

I happened to be standing by Dr. Johnson when all the ladies camein; but, as I dread him before strangers, from the staringattention he attracts both for himself and all with whom hetalks, I endeavoured to change my ground. However, he keptprating a sort of comical nonsense that detained me some minuteswhether I would or not; but when we were all taking places at thebreakfast-table I made another effort to escape. It proved vain;he drew his chair next to mine, and went rattling on in ahumorous sort of comparison he was drawing of himself to me, --notone word of which could I enjoy, or can I remember, from thehurry I was in to get out of his way. In short, I felt soawkward from being thus marked out, that I was reduced to whispera request to Mr. Swinerton to put a chair between us, for which Ipresently made a space: for I have often known him stop allconversation with me, when he has ceased to have me for his nextneighbour. Mr. Swinerton who is an extremely good-natured youngman, and so intimate here that 1 make no scruple with him, instantly complied, and placed himself between us. 

But no sooner was this done, than Dr. Johnson, half seriously, and very loudly, took him to task. 

"'How now, sir! what do you mean by this? Would youseparate me from Miss Burney?

Mr. Swinerton, a little startled, began some apologies, and Mrs. Thrale winked at him to give up the place; but he was willing tooblige me, though he grew more and more frightened every minute, and coloured violently as the Doctor continued Is remonstrance, which he did with rather unmerciful raillery, 244

upon his taking advantage of being in his own house to thussupplant him, and cram; but when he had borne it for about tenminutes, his face became so hot with the fear of hearingsomething worse, that he ran from the field, and took a chairbetween Lady De Ferrars and Mrs. Thrale. 

I think I shall take warning by this failure, to trust only to myown expedients for avoiding his public notice in future. Howeverit stopped here; for Lord De Ferrars came in, and took thedisputed place without knowing of the contest, and all was quiet. 

 Miss BURNEY WILL NOT BE PERSUADED To DANCE. 

. . . . . Late as it was, it was settled we should go to the ball, the last for the season being this night. My own objectionsabout going not being strong enough to combat the ado mymentioning them would have occasioned, I joined in the party, without demur. 

The ball was half over, and all the company seated to tea. Mr. Wade(156) came to receive us all, as usual, and we had a tableprocured for us, and went to tea ourselves, for something to do. When this repast was over, the company returned to theirrecreation. The room was very thin, and almost half the ladiesdanced with one another, though there were men enough present, Ibelieve, had they chosen such exertion; but the Meadowses atballs are in crowds. Some of the ladies were in riding habits, and they made admirable men. 'Tis tonnish to be so muchundressed at the last ball. 

None of our usual friends, the Shelleys, Hatsels, Dickens, orPepys, were here, and we, therefore, made no party - but Mrs. Thrale and I stood at the top of the room to look on the dancing, and as we were thus disengaged, she was seized with a violentdesire to make one among them, and I felt myself an equalinclination. She proposed, as so many women danced together, that we two should, and nothing should I have liked so well; butI begged her to give up the scheme, as that would have occasionedmore fuss and observation than our dancing with all the men thatever were born. 

While we were debating this matter, a gentleman suddenly said tome, -"Did you walk far this morning, Miss Burney?" And, lookingat him, I saw Mr. Metcalf, (157) whose graciousness

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rather surprised me, for he only made to Mrs. Thrale a cold anddistant bow, and it seems he declares, aloud and around, hisaversion to literary ladies. That he can endure, and even seekme is, I presume, only from the general perverseness of mankind, because he sees I have always turned from him; not, however, fromdisliking him, for he is a shrewd, sensible, keen, and veryclever man; but merely from a dryness on his own side that hasexcited retaliation. 

"Yes, " I answered, "we walked a good way. "

"Dr. Johnson, " said he, "told me in the morning you were nowalker; but I informed him then I had had the pleasure of seeingyou upon the Newmarket Hill. "

"Oh, he does not know, " cried I, "whether I am a walker or not--he does not see me walk, because he never walks himself. " . . . 

Here he was called away by some gentleman, but presently came tome again. 

"Miss Burney, " he said, "shall you dance?""

"No, sir, not to-night. "

"A gentleman, " he added, "has desired me to speak to you forhim. "

Now, Susanna, for the grand moment!--the height--the zenith of myglory in the ton meridian! I again said I did not mean to dance, and to silence all objection, he expressively said, --

"Tis Captain Kaye(158) who sends me. "

Is not this magnificent? Pray congratulate me!

 I was really very much surprised, but repeated my refusal, withall customary civilities to soften it. He was leaving me withthis answer, when this most flashy young officer, choosing totrust his cause to himself, came forward, and desired to beintroduced to me. Mr. Metcalf performed that ceremony, and hethen, with as much respect and deference as if soliciting acountess, said, --

"May I flatter myself you will do me the honour of dancing Withme?"

I thanked him, and said the same thing over again. He

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looked much disappointed, and very unwilling to give up his plan. 

"If you have not, " he said, "any particular dislike to dancing, it will be doing, not only me, but the Whole room much honour, ifyou will make one in a set. "

"You do me much honour, sir, " I answered, "but I must beg you toexcuse me. "

"I hope not, " cried he, "I hope out of charity you will dance, asit is the last ball, and the company is so thin. "

"Oh, it will do Very Well without me; Mr. Wade himself says hedies to-night a very respectable death. "

"And will you not have the goodness to help it on a little in itslast stage ? "

"No, " said I, laughing; "why should we wish it to be keptlingering?"

"Lingering!" repeated he, looking round at the dancers, "no, surely it is not quite so desperate; and if you will but join in, you will give it new existence. "

I was a little thrown off my guard at this unexpectedearnestness, so different to the ton of the day, and I beganhardly to know What to answer, my real objection being such as Icould by no means publish, though his urgency and his politenessjoined would have made me give up any other. 

"This is a very quiet dance, " he continued. "there is nothingfatiguing in it. "

"You are very good, " said I, "but I cannot really danceto-night. "

I was sorry to seem so obstinate, but he was just the man to makeevery body inquire whom he danced with; and any one Who wishedfor general attention could do no better than to be his partner. The ever-mischievous Mrs. Thrale, calling to Mr. Selwyn, whostood by us, said, -

"Why, here's a man in love !-quite, downright in love with MissBurney, if ever I saw one!"

"He is quite mortified, at least, " he answered; "I never saw aman look more mortified. "

"Well, he did not deserve it, " said she; "he knew how to beg, andhe ought not to have been so served. "

I begged her to be silent, for Mr. Metcalf returned to me. "

"Were you too much tired, " he said, "with your walk this morning, to try at a dance?"

I excused myself as well as I could, and we presently went247

into the card-room to vary the scene. When we returned to theball-room I was very glad to see my new captain had just takenout Lady Anne Lindsay, who is here with Lady Margaret Fordyce, and who dances remarkably well, and was every way a more suitablepartner for him. He was to leave the town, with his regiment, the next day. 

Tuesday. -Mrs. Thrale took me out to walk with her. We met LadyDe Ferrars and Miss Ellerker in our ramble, and the very momentthe ball was mentioned, this dear and queer creature calledout, --

"Ay, there was a sad ado, ladies dancing with ladies, andall sorts of odd things; and that handsome and fine Mr. Kayebroke his heart almost to dance with Miss Burney; but she refusedhim, and so, in despair, he took out Lady Anne Lindsay. "

 DR. JOHNSON HELD IN GENERAL DREAD. 

Thursday. -Mr. Metcalf called upon Dr. Johnson, and took him outfor an airing. Mr. Hamilton is gone, and Mr. Metcalf is now theonly person out of this house that voluntarily communicates withthe doctor. He has been in a terrible severe bumour of late, andhas really frightened all the people, till they almost ran fromhim. To me only I think he is now kind, for Mrs. Thrale faresworse than anybody. 'Tis very strange and very melancholy thathe will not a little more accommodate his manners and language tothose of other people. He likes Mr. Metcalf, however, and so doI, for he is very clever and entertaining when he pleases. 

Poor Dr. Delap confessed to us, that the reason he now came soseldom, though he formerly almost lived with us when at thisplace, was his being too unwell to cope with Dr. Johnson. Andthe other day Mr. Selwyn having refused an invitation from Mr. Hamilton to meet the doctor, because he preferred being here upona day when he was out, suddenly rose at the time he was expectedto return, and said he must run away, "for fear the doctor shouldcall him to account. "

 SHORT, FAT, HANDSOME MISS MONCKTON: DUCAL INDIFFERENCE. 

Sunday, November 10, brings in a new person. The Honourable Miss Monckton, (159) who is here with her mother, the

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Dowager Lady Galway, has sent various messages of her earnestdesire to be acquainted with Mrs. Thrale and your humble servantto command. Dr. Johnson 'she already knew, , for she is one ofthose who stand foremost in collecting all extraordinary orcurious people to her London conversaziones, which, like those ofMrs. Vesey, mix the rank and file literature, and exclude allbeside. Well--after divers intimations Of this sort, it was atlast settled that Lady De Ferrars should bring her here thismorning. 

In the evening came Lady De Ferrars, Miss Monckton, and MissEllerker. Miss Monckton is between thirty and forty very short, very fat, but handsome ; splendidly and fantastically dressed, rouged not unbecomingly, yet evidently and palpably desirous ofgaining notice and admiration. She has an easy levity in herair, manner, voice, and discourse, that speak all within to becomfortable; and her rage of seeing anything curious may besatisfied, if she pleases, by looking in a mirror. 

I can give you no account of the conversation, as it was broken, and not entertaining. Miss Monckton went early, having anotherengagement, but the other ladies stayed very late. She told us, however, one story extremely well worth recarding. The Duke ofDevonshire was standing near a very fine glass lustre in a cornerof a room, at an assembly, and in a house of people who, MissMonckton said, were by no means in a style of life to holdexpense as immaterial ; and, by carelessly lolling back, he threwthe lustre down and it was broke. He shewed not, however, thesmallest concern or confusion at the accident, but coolly said, "I wonder how I did that!" He then removed to the oppositecorner, and to shew, I suppose, he had forgotten what he haddone, leaned his head in the same manner, and down came theopposite lustre ! He looked at it very calmly, and, with aphilosophical dryness, merely said, "This is singular enough!"and walked to another part of the room, without either distressor apology. 

 MISS MONCKTON's ASSEMBLY: SACQUES AND RUFFLES. 

December 8. -Now for Miss Monckton's assembly. 

I had begged Mrs. Thrale to call for me, (160) that I might haveher countenance and assistance upon my entrance. Miss

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Thrale came also. Every thing was in a new style. We got out ofthe coach into a hall full of servants, not one of which inquiredour names, or took any notice of us. We proceeded, and wentupstairs, and, when we arrived at a door, stopped and lookedbehind us. No servant had followed or preceded us. Wedeliberated what was to be done. To announce ourselves wasrather awkward, neither could we be sure we were going into theright apartment. I proposed going up higher, till we met withsomebody; Miss Thrale thought we should go down and call some ofthe servants; but Mrs. Thrale, after a ridiculous consultation, determined to try her fortune by opening the door. This beingdone, we entered a room full of tea-things, and one maid-servant. 

"Well, " cried Mrs. Thrale, laughing, "what is to be done now? Isuppose we are come so early that nothing is ready. "

The maid stared, but said, --"There's company in the next room. "

Then we considered again how to make ourselves known; and thenMrs. Thrale again resolved to take courage and enter. Shetherefore opened another door, and went into another apartment. I held back, but looked after, and observing that she made nocurtsey, concluded she was gone into some wrong place. MissThrale followed, and after her went little I, wondering who wasto receive, or what was to become of us. 

Miss Monckton lives with her mother, the old Dowager Lady Galway, in a noble house in Charles-street, Berkeleysquare, The room waslarge and magnificent. There was not much company, for we werevery early. Lady Galway sat at the side of the fire, andreceived nobody. She seems very old, and was dressed with alittle round white cap, and not a single hair, no cushlori, roll, nor any thing else but the little round cap, which was flat uponher forehead. Such part of the company as already knew her madetheir compliments to her where she sat, and the rest were nevertaken up to her, but belonged wholly to Miss Monckton. 

Miss Monckton's own manner of receiving her guests was scarcemore laborious ; for she kept her seat when they entered, andonly turned rOUnd her head to nod it, and say "How do you do?"after which they found what accommodation they could forthemselves. 

As soon, however, as she perceived Mrs. And Miss Thrale, whichwas not till they had been some minutes in the room, 250she arose to welcome them, contrary to her general Custom, andmerely because it was their first visit. Our long train makingmy entrance some time after theirs, gave me the advantage ofbeing immediately seen by her, and she advanced to me withquickness, and very politely thanked me for coming, and said, --

"I fear you think me very rude for taking the liberty of sendingto you. "

"No, indeed, you did me much honour, " quoth I. 

She then broke further into her general rules, by making way forme to a good place, and seating me herself, and then taking achair next me, and beginning a little chat. I really felt myselfmuch obliged to her for this seasonable attention, for I waspresently separated from Mrs. Thrale, and entirely surrounded bystrangers, all dressed superbly, and all looking saucily ; and asnobody's names were spoken, I had no chance to discover anyacquaintances. Mr. Metcalf, indeed, came and spoke to me theinstant I came in, and I should have been very happy to have hadhim for my neighbour; but he was engaged in attending to Dr. Johnson, who was standing near the fire, and environed withlisteners. 

Some new people now coming in, and placing themselves in aregular way, Miss Monckton exclaimed, --"My whole care is toprevent a circle;" and hastily rising, she pulled about thechairs, and planted the people in groups, with as dexterous adisorder as you would desire to see. 

The company in general were dressed with more brilliancy than atany rout I ever was at, as most of them were going to the Duchessof Cumberland's, and attired for that purpose. Just behind mesat Mrs. Hampden, still very beautiful, but insufferablyaffected. Another lady, in full dress, and very pretty, came insoon after, and got herself a chair just before me ; and then aconversation began between her and Mrs. Hampden, of which I willgive you a specimen. 

"How disagreeable these sacques are! I am so incommoded withthese nasty ruffles! I am going to Cumberland House--are you?"

"To be sure, " said Mrs. Hampden, "what else, do you think, wouldmake me bear this weight of dress? I can't bear a sacque. "

"Why, I thought you said you should always wear them?"

"Oh, yes, but I have changed my mind since then--as many peopledo. "

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"Well, I think it vastly disagreeable indeed, " said the other, "you Can't think how I am encumbered with these ruffles!"

" Oh I am quite oppressed with them, " said Mrs. Hampden, "I canhardly bear myself up. "

" And I dined in this way!" cried the other; "only think--diningin a sacque!"

"Oh, " answered Mrs. Hampden, "it really puts me quite out ofspirits. "

After this they found some subject less popular, and the ladyunknown leaned over me, without any ceremony, to whisper withMrs. Hampden. I should have offered her my place if she had madeany apology, but as it was, I thought she might take her own way. In the course of the evening, however, I had the pleasure toobserve a striking change in her manners; for as soon as shepicked up, I know not how, my name, she ceased her whispering, looked at me with the civilest smiles, spoke to me two or threetimes, and calling to a fine beau, said--

"Do pray sit this way, that you may screen Miss Burney as well asme from that fire, "

I did not, however, sufficiently like her beginning, to accepther challenge of talking, and only coldly answered by yes, no, ora bow. 

AT MISS MONCKTON'S: "CECILIA" EXTOLLED BY THE "OLD WITS, " AND ByBURKE. 

Then came in Sir Joshua Reynolds, and he soon drew a chair nearmine, and from that time I was never without some friend at myelbow. 

Have you seen, " said he, "Mrs. Montagu lately?"

"No, not very lately. "

"But within these few months?"

"No, not since last year. "

"Oh, you must see her, then. You ought to see and to hear her--'t will be worth your while. Have you heard of the fine longletter she has written?"

"Yes, but I have not met with it. "

"I have. "

"And who is it to?"

"The old Duchess of Portland. (161) She desired Mrs. Mon-

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tagu's opinion of 'Cecilia, ' and she has written it at fulllength. I was in a party at her grace's, and heard of nothingbut you. She is so delighted, and so sensibly, so rationally, that I only wish you could have heard her. And old Mrs. Delanyhad been forced to begin it, though she had said she should neverread any more; however, when we met, she was reading it alreadyfor the third time. "

After this Mrs. Burke saw me, and with much civility and softnessof manner, came and talked with me, while her husband withoutseeing me, went behind my chair to speak to Mrs Hampden. 

Miss Monckton, returning to me, then said--

" Miss Burney, I had the pleasure yesterday of seeing Mrs. Greville. (162)

I suppose she concluded I was very intimate with her. 

"I have not seen her, " said I, "many years. "

"I know, however, " cried she, looking surprised, "she is yourgodmother. "

"But she does not do her duty and answer for me, for I never seeher. "

"Oh, you have answered very well for yourself! But I know by thatyour name is Fanny. "

She then tripped to somebody else, and Mr. Burke very quietlycame from Mrs. Hampden, and sat down in the vacant place at myside. I could then wait no longer, for I found he was morenear-sighted than myself; I, therefore, turned towards him andbowed: he seemed quite amazed, and really made me ashamed, however delighted, by the expressive civility and distinctionwith which he instantly rose to return my bow, and stood thewhole time he was making his compliments upon seeing me, andcalling himself the blindest of men for not finding me outsooner. And Mrs. Burke, who was seated near me, said, loudenough for me to hear her--

"See, see what a flirtation Mr. Burke is beginning with MissBurney and before my face too!"

These ceremonies over, he sat down by me, and began aconversation which you, my dearest Susy, would be glad to hear, for my sake, word for word; but which I really could not listento with sufficient ease, from shame at his warm eulogiums, 253

to remember With any accuracy. The geneial substance, however, take as I recollect it. 

After many most eloquent compliments upon the book, too delicateeither to shock or sicken the nicest ear, he very empbaticallycongratulated me upon its most universal success, said, "he wasnow too late to speak of it, since he could only echo the voiceof the whole nation" and added, with a laugh, "I had hoped tohave made some merit of my enthusiasm; but the moment I wentabout to hear what others say, I found myself merely one in amultitude. "

He then told me that, notwithstanding his admiration, he was theman who had dared to find some faults with so favourite andfashionable a work. I entreated him to tell me what they were, and assured him nothing would make me so happy as to correct themunder his direction. He then enumerated them: and I will tellyou what they are, that you may not conclude I write nothing butthe fairer part of my adventures, which I really always relatevery honestly, though so fair they are at this time, that ithardly seems possible they should not be dressed up. 

The masquerade he thought too long, and that something might bespared from Harrel's grand assembly; he did not like Morrice'spart of the pantheon; and he wished the conclusion either morehappy or more miserable "for in a work of imagination, " said he, "there is no medium. "

I was not easy enough to answer him, or I have much, thoughperhaps not good for much, to say in defence of following lifeand nature as much in the conclusion as in the progress of atale; and when is life and nature completely happy or miserable?

Looking very archly at me, and around him, he said, --

"Are you sitting here for characters? Nothing, by the way, struck me more in reading your book than the admirable skill withwhich your ingenious characters make themselves known by theirown words. "

He then went on to tell me that I had done the most wonderful ofwonders in pleasing the old wits, particularly the Duchess ofPortland and Mrs. Delany, who resisted reading the book till theywere teased into it, and, since they began, could do nothing else- and he failed not to point out, with his utmost eloquence, thedifficulty Of giving satisfaction to those who piqued themselvesupon being past receiving it. 254

"But, " said he, "I have one other fault to find, and a morematerial one than any I have mentioned. "

"I am the more obliged to you. What is it?"

"The disposal of this book. I have much advice to offer to you upon that subject. Why did not you send for your own friend out of the city? he would havetaken care you should not part with it so much below par. "

He meant Mr. Briggs. (163)

Sir Joshua Reynolds now joined us. 

" Are you telling her, " said he, "of our conversation with theold wits? I am glad you hear it from Mr. Burke, Miss Burney, forhe can tell it so much better than I can, and remember their verywords. "

" Nothing else would they talk of for three whole hours, " saidhe, "and we were there at the third reading of the bill. "

"I believe I was in good hands, " said I, "if they talked of it toyou?"

"Why, yes, " answered Sir Joshua, laughing, "we joined in fromtime to time. Gibbon says he read the whole five volumes in aday. "

"'Tis impossible, " cried Mr. Burke, "it cost me three days andyou know I never parted with it from the time I first opened it. "

 A WRITER OF ROMANCES. 

Soon after the parties changed again and young Mr. Burke(164)came and sat by me. He is a very civil and obliging, and asensible and agreeable young man. Old Lady Galway trotted fromher corner, in the middle of the evening, and leaning herhands upon the backs of two chairs, put her little roundhead through two fine high dressed ladies on purpose topeep at me, and then trotted back to her place! Ha, ha!

Miss Monckton now came to us again, and I congratulated

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her upon her power in making Dr. Johnson sit in a group uponwhich she immediately said to him, --

"Sir, Miss Burney says you like best to sit in a circle. "

"Does she?" said he, laughing; "Ay, never mind what she says. Don't you know she is a writer of romances?"

"Yes, that I do, indeed, " said Miss Monckton, and every onejoined in a laugh that put me horribly out of countenance. 

"She may write romances and speak truth, " said my dear SirJoshua, who, as well as young Burke, and Mr. Metcalf, and twostrangers, joined now in our little party. 

"But, indeed, Dr. Johnson, " said Miss Monckton, "you must seeMrs. Siddons. Won't you see her in some fine part?"

"Why, if I must, madam, I've no choice. "

"She says, sir, she shall be very much afraid of you. "

"Madam, that cannot be true. "

"Not true, " cried Miss Monckton, staring, "yes it is. "

"It cannot be, madam. "

"But she said so to me ; I heard her say it myself. "

"Madam, it is not possible! remember, therefore, in future, thateven fiction should be supported by probability. "

Miss Monckton looked all amazement, but insisted upon the -truthof what she had said. 

"I do not believe, madam, " said he, warmly, "she knows my name. "

" "Oh, that is rating her too low, " said a gentleman stranger. 

"By not knowing my name, " continued he, "I do not mean soliterally; but that, when she sees it abused in a newspaper, shemay possibly recollect that she has seen it abused in a newspaperbefore. "

"Well, sir, " said Miss Monckton, "but you must see her for allthis. "

"Well, madam, if you desire it, I will go. See her I shall not, nor hear her; but I'll go, and that will do. The last time I wasat a play, I was ordered there by Mrs. Abington, or Mrs. Somebody, I do not well remember who; but I placed myself in themiddle of the first row of the front boxes, to show that when Iwas called I came. "

The talk upon this matter went on very long, and with greatspirit. At last, a large party of ladies arose at the sametime', and I tripped after them; Miss Monckton, however, made mecome back, for she said I must else wait in the other room tillthose ladies' carriages drove away. 256

When I returned, Sir Joshua came and desired he might convey mehome; I declined the offer, and he pressed it a good deal, drollysaying, --

"Why, I am old enough, a'n't I?" And when he found me stout, hesaid to Dr. Johnson, --"Sir, is not this very hard? Nobody thinksme very young, yet Miss Burney won't give me the privilege of agein letting me see her home? She says I a'n't old enough. "(165)

I had never said any such thing. 

"Ay, " sir, " said the doctor, "did I not tell you she was a riterof romances?"

 MRS. WALSINGHAM. 

December 15. -To-day, by an invitation of ten days standing, Iwaited upon Mrs. Walsingham. She is a woman high in fame for hertalents, (166) and a wit by birth, as the daughter of Sir CharlesHanbury Williams. 

She has the character of being only civil to people of birth, fame, or wealth, and extremely insolent to all others. Of this, however, I could see nothing, since she at least took care toinvite no company to her own house whom she was disposed todisdain. Her reception of me appeared rather singular. She wasviolently dressed, --a large hoop, flowers in her small and fulldressed cap, ribands and ornaments extremely shown, and a fan inher hand. She was very polite, said much of her particularpleasure in seeing Me, and kept advancing to me near, thatinvoluntarily I retreated from her, not knowing er design, andkept, therefore, getting further and further back as she cameforward, till I was stopped from any power of moving by thewainscot. I then necessarily stood still, and she saluted me. 

We then quietly sat down, and my father began a very livelyconversation upon various subjects; she kept it up with attentionand good breeding, often referring to me, and seemig curious toknow my notions. 

The rest of the company who came to dinner were Mrs. Montagu, Mr. Percy, Speaker of the Irish House of Commons, his lady anddaughter, and Sir Joshua Reynolds and Miss Palmer. I wasexcessively glad to see the latter, who clung

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to me all the visit, and took off from its formality and grandeurby her chatting and intimacy. 

Mrs. Walsingham lives in a splendid house in Stratford place, elegantly fitted up, chiefly by her own paintings and drawingslwhich are reckoned extremely clever. I hate that word, butcannot think of another. 

We did not stay late, for my father and I were both engaged toMiss Monckton's; so was Sir Joshua, who accompanied us. 

 MRS. SIDDONS. 

I was extremely happy to have my dear father with me at MissMonckton's. We found Mrs. Siddons, the actress, there. She is awoman of excellent character, and therefore I am very glad she isthus patronised, since Mrs. Abington, and so many frail fairones, have been thus noticed by the great. She behaved withgreat propriety ; very calm, modest, quiet, and unaffected - Shehas a very fine countenance, and her eyes 'look both intelligentand soft. She has, however, a steadiness in her manner anddeportment by no means engaging. Mrs. Thrale, who was there, said, --"Why, this is a leaden goddess we are all worshipping!however, we shall soon gild it. "

A lady who sat near me then began a dialogue with Mr. Erskine, (167) who had placed himself exactly opposite to Mrs. Siddons; and they debated together upon her manner of studyingher parts, disputing upon the point with great warmth, yet notonly forbearing to ask Mrs. Siddons herself which was right, butquite over-powering her with their loquacity, when she attempted, unasked, to explain the matter. Most vehement praise of all shedid followed, and the lady turned to me, and said, -

"What invitation, Miss Burney, is here, for genius to displayitself!--Everybody, I hear, is at work for Mrs. Siddons; but ifyou would work for her, what an inducement to excel you wouldboth of you have!--Dr. Burney--. "

"Oh, pray, ma'am, " cried I, "don't say to him--"

"Oh, but I will!--if my influence can do you any mischief, youmay depend upon having it. "

She then repeated what she had said to my father, and heinstantly said, --

"Your ladyship may be sure of my interest. "

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I whispered afterwards to know who she was, and heard she WasLady Lucan. 

 DR. JOHNSON'S INMATES'AT BOLT-COURT. 

On Tuesday, Dec. 24, I went in the evening to call on Mrs. Thrale, and tore myself away from her to go to Bolt-court to seeDr. Johnson, who is very unwell. He received me with greatkindness, and bade me come oftener, which I will try to contrive. He told me he heard of nothing but me, call upon him who would ;and, though he pretended to grow], he was evidently delighted forme. His usual set, Mrs. Williams and Mrs. De Mullins, were withhim; and some queer man of a parson who, after grinning at mesome time, said, --

"Pray, Mrs. De Mullins, is the fifth volume of 'Cecilia' at homeyet? Dr. Johnson made me read it, ma'am. "

"Sir, he did it much honour. "

"Made you, sir?" said the doctor, "you give an ill account ofyour own taste or understanding, if you wanted any making to readsuch a book as 'Cecilia. '"

"Oh, sir, I don't mean that; for I am sure I left every thing inthe world to go on with it. "

A shilling was now wanted for some purpose or other, and none ofthem happened to have one ; I begged that I might lend one. 

"Ay, do, " said the doctor, "I will borrow of you ; authors arelike privateers, always fair game for one another. "

"True, sir, " said the parson, "one author is always robbinganother. "

"I don't know that, sir, " cried the doctor; "there sits anauthor who, to my knowledge, has robbed nobody. I have neveronce caught her at a theft. The rogue keeps her resources toherself!"

 THE TWO MR. CAMBRIDGES IMPROVE UPON ACQUAINTANCE. 

Thursday. -In the morning Mr. Cambridge(168) came, and made a longvisit. He is entertaining, Original, and well-bred; somewhatformal, but extremely civil and obliging, and, I be-

259

lieve, remarkably honourable and strict in his principles andactions. I wished I could have been easy and chatty with him asI hear he is so much my friend, and as I like him very much; but, in truth, he listens to every syllable I utter withso grave a deference, that it intimidates and silences me. Whenhe was about taking leave, he said, --

"Shall you go to Mrs. Ord's(169) to-morrow?"

"Yes, sir. "

"I thought so, " said he, smiling, "and hoped it. Where shall yougo to-night?"

"No where, --I shall be at home. "

"At home? Are you sure?"

"Yes. "

"Why, then, Miss Burney, my son(170) and I dine to-day in yourneighbourhood, at the Archbishop of York's, and, if you please, we will come here in the evening. "

This was agreed to. And our evening was really a charming one. The two Mr. Cambridges came at about eight o'clock, and the goodMr. Hoole(171) was here. My father came downstairs to them inhigh spirits and good humour, and he and the elder Mr. Cambridgenot only talked enough for us all, but so well and so pleasantlythat no person present had even a wish to speak for himself. Mr. Cambridge has the best stock of good stories I almost ever heard;and, though a little too precise in his manner, he is alwayswell-bred, and almost always entertaining. Our sweet father keptup the ball with him admirably, whether in anecdotes, seriousdisquisitions, philosophy, or fun; for all which Mr. Cambridgehas both talents and inclination. 

The son rises extremely in my opinion and liking. He issensible, rational, and highly cultivated ; very modest in all heasserts, and attentive and pleasing in his behaviour ; and he iswholly free from the coxcombical airs, either of impertinence, ornegligence and nonchalance, that almost all the young men I meet, except also young Burke, are tainted with. What chiefly, however, pleased me in him was observing that

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he quite adores his father. He attended to all his stories witha face that never told he had heard them before; and, though hespoke but little himself, he seemed as well entertained as if hehad been the leading person in the company, --a post which, nevertheless, I believe he could extremely well sustain; and, nodoubt, much the better for being in no haste to aspire to it. Ihave seldom, altogether, had an evening with which I hav, beenbetter pleased. 

THE SHILLING, THE CHAIRMAN, AND THE GREEN-SHOP GIRL. 

Saturday, Dec. 28. -My father and I dined and spent the day at SirJoshua Reynolds's, after many preceding disappointments. I had awhispering conversation with Mrs. Reynolds, (172) which made melaugh, from her excessive oddness and absurdity. 

"I had the most unfortunate thing in the world happen to me, " shesaid, "about Mrs. Montagu, and I always am in some distress ormisfortune with that lady. She did me the honour to invite me todine with her last week, --and I am sure there is nobody in theworld can be more obliged to Mrs. Montagu taking such notice ofany body;--but just when the day came I was so unlucky as to beill, and that, you know, made it quite improper to go to dinewith Mrs. Montagu, for fear of disagreeable consequences. Sothis vexed me very much, for I had nobody to send to her that wasproper to appear before Mrs. Montagu; for to own the truth, youmust know I have no servant but a maid, and I could not think ofsending such a person to Mrs. Montagu. So I thought it best tosend a chairman, and to tell him only to ring at the bell, and towait for no answer; because then the porter might tell Mrs. Montagu my servant brought the note, for the porter could nottell but he might be my servant. 

But my maid was so stupid, she took the shilling I gave her forthe chairman, and went to a green-shop, and bid the woman sendsomebody with the note, and she left the shilling with her; sothe green-woman, I suppose, thought she might keep the shilling, and instead of sending a chairman she sent her own errand-girl;and she was all dirt and rags. But this is not all; for, when thegirl got to the house, nothing would serve her but she would givethe note to Mrs. Montagu, and wait for an answer; so then, youknow, Mrs. Montagu saw this ragged green-shop girl. I was neverso shocked in my

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life, for when she brought me back the note I knew at once how itall was. Only think what a mortification, to have Mrs. Montagusee such a person as that! She must think it very odd of meindeed to send a green-shop girl to such a house as hers!"

 MR. SOAME JENYNS'S EULOGY ON "CECILIA. "

Friday, [Jan. 17, 1783. )-Now for this grand interview with SoameJenyns. (173) I went with my dear father who was quite enchantedat the affair. Dear soul, how he feeds upon all that brings fameto "Cecilia!" his eagerness upon this subject, and his pleasurein it, are truly enthusiastic, and, I think, rather increase byfulness than grow satiated. 

We were late; there was a good deal of company, not in groups, nor yet in a circle, but seated square round the room, in orderfollowing, --Miss Ellerker, Mrs. Soame Jenyns, Mrs. Thrale, herdaughter, Mrs. Buller, Mr. Cambridge, senior, Mr. Soame Jenyns, Mr. Selwin, Mr. Cambridge, junior, Miss Burgoyne, a lady or two Iknew not, and three or four men. 

Mrs. Ord almost ran to the door to receive us, and every creatureof this company, contrary to all present custom in largemeetings, stood up. 

"Why have you been so late?" cried Mrs. Ord, "we have beenwaiting for you this hour. I was afraid there was some mistake. "

"My father could not come sooner. "

"But why would not you let me send my coach for you? Mr. SoameJenyns has been dying with impatience; some of us thought youwould not come; others thought it only coquetry; but come, let usrepair the time as we can, and introduce you to one anotherwithout further delay. "

You may believe how happy I felt at this "some thought, " and"others, " which instantly betrayed that everybody was

262

apprised they were to see this famous rencounter; and lest Ishould mark it less, every body still stood up. Mr. Jenyns now, with all the speed in his power, hastened up to me, and began along harangue of which I know hardly a word, upon the pleasureand favour, and honour, and what not, of meeting me, and upon thedelight, and information, and amusement of reading "Cecilia. "

I made all possible reverences, and tried to get to a seat, butMrs. Ord, when I turned from him, took my hand, and leading me tothe top of the room, presented me to Mrs. Jenyns. Reverenceswere repeated here, in silence, however, so they did very well. I then hoped to escape to Mrs. Thrale, who held out her hand tome, pointing to a chair by her own, and saying, -

"Must I, too, make interest to be introduced to Miss Burney?"

This, however, was not allowed; Mrs. Ord again took my hand, andparading me to the sofa, said, --

"Come, Miss Burney, and let me place you by Mrs. Buller. "

I was glad, by this time, to be placed any where, for not tillthen did the company seat themselves. 

Mr. Cambridge, sen. , then came up to speak to me, but had hardlyasked how I did before Mrs. Ord brought Mr. Jenyns to me again, and made him my right-hand neighbour, saying, -

"There! now I have put you fairly together, I have done withyou. "

Mr. Soame jenyns then, thus called upon--could he do less?--beganan eulogy unrivalled, I think, for extravagance of praise. Allcreation was open to me; no human being ever began that book andhad power to put it down; pathos, humour, interest, moral--Oheavens! I heard, however, but the leading words; though everybody else, the whole roon, being silent, doubtless heard how theyhung together. Had I been carried to a theatre to hear anoration upon my own performances, I could hardly have felt moreconfounded. 

I bowed my head during the first two or three sentences, by wayof marking that I thought them over; but over they were not themore. I then turned away, but I only met Mrs. Buller, who tookup the panegyric where Mr. Jenyns stopped for breath. 

In short, the things that were said, with the attention of thewhole company, would have drawn blushes into the cheeks ofAgujari or Garrick. I was almost upon the point of running263

away. I changed so often from hot to cold that I really feltmyself in a fever and an ague. I never even attempted to speakto them, and I looked with all the frigidity I possibly could, inhopes they would tire of bestowing such honours on a subject soungrateful. 

One moment I had hopes that Mr. G. Cambridge, in Christiancharity, was coming to offer some interruption ; for, when thesespeeches were in their height, he came and sat down on a chairimmediately opposite Miss Thrale, and equally near, in profile, to me; but he merely said, "I hope Dr. Burney has not wanted hispamphlet?" Even Mrs. Thrale would not come near me, and told meafterwards it had been such a settled thing before my arrival, that I was to belong to Mr. Soame Jenyns, that she did not dare. 

The moment they were gone, "Well, Miss Burney, " said Mrs. Ord, "have you and Mr. Jenyns had a great deal of conversationtogether?"

"O yes, a great deal on my part!"

"Why you don't look quite recovered from it yet--did not you likeit?"

"O yes, it was perfectly agreeable to me!"

"Did he oppress you?" cried Mr. Cambridge, and then he began avery warm praise of him for his talents, wit, and understanding, his knowledge, writings, and humour. 

I should have been very ready to have joined with him, had I notfeared he meant an implied reproach to me, for not being moregrateful for the praise of a man such as he described. I amsorry he was present if that is the case; but the truth is, theevening was not merely disagreeable but painful to me. 

 AN ITALIAN SINGER'S VIEWS OF ENGLAND. 

Saturday. -While Mr. George Cambridge was here Pacchierotti called-very grave, but very sweet. Mr. G. C. Asked if he spokeEnglish. 

"O, very well, " cried I, "pray try him; he is very amiable, and Ifancy you will like him. "

Pacchierotti began with complaining of the variable weather. "

I cannot, " he said, "be well such an inconsistent day. "

We laughed at the word "inconsistent, " and Mr. Cambridge said, -

"It is curious to see what new modes all languages may take inthe hands of foreigners. The natives dare not try such ex-

264

periments; and, therefore, we all talk pretty much alike ; but aforeigner is obliged to hazard new expressions, and very often heshews us a force and power in our words, by an unusual adaptationof them, that we were not ourselves aware tlley would admit. "

And then, to draw Pacchierotti out, he began a dispute, of thedifferent merits of Italy and England; defending his own countrymerely to make him abuse it; while Pacchierotti most eagerly tookup the gauntlet on the part of Italy. 

"This is a climate, " said Pacchierotti, "never in the same casefor half an hour at a time; it shall be fair, and wet, and dry, and humid, forty times in a morning in the least. I am tired tobe so played with, sir, by your climate. "

"We have one thing, however, Mr. Pacchierotti, " heanswered, "which I hope you allow makes some amends, and that isour verdure; in Italy you cannot boast that. "

"But it seem to me, sir, to be of no utility so much evergreen israther too much for my humble opinion. "

"And then your insects, Mr. Pacchierotti! those alone are a mostdreadful drawback upon the comfort of your fine climate. ""

"I must own, " said Pacchierotti, "Italy is rather disagreeablefor the insects; but is it not better, sir, than an atmosphere sobad as they cannot live in it?"

"Why, as i can't defend our atmosphere, I must shift my ground, and talk to you of our fires, which draw together society. "

"O indeed, good sir, your societies are not very invigorating!Twenty people of your gentlemen and ladies to sit about a fire, and not to pronounce one word, is very dull!"

We laughed heartily at this retort courteous. 

 RAPTURES OF THE "OLD WITS" OVER "CECILIA. "

[Mary Delany was the daughter of Bernard Granville, youngerbrother of George Granville, Baron Lansdowne, the poet and friendof Wycherley and Pope. She was born on the 14th Of May, 1700. Her uncle, Lord Lansdowne, was a better friend to the Muses thanto his young niece, for he forced poor Mary Granville, at the ageof seventeen, to marry one Alexander Pendarves, a coarse, harddrinking Cornish squire, of more than three times her age. Pendarves died some six years later, and his widow married, in1743, Dr. Patrick Delany, the friend of Swift. With Delany shelived happily for fifteen years, and after his death in 1768, Mrs. Delany devoted most of her time to her265

bosom friend, the dowager Duchess of Portland (see note (161), ante, p. 251), at whose seat at Bulstrode she usually spent thesummer, while during the winter she resided at her own house inSt. James's-place, where she was constantly visited by theDuchess. On the death of the Duchess in July, 1785, King Georgebestowed upon Mrs. Delany, whose means were not such as to makean addition to them a matter of indifference, a furnished houseat Windsor and a pension Of 300 pounds a year. These she enjoyedfor less than three years, dying on the 15th of April, 1788. 

The strong attachment which grew up between her and Fanny rendersMrs. Delany a very interesting figure in the "Diary. " NorwasFanny's enthusiasm for her aged friend misdirected. Speakinof Mrs' Delany, Edmund Burke said: "She was a perfectpattern of a perfect fine lady: a real fine lady of other days. Her manners were faultless; her deportment was of markedelegance; her speech was all sweetness; and her air and addresswere all dignity. I have always looked up to Mrs. Delany, as themodel of an accomplished gentlewoman of former times. "(174)-ED. ]

Sunday, January ig-And now for Mrs. Delany. I spent one hourwith Mrs. Thrale, and then called for Mrs. Chapone, (175) and weproceeded together to St. James's-place. 

Mrs. Delany was alone in her drawing-room, which is entirely hunground with pictures of her own painting, and Ornaments of her owndesigning. She came to the door to receive us. She is stilltall, though some of her height may be lost: not much, however, for she is remarkably upright. She has no remains of beauty infeature, but in countenance I never but once saw more, and thatwas in my sweet maternal grandmother. Benevolence, softness, piety, and gentleness are all resident in her face ; and theresemblance with which she struck me to my dear grandmother, inher first appearance, grew so much stronger from all that camefrom her mind, which seems to contain nothing but purity andnative humility, 266

that I almost longed to embrace her; and I am sure if I had therecollection of that saint-like woman would have been so strongthat I should never have refrained from crying over her. 

Mrs. Chapone presented me to her, and taking my hand* she said, --"You must pardon me if I give you an old-fashioned reception, forI know nothing new. " And she saluted me. I did not, as with Mrs. Walsingham, retreat from her. 

"Can you forgive, Miss Burney, " she continued, "this greatliberty I have taken with you, of asking for your company todinner? I wished so impatiently to see one from whom I havereceived such extraordinary pleasure, that, as I could not bealone this morning, I could not bear to put it off to anotherday; and, if you had been so good to come in the evening, Imight, perhaps, have had company; and I hear so ill that Icannot, as I wish to do, attend to more than one at a time; forage makes me stupid even more than I am by nature; and howgrieved and mortified I must have been to know I had Miss Burneyin the room, and not to hear her!"

She then mentioned her regret that we could not stay and spendthe evening with her, which had been told her in our card ofaccepting her invitation, as we were both engaged, which, for mypart, I heartily regretted. 

"I am particularly sorry, " she added, "on account of the Duchessdowager of Portland, who is so good as to come to me in anevening, as she knows I am too infirm to wait upon her gracemyself: and she wished so much to see Miss Burney. But she saidshe would come as early as possible. "

Soon after we went to dinner, which was plain, neat, well cooked, and elegantly served. When it was over, I began to speak; andnow, my Chesington auditors, look to yourselves!

"Will you give me leave, ma'am, to ask if you remember any bodyof the name of Crisp?"

"Crisp?" cried she, "What! Mrs. Ann Crisp?"

"Yes, ma'am. "

"O surely! extremely well! a charming, an excellent woman shewas; we were very good friends once; I visited her at Burford, and her sister Mrs. Gast. "

Then came my turn, and I talked of the brother - but I won'twrite what I said. Mrs. Delany said she knew him but verylittle; and by no means so much as she should have liked. Ireminded her of267

a letter he wrote her from abroad, which she immediatelyrecollected. 

This Chesingtonian talk lasted till we went upstairs, and thenshe shewed me the new art which she had invented. It is stainingpaper of all possible colours, and then cutting it out, sofinely, and delicately, that when it is pasted on paper orvellum, it has all the appearance of being pencilled, exceptthat, by being raised, it has still a richer and more naturallook. The effect is extremely beautiful. She invented it attseventy-five! She told me she did four flowers the first year;sixteen the second; and the third, one hundred and sixty; andafter that many more. They are all from nature, and consist ofthe most curious flowers, plants, and weeds, that are to (befound. She has been supplied with patterns from all the greatgardens, and all the great florists in the kingdom. Her plan wasto finish one thousand; but, alas! her eyes now fail her thoughshe has only twenty undone of her task, about seven o'clock, the Duchess dowager of Portland came. Sheis not near so old as Mrs. Delany; nor, to me, is her face by anymeans so pleasing; but yet there is sweetness, and dignity, andintelligence in it. Mrs. Delany received her with the samerespectful ceremony as if it was her first visit, though sheregularly goes to her every evening. But what she at first tookas an honour and condescension, she has so much of true humilityof mind, that no use can make her see in any other light. Sheimmediately presented me to her. Her grace courtesied and smiledwith the most flattering air of pleasure, and said she wasparticularly happy in meeting with me. We then took our places, and Mrs. Delany said, --

"Miss Burney, ma'am, is acquainted with Mr. Crisp, whom yourgrace knew so well ; and she tells me he and his sister have beenso good as to remember me, and to mention me to her. "

the duchess instantly asked me a thousand questions abouthim--where he lived, how he had his health, and whether hisfondness for the polite arts still continued. She said he wasone of the most ingenious and agreeable men she had everknown, and regretted his having sequestered himself so much fromthe society of his former friends. 

IN the course of this conversation I found the duchess verycharming, high-bred, courteous, sensible, and spirited ; notmerely free from pride, but free from affability-its mostmortifying deputy. 

268

After this she asked me if I had seen Mrs. SiddOns, and what Ithought of her. I answered that I admired her very much. 

"If Miss Burney approves her, " said the duchess, "no approbation, I am sure, can do her so much credit ; for no One can soperfectly judge of characters or of human nature. "

"Ah, ma'am, " cried Mrs. Delany, archly, "and does your graceremember protesting you would never read 'Cecilia?'"

"Yes, " said she, laughing, "I declared that five volumes couldnever be attacked; but since I began I have read it three times. "

"O terrible!" cried I, "to make them out fifteen. "

"The reason, " continued she, "I held out so long against readingthem, was remembering the cry there was in favour of 'Clarissa'and 'Sir Charles Grandison, ' when they came out, and those Inever could read. I was teased into trying both of them; but Iwas disgusted with their tediousness, and could not read elevenletters, with all the effort I could make: so much about mysisters and my brothers, and all my uncles and my aunts!"

"But if your grace had gone on with 'Clarissa, '" said Mrs. Chapone, "the latter part must certainly have affected you, andcharmed you. "(176)

"O, I hate any thing so dismal! Every body that did read it hadmelancholy faces for a week. 'Cecilia' is as pathetic as I canbear, and more sometimes; yet, in the midst of the sorrow, thereis a spirit in the writing, a fire in the whole composition, thatkeep off that heavy depression given by Richardson. Cry, to besure, we did. Mrs. Delany, shall you ever forget how we cried?But then we had so much laughter to make us amends, we were neverleft to sink under our concern. "

I am really ashamed to write on. 

"For my part, " said Mrs. Chapone, "when I first read it, I didnot cry at all; I was in an agitation that half killed me, thatshook all nerves, and made me unable to sleep at nights, from thesuspense I was in! but I could not cry, for excess of eagerness. "

"I only wish, " said the duchess, "Miss Burney could have been insome corner, amusing herself with listening to us, 269

when Lord Weymouth, and the Bishop of Exeter, and Mr. Lightfoot, and Mrs. Delany, and I, were all discussing the point -of thename. So earnest we were, she must have been diverted with us. Nothing, the nearest our own hearts and interests, could havebeen debated more warmly. The bishop was quite as eager as anyof us; but what cooled us a little, at last, was Mr. Lightfoot'sthinking we were seriously going to quarrel; and while Mrs. Delany and I were disputing about Mrs. Delvile, he very gravelysaid, 'Why, ladies, this is only a matter of imagination; it isnot a fact: don't be so earnest. '"

"Ah, ma'am, " said Mrs. Delany, "how hard your grace was upon Mrs. Delvile: so elegant, so sensible, so judicious, so charming awoman. "

"O, I hate her, " cried the duchess, "resisting that sweetCecilia; coaxing her, too, all the time, with such hypocriticalflattery. "

"I shall never forget, " said Mrs. Delany, "your grace'searnestness when we came to that part where Mrs. Delvile bursts ablood vessel. Down dropped the book, and just with the sameenergy as if your grace had heard some real and important news, You called out, 'I'm glad of it with all my heart!'"

"What disputes, too, " said Mrs. Chapone, "there are about Briggs. I was in a room some time ago where somebody said there could beno such character; and a poor little mean city man, who wasthere, started up and said, 'But there is though, for I'se onemyself!'"

"The Harrels!--O, then the Harrels!" cried Mrs. Delany. 

"If you speak of the Harrels, and of the morality of the book, "cried the duchess, with a solemn sort of voice, "we shall, indeed, never give Miss Burney her due: so striking, so pure, sogenuine, SO instructive. "

"Yes, " cried Mrs. Chapone, "let us complain how we will of thetorture she has given our nerves, we must all join in saying shehas bettered us by every line. "

"No book, " said Mrs. Delany, "ever was so useful as this, becausenone other that is so good was ever so much read. "

I think I need now write no more. I could, indeed, hear no more;for this last so serious praise, from characters so respectable, so moral, and so aged, quite affected me; and though I had wisheda thousand times during the discourse to run out of the room, when they gave me finally this solemn sanction to the meaning andintention of my writing, I found it not without difficulty that Icould keep the tears out of my eyes; and270

when I told what had passed to our sweet father, his cup quiteran over. 

The duchess had the good sense and judgment to feel she had drawnup her panegyric to a climax, and therefore here she stopped; so, however, did not we, for our coach was ready. 

 ILLNESS AND DEATH OF MR. CRISP. 

(Fanny Burney to Mr. Crisp. )April 12, 1783. 

My dearest--dearest daddy, I am more grieved at the long and most disappointing continuationof your illness than I know how to tell YOU ; and though my lastaccount, I thank heaven, is better, I find you still suffer somuch, that my congratulations in my letter to Susan, upon what Ithought your recovery, must have appeared quite crazy, if you didnot know me as well as you do, and were not sure what afflictionthe discovery of my mistake would bring to myself. I think Inever yet so much wished to be at Chesington, as at this time, that I might see how YOU go On, and not be kept in such painfulsuspense from post to post. 

Why did you tell me of the DelaDYS, Portlands, Cambridges, etc. , as if any of them came into competition with yourself? When youare better, I shall send you a most fierce and sharp remonstranceupon this subject. At present I must be content with saying, Iwill undoubtedly accept your most kind invitation as soon as Ipossibly can. Meantime, if my letters will give you anyamusement, I will write oftener than ever, and supply you withall the prog I get myself. 

Susan, who is my reader, must be your writer, and let me know ifsuch tittle-tattle as I can collect serves to divert some ofthose many moments of languor and weariness that creep betweenpain and ease, and that call more for mental food than for bodilymedicine. Your love to your Fannikin, I well know, makes alltrash interesting to you that seems to concern her ; and I haveno greater pleasure, when absent, than in letting you and my dearSusan be acquainted with my proceedings. I don't mean by thisto exclude the rest of the dear Chesington set--far from it---but a sister and a daddy must come first. 

God bless and restore you, my most dear daddy! You know

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not how kindly I take your thinking of me, and inquiring aboutme, in an illness that might so well make you forget us all; butSusan assures me your heart is as affectionate as ever to yourever and ever faithful and loving child, F. B. 

[Mr. Crisp's illness became so alarming, that Miss Burneyhastened to Chesington, where she had been only a few days whenher valued friend breathed his last. In reply to a letter, inwhich she had given Dr. Burney an account of Mr. Crisp'sincreasing sufferings, the doctor wrote:

"Ah! my dear Fanny, your last letter has broke all our hearts!your former accounts kept off despair; but this brings it back inall its horrors. I wish, if it were possible, that you would lethim know how much I loved him, and how heavily I shall feel hisloss when all this hurry subsides, and lets me have time to broodover my sorrows. I have always thought that, in manyparticulars, his equal was not to be found. His wit, learning, taste, penetration, and, when well, his conviviality, pleasantry, and kindness of heart to me and mine, will ever be thought ofwith the most profound and desponding regret. "

After the last mournful duties had been performed atChesington, (177) Miss Burney returned to her father's house inSt. Martin's-street; but some time elapsed ere she recoveredcomposure sufficient to resume her journal. ]

272 DR. JOHNSON ATTACKED BY PARALYSIS. 

Thursday, june 19. -We heard to-day that Dr. Johnson had beentaken ill, in a way that gave a dreadful shock to himself, and amost anxious alarm to his friends. Mr. Seward brought the newshere, and my father and I instantly went to his house. He hadearnestly desired me, when we lived so much together atStreatham, to see him frequently if he should be ill. He saw myfather, but he had medical people with him, and could not admitme upstairs, but he sent me down a most kind message, that hethanked me for calling, and when he was better should hope to seeme often. I had the satisfaction to hear from Mrs. Williams thatthe physicians had pronounced him to be in no danger, andexpected a speedy recovery. 

The stroke was confined to his tongue. Mrs. Williams told me amost striking and touching circumstance that attended the attack. It was at about four o'clock in the morning: he found himselfwith a paralytic affection; he rose, and composed in his own minda Latin prayer to the Almighty, "that whatever were thesufferings for which he must prepare himself, it would pleaseHim, through the grace and mediation of our blessed Saviour, tospare his intellects, and let them all fall upon his body. " Whenhe had composed this, internally, he endeavoured to speak italoud, but found his voice was gone. 

June 20. -I Went in the morning to Dr. Johnson, and heard a goodaccount of him. Dr. Rose, Dr. Dunbar, and Sam Rose, the Doctor'sson, dined with us. We expected the rest of our party earlythough the absence of Dr. Johnson, whom they were all invited tomeet, took off the spirit of the evening. 

July 1. -I had the satisfaction to hear from Sir Joshua that Dr. Johnson had dined with him at the Club. I look upon him, therefore, now, as quite recovered. I called the next morning tocongratulate him, and found him very gay and very good-humoured. 

 A PLEASANT DAY WITH THE CAMBRIDGES. 

July 15. -To-day my father, my mother, and I, went by appointmentto dine and spend the day at Twickenham with the Cambridges. Soon after our arrival Mr. C. Asked if we should like to walk, towhich we most readily agreed. 

We had not strolled far before we were followed by

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Mr. George. No sooner did his father perceive him, than, hastilycoming up to my side, he began a separate conversation with me;and leaving his son the charge of all the rest, he made me walkoff with him from them all. It was really a droll manoeuvre, buthe seemed to enjoy it highly, and though he said not a word ofhis design, I am sure it reminded me of his own old trick to hisson, when listening to a dull story, in saying to the relator, --"Tell the rest of that to George. " And if George was in asgood-humour with his party as his father was with his why, allwere well pleased. As soon as we had fairly got away from them, Mr. Cambridge, with the kindest smiles of satisfaction, said, --"Igive you my word I never was more pleased at any thing in my lifethan I am now at having you here to-day. "

I told him that I had felt so glad at seeing him again, after solong an absence, that I had really half a mind to have made up tohim myself, and shook hands. 

"You cannot imagine, " said he, "how you flatter me !-and there isnothing, I do assure you, of which I am prouder, than seeing youhave got the better of your fear of me, and feeling that I am notafraid of you. "

"Of me, sir?--but how should you be?"

"Nay, I give you my word, if I was not conscious of the greatestpurity of mind, I should more fear you than any body in theworld. You know everything, everybody, " he continued, "sowonderfully well!"

We then, I know not how, fell into discussing the characters offorward and flippant women; and I told him it was my fortune tobe, in general, a very great favourite with them, though I feltso little gratitude for that honour, that the smallestdiscernment would show them it was all thrown away. 

"Why, it is very difficult, " said he, "for a woman to get rid ofthose forward characters without making them her enemies. Butwith a man it is different. Now I have a very peculiarhappiness, which I will tell you. I never took very much to avery amiable woman but I found she took also to me, and I havethe good fortune to be in the perfect confidence of some of thefirst women in this kingdom; but then there are a great manywomen that I dislike, and think very impertinent and foolish, and, do you know, they all dislike me too!--they absolutelycannot bear me! Now, I don't know, of those two things, which isthe greatest happiness. "

How characteristic this!--do you not hear him saying it?

274

We. Now renewed our conversation upon various of ouracquaintances, particularly Mr. Pepys, Mr. Langton, and Mrs. Montagu. We stayed in this field, sitting and sauntering, nearan hour. We then went to a stile, just by the riverside, wherethe prospect is very beautiful, and there we seated ourselves. Nothing could be more pleasant, though the wind was so high I wasalmost blown into the water. 

He now traced to me great part of his life and conduct in formertimes, and told me a thousand excellent anecdotes of himself andhis associates. He summed them all up in a way that gave meequal esteem and regard for him, in saying he found society theonly thing for lasting happiness ; that, if he had not met awoman he could permanently love, he must with every otheradvantage have been miserable- but that such was his goodfortune, that "to and at this moment, " he said, "there is nosight so pleasing to me as seeing Mrs. Cambridge enter a room ;and that after having been married to her for forty years. Andthe next most pleasing sight to me is an amiable woman. "

He then assured me that almost all the felicity of his life bothhad consisted, and did still consist, in female society. It was, indeed, he said, very rare but there was nothing like it. 

"And if agreeable women, " cried I, "are rare, much more so, Ithink, are agreeable men; at least, among my acquaintance theyare very few, indeed, that are highly agreeable. "

"Yes, and when they are so, " said he, "it is difficult for you tohave their society with any intimacy or comfort; there'are alwaysso many reasons why you cannot know them. "

We continued chatting until we came to the end of the meadow, andthere we stopped, and again were joined by the company. 

Mr. Cambridge now proposed the water, to which I eagerly agreed. 

We had an exceeding pleasant excursion. We went up the riverbeyond the Duke of Montagu's, and the water was smooth anddelightful. Methinks I should like much to sail from the verysource to the mouth of the Thames. . . . 

After dinner we again repaired to the lawn, in a general body ;but -we- had scarce moved ten paces, before Mr. Cambridge againwalked off with me, to a seat that had a very "fine view ofPetersham wood, and there we renewed our confabulation. 

He now shewed me a note from Mr. Gibbon, sent to engage

275

himself to Twickenham on the unfortunate day he got hisducking. (178) It is the most affected little piece of writing Iever saw. He shall attend him, he says, at Twickenham, and uponthe water, as soon as the weather is propitious, and the Thames, that amiable creature, is ready, to receive him. 

Nothing, to be sure, could be so apt as such a reception as that"amiable creature" happened to give him! Mr. Cambridge said itwas "God's revenge against conceit. "

 DR. JOHNSON's HEROic FORBEARANCE. 

Tuesday, December 9-This evening at Mrs. Vesey's, Mr. GeorgeCambridge came, and took the chair half beside me. I told him ofsome new members for Dr. Johnson's club!(179)

"I think, " said he, " it sounds more like some club that onereads of in the 'Spectator, ' than like a real club in thesetimes; for the forfeits of a whole year will not amount to thoseof a single night in other clubs. Does Pepys belong to it?"

"Oh no! he is quite of another party! He is head man on the sideof the defenders of Lord Lyttelton. Besides, he has had enoughof Dr. Johnson; for they had a grand battle upon the 'Life ofLyttelton, ' at Streatham. "

"And had they really a serious quarrel? I never imagined it hadamounted to that. "

"yes, serious enough, I assure you. I never saw Dr. Johnsonreally in a passion but then: and dreadful, indeed, it was tosee. I wished myself away a thousand times. It was a frightfulscene. He so red, poor Mr. Pepysso pale!"

"But how did it begin? What did he say?"

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" Oh, Dr. Johnson came to the point without much ceremony. Hecalled out aloud, before a large company, at dinner, 'What haveyou to say, sir, to me or of me? Come forth, man! I hear youobject to my "Life of Lord Lyttelton. " What are your objections?If you have anything to say, let's hear it. Come forth, man, when I call you!'"

"What a call, indeed! Why, then, he fairly bullied him into aquarrel!"

"Yes. And I was the more sorry, because Mr. Pepys had begged ofme, before they met, not to let Lord Lyttelton be mentioned. NowI had no more power to prevent it than this macaroon cake in myhand. "

"It was behaving ill to Mrs. Thrale, certainly, to quarrel in herhouse. "

" Yes; but he never repeated it; though he wished of all thingsto have gone through just such another scene with Mrs, Montagu, and to refrain was an act of heroic forbearance. "

"Why, I rather wonder he did not ; for she was the head of theset of Lytteltonians. "

"Oh, he knows that; he calls Mr. Pepys only her prime minister. "

"And what does he call her ?

"Queen, ' to be sure! 'Queen of the blues. ' She came toStreatham one morning, and I saw he was dying to attack her. Buthe had made a promise to Mrs. Thrale to have no more quarrels inher house, and so he forced himself to forbear. Indeed he wasvery much concerned, when it was over, for what had passed; andvery candid and generous in acknowledging it. He is too noble toadhere to wrong. "

"And how did Mrs. Montagu herself behave?"

"Very stately, indeed, at first. She turned from him verystiffly, and with a most distant air, and without evencourteseying to him, and with a firm intention to keep to whatshe had publicly declared--that she would never speak to himmore! However, he went up to her himself, longing to begin! andvery roughly said, --'Well, madam, what's become of your fine newhouse? I hear no more of it. '

" But how did she bear this?"

" Why she was obliged to answer him; and she soon grew sofrightened--as everybody else does--that she was as civil asever. "

he laughed heartily at this account. But I told him Dr. Johnsonwas now much softened. He had acquainted me, 277

when I saw him last, that he had written to her upon the death ofMrs. Williams, because she had allowed her something yearly, which now ceased. 'And I had a very kind answer from her, ' saidhe. 

"'Well then, sir, ' cried I, 'I hope peace now will be againproclaimed. '"

"'Why, I am now, ' said he, 'come to that time when I wish allbitterness and animosity to be at an end. I have never done herany serious harm--nor would I; though I could give her a bite!--but she must provoke me much first. In volatile talk, indeed, Imay have spoken of her not much to her mind; for in the tumult ofconversation malice is apt to grow sprightly! and there, I hope, I am not yet decrepid!'"

He quite laughed aloud at this characteristic speech. 

I most readily assured the doctor that I had never yet seen himlimp. "

 "SWEET BEWITCHING MRS. LOCKE. "

Friday, April 23, 1784. -The sweet and most bewitching Mrs. Lockecalled upon me in the evening, with her son George. (179) I lether in and did so rejoice I had not gone to Mrs. Vesey's. But Irejoiced for only a short time; she came but to take leave, forshe was going to Norbury the very next morning. I was quiteheavy all the evening. She does truly interest both head andheart. I love her already. And she was so kind, so caressing, so soft ; pressed me so much to fix a time for going to Norbury ;said such sweet things of Mrs. Phillips; and kissed me soaffectionately in quitting me, that I was quite melted by her. 

What a charm has London lost for me by her departure sweet creature that she is ; born and bred to dispense pleasure and delightto all who see or know her! She, Mrs. Thrale and Mrs. Delany, intheir several ways all excellent, possess the joint powers ofwinning the affections, while they delight the intellects, to thehighest summit I can even conceive of human attraction. Theheart-fascination of Mrs. Thrale, indeed, few know - but thosefew must confess and must feel her sweetness, to them, is ascaptivating as her wit is brilliant to all. 

278

 MRS. THRALE'S SECOND MARRIAGE. 

(Mrs. Thrale to Fanny Burney. )Mortimer-st. , Cavendish-sq. Tuesday night, May (11), 1784. 

I am come, dearest Burney. It is neither dream nor fiction, though I love you dearly, or I would not have come. Absence anddistance do nothing towards wearing out real affection so youshall always find it in your true and tender H. L. T. 

I am somewhat shaken bodily, but 'tis the mental shocks that havemade me unable to bear the corporeal ones. 'Tis past teno'clock, however, and I must lay myself down with the sweetexpectation of seeing my charming friend in themorning to breakfast. I love Dr. Burney too well to fear him, and he loves me too well to say a word which should make me lovehim less. 

May 17. -Let me now, my Susy, acquaint you a little moreconnectedly than I have done of late how I have gone on. Therest of that week I devoted almost wholly to sweet Mrs. Thrale, whose society was truly the most delightful of cordials to me, however, at times, mixed with bitters the least palatable. WereI not sensible of her goodness, and full of incurable affectionfor her, should I not be a monster? . . . 

I parted most reluctantly with my dear Mrs. Thrale, whom, when orhow I shall see again heaven only knows ! but in sorrow weparted--on my side in real affliction. 

[Towards the end of July in this year, Mrs. Thrale's secondmarriage took place with Mr. Piozzi, and Miss Burney Went aboutthe same time to Norbury Park, where she passed some weeks withMr and Mrs. Locke. The following "sketch" of a letter, andmemorandum of what had recently passed between Mrs. Piozzi andherself, is from the journal of that period. ]

(Fanny Burney to Mrs. Piozzi. )Norbury Park, Aug. 10, 1784. 

 When my wondering eyes first looked over the letter I receivedlast night, my mind instantly dictated a high-spirited279

vindication of the consistency, integrity, and faithfulness ofthe friendship thus abruptly reproached and cast away. But asleepless night gave me leisure to recollect that you were everas generous as precipitate, and that your own heart would dojustice to mine, in the cooler judgment of future reflection. Committing myself, therefore, to that period, I determined Simplyto assure you, that if my last letter hurt either you or Mr. Piozzi, I am no less sorry than surprised; and that if itoffended you, I sincerely beg your pardon. 

Not to that time, however, can I wait to acknowledge the pain anaccusation so unexpected has caused me, nor the heartfeltsatisfaction with which I shall receive, when you are able towrite it, a softer renewal of regard. 

May heaven direct and bless you! F. B. 

N. B. --This is the sketch of the answer which F. B. Most painfullywrote to the unmerited reproach of not sending "cordialcongratulations" upon a marriage which she had uniformly, openly, and with deep and avowed affliction, thought wrong. 

(Mrs. Piozzi to Fanny Burney)Wellbeck-st. , NO, 33, Cavendish-sq. , Friday, Aug. 13, 1784. 

Give yourself no serious concern, sweetest Burney. All is well, and I am too happy myself to make a friend otherwise; quiet yourkind heart immediately, and love my husband if you love his andyour H. L. Piozzi. 

N. B. -To this kind note, F. B. Wrote the warmest and mostaffectionate and heartfelt reply; but never received anotherword! And here and thus stopped a correspondence of six years ofalmost unequalled partiality, and fondness on her side ; andaffection, gratitude, admiration, and sincerity on that of 'F. B. , who could only conjecture the cessation to be caused by theresentment of Piozzi, when informed of her constant opposition tothe union. 

 A HAPPY HOME. 

Friday, Oct. 8. -I set off with my dear father for Chesington, where we passed five days very comfortably ; my father was allgood humour, all himself, --such as you and I mean by that

280

word. The next day we had the blessing of your Dover letter(180)and on Thursday, Oct. :14, I arrived at dear Norbury Park 'atabout seven o'clock, after a pleasant ride in the dark. Lockemost kindly and cordially welcomed me; he came out upon the stepsto receive me, and his beloved Fredy(181) waited for me in thevestibule. Oh, with what tenderness did she take me to herbosom! I felt melted with her kindness, but I could not expressa joy like hers, for my heart was very fullfull of my dearestSusan, whose image seemed before me upon the spot where we had solately been together. They told me that Madame de la Fite, herdaughter, and Mr. Hinde, were in the house; but as I am now, Ihope, come for a long time, I did not vex at hearing this. Theirfirst inquiries were if I had not heard from Boulogne. (182)

Saturday. -I fully expected a letter, but none came; but Sunday Idepended upon one. The post, however, did not arrive before wewent to church. Madame de la Fite, seeing my sorrowful looks, good naturedly asked Mrs. Locke what could be set about to diverta little la pauvre Mademoiselle Beurney? and proposed reading adrama of Madame de Genlis. I approved it much, preferring itgreatly to conversation and accordingly, she and her daughter, each taking characters to themselves, read "La Rosire deSalency. " It is a very interesting and touchingly simple littledrama. I was so much pleased that they afterwards regularly readone every evening while they stayed. 

Next morning I went up stairs as usual, to treat myself with asolo of impatience for the post, and at about twelve o'clock Iheard Mrs. Locke stepping along the passage. I was sure of goodnews, for I knew, if there was bad, poor Mr. Locke would havebrought it. She came in, with three letters in her hand, andthree thousand dimples in her cheeks and chin! Oh, my dear Susy, what a sight to me was your hand ! I hardly cared for the letter;I hardly desired to open it ; the direction alone almostsatisfied me sufficiently. How did Mrs. Locke embrace me! I halfkissed her to death. O Then came dear Mr. Locke, his eyesbrighter than ever--"Well, how does she do?"

281

This question forced me to open my letter; all was just as Icould wish, except that I regretted the having written the daybefore such a lamentation. I was so congratulated! I shook handswith Mr. Locke; the two dear little girls came jumping to wish mejoy and Mrs. Locke ordered a fiddler, that they might have adance in the evening, which had been promised them from the timeof Mademoiselle de la Fite's arrival, but postponed from day to day, by general desire, on account of my uneasiness. 

Monday, Oct. 25-Mr. Hinde and Madame and Mademoiselle de la Fiteall left us. They were all so good humoured and so happy, therewas no being glad ; though how to be sorry at remaining alonewith this family, I really know not. Both the De la Fites wentaway in tears. I love them for it. 

Wednesday, Nov. 3-This day has brought ine another sweet letterfrom my Susy. What a set of broken-fortuned, brokencharacteredpeople of fashion are about you at Boulogne. (183) The accountsare at once curious and melancholy to me. 

Nothing can be more truly pleasant than our present lives. Ibury all disquietudes in immediate enjoyment; an enjoyment morefitted to my secret mind than any I had ever hoped to attain. Weare so perfectly tranquil, that not a particle of our wholeframes seems ruffled or discomposed. , Mr. Locke is gayer and moresportive than I ever have seen him; his Freddy seems made up ofhappiness; and the two dear little girls are in spirits almostecstatic; and all from that internal contentment which NorburyPark seems to have gathered from all corners of the world intoits own sphere. Our mornings, if fine, are to ourselves, as . Mr. Locke rides out;if bad, we assemble in the picture room. We have two books inpublic reading: Madame de S6vigne's "Letters, " and Cook's last"Voyage. " Mrs. Locke reads the French, myself the English. 

Our conversations, too, are such as I could almost wish to lastfor ever. Mr. Locke has been all himself, -all instruction, information, and intelligence, --since we have been left alone;and the invariable sweetness, as well as judgment, of all hesays, leaves, indeed, nothing to wish. They will not let me gowhile I can stay, and I am now most willing to stay till I mustgo. The serenity of a life like this, 282

smoothes the whole internal surface of the mind. My own I assureyou, begins to feel quite glossy. To see Mrs. Locke so entirelyrestored to total health, and to see her adoring husband lose allhis torturing Solicitude, while he retains his Unparalleledtenderness-these are sights to anticipate a taste of paradise, ifparadise has any felicity consonant to our now ideas. 

Tuesday, Nov. 9. - This is Mr. William Locke's birthday; he is nowseventeen. He came home, with his brothers, to keep it, threedays ago. May they all be as long-lived and as happy as they arenow sweet and amiable! This sweet place is beautiful even yet, though no longer of a beauty young and blooming, such as you leftit; but the character Of the prospect is so 'grand that wintercannot annihilate its charms, though it greatly diminishes them. The variety of the grounds, and the striking form of the hills, always afford something new to observe, and contain somethinglasting to admire. Were 1, however, in a desert, people such asthese would make it gay and cheery. 

 LADY F. 's ANGER AT MRS. PIOZZI'S MARRIAGE. 

(Fanny Burney to Mrs. Locke. )St. Martin's-st. , Nov. 14. 

. . . . . I had a very unpleasant morning after I left you. Whenthe coach and I had waited upon my father, I made the visit Imentioned to you. O what a visit!--all that I pre-supposed ofattack, inquiry, and acrimony, was nothing to what passed. Ragemore intemperate I have not often seen ; and the shrill voice offeeble old age, screaming with unavailing passion is horrible. She had long looked upon Mrs. Thrale as a kind of prot6ge, whomshe had fondled as a child, and whose fame, as she grew intonotice, she was always proud to hear of, and help to exalt. She is a woman (I can well attest !) of most furious passionsherself, however at liberty she thinks she may be to show no sortof mercy to those of another. 

Once, had I been less disturbed, I could have laughed; for shedeclared with great vehemence, that if she had suspected "thewretch of any intention to marry the man, she would have orderedher own postchaise, and followed her to prevent it!"283

Alas, poor Lady F. 

She then called upon me, to hear my story ; which, most painfullyto myself, I related. She expressed herself very sorry for me, till I came to an avowal of my letter after the marriage she thenflew out into new choler. "I am amazed you would write to her, Miss Burney! I wonder you could think of it any more. 

I told her, I had thought myself so much indebted to her patiencewith my opposition to all her views and wishes for the whole tineof her long conflict, that, although I was the first toacknowledge her last action indefensible, I should be the last toforget all that had made me love her before it was committed. 

This by no means satisfied her, and she poured forth again atorrent of unrelenting abuse. Some company, at last, came in, and I hastily took my leave. She called after me to fix some dayfor a longer visit ; but I pretended not to hear, and ran downstairs, heartily resolving that necessity alone should ever forceme into her presence again. 

When I came home--before I could get upstairs--I was summoned toMiss Streatfield, whom I met with as little pleasure as Lady F. , since I had never seen her, nor indeed anybody, from the timethis cruel transaction has been published. Not that I dreadedher violence, for she is as gentle as a lamb but there werecauses enough for dread of another nature. However fortunatelyand unexpectedly, she never named the subject, but prattled awayupon nothing but her own affairs; and so, methinks, have I donetoo, and just as if I knew you wished to hear them. Do you?--Iask only for decency's sake. 

 DR. JOHNSON's FAILING HEALTH. 

Norbury Park, Sunday, Nov. 28. -Last Thursday, my father set medown at Bolt-court, while lie went on upon business. I wasanxious to again see poor Dr. Johnson, who has had terriblehealth since his return from Lichfield. He let me in, thoughvery ill. He was alone, which I much rejoiced at; for I had alonger and more satisfactory conversation with him than I havehad for many months. He was in rather better spirits, too, thanI had lately seen him. But he told me he was going to try whatsleeping Out of town might do for him284

"I remember, " said he, "that my wife, when she was near her end, poor woman, was also advised to sleep out of town, and when shewas carried to the lodgings that had been prepared for her, shecomplained that the staircase was in very bad condition--for theplaster was beaten off the wall in many places. 'Oh, ' said theman of the house, 'that's nothing but by the knocks against it ofthe coffins of the poor souls that have died in the lodgings. '

 He laughed, though not without apparent secret anguish, intelling me this. I felt extremely shocked, but, willing toconfine my words at least to the literal story, I only exclaimedagainst the unfeeling absurdity of such a confession. 

"Such a confession, " cried he, "to a person then coming to tryhis lodgings for her health, contains, indeed, more absurditythan we can well lay our account for. "

I had seen Miss Thrale the day before. 

"So, " said he, "did I. "

I then said, --"Do you ever, sir, hear from her mother?"

"No, " cried he, "nor write to her. I drive her quite from mymind. If I meet with one of her letters, I burn it instantly. Ihave burnt all I can find. I never speak of her, and I desirenever to hear of her more. I drive her, as I said, wholly frommy mind. "

Yet, wholly to change this discourse, I gave him a history of theBristol milk-woman, and told him the tales I had heard of herwriting so wonderfully, though she had read nothing but Young andMilton "though those, " I continued, "could never possibly, Ishould think, be the first authors with anybody. Would childrenunderstand them? and grown people who have not read are childrenin literature. "

"Doubtless, " said he; "but there is nothing so littlecomprehended among mankind as what is genius. They give to itall, when it can be but a part. Genius is nothing more thanknowing the use of tools - but there must be tools for it to use:a man who has spent all his life in this room will give a verypoor account of what is contained in the next. " '

"Certainly, sir ; yet there is such a thing as invention. Shakspeare could never have seen a Caliban. "

" No; but he had seen a man, and knew, therefore, how to vary himto a monster. A man who would draw a monstrous cow, must firstknow what a cow commonly is; or how can he tell that to give heran ass's head or an elephant's tusk will make her monstrous. Suppose you show me a man who is a very285

expert carpenter; another will say he was born to be acarpenter-but what if he had never seen any wood? Let two men, one with genius, the other with none, look at an overturnedwaggon ; he who has no genius, will think of the waggon only ashe sees it, overturned, and walk on ; he who has genius, willpaint it to himself before it was overturned-standing still, andmoving on, and heavy loaded, and empty ; but both must see thewaggon, to think of it at all. "

He then animated, and talked on, upon this milk-woman, upon aonce as famous shoemaker, and upon our immortal Shakspeare, withas much fire, spirit, wit, and truth of criticism and judgment, as ever yet I have heard him. How delightfully bright are hisfaculties, though the poor and infirm machine that contains themseems alarmingly giving way. 

Yet, all brilliant as he was, I saw him growing worse, andoffered to go, which, for the first time I ever remember, he didnot oppose; but, most kindly pressing both my hands, --

"Be not, " he said, in a voice of even tenderness, "be not longerin Coming again for my letting you go now. "

I assured him I would be the sooner, and was running off. But hecalled me back, in a solemn voice, and, in a manner the mostenergetic, said, --

"Remember me in your prayers!"

I longed to ask him to remember me, but did not dare. I gave himmy promise, and, very heavily indeed, I left him. Great, good, and excellent that he Is, how short a time will he be our boast!Ah, my dear Susy, I see he is going! This winter will neverconduct him to a more genial season here! Elsewhere, who shallhope a fairer? I wish I had bid him pray for me, but it seemedto me presumptuous. 

 DR. JOHNSON DYING. His DEATH. 

Wednesday, Dec. 8. -At night my father brought us the most dismaltidings of dear Dr. Johnson. Dr. Warren had seen him, and toldhim to take what opium he pleased! He had thanked and taken leaveof all his physicians. Alas!--I shall lose him, and he will takeno leave of me!(184) My father was deeply depressed ; he hashimself tried in vain for admission this week. Yet some peoplesee him--the Hooles, Mr. Sastres, 286

Mr. Langton;--but then they must be in the house, watching forone moment, whole hours. I hear from every one he is nowperfectly resigned to his approaching fate, and no longer interror of death. I am thankfully happy in hearing that he speakshimself now of the change his mind has undergone, from its darkhorror--and says--"He feels the irradiation of hope, " Good, andpious, and excellent Christian--who shall feel it if not he?

Dec. 11. -We had a party to dinner, by long appointment, forwhich, indeed, none of us were well disposed, the apprehension ofhearing news only of death being hard upon us all. The partywas, Dr. Rose, Dr. Gillies, Dr. Garthshore, and Charles. 

The day could not be well--but mark the night. 

My father, in the morning, saw this first of men! I had not hisaccount till bed-time; he feared over-exciting me. He would not, he said, but have seen him for worlds! He happened to be better, and admitted him. He Was up, and very composed. He took hishand very kindly, asked after all his family, and then, inparticular, how Fanny did? "I hope, " he said, "Fanny did nottake it amiss that I did not see her? I was very bad!"

Amiss!--what a Word! Oh that I had been present to have answeredit! My father stayed, I suppose, half an hour, and then wascoming away. He again took his hand, and encouraged him to comeagain to him ; and when he Was taking leave, said--"Tell Fanny topray for me!"

Ah! dear Dr. Johnson! might I but have your prayers! Afterwhich, still grasping his hand, he made a prayer for himself, --the most fervent, pious, humble, eloquent, and touching, myfather says, that ever was composed. Oh, would I had heard it!He ended it with Amen! in which my father joined, and was echoedby all present. And again, when my father was leaving him, hebrightened up, something of his arch look returned, and he said--"I think I shall throw the ball at Fanny yet!"

Little more passed ere my father came away, decided, mosttenderly, not to tell me this till our party was done. 

This most earnestly increased my desire to see him; this kind andfrequent Mention of me melted me into double sorrow and regret. I would give the world I had but gone to him that day! It was, however, Impossible, and the day was over before I knew he hadsaid what I look upon as a call to me. This287

morning, (185) after church time, I went. Frank(186) said hewas very ill, and saw nobody; I told him I had understood by myfather the day before that he meant 'to see me. He thenlet me in. I went into his room up stairs; he was in his bedroom. I saw it crowded, and ran hastily down. Frank told me his masterhad refused seeing even Mr. Langton. I told him merely to say Ihad called, but by no means to press my admission. His ownfeelings were all that should be consulted ; his tenderness, Iknew, Would be equal, whether he was able to see me or not. 

I went into the parlour, preferring being alone in the cold, toany company with a fire. Here I waited long, here and upon thestairs, which I ascended and descended to meet again with Frank, and make inquiries ; but I met him not. At last, upon Dr. Johnson's ringing his bell, I saw Frank enter his room, and Mr. Langton follow. "Who's that?" I heard him say; they answered, "Mr. Langton, " and I found he did not return. 

Soon after, all the rest went away but a Mrs. Davis, a good sortof woman, whom this truly charitable soul had sent for to take adinner at his house. I then went and waited with her by thefire ; it was, however, between three and four o'clock before Igot any answer. Mr. Langton then came himself. He could not look at me, and I turned away from him. Mrs. Davisasked how the doctor was? "Going on to death very fast!" was hismournful answer. "Has he taken, " said she, "anything?""Nothing at all! We carried him some bread and milk--he refusedit, and said--'The less the better. '" She asked more questions, by which I found his faculties were perfect, his mind composed, and his dissolution was quick drawing on. . . . 

I could not immediately go on, and it is now long since I havewritten at all; but I will go back to this afflicting theme, which I can now better bear. 

Mr. Langton was, I believe, a quarter of an hour in the roombefore I suspected he meant to speak to me, never looking nearme. At last he said--

"This poor man, I understand, ma'am, desired yesterday to seeyou. "

"My understanding that, sir, brought me here to-day. "

"Poor man! it is a pity he did not know himself better, and thatyou should have had this trouble. "

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"Trouble!" cried I; "I would have come a hundred times to see himthe hundredth and first!"

"He hopes, now, you will excuse him ; he is very sorry not to seeyou; but he desired me to come and speak to you myself, and tellyou he hopes you will excuse him, for he feels himself too weakfor such an interview. "

I hastily got up, left him my most affectionate respects, andevery good wish I could half utter, and ran back to the coach. Ah, my Susy! I have never been to Bolt-court since! I then droveto poor Miss Strange, (187) to make inquiries of the maid butAndrew ran out to the coach door, and told me all hope was at anend. In short, the next day was fatal to both !-the same day!

December 20. -This day was the ever-honoured, ever-lamented Dr. Johnson committed to the earth. Oh, how sad a day to me! Myfather attended, and so did Charles. (188) I could not keep myeyes dry all day; nor can I now, in the recollecting it; but letme pass over what to mourn Is now so vain!

December 30. --In the evening I went to Mrs. Chapone. I was late, on account of the coach, and all her party was assembled. Thiswas the first time I had seen any of them, except Mrs. Ord, sincelast spring. I was received with the utmost kindness by themall, but chiefly by Mrs. Chapone herself, who has really, Ibelieve, a sincere regard for me. I had talk with all of them, except Mrs. Levison, with whom I have merely a courtesyingacquaintance. But I was very sad within; the loss of dear Dr. Johnson--the flight of Mrs. Thrale, the death of poor Miss KittyCambridge, and of poor, good Miss Strange, --all these home andbosom strokes, which had all struck me since my last meeting thissociety, were revolving in my mind the whole time I stayed. 

Sir Lucas Pepys talked to me a great deal of Mrs. Thrale, andread me a letter from her, which seems to shew her gay and happy. I hope it shews not false colours. No one else named her - butpoor Dr. Johnson was discussed repeatedly. How melancholy willall these circumstances render these once so pleasant meetings. 

(153) "Memoirs of Dr. Burney, " vol. Ii. P. 110. 

(154) The physician, afterwards Sir Lucas Pepys. -ED. 

(155) A character in "Cecilia. "-ED. 

(156) The master of the ceremonies. 

(157) Philip Metcalf, elected member of Parliament for Horsham, together with Mr. Crutchley, in 1784. -ED. 

(158) Miss Burney had seen this gentleman a few days previouslyand thus speaks of him in her "Diary. " -Mr. Kaye of theDragoons, --a baronet's son, and a very tall, handsome, andagreeable-looking young man; and, is the folks say, it is he forwhom all the belles here are sighing. I was glad to see heseemed quite free from the nonchalance, impertinence of thetimes. "-ED. 

(159) Afterwards Countess of Cork and Orrery. 

(160) The Thrales and Fanny were now again in London, whitherthey returned from Brighton, November 20. Mrs, Thrale had takena house in Argyle-street, -ED. 

(161) Lady Margaret Cavendish Harley, daughter of Robert Harley, Earl of Oxford; married, in 1734, to the second Duke of Portland, She inherited from her father a taste for literature. She wasthe constant associate of Mrs. Delaney, and an old friend of Mr. Crisp. Of Mrs. Delany we shall give some account hereafter-ED. I

(162) Mrs. Greville's maiden name was Frances Macartney. -ED. 

(163) The miserly guardian of Cecilia, in Fanny's novel. Among the "Fragments of the journal of Charlotte Anne Burney, "appended to the "Early Diary, " occurs the following passage, written at the end of 1782. "Fanny's Cecilia came out lastsummer, and is as much liked and read I believe as any book everwas. She had 250 pounds for it from Payne and Cadell. Mostpeople say she ought to have had a thousand. It is now goinginto the third edition, though Payne owns that they printed 2, 000at the first edition, and Lowndes told me five hundred was thecommon number for a novel. " ("Early Diary, " vol. Ii. P. 307. )-ED. 

(164) Richard Burke, the only son of the great Edmund. He diedin 1794, before his father. -ED. 

(165) Sir Joshua Reynolds was then in his sixtieth year; he wasborn in 1723. -ED. 

(166) She copied pictures cleverly and painted portraits. -ED. 

(167) Probably the Hon. Thomas Erskine, afterwirds LordChancellor. -ED. 

(168) Richard Owen Cambridge, a gentleman admired for his wit inconversation, and esteemed as an author. "He wrote a burlesquepoem called 'The Scribleriad, ' and was a principal contributor tothe periodical paper called 'The World. '" He died in 1802, athis villa on the banks of the Thames, near Twickenham, agedeighty-five years. -ED. 

(169) Mrs. Ord was a famous blue-stocking and giver of literaryparties, and a constant friend of Fanny's-ED. 

(170) The Rev. George Owen Cambridge, second son of Richard OwenCambridge, whose works he edited, and whose memoir he wrote. Hedied at Twickenham in 1841. -ED. 

(171 John Hoole, the translator of Tasso. -ED. 

(172) Frances Reynolds, the miniature painter, -Sir Joshua'ssister-ED. 

(173) Soame Jenyns was one of the most celebrated of the "oldwits. " He was born in 1704; was for twenty-five years member ofParliament for Cambridgeshire; died in 1787. His principal workswere "A Free Enquiry into the Origin of Evil, " and "A View of theInternal Evidence of the Christian Religion. " Boswell writes ofhim: "Jenyns was possessed of lively talents, and a styleeminently pure and 'easy', and could very happily play with alight subject, either in prose or verse; but when he speculatedon that most difficult and excruciating question, 'The Origin ofEvil, ' he ventured far beyond his depth, and, accordingly, wasexPosed by Johnson [in the 'Literary Magazine'), both with acuteargument and brilliant wit. "-ED. 

(174) "Memoirs of Dr. Burney, " vol. Iii. P. 169. 

(175) Hester Mulso was born in 1727; she married, in 1760, anattorney named Chapone, who died within a year of the marriage. Among the many young ladies who surrounded and corresponded withSamuel Richardson, Hester was a first favourite. The greatnovelist's letters to his "dear Miss Mulso" are very pleasant toread. Mrs. Chapone enjoyed considerable esteem as an authoress. Her "Letters on the Improvement of the Mind, " dedicated to Mrs. Montagu, went through several editions. We should like to praisethem, but the truth must be owned--they are Vdecidedlycommonplace and "goody-goody. " Still, they are written in aspirit of tender earnestness, which raises our esteem for thewriter, though it fails to reconcile us to the book. Mrs. Chapone died on Christmas-day, 18o1. -ED. 

(176) Truly said, "my dear Miss Mulso, " but if they cannot feelthe wonderful charm and reality of "Clarissa" in the very firstvolume, they may as well leave it alone. -ED. 

(177) In a corner of the nave of the quaint little church atChesington is a large white marble tablet, marking the spot whereMr. Crisp lies buried. The following lines from the pen ofFanny's father inscribed on it do not, it must be confessed, exhibit the doctor's poetical talents by any means in afavourable light. "In memory Of SAMUEL CRISP, Esq. , who died April 24, 1783, aged 76. 

Reader, this cold and humble spot containsThe much lamented, much rever'd remainsOf one whose wisdom, learning, taste, and sense, Good-humour'd wit and wide benevolenceCheer'd and enlightened all this hamlet round, Wherever genius, worth, or want was found. To few it is that bounteous heav'n impartsSuch depth of knowledge, and such taste in artsSuch penetration, and enchanting pow'rsOf brit'ning social and convivial hours. Had he, through life, been blest by nature kindWith health robust of body as of mind, With skill to serve and charm mankind, so greatIn arts, in science, letters, church, or state, His name the nation's annals had enroll'dAnd virtues to remotest ages told. "C. BURNEY. "

(177) Mr, Gibbon, "in stepping too lightly from, or to a boat ofMr. Cambridge's, had slipt into the Thames; whence, however, hewas intrepidly and immediately rescued, with no other mischiefthan a wet jacket, by one of that fearless, water-proof race, denominated, by Mr. Gibbon, the amphibious family of theCambridges. " (" Memoir of Dr. Burney, " vol. Ii. P. 341. )-ED. 

(178) The "Essex Head" club, just founded by Dr. Johnson. Themeetings were held thrice a week at the Essex Head, a tavern inEssex-street, Strand, kept by Samuel Greaves, an old servant ofMr. Thrale's. Among the rule's of the club, which were drawn upby Dr. Johnson, we find the following: "Every member present atthe club shall spend at least sixpence; and every member whostays away shall forfeit threepence. " He ought to have added, "tobe spen by the company in punch. " (See Goldsmith's delightfulessay on the London clubs. )-ED. 

(179) The Lockes, of Norbury Park, Surrey, were friends ofFanny's sister, Mrs. Phillips, and, subsequently, among the mostconstant and attached friends of Fanny herself. -ED. 

(180) It must be borne in mind that the, Diary " is addressed toFanny's sister Susan (Mrs. Phillips), -ED. 

(181) Mrs. Locke. -ED. 

(182) Mrs. Phillips had lately gone to live at Boulogne for thebenefit of her health. -ED. 

(183) Mrs. Phillips returned in less than a twelvemonth fromBoulogne, much recovered in health, and settled with her husbandand family in a house at MickIcham, at the foot of Norbury Park. 

(184) Fanny had called upon Dr. Johnson the same day, but he wastoo ill to see her. -ED. 

(185) Sunday, December 12. -ED. 

(186) Frank Barber, Dr. Johnson's negro servant. -ED. 

(187) Mary Bruce Strange, daughter of Sir Robert Strange, thecelebrated engraver. She died, as Fanny tells us, on the sameday with Dr. Johnson, December 13, 1784, aged thirty-five. TheStranges were old and very intimate friends of the Burneys-ED. I

(188) Her brother-ED. 

289 SECTION 6 (1785-6. )

 MISS BURNEY IS FAVOURABLY NOTICED BY THE KING AND QUEEN. 

[The pleasantest portion of the following section of the Diary isthat which relates to the growing intimacy between Fanny and Mrs. Delany. It was a friendship, however, which proved dear to Fannyin every sense of the word. On the one hand the mutual affectionwhich subsisted between her and a lady in every way so worthy ofher regard, was a source of continual gratification to both ; onthe other hand it was the immediate cause of an event which maybe, without exaggeration, described as the greatest misfortune ofFanny's life--her ill-starred appointment at Court. We fullyshare Macaulay's indignation at this absurd and singularlyunsuitable appointment. Its consequences to Fanny were almostdisastrous ; yet the reader will reap the reward of her sufferingin perusing the brilliant pages in which her humour andpenetration have invested with an interest not its own thefrivolous tattle of her commonplace companions. Her account ofthe royal family is on the whole favourable. The princessesappear to have been really amiable and, so far as etiquette wouldpermit, sensible young women. Of the king and queen we know fewthings which are more to their credit than that they should havebeen able to inspire Fanny with a regard so obviously sincere. But even Fanny, with all her loyal partiality, could make no moreof them than a well-meaning couple, whose conversation never roseabove the commonplace. After all, we can hardly help feelingthat the whole of this CourtDiary, entertaining as it is, wouldbe well exchanged for the description, in Fanny's animated style, of a few more dinnerparties at Sir joshua's, a few moreconversations with Edmund Burke. 

The burst of exultation with which Fanny's friends greeted theunhappy appointment says little for their common sense. EvenBurke, who at least ought to have known better, fell in with thegeneral infatuation, although he, if no one else felt that the290

honour was not all on Fanny's side. He called in St. Martin's-street, and finding Dr. Burney and his daughter from home, left acard on which he had written these words :--"Mr. Burke, tocongratulate upon the honour done by the queen to Miss Burney, --and to herself. "

The office which Fanny shared with that "old hag, " Mrs. Schwellenberg, was that of keeper of the robes, and she enteredupon her new duties in the month Of July, 1786. Dress had alwaysbeen one of the last subjects about which she troubled herself, and her want of experience in this all-important matter wasgraciously taken into consideration by the queen. The duties ofthe place were lightened, or, at least, altered in her favour. "The difficulties with respect to jewellery, laces, and Courthabiliments, and the other routine business belonging to thedress manufactory appertained to her colleague, Mrs. Schwellenberg; the manual labours and cares devolved upon thewardrobewomen ; while from herself all that officially wasrequired was assiduous attention, unremitting readiness for everysummons to the dressing- room, not unfrequent long readings, andperpetual sojourn at the palace. "(189)-ED. ]

 ROYAL GENEROSITY TO MRs. DELANY. 

(Fanny Burney to Dr. Burney. )St. James's-place, Aug. 24. 

I must tell you, dearest sir, a tale concerning Mrs. Delany, which I am sure you will hear with true pleasure. Among the manyInferior losses which have been included in her great andirreparable calamity, (190) has been that of a country house forthe summer, which she ad in Bulstrode, and which for the half ofevery year was her constant home. The Duke of Portland behavedwith the utmost propriety and feeling upon this occasion, and wasmost earnest to accommodate her to the best of his power, withevery comfort to which she had been accustomed ; but this noblestof women declared she loved the memory of her friend beyond allother things, and would not suffer it to be tainted in themisjudging world by an action that would be construed into areflection upon her will, as if deficient in consideration toher. She steadily, therefore, 291

refused all offers, though made to her with even painfulearnestness, and though solicited till her refusal became adistress to herself

This transaction was related, I believe, to their majesties andLady Weymouth, the duchess's eldest daughter, was commissioned towait upon Mrs. Delany with this message That the queen wasextremely anxious about her health, and very apprehensive lestcontinuing in London during the summer should be prejudicial toit : she entreated her, therefore, to accept a house belonging tothe king at Windsor, which she should order to be fitted up forher immediately ; and she desired Lady Weymouth to give her timeto consider this proposal, and by no means to hurry her; as wellas to assure her, that happy as it would make her to have one sheso sincerely esteemed as a neighbour, she should remember hersituation, and promise not to be troublesome to her. The king, at the same time, desired to be allowed to stand to theadditional expenses incurred by the maintenance of two houses, and that Mrs. Delany would accept from him 3oo pounds a year. 

It would be needless to tell you how Mrs. Delany was touched bythis benevolence. Yet she dreaded accepting what she fearedwould involve her in a new course of life, and force her intonotice and connexions she wished to drop or avoid. She took thetime the queen so considerately gave her for deliberation, andshe consulted with some of her old friends. They all agreedthere must be no refusal, and Lady Weymouth was made themessenger of her majesty's offer being accepted. 

The house, therefore, is now fitting up, and the king sees afterthe workmen himself. 

A few days ago, Miss Planta(191) was sent from the queen, withvery kind inquiries after Mrs. Delany's health, and informationthat she would receive a summons very soon. She told her, also, that as the house might still require a longer time inpreparation than would suit Mrs. Delany to wait in London, thequeen had ordered some apartments in the Castle, which latelybelonged to Prince Edward, to be got ready with all speed, thatshe might reside in them till her own . House was finished. 

This is the state of her affairs. I am now with her entirely. At first I slept at home ; but going after supper, and coming

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before breakfast, was inconvenient, and she has thereforecontrived me a bed-room. . . . 

(Fanny Burney to Mrs. Locke. )St. James's-place, Aug. 29. 

All our movements are at present uncertain ; Mrs. Delany, sWindsor house is still unfinished, but I suppose it will be fitfor her reception by the beginning of next week, and I have thehappiest reasons for hoping she will then be fit for it herself. Her maid has been to see what forwardness it is in, and this washer report:--She was ordered to wait Upon Miss Goldsworthy, (192)by the king's direction, who heard of her being sent to inspectthe house; and there she received commands, in the name of bothking and queen, to see that Mrs. Delany brought with her nothingbut herself and clothes, as they insisted upon fitting up herhabitation with everything themselves, including not only plate, china, glass, and linen, but even all sort of stores--wine, sweetmeats, pickles, etc. Their earnestness to save her everycare, and give her every gratification in their power, is trulybenevolent and amiable. They seem to know and feel her worth asif they had never worn crowns, or, wearing, annexed no value tothem. 

 A VISIT TO MRS. DELANY. 

Windsor, Saturday, Nov. 25--I got to Hounslow almost at the samemoment with Mrs. Astley, my dear Mrs. Delany's maid, who was sentto meet me. As soon as she had satisfied my inquiries concerningher lady, she was eager to inform Tne that the queen had drunktea with Mrs. Delany the day before, and had asked when I shouldcome, and heard the time; and that Mrs. Delany believed she wouldbe with her again that evening, and desire to see me. This wasrather fidgetting intelligence. I rather, in my own mind, thought the queen would prefer giving me the first evening alonewith my dear old friend. I found that sweet lady not so well asI had hoped, and strongly affected by afflicting recollections atsight of me. With all her gentleness and resignation, bursts ofsorrow break from her still whenever we are alone together, forthe Duchess of Portland was a boson' friend to her. 

293

Miss Port, (193) who is a truly lovely girl, received me with herusual warmth of joy, and was most impatient to whisper me that "all the princesses intended to come and see me. " She is just atthe age to doat upon an ado, and nothing so much delights her asthe thought of my presentations. 

Mrs. Delany acquainted me that the queen, in their firstInterview, upon her coming to this house, said to her, " Why didnot you bring your friend Miss Burney with you?"

My dear Mrs. Delany was very much gratified by such an attentionto whatever could be thought interesting to her, but, with herusual propriety, answered that, in coming to a house of hermajesty's, she could not presume to ask anybody without immediateand express permission. "The king, however, " she added, "madethe very same inquiry when I saw him next. "

Sunday, Nov. 26. -So now the royal encounters, for a while atleast, are out of all question. Nobody came last night, thoughMrs. Delany I saw, and Miss Port I heard, in continualexpectation; but this morning, Mr. Battiscombe, apothecary to thehousehold, called, and said that an express arrived from Germanyyesterday afternoon, with an account of the death of the queen'syoungest brother. 

The queen, -whose domestic virtues rise upon me every hour, isstrongly attached to all her family, and in much affliction atthis news ; for though this brother was quite a boy when she leftGermany, he has twice been to visit her in, England. None of theroyal family will appear till the mourning takes place ; thequeen, perhaps, may shut herself up still longer. 

At night, quite incog, quite alone, and quite privately, the kingcame, and was shut up with Mrs. Delany for an hour. It is out ofrule for any of the family to be seen till in mourning, but heknew she was anxious for an account of the queen. I had a verynarrow escape of being surprised by him, whichwould have vexed me, as he only meant to see Mrs. Delany

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by herself, though she says he told her he was very glad to hearI was come. 

 ROYAL CURIOSITY ABOUT Miss BURNEY. 

Thursday, Dec. 1. -To-day the queen sent Miss Planta to tell Mrs. Delany that if she would not yet venture to the Lodge, she wouldcome to her in the evening. Mrs. Delany accepted the graciousoffer, and, at tea-time, she came, as well as the king, and spenttwo hours here. 

Mrs. Delany told me afterwards, that the queen was verylow-spirited, and seemed to wish for nothing but the solace ofsitting perfectly quiet. She is a sweet woman, and has all thedomestic affections warm and strong in her heart. 

Nevertheless they talked of me, she says, a good deal - and theking asked many questions about me. There is a new play, he toldMrs. Delany, coming out ; "and it is said to be Miss Burney's!"Mrs. Delany immediately answered that she knew the report must beuntrue. "But I hope she is not idle?" cried the king. "I hopeshe is writing something?

What Mrs. Delany said, I know not; but he afterwards inquiredwhat she thought of my writing a play?

"What, " said he, "do you wish about it, Mrs. Delany?"

Mrs. Delany hesitated, and the queen then said, "I wish what I know Mrs. Delany does--that she may not; forthough her reputation is so high, her character, by all I hear, is too delicate to suit with writing for the stage. "

Sweet queen! I could have kissed the hem of her garment for thatspeech, and I could not resist writing it. 

Mrs. Delany then said, " Why My opinion is what I believe to be Miss Burney's own ; thatIt is too public and hazardous a style of writing for her quietand fearful turn of mind. "

I have really the grace to be a little ashamed of scribblingthis, but I know I can scribble nothing my dear father will bemore curious to hear. 

Saturday, Dec- 3-This morning we had better news of the princess- and Mrs. Delany went again to the Lodge in the evenin, to thequeen. When Mrs. Delany returned, she confirmed the goodaccounts of the Princess Elizabeth's amendment. She had told thequeen I was going to-morrow to Thames Ditton, for a week; and wasasked many questions about my coming back, which the queen saidshe was sure I295

should be glad to do from Mrs. Walsingham to Mrs. Delany. O mostpenetrating queen!

She gratified Mrs. Delany by many kind speeches, of being sorry Iwas going, and glad I was returning, and so forth. Mrs. Delanythen told her I had been reading "The Clandestine Marriage" toher, which the queen had recommended, and she thanked her majestyfor the very great pleasure she had received from it. 

"O then, " cried the queen, "if Miss Burney reads to you, what apleasure you must have to make her read her own works!"

Mrs. Delany laughed, and exclaimed, "O ma'am! read her own works!--your majesty has no notion of MissBurney! I believe she would as soon die!"

This, of course, led to a great deal of discussion, in the midstof which the queen said, "Do you know Dr. Burney, Mrs. Delany?

 "Yes, ma'am, extremely well, " answered Mrs. Delany. 

"I think him, " said the queen, "a very agreeable and entertainingman. "

There, my dear father! said I not well just now, O mostpenetrating queen?

So here ends my Windsor journal, part the first. Tomorrowmorning I go for my week to Thames Ditton. 

 AN ANTICIPATED ROYAL INTERVIEW. 

Windsor, Wednesday, Dec. 14-Yesterday I returned to my dear Mrs. Delany, from Thames Ditton, and had the great concern of findingher very unwell. Mr. Bernard Dewes, one of her nephews, and hislittle girl, a sweet child of seven years old, were with her, and, of course, Miss Port. She had been hurried, though onlywith pleasure, and her emotion, first in receiving, and next inentertaining them, had brought on a little fever. 

She revived in the afternoon, and I had the pleasure of readingto her a play of Shakspeare's, that she had not heard for fortyyears, and which I had never read since I was a child, --"TheComedy of Errors;"--and we found in it all the entertainmentbelonging to an excellent farce, and all the objections belongingto an indifferent play but the spirit with which she enters intoevery part of everything she hears, gives a sort of theatriceffect to whatever is read to her; and my spirits rise in herpresence, with the joy of exciting hers. 296

But I am now obliged, by what follows, to confess a littlediscussion I have had with my dear Mrs. Delany, almost all thetime I spent with her at first, and now again upon my return, relative to the royal interview, so long in expectation. 

Immediately upon my arrival, she had imagined, by what hadpreceded it, that a visit would instantly ensue here, and Ishould have a summons to appear ; but the death of the queen'sbrother, which was known the very night I came, confined hermajesty and all the family for some days to the Lodge ; and thedangerous illness of the Princess Elizabeth nexttook place, inoccupying all their thoughts, greatly to their credit. My dearold friend, however, earnest I Should have an honour which hergrateful reverence for their majesties makes her regard veryhighly, had often wished me to stay in the room when they came tosee her, assuring me that though they were so circumstanced asnot to send for a stranger, she knew they would be much pleasedto meet with me. This, however, was more than I could assent to, without infinite pain, and that she was too kind to make a pointof my enduring. 

Yesterday, upon my return, she began again the same reasoning;the Princess Elizabeth had relapsed, and she knew, during herbeing worse, there was no chance the queen would take any activestep towards a meeting. "But she inquires, " continued Mrs. Delany, "so much about you, and is so earnest. That you shouldbe with me, that I am sure she wants to see and converse withyou. You will see her, too, with more ease to yourself by beingalready in the room, than from being summoned. I would not forthe world put this request to you, if I were not sure she wishesit. "

There was no withstanding the word "request" from Mrs. Delany, and little as I liked the business, I could not but comply. Whatnext was to be done, was to beg directions for the rencounter. 

Now though you, my dear father, have had an audience, and you, mydear Susan, are likely enough to avoid one, yet I think theetiquettes on these occasions will be equally new to you both ;for one never inquired into them, and the other has never thoughtof them. Here, at Windsor, where more than half the people wesee are belonging to the Court, and where all the rest are tryingto be in the same predicament, the intelligence I have obtainedmust be looked upon as accurate, and I shall, therefore give it. , in full confidence you will297

both regard it as a valuable addition to your present stock ofCourt knowledge, and read it with that decent awe the dignity ofthe topic requires!

 DIRECTIONS FOR A PRIVATE ENCOUNTER WITH THE ROYAL FAMILY. 

. . . . . To come, then, to those particular instructions Ireceived myself, and which must not be regarded as havinganything to do with general rules. 

"I do beg of you, " said dear Mrs. Delany, "When the queen or theking speak to you, not to answer with mere monosyllables. Thequeen often complains to me of the difficulty with which she canget any conversation, as she not only always has to start thesubjects, but, commonly, entirely to support them: and she saysthere is nothing she so much loves as conversation, and nothingshe finds so hard to get. She is always best pleased to have theanswers that are made her lead on to further discourse. Now, asI know she wishes to be acquainted with you, and converse withyou, I do really entreat you not to draw back from her, nor tostop conversation with only answering 'Yes, ' or 'No. '"

This was a most tremendous injunction; however, I could not butpromise her I would do the best I could. 

To this, nevertheless, she readily agreed, that if upon enteringthe room, they should take no notice of me, I might quietlyretire. And that, believe me, will not be very slowlv ! Theycannot find me in this house without knowing who I am, andtherefore they can be at no loss whether to speak to me or not, from incertitude. 

 A PANIC. 

In the midst of all this, the queen came!

I heard the thunder at the door, and, panic struck, away flew allmy resolutions and agreements, and away after them flew I!

Don't be angry, my dear father--I would have stayed if I could, and I meant to stay - but, when the moment came, neither mypreparations nor intentions availed, and I arrived at my ownroom, ere I well knew I had left the drawing-room, and quitebreathless between the race I ran with Miss Port and the joy ofescaping, 298

Mrs. Delany, though a little vexed at the time, was notafterwards, when she found the queen very much dispirited by arelapse of the poor Princess Elizabeth. She inquired if I wasreturned, and hoped I now came to make a longer stay. 

Friday, Dec. 16. -Yesterday morning we had a much better accountof the Princess Elizabeth; and Mrs. Delany said to me, "Now you will escape no longer, for if their uneasiness ceases, Iam sure they will send for you, when they come next. "

To be sent for, I confessed to her, would really be moreformidable than to be surprised; but to pretend to be surprise, would answer no purpose in making the meeting easy to me. Andtherefore I preferred letting the matter take its chance. 

 "THE KING! AUNT, THE KING!"

After dinner, while Mrs. Delany was left alone, as usual, to takea little rest, --for sleep it but seldom proves, --Mr. B. Dewes, his little daughter, Miss Port, and myself, went into thedrawing-room. And here, while, to pass the time, I wasamusing the little girl with teaching her some Christmas games, in which her father and cousin joined, Mrs. Delany came in. Wewere all in the middle of the room, and in some confusion ;--butshe had but just come up to us to inquire what was goingforwards, and I was disentangling myself from Miss Dewes, to beready to fly off if any one knocked at the streetdoor, when thedoor of the drawing-room was again opened, and a large man, indeep mourning, appeared at it, entering, and shutting it himselfwithout speaking. 

A ghost could not more have scared me, when I discovered, by itsglitter on the black, a star! The general disorder hadprevented his being seen, except by myself, who was always on thewatch, till Miss Port, turning round, exclaimed, "The king!--aunt, the king!"

O mercy! thought I, that I were but out of the room! which wayshall I escape? and how pass him unnoticed? There is but thesingle door at which he entered, in the room! Every onescampered out of the way: Miss Port, to stand next the door; Mr. Bernard Dewes to a corner opposite it; his little girl clung tome; and Mrs. Delany advanced to meet his majesty, who, afterquietly looking on till she saw him, approached, and inquired howshe did, 299

He then spoke to Mr. Bernard, whom he had already met two orthree times here. 

I had now retreated to the wall, and purposed gliding softly, though speedily, out of the room ; but before I had taken asingle step, the king, in a loud whisper to Mrs. Delany, said, "Is that Miss Burney ? "-and on her answering, " Yes, sir, " hebowed, and with a countenance of the most perfect good humour, came close up to me. 

A most profound reverence on my part arrested the progress of myintended retreat. 

"How long have you been come back, Miss Burney?"

"Two days, sir. "

Unluckily he did not hear me, and repeated his question andwhether the second time he heard me or not, I don't know, but hemade a little civil inclination of his head, and went back toMrs. Delany. 

He insisted she should sit down, though he stood himself, andbegan to give her an account of the Princess Elizabeth, who onceagain was recovering, and trying, at present, James's powders. She had been blooded, he said, twelve times in this lastfortnight, and had lost seventy-five ounces of blood, besidesundergoing blistering and other discipline. He spoke of herillness with the strongest emotion, and seemed quite filled withconcern for her danger and suffering. 

Mrs. Delany next inquired for the younger children. They hadall, he said, the whooping-cough, and were soon to be removed toKew. 

"Not, " added he, " for any other reason than change of air forthemselves ; though I am pretty certain I have never had thedistemper myself, and the queen thinks she has not had it either:--we shall take our chance. When the two eldest had it, I sentthem away, and would not see them till it was over; but now thereare so many of them that there would be no end to separations, soI let it take its course. "

Mrs. Delany expressed a good deal of concern at his running thisrisk, but he laughed at it, and said, he was much more afraid ofcatching the rheumatism, which has been threatening one of hisshoulders lately, However, he added, he should hunt, the nextmorning, in defiance of it. 

A good deal of talk then followed about his own health, and theextreme temperance by which he preserved it. The fault of hisconstitution, he said, was a tendency to excessive fat, 300

which e kept, however, in order, by the most vigorous exerciseand the strictest attention to a simple diet. 

Mrs. Delany was beginning to praise his forbearance, but hestopped her. 

"NO, no, " he cried, " 'tis no virtue ; I only prefer eating plainand little to growing diseased and infirm. "

During this discourse, I stood quietly In the place where he hadfirst spoken to me. His quitting me so soon, and conversingfreely and easily with Mrs. Delany, proved so delightful a reliefto me, that I no longer wished myself away; and the moment myfirst panic from the surprise was over, I diverted myself with athousand ridiculous notions, of my own Situation. 

The Christmas games we had been showing Miss Dewes, it seemed asif we were still performing, as none of us thought it ) proper tomove, though our manner of standing reminded one of "Puss in thecorner. " Close to the door was posted Miss Port; opposite her, close to the wainscot, stood Mr. Dewes; at just an equal distancefrom him, close to a window, stood myself Mrs. Delany, thoughseated, was at the opposite side to Miss Port; and his majestykept pretty much in the middle of the room. The little girl, whokept close to me, did not break the order, and I could hardlyhelp expecting to be beckoned, with a PUSS! PUSS! PUSS! to changeplaces with one of my neighbours. 

This idea, afterwards, gave way to another more pompous. Itseemed to me we were acting a play. There is something so littlelike common and real life, in everybody's standing, whiletalking, in a room full of chairs, and standing, too, so alooffrom each other, that I almost thought myself upon a stage, assisting in the representation of a tragedy, --in which the kingplayed his own part, of the king; Mrs. Delany that of a venerableconfidante; Mr. Dewes, his respectful attendant;Miss Port, asuppliant Virgin, waiting encouragement to bring forward somepetition; Miss Dewes, a young orphan, intened to move the royalcompassion; and myself, --a very solemn, sober, and decent mute. 

These fancies, however, only regaled me while I continued a quietspectator, and without expectation of being called into play. Butt the king, I have reason to think, meant only to give me timeto recover from my first embarrassment; and I feel infinitelyobliged to his good breeding and consideration, which perfectlyanswered, for before he returned to me, I was entirely recruited, 301`

To go back to my narration. 

When the discourse upon health and strength was over, the kingwent up to the table, and looked at a book of prints, from ClaudeLorraine, which had been brought down for Miss Dewes; but Mrs. Delany, by mistake, told him they were for me. He turned over aleaf or two, and then said--

"Pray, does Miss Burney draw, too?"

The too was pronounced very civilly. 

"I believe not, Sir, " answered Mrs. Delany "at least, she doesnot tell. "

"Oh!" cried he, laughing, "that's nothing; she is not apt totell! she never does tell, you know!--Her father told me thathimself. He told me the whole history of her 'Evelina. ' And Ishall never forget his face when he spoke of his feelings atfirst taking up the book!--he looked quite frightened, just as ifhe was doing it that moment! I never can forget his face while Ilive!"

 THE KING CATEGORICALLY QUESTIONS Miss BURNEY. 

Then coming up close to me, the king said-

"But what?--what?--how was it?"

"Sir"--cried I, not well understanding him. 

"How came you--how happened it--what?--what?"

"I--I only wrote, Sir, for my own amusement, --only in some odd, idle hours. "

"But your publishing--your printing, --how was that?

"That was only, sir, --only because--"

I hesitated most abominably, not knowing how to tell him a longstory, and growing terribly confused at these questions;--besides, --to say the truth, his own "what? what? " so reminded meof those vile "Probationary Odes, " that, in the midst of all myflutter, I was really hardly able to keep my countenance. 

The What! was then repeated, with so earnest a look, that, forcedto say something, I stammeringly answered--

"I thought-sir-it would look very well in print!" '

I do really flatter myself this is the silliest speech I evermade! I am quite provoked with myself for it; but a fear oflaughing made me eager to utter anything, and by no meansconscious, till I had spoken, of what I was saying. He laughedvery heartily himself, --well he might--and walked away to enjoyit, crying out, 302

"Very fair indeed! that's being very fair and honest

Then, returning to me again, he said, "But your father--how came you not to show him what you wrote?"

"I was too much ashamed of it, sir, seriously. "

Literal truth that, I am sure. 

"And how did he find it out?

"I don't know myself, sir. He never would tell me. "

Literal truth again, my dear father, as you can testify. 

"But how did you get it printed?"

"I sent it, sir, to a bookseller my father never employed, andthat I never had seen myself, Mr. Lowndes, in full hope by thatmeans he never would hear of it. "

"But how could you manage that?"

"By means of a brother, sir. "

"O!--you confided in a brother, then?"

"Yes, sir, --that is, for the publication. "

"What entertainment you must have had from hearing people'sconjectures, before you were known! Do you remember any ofthem?"

"Yes, sir, many. "

"And what?"

"I heard that Mr. Baretti(194) laid a wager it was written by aman for no woman, he said, could have kept her own counsel. "

This diverted him extremely. 

"But how was it, " he continued, "you thought most likely for yourfather to discover you?"

"Sometimes, sir, I have supposed I must have dropt some of themanuscript; sometimes, that one of my sisters betrayed me. "

"O! your sister?--what, not your brother?"

"No, sir; he could not, for--"

I was going on, but he laughed so much I could not be heard, exclaiming, "Vastly well! I see you are of Mr. Baretti's'mind, and

303

think your brother could keep your secret, and not your sister?"

"Well, but, " cried he presently, "how was it first known to you, you were betrayed?"

"By a letter, sir, from another sister. I was very ill, and inthe country; and she wrote me word that my father had taken up areview, in which the book was mentioned, and had put his fingerupon its name, and said--'Contrive to get that book for me. '"

"And when he got it, " cried the king, "he told me he was afraidof looking at it! and never can I forget his face when hementioned his first opening it. But you have not kept your penunemployed all this time?"

"Indeed I have, sir. "

"But why?"

"I--I believe I have exhausted myself, sir. "

He laughed aloud at this, and went and told it to Mrs. Delany, civilly treating a plain fact as a mere bon mot. 

Then, turning to me again, he said, more seriously, "But you havenot determined against writing, any more?"

"N-o, sir"

"You have made no vow--no real resolution of that sort?"

"No, sir. "

"You only wait for inclination""

"No, sir. "

A very civil little bow spoke him pleased with this answer, andhe went again to the middle of the room, where he chiefly stood, and, addressing us in general, talked upon the different motivesof writing, concluding with, "I believe there is no constraint to be put upon real genius;nothing but inclination can set it to work. Miss Burney, however, knows best. " And then, hastily returning to me, hecried, "What? what?"

"No, sir, I--I-believe not, certainly, " quoth I, very awkwardly, for I seemed taking a violent compliment only as my due; but Iknew not how to put him off as I would another person. 

He then made some inquiries concerning the pictures with whichthe room is hung, and which are all Mrs. Delany's own paintingand a little discourse followed, upon some of the masters whosepictures she has copied. This was all with her; for nobody everanswers him without being immediately addressed by him. 304

He then came to me again, and said, "Is your father about anything at present?"

"Yes, sir, he goes on, when he has time, with his history. "

"Does he write quick?"

"Yes, sir, when he writes from himself; but in his history he hasso many books to consult, that sometimes he spends' three days infinding authorities for a single passage. "

"Very true ; that must be unavoidable. " He pursued theseinquiries some time, and then went again to his general stationbefore the fire, and Mrs. Delany inquired if he meant to hunt thenext day. "Yes, " he answered; and, a little. Pointedly, Mrs. Delany said, "I would the hunted could but feel as much pleasure as thehunter. "

The king understood her, and with some quickness, called out, "Pray what did you hunt ?"

Then, looking round at us all, --

"Did you know, " he said, "that Mrs. Delany once hunted herself?--and in a long gown, and a great hoop?"

It seems she had told his majesty an adventure of that sort whichhad befallen her in her youth, from some accident in which herwill had no share. 

 THE QUEEN APPEARS UPON THE SCENE. 

While this was talking over, a violent thunder was made at thedoor. I was almost certain it was the queen. Once more I wouldhave given anything to escape ; but in vain. I had been informedthat nobody ever quitted the royal presence, after having beenconversed with, till motioned to withdraw. 

Miss Port, according to established etiquette on these occasions, opened the door which she stood next, by putting her hand behindher, and slid out, backwards, into the hall, to light the queen'In. The door soon opened again, and her majesty entered. 

Immediately seeing the king, she made him a low curtsey, andcried, --

"Oh, your majesty is here. "

"Yes, " he cried, "I ran here, without speaking to anybody. "

The queen had been at the lower Lodge, to see the PrincessElizabeth, as the king had before told us. 

She then, hastened up to Mrs. Delany, with both her hands heldout, saying, 305

"My dear Mrs. Delany, how are you?"

Instantly after, I felt her eye on my face. I believe, too, shecurtsied to me; but though I saw the bend, I was too near-sightedto be sure it was intended for me. I was hardly ever in asituation more embarrassing - I dared not return what I was notcertain I had received, yet considered myself as appearing quitea monster, to stand stiff-necked, if really meant. 

Almost at the same moment, she spoke to Mr. Bernard Dewes, andthen nodded to my little clinging girl. 

I was now really ready to sink, with horrid uncertainty of what Iwas doing, or what I should do, --when his majesty, who I fancysaw my distress, most good-humouredly said to the queensomething, but I was too much flurried to remember what, exceptthese words, --"I have been telling Miss Burney--"

Relieved from so painful a dilemma, I immediately dropped acurtsey. She made one to me in the same moment, and, with a verysmiling countenance, came up to me; but she could not speak, forthe king went on talking, eagerly, and very gaily, repeating toher every word I had said during our conversation upon "Evelina, "its publication, etc. Etc. 

Then he told her of Baretti's wager, saying, --"But she heard of agreat many conjectures about the author, before it was known, andof Baretti, an admirable thing !-he laid a bet it must be a man, as no woman, he said, could have kept her own counsel!"

The queen, laughing a little, exclaimed-

"Oh, that is quite too bad an affront to us !-Don't you thinkso?" addressing herself to me, with great gentleness of voice andmanner. 

I assented; and the king continued his relation, which shelistened to with a look of some interest; but when he told hersome particulars of my secrecy, she again spoke to me. 

"But! your sister was your confidant, was she not?"

"Yes, ma'am. "

My sisters, I might have said, but I was always glad to havedone. 

"Oh, yes!" cried the king, laughing "but I assure you she is ofBaretti's opinion herself; for I asked her if she thought it washer sister or her brother that betrayed her to her father?--andshe says her sister, she thinks. "

Poor Esther !-but I shall make her amends by what follows; forthe queen, again addressing me, said--306

"But to betray to a father is no crime-don't you think so ?"

I agreed ; and plainly saw she thought Esther, if Esther it was, had only done right. 

The king then went on, and when he had finished his narration thequeen took her seat. She made Mrs. Delany sit next her, and MissPort brought her some tea. 

 "Miss BURNEY PLAYS-BUT NOT TO ACKNOWLEDGE IT. "

The king, meanwhile, came to me again, and said, --"Are youmusical?" "Not a performer, sir. "

Then, going from me to the queen, he cried, --"She does not play. "I did not hear what the queen answered - she spoke in a lowvoice, and seemed much out of spirits. 

They now talked together a little while, about the PrincessElizabeth, and the king mentioned having had a very promisingaccount from her physician, Sir George Baker and the queen soonbrightened up. 

The king then returned to me and said, -

"Are you sure you never play?--never touch the keys at all. "

"Never to acknowledge it, sir. "

"Oh ! that's it ! " cried he; and flying to the queen, cried, "She does play-but not to acknowledge it!"

I was now in a most horrible panic once more ; pushed so veryhome, I could answer no other than I did, for these categoricalquestions almost constrain categorical answers; and here, atWindsor, it seems an absolute point that whatever they ask mustbe told, and whatever they desire must be done. Think but, then, of my consternation, in expecting their commands to perform! Mydear father, pity me!

The eager air with which he returned to me fully explained whatwas to follow. I hastily, therefore, spoke first, in order tostop him, crying-" I never, sir, played to anybody but myself!--never!"

"No ?" cried he, looking incredulous; "what, not to

"Not even to me, sir! " cried my kind Mrs. Delany, who saw whatwas threatening me. 

"No?--are you sure?" cried he, disappointed; "but--but you'll--"

"I have never, sir, " cried I, very earnestly, "played in my307

life, but when I could hear nobody else-quite alone, and from amere love of any musical sounds. "

He repeated all this to the queen, whose answers I never heard;but when he once more came back, with a face that lookedunwilling to give it up, in my fright I had recourse to dumbshow, and raised my hands in a supplicating fold, with a mostbegging countenance to be excused. This, luckily, succeeded; heunderstood me very readily, and laughed a little, but made a sortof desisting, or rather complying, little bow, and said no moreabout it. 

I felt very much obliged to him, for I saw his curiosity was allalive, I wished I could have kissed his hand. He still, however, kept me in talk, and still upon music. 

"To me, " said he, " it appears quite as strange to meet withpeople who have no ear for music, and cannot distinguish one airfrom another, as to meet with people who are dumb. Lady BellFinch once told me that she had heard there was some differencebetween a psalm, a minuet, and a country dance, but she declaredthey all sounded alike to her! There are people who have no eyefor difference of colour. The Duke of Marlborough actuallycannot tell scarlet from green!"

He then told me an anecdote of his mistaking one of those coloursfor another, which was very laughable, but I do not remember itclearly enough to write it. How unfortunate for true virtuosithat such an eye should possess objects worthy the mostdiscerning--the treasures of Blenheim! " I do not find, though, "added his majesty, "that this defect runs in his family, for LadyDi Beauclerk, draws very finely. "

He then went to Mr. Bernard Dewes. 

Almost instantly upon his leaving me, a very gentle voice calledout-" Miss Burney!"

It was the queen's. I walked a little nearer her, and a graciousinclination of her head made me go quite up to her. 

"You have been, " she said, "at Mrs. Walsingham's?"

"Yes, ma'am. "

"She has a pretty place, I believe?"

"Yes, ma'am. "

"Were You ever there before?"

"Yes, ma'am. "

Oh, shocking! shocking ! thought I ; what will"Mrs. Delany say toall these monosyllables ?

"Has not she lately made some improvements?"

"Yes, ma'am; she has built a conservatory. "308

Then followed some questions about its situation, during whichthe king came up to us; and she then, ceasing to address me inparticular, began a general sort of conversation, with a spiritand animation that I had not at all expected, and which seemedthe result of the great and benevolent pleasure she took ingiving entertainment to Mrs. Delany. 

 A DRAWING-ROOM DURING A FOG. 

The subject was the last Drawing-room, which she had been in townto keep on Thursday, during the dense fog. 

"I assure you, ma'am, " cried she to Mrs. Delany, "it was so dark, there was no seeing anything, and no knowing any body. And LadyHarcourt could be of no help to tell me who people were, for whenit was light, she can't see and now it was dark, I could not seemyself. So it was in vain for me to go on in that manner, without knowing which I had spoken to, and which was waiting forme; so I said to Lady Harcourt, 'We had better stop, and standquite still, for I don't know anybody, no more than you do. Butif we stand still, they will all come up in the end, and we mustask them who they are, and if I have spoken to them yet, or not:for it is very odd to do it, but what else can we manage?'"

Her accent is a little foreign, and very prettily so ; and heremphasis has that sort of changeability, which gives an interestto everything she utters. But her language is rather peculiarthan foreign. 

"'Besides, "' added she, with a very significant look, "'if we goon here in the dark, maybe I shall push against somebody, orsomebody will push against me--which is the more likely tohappen. '"

She then gave an account of some circumstances which attended thedarkness, in a manner not only extremely lively, but mixed, attimes, with an archness and humour that made it veryentertaining. She chiefly addressed herself to Mrs. Delany ; andto me, certainly, she would not, separately, have been socommunicative; but she contrived, with great delicacy, to includeme in the little party, by frequently looking at me, and alwayswith an expression that invited my participation in theconversation. And, indeed, though I did not join in words, Ishared very openly in the pleasure of her recital. 

"well, " she continued, "so there was standing by me a man that Icould not see in the face; but I saw the twisting of his309

bow; and I said to Lady Harcourt, 'I am sure that must be nobodybut the Duke of Dorset. '--'Dear, ' she says, 'how can you tellthat?'--'Only ask, ' said I; and so it proved he. "

"Yes, " cried the king, "he is pretty well again; he can smileagain, now!"

It seems his features had appeared to be fixed, or stiffened. Itis said, he has been obliged to hold his hand to his mouth, tohide it, ever since his stroke, --which he refuses to acknowledgewas paralytic. 

The queen looked as if some comic notion had struck her, and, after smiling a little while to herself, said, with a sort ofinnocent archness, very pleasing, "To be sure, it is very wrong to laugh at such things, --I knowthat; but yet, I could not help thinking, when his mouth was inthat way, that it was very lucky people's happiness did notdepend upon his smiles!"

Afterwards, she named other persons, whose behaviour and mannerspointed them out to her, in defiance of obscurity. 

"A lady, " said she, "came up to me, that I could not see, so Iwas forced to ask who she was; and immediately she burst into alaugh. 'O, ' says I, 'that can be only Mrs. De Rolles!'--and soit proved. "

Methinks, by this trait, she should be a near relation to my MissLarolles!(195)

WILL Miss BURNEY WRITE ANY MORE?

When these, and some more anecdotes which I do not so clearlyremember, were told, the king left us, and went to Mr. BernardDewes. A pause ensuing, I, too, drew back, meaning to return tomy original station, which, being opposite the fire, was never abad one. But the moment I began retreating, the queen, bendingforward, and speaking in a very low voice, said, "Miss Burney!"--and, upon my coming up to her, almost in a whisper, cried, "Butshall we have no more--nothing more?"

I could not but understand her, and only shook my head. Thequeen then, as if she thought she had said too much, with greatsweetness and condescension, drew back herself, and, verydelicately, said, "To be sure it is, I own, a very home question, for one who hasnot the pleasure to know you. "

I was quite ashamed of this apology, but did not know

310

what to say to it. But how amiable a simplicity in her speakingof herself in such a style, - for one who has not the, pleasure toknow you. "

"But, indeed, " continued she, presently, "I would not say it, only that I think from what has been done, there is a power to doso much good--and good to young people, which is so very good athing--that I cannot help wishing it could be. "

I felt very grateful for this speech, and for the very softmanner in which she said it ; and I very much wished to thank herand was trying to mutter something, though not very intelligibly, when the king suddenly coming up to us, inquired what was goingforward. 

The queen readily repeated her kind speech. 

The king eagerly undertook to make my answer for me, crying, "O, but she will write!--she only waits for inclination--she told meso. " Then, speaking to me, he said, "What--is it not so?"

I only laughed a little; and he again said to the queen, "She will write. She told me, just now, she had made no vowagainst It. "

"No, no, " cried the queen, "I hope not, indeed. "

"A vow!" cried dear Mrs. Delany, "no, indeed, I hope she wouldnot be so wicked--she who can so do what she does!"

"But she has not, " said the king, earnestly; "she has owned thatto me already. "

What excessive condescension, my dear padre!

"I only wish, " cried Mrs. Delany, "it could be as easily done, asit is earnestly and universally desired. "

"I doubt it not to be so desired, " said the queen. 

I was quite ashamed of all this, and quite sorry to make noicknowledgment of their great condescension in pressing suchsubject, and pressing it so much in earnest. But I really couldget out nothing, so that's the truth; and I wish I could give abetter account of my eloquence, my dear padre and I cannot, however, in justice any more than in inclination, go on, till Istop to admire the sweetness of the queen, and the considerationof the king, in each making me a party in their generalconversation, before they made any particular address to me. 311

 A MUSICIAN, WITH A PROBOSCIS. 

They afterwards spoke of Mr. Webb, a Windsor musician, who ismaster to the young princesses, and who has a nose, from somestrange calamity, of so enormous a size that it covers all. Themiddle of his face. I never saw so frightful a deformity. Mrs. Delany told the queen I had met with him, accidentally, when hecame to give a lesson to Miss Port, and had been quite startledby him. 

"I dare say so, " said her majesty. "I must tell Miss Burney alittle trait of Sophia, about Mr. Webb. "

A small table was before the queen, who always has it broughtwhen she is seated, to put her tea or work upon, or, when she hasneither, to look comfortable, I believe ; for certainly it takesoff much formality in a standing circle. And close to this, bythe gracious motion of her head, she kept me. 

"When first, " continued she, "Mr. Webb was to come to Sophia, Itold her he had had some accident to disfigure his whole face, bymaking him an enormous nose; but I desired her to remember thiswas a misfortune, for which he ought to be pitied, and that shemust be sure not to laugh at it, nor stare at it. And she mindedthis very well, and behaved always very properly. But, whileLady Cremorne was at the Lodge, she Was with Sophia when Mr. Webbcame to give her a lesson. As soon as he was named, she colouredvery red, and ran up to Lady Cremorne, and said to her in awhisper, 'Lady Cremorne, Mr. Webb has got a very great nose, butthat is only to be pitied --so mind you don't laugh. '"

This little princess is just nine years old!

The king joined us while the queen was telling this, and added, "Poor Mr. Webb was very much discountenanced when he first sawme, and tried to hide his nose, by a great nosegay, or I believeonly a branch, which he held before it: but really that had soodd a look, that it was worse, and more ridiculous, than hisnose. However, I hope he does not mind me, now, for I have seenhim four or five times. "

GENERAL CONVERSATION: ROYALTY DEPARTS. 

After this, Mrs. Delany mentioned Madame de la Fite and her son. 

The queen said, "He is a pretty little boy; and when be goes toschool, it will do him 'good, "312

" Where will she send him ? " said the king. 

The queen, looking at me, with a smile answered, "To the school where Mr. Locke puts his sons. I know that!"

"And where is that?"

"Indeed I don't know; where is it, Miss Burney?"

"At Cheam, ma'am. "

"Oh, at young Gilpin's?" cried the king. "Is it near Mr. Locke's?"

"Yes, sir; within about six miles, I believe. "

The queen, then, with a little arch smile, that seemed to premiseshe should make me stare, said, "It was there, at Mr. Locke's, your sister(196) laid in?"

"O yes, ma'am!" cried I, out of breath with surprise. 

The king repeated my "O yes!" and said, "I fancy--by that O --youwere frightened a little for her? What?"

I could not but assent to that; and the king, who seemed a gooddeal diverted at the accident--for he loves little babies toowell to look upon it, as most people would, to be a shockingbusiness--questioned me about it. 

"How was it?" said he, --"how happened it? Could not she gethome?"

"It was so sudden, sir, and so unexpected, there was no time. "

"I dare say, " said the sweet queen, "Mrs. Locke was onlyveryhappy to have it at her house. "

"Indeed, ma'am, " cried I, "her kindness, and Mr. Locke's wouldmake anybody think so but they are all kindness andggoodness. "

"I have heard indeed, " said the queen, "that they are allsensible, and amiable, and ingenuous, in that family. "

"They are indeed, " cried I, "and as exemplary as they areaccomplished. "

"I have never seen Mrs. Locke, " said the king, "since she wasthat high;"--pointing to little Miss Dewes. 

"And I, " said the queen "I have never seen her in my life; butfor all that, from what I hear of her, I cannot help feelinginterested whenever I only hear her name. "

This, with a good deal of animation, she said directly to me. 

"Mr. William Locke, ma'am, " said Mrs. Delany, "I understand fromMiss Burney, is now making the same wonderful progress inpainting that he had done before in drawing, "

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"I have seen some of his drawings, " said the queen, "which werecharming. "

" How old is he?" cried the king. 

"Eighteen, sir. "

"Eighteen!" repeated the king--"how time flies!"

"Oh! for me, " cried the queen, "I am always quarrelling withtime! It is so short to do something, and so long to donothing. "

She has now and then something foreign to our idiom, that has avery pretty effect. 

"Time, " said the king, "always seems long when we are young, andshort when we begin to grow old. "

"But nothing makes me so angry, " said the queen, "as tohear people not know what to do! For me, I never have half timeenough to do things. But what makes me most angry still, is tosee people go up to a window and say, 'what a bad day!--dear, what shall we do such a day as this?' 'What?' I say; 'why, employ yourselves; and then what signifies the bad day?'"

Afterwards, there was some talk upon sermons, and the queenwished the Bishop of Chester would publish another volume. 

"No, no, " said the king, "you must not expect a man, while hecontinues preaching, to go on publishing. Every sermon printed, diminishes his stock for the pulpit. "

"Very true, " said the queen, "but I believe the Bishop of Chesterhas enough to spare. "

The king then praised Carr's sermons, and said he liked none butwhat were plain and unadorned. 

"Nor I neither, " said the queen; "but for me, it is, I suppose, because the others I don't understand. "

The king then, looking at his watch, said, "It is eight o'clock, and ]If we don't go now, the children will be sent to the otherhouse. "

"Yes, your majesty, " cried the queen, instantly rising. 

Mrs. Delany put on her majesty's cloak, and she took a very kindleave of her. She then curtsied separately to us all, and theking handed her to the carriage. 

It is the custom for everybody they speak to to attend them out, but they would not suffer Mrs. Delany to move. Miss Port, Mr. Dewes, and his little daughter, and myself, all accompanied them, and saw them in their coach, and received their last graciousnods. 314

When they were gone, Mrs. Delany confessed she had heard theking's knock at the door before she came into the drawinroom, butwould not avow it, that I might not run away. Well ! being overwas so good a thing, that I could not but be content. 

The queen, indeed, is a most charming woman. She appears to mefull of sense and graciousness, mingled with delicacy of mind andliveliness of temper. She speaks English almost perfectly well, with great choice and copiousness of language, though now andthen with foreign idiom, and frequently with a foreign accent. Her manners have an easy dignity, with a most engagingsimplicity, and she has all that fine high breeding which themind, not the station, gives, of carefully avoiding to distressthose who converse with her, or studiously removing theembarrassment she cannot prevent. 

The king, however he may have power, in the cabinet, to commandhimself, has, in private, the appearance of a character the mostopen and sincere. He speaks his opinions without reserve, andseems to trust them intuitively to his hearers, from a beliefthey will make no ill use of them. His countenance is full ofinquiry, to gain information without asking it, probably frombelieving that to be the nearest road to truth. All I saw ofboth was the most perfect good humour, good spirits, ease, andpleasantness. 

Their behaviour to each other speaks the most cordial confidenceand happiness. The king seems to admire as much as he enjoys herconversation, and to covet her participation in everything heeither sees or hears. The queen appears to feel the mostgrateful regard for him, and to make it her chief study to raisehis consequence with others, by always marking that she considersherself, though queen to the nation, only to him, the first andmost obedient of subjects. Indeed, in their different ways, andallowing for the difference of their characters, they left meequally charmed both with their behaviour to each other and tomyself. 

 THE KING AGAIN: TEA TABLE ETIQUETTE. 

Monday, Dec. 19-In the evening, while Mrs. Delany, Miss Port, andI were sitting and working together in the drawing-room, the doorwas opened, and the king entered. 

We all started up; Miss Port flew to her modest post by the door, and I to my more comfortable one opposite the fire, 315. Which caused me but a slight and gentle retreat, and Mrs. Delanyhe immediately commanded to take her own place again. 

He was full of joy for the Princess Elizabeth. He had been tothe lower Lodge, and found her in a sweet sleep, and she was now, he said, in a course of James's powders, from which he hoped herperfect restoration. I fear, however, it is still butprecarious. 

Mrs. Delany congratulated him, and then inquired after thewhooping-cough. The children, he said, were better, and weregoing to Kew for some days, to change the air. He and the queenhad been themselves, in the morning, to Kew, to see that theirrooms were fit for their reception. He could not, he said, beeasy to take any account but from his own eyes, when they weresick. He seems, indeed, one of the most tender fathers in theworld. 

I cannot pretend to write this meeting with the method andminuteness of the first ; for that took me so long, that I havenot time to spare for such another detail. Besides the noveltyis now over, and I have not the same inducement to be so verycircumstantial. But the principal parts of the conversation Iwill write, as I recollect. 

Our party being so small, he made all that passed general; forthough he principally addressed himself to Mrs. Delany, he alwayslooked round to see that we heard him, and frequently referred tous. 

I should mention, though, the etiquette always observed upon hisentrance, which, first of all, is to fly off to distant quarters- and next, Miss Port goes out, walking backwards, for morecandles, which she brings in, two at a time, and places upon thetables and pianoforte. Next she goes out for tea, which she thencarries to his majesty, upon a large salver, containing sugar, cream, and bread and butter, and cake, while she hangs a napkinover her arm for his fingers. 

When he has taken his tea, she returns to her station, where shewaits till he has done, and then takes away his cup, and fetchesmore. This, it seems, is a ceremony performed in other placesalways by the mistress of the house; but here neither of theirmajesties will permit Mrs. Delany to attempt it. 

Well; but to return. The king said he had just been looking overa new pamphlet, of Mr. Cumberland's, upon the character of LordSackville, 316

I have been asking Sir George Baker, " he said, "if he had readit, and he told me, yes, but that he could not find out whyCumberland had written it. However, that, I think, I found outin the second page. For there he takes an opportunity to give ahigh character of himself. "

He then enlarged more upon the subject, very frankly declaring inwhat points he differed from Mr. Cumberland about Lord Sackville;but as I neither knew him, nor had read the pamphlet, I could notat all enter into the subject. 

Mrs. Delany then mentioned something of Madame de Genlis, (197)upon which the king eagerly said to me, "Oh, you saw her while she was here?"

"Yes, sir. "

"And--did she speak English?"

"Yes, sir. "

"And how?"

"Extremely well, sir; with very great facility. "

"Indeed? that always surprises me in a foreigner that has notlived here. "

Her accent is foreign, however ; but her language is remarkablyready. 

He then spoke of Voltaire, and talked a little of his works, concluding with this strong condemnation of their tendency:--

"I, " cried he, "think him a monster, I own it fairly. "

Nobody answered. Mrs. Delany did not quite hear him, and I knewtoo little of his works to have courage to say anything aboutthem. 

He next named Rousseau, whom he seemed to think of with morefavour, though by no means with approbation, Here, too, I hadread too little to talk at all, though his majesty frequentlyapplied to me. Mrs. Delany told several anecdotes which had cometo her immediate knowledge of him while he was in England, atwhich time he had spent some days with her brother, Mr. Granville, at Calwich. The king, too, told others, which hadcome to his own ears, all charging him with savage pride andInsolent ingratitude. 

 317

Here, however, I ventured to interfere ; for, as I knew he hadhad a pension from the king, I could not but wish his majestyshould be informed he was grateful to him. And as you, my dearfather, were my authority, I thought it but common justice to thememory of poor Rousseau to acquaint the king of his personalrespect for him. 

"Some gratitude, sir, " said I, "he was not without. When myfather was in Paris, which was after Rousseau had been inEngland, he visited him in his garret, and the first thing heshowed him was your majesty's portrait over his chimney. "

The king paused a little while upon this ; but nothing more wassaid of Rousseau. 

 GEORGE III. ON PLAYS AND PLAYERS. 

Some time afterwards, the king said he found by the newspapers, that Mrs. Clive(198) was dead. 

Do you read the newspapers? thought I. O, king! you must thenhave the most unvexing temper in the world, not to run wild. 

This led on to more players. He was sorry, he said, forHenderson, (199) and the more as Mrs. Siddons had wished to havehim play at the same house with herself. Then Mrs. Siddons tookher turn, and with the warmest praise. 

"I am an enthusiast for her, " cried the king, "quite anenthusiast, I think there was never any player in my time soexcellent--not Garrick himself--I own it!"

Then, coming close to me, who was silent, he said, --"What?what?"--meaning, what say you? But I still said nothing; I couldnot concur where I thought so differently, and to enter into anargument was quite impossible; for every little thing I said, theking listened to with an eagerness that made me always ashamed ofits insignificancy. And, indeed, but for that I should havetalked to him with much greater fluency, as well as ease. 

>From players he went to plays, and complained of the great

318

want of good modern comedies, and of the extreme immorality ofmost of the old ones. 

And they pretend, " cried he, " to mend them; but it is notpossible. Do you think it is?--what?"

"No, sir, not often, I believe ;-the fault, commonly, lies in thevery foundation. "

"Yes, or they might mend the mere speeches --but the charactersare all bad from the beginning to the end. "

Then he specified several; but I had read none of them, andconsequently could say nothing about the matter -till, at last, he came to Shakspeare. 

"Was there ever, " cried he, "such stuff as great part ofShakspeare only one must not say so! But what think you?--What?--Is there not sad stuff? what?--what?"

"Yes, indeed, I think so, sir, though mixed with suchexcellences, that----"

"O!" cried he, laughing good-humouredly, "I know it is not to besaid! but it's true. Only it's Shakspeare, and nobody dare abusehim. "

Then he enumerated many of the characters and parts of plays thathe objected to - and when he had run them over, finished withagain laughing, and exclaiming, "But one should be stoned for saying so!"

"Madame de Genlis, sir, " said I, "had taken such an impression ofthe English theatre, that she told me she thought no woman oughtto go to any of our comedies. "

This, which, indeed, is a very overstrained censure of ourdramas, made him draw back, and vindicate the stage from asentence so severe ; which, however, she had pronounced to me, asif she looked upon it to be an opinion in which I should join asa thing past dispute. 

The king approved such a denunciation no more than his littlesubject; and he vindicated the stage from so hard an aspersion, with a warmth not wholly free from indignation. 

This led on to a good deal more dramatic criticism; but what wassaid was too little followed up to be remembered for writing. His majesty stayed near two hours, and then wished Mrs. Delanygood night, and having given me a bow, shut the door himself, toprevent Mrs. Delany, or even me, from attending him out, and, with only Miss Port to wait upon him, put on his own great coatin the passage, and walked away to the lower Lodge, to see thePrincess Elizabeth, without carriage319

or attendant. He is a pattern of modest, but manly superiorityto'rank. I should say more of this evening, and of the king, with whose unaffected conversation and unassuming port and mannerI was charmed, but that I have another meeting to write, -a long, and, to me, very delightful private conference with the queen. It happened the very next morning. 

 LITERARY TALK WITH THE QUEEN. 

Tuesday, Dec. 20. -1st, summons; 2ndly, entr6e. 

" Miss Burney, have you heard that Boswell is going to publish alife of your friend Dr. Johnson?"

"No, ma'am. "

"I tell you as I heard. I don't know for the truth of it, and Ican't tell what he will do. He is so extraordinary a man, thatperhaps he will devise something extraordinary. What do youthink of Madame de Genlis' last work?"

"I have not read it, ma'am. "

" Not read it?"

(I believe she knew my copy, which lay on the table. )

I said I had taken it to Norbury, and meant to read it with Mrs. Locke, but things then prevented. 

"Oh! (looking pleased) have you read the last edition of her'Ad`ele?'"(200)

"No, ma'am. "

"Well, it is much improved; for the passage, you know, Mrs. Delany, of the untruth, is all altered - fifteen pages are quitenew ; and she has altered it very prettily. She has sent it tome. She always sends me her works ; she did it a long while ago, when I did not know there was such a lady as Madame de Genlis. You have not seen 'Ad`ele, ' then?"

"No, ma'am. "

"You would like to see it. But I have it not here. Indeed, I think sometimes I have no books at all, for they are at Kew, orthey are in town, and they are here ; and I don't know which iswhich. Is Madame de Genlis about any new work?"

"Yes, ma'am - one which she intends 'pour le peuple. '"

"AH, that will be a good Work. Have you heard of--" (mentioningsome German book, of which I forget the name). 

"No, ma'am. "

"O, it will be soon translated; very fine language, --very

320

bad book. They translate all our worst 1 And they are soimproved in language; they write so finely now, even for the mostsilly books, that it makes one read on, and one cannot help it. O, I am very angry sometimes at that ! Do you like the 'Sorrowsof Werter?'"

"I--I have not read it, ma'am, only in part. "

"No? Well, I don't know how it is translated, but it is veryfinely writ in German, and I can't bear it. ""

"I am very happy to hear that, for what I did look over made medetermine never to read it. It seemed only writ as a deliberatedefence of suicide. "

"Yes; and what is worse, it is done by a bad man for revenge. "

She then mentioned, with praise, another book, saying, "I wish I knew the translator. "

"I wish the translator knew that. "

"O--it is not--I should not like to give my name, for fear I havejudged ill: I picked it up on a stall. O, it is amazing whatgood books there are on stalls. "

"It is amazing to me, " said Mrs. Delany, "to hear that. "

"Why, I don't pick them up myself; but I have a servant veryclever; and if they are not to be had at the booksellers', theyare not for me any more than for another. "

She then spoke of Klopstock's "Messiah, " saying it contained fourlines most perfect on religion. 

"How I should like to see it. Is it translated?" asked Mrs. Delany, turning to me. 

"In it, " said her majesty: " there is a story of Lazarus and theCenturion's daughter; and another young lady, Asyddel, he callsher; and Lazarus is in love;--a very pretty scene-- nostopping;--but it is out of place;--I was quite angry to read it. And a long conversation between Christ and Lazarus--verystrange!"

" "Yet Milton does that. "

"Yes. "

 THE QUEEN ON ROMAN CATHOLIC SUPERSTITIONS. 

And then she went on discussing Milton; this led to Wickliffe andCranmer; and she spoke of the Roman Catholic superstitions. 

"O, so odd! Can it signify to God Almighty if I eat a

321

piece of fish or a piece of meat? And one of the Queen ofFrance's sisters wears the heel of her shoe before for a penance;as if God Almighty could care for that!""

"It is supposing in Him the caprice of a fine lady. "

"Yes, just so. Yet it is amusing, and pretty too, how sincerethe lower people are, of the Catholics. I was with my mother at--, a Catholic town, and there was a lady we knew, had a very badtooth-ache; she suffered night and day, and we were very sorry. But, over the river there was a Virgin Mary of great fame formiracles, and, one morning, when I wanted to get up, our maid didnot come, and nobody knew where she was, and she could not befound. At last she came back with a large bouquet, which she hadcarried over the river in the night and got it blessed, and gaveit to the lady to cure her tooth-ache. But we have Protestantnunneries in Germany. I belonged to one which was under theImperial protection ; there is one for royal families-one for thenoblesse, - the candidates' coats of arms are put up several weeksto be examined, and if any flaw is found, they are not elected. These nunneries are intended for young ladies of little fortunesand bigh birth. There is great licence in them. They haveballs, not at home, but next door; and there is no restrictionbut to go to prayers at eight, at nine, and at night, -that isvery little, you know, - and wear black or white, The dressconsists of three caps, one over the forehead, one for the back, one up high, and one lower, for the veil; very pretty; and thegown is a vest, and the skirt has I don't know how many hundredplaits. I had the cross and order, but I believe I gave it awaywhen I came to England --for you may transfer; so I gave it tothe Countess of a friend of mine. "

I could not help saying, how glad we all were that she was nonun!

"Once, " she continued, "I wanted to go to a chapel in thatCatholic town, and my mother said I should go if I would be surenot to laugh at anything; and I promised I would not; so, I tookcare to keep my eyes half shut, half open, thus, for fear Ishould see something to make me laugh, for my mother told me Ishould not come out all day if I laughed. But there was nothingridiculous. "

[The memorandum of the above conversation breaks off abruptly. ]322

 ON BEING PRESENTED. 

(Fanny Burney to Mrs. Burney. )Windsor, Dec. 17

My dearest Hetty, I am sorry I could not more immediately write; but I really havenot had a moment since your last. 

Now I know what you next want is, to hear accounts of kings, queens, and such royal personages. O ho! do you so? Well. 

Shall I tell you a few matters of fact?--or, had you rather a fewmatters of etiquette? Oh, matters of etiquette, you cry! formatters of fact are short and stupid, and anybody can tell, andeverybody is tired with them. 

Very well, take your own choice. 

To begin, then, with the beginning. 

You know I told you, in my last, my various difficulties, whatsort of preferment to turn my thoughts to, and concluded withjust starting a young budding notion of decision, by suggestingthat a handsome pension for nothing at all would be as well asworking night and day for a salary. 

This blossom of an idea, the more I dwelt upon, the more I liked. Thinking served it for a hothouse, and it came out into full blowas I ruminated upon my pillow. Delighted that thus all mycontradictory and wayward fancies were overcome, and my mind waspeaceably settled what to wish and to demand, I gave over allfurther meditation upon choice of elevation, and had nothing moreto do but to make my election known. 

My next business, therefore, was to be presented. This could beno difficulty; my coming hither had been their own desire, andthey had earnestly pressed its execution. I had only to preparemyself for the rencounter. 

You would never believe--you, who, distant from Courts andcourtiers, know nothing of their ways--the many things to bestudied, for appearing with a proper propriety before crownedheads. Heads without crowns are quite other sort of rotundas. 

Now, then, to the etiquette. I inquired into every particular, that no error might be committed. And as there is no saying whatmay happen in this mortal life, I shall give you thoseinstructions I have received myself, that, should you findyourself in the royal presence, you may know how to comportyourself. 323

 DIRECTIONS FOR COUGHING, SNEEZING, OR MOVING BEFORE THE KING AND QUEEN. 

In the first place, you must not cough. If you find a coughtickling in your throat, you must arrest it from making anysound; if you find yourself choking with the forbearance, youmust choke--but not cough. 

In the second place, you must not sneeze. If you have a vehementcold, you must take no notice of it; if your nose membranes feela great irritation, you must hold your breath; if a sneeze stillinsists upon making its way, you must oppose it, by keeping yourteeth grinding together; if the violence of the repulse breakssome blood-vessel, you must break the blood-vessel--but notsneeze. 

In the third place, you must not, upon any account, stir eitherhand or foot. If, by chance, a black pin runs into your head, you must not take it out. If the pain is very great, you must besure to bear it without wincing; if it brings the tears into youreyes, you must not wipe them off; if they give you a tingling byrunning down your cheeks, you must look as if nothing was thematter. If the blood should gush from your head by means of theblack pin, you must let it gush; if you are uneasy to think ofmaking such a blurred appearance, you must be uneasy, but youmust say nothing about it. If, however, the agony is very great, you may, privately, bite the inside of your cheek, or of yourlips, for a little relief; taking care, meanwhile, to do it socautiously as to make no apparent dent outwardly. And, with thatprecaution, if you even gnaw a piece out, it will not be minded, only be sure either to swallow it, or commit it to a corner ofthe inside of your mouth till they are gone- for you must notspit. 

I have many other directions but no more paper; I will endeavour, however, to have them ready for you in time. Perbaps, meanwhile, you would be glad to know if I have myself had opportunity to putin practice these receipts?

 DR. BURNEY is DISAPPOINTED OF A PLACE. 

Sunday, May 21, 1786. -I have now quite a new business to writeupon. Late on Saturday night news reached my father of the deathof the worthy Mr. Stanley, who has been long in a declining stateof health. His place of master of the king's band my dear fatherhad been promised formerly. 324

Now he was once more to apply for it; and early on Sunday morninghe went to Mr. Smelt, to beg his advice what way to proceed. 

just as I was at the door, and going to church, my fatherreturned, and desired me to come back, as he had something tocommunicate to me. Mr. Smelt, he then told me, had counselledhim to go instantly to Windsor, not to address the king, but tobe seen by him. "Take your daughter, " he said, "in your hand, and walk upon the Terrace. The king's seeing you at this time hewill understand, and he is more likely to be touched by a hint ofthat delicate sort than by any direct application. "

My father determined implicitly to follow this advice. But letme not omit a singular little circumstance, which much enlivenedand encouraged our expedition. While I was changing my dress forthe journey, I received a letter from Miss Port, which was sentby a private hand, and ought to have arrived sooner, and whichpressed my visit to my dear Mrs. Delany very warmly, and told meit was by the queen's express wish. This gave me great spiritsfor my dear father's enterprise, and I was able to help him onthe road, from so favourable a symptom. 

When we got to Windsor, my father saw me safe to Mrs. Delany's, and then went himself to Dr. Lind's. With what joy did I flyinto the dear, open arms of this most venerable of women ! Herreception had all the warm liveliness of pleasant surprise, addedto its unfailing kindness. 

Miss Port, with her usual partiality, was in high glee from thesurprise. I dined and drank tea with them. Mrs. Delany relatedto me the most flattering speech made to her by the queen, aboutmy coming to her as " the friend best suited to solace her in herdisturbances, " and assured me she had quite interested herself inpressing Mrs. Delany to hasten me. 

'Tis very extraordinary what a gracious disposition towards methis sweet queen always manifests, and what peculiar elegancethere is in the expressions she makes use of in my favour. Theywere now particularly well-timed, and gave me most pleasant hopesfor my dear father. He came to tea at Mrs. Delany's, and, atthe proper hour, went to the Terrace, with the good-natured Dr. Lind, who is always ready to oblige. I waited to go with afemale party, which was arranged for me by Mrs. Delany, and soonfollowed. 

All the royal family were already on the Terrace before we325

arrived. The king and queen, and the Prince of Mecklenburg, andher majesty's mother -walked together. Next them the princessesand their ladies, and the young princesses, making a very gay andpleasing procession, of one of the finest families in the world. Every way they moved, the crowd retired to stand up against thewall as they passed, and then closed in to follow. When theyapproached towards us, and we were retreating, Lady LouisaClayton placed me next herself, making her daughters standbelow-a politeness and attention without which I had certainlynot been seen; for the moment their majesties advanced, Iinvoluntarily looked down, and drew my hat over my face. I couldnot endure to stare at them, and, full of our real errand, I feltashamed, even of being seen by them. The very idea of a design, however far from illaudable is always distressing anduncomfortable. Consequently, I should have stood in the herd, and unregarded; but Lady Louisa's kindness and good breeding putme in a place too conspicuous to pass unnoticed. The moment thequeen had spoken to her, which she stopped to do as soon as shecame up to her, she inquired, in a whisper, who was with her; asI know by hearing my own name given for the answer. The queenthen instantly stepped nearer me, and asked me how I did; andthen the king came forward, and, as soon as he had repeated thesame question, said, "Are you come to stay?"

"No, sir, not now. "

"No; but how long shall you stay?"

"I go to-night, sir. "

"I was sure, " cried the queen, "she was not come to stay, byseeing her father. "

I was glad by this to know my father had been observed. 

"And when did you come?" cried the king. 

"About two hours ago, sir. "

"And when do you return again to Windsor?"

"Very soon, I hope, sir. "

"And--and--and--" cried he, half laughing, and hesitating, significantly, "pray, how goes on the Muse?"

At first I only laughed, too; but he repeated the inquiry, andthen I answered, "Not at all, sir. "

"No? But why?--why not?"

"I--I--I am afraid sir, " stammered I, and true enough, I am sure. 

"And why?" repeated he, "of what?"

I spoke something, --I hardly know what myself, --so indis-

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tinctly, that he could not hear me, though he had put his headquite under my hat, from the beginning of the little conferenceand, after another such question or two, and no greatersatisfaction in the answer, he smiled very good humouredly, andwalked on, his charming queen by his side. His condescensionconfuses, though it delights me. 

We stayed some time longer on the Terrace, and my poor fatheroccasionally joined me; but he looked so conscious and depressed, that it pained me to see him. There is nothing that I know sovery dejecting, as solicitation. I am sure I could never, Ibelieve, go through a task of that sort. My dear father was notspoken to, though he had a bow every time the king passed him, and a curtsey from the queen. But it hurt him, and he thought ita very bad prognostic ; and all there was at all to build uponwas the graciousness shewn to me, which, indeed, in the manner I was accosted, was very flattering, and, except to high rank, I am told, very rare. 

We stayed but a very short time with my sweet Mrs. Delany, whosebest wishes you are sure were ours. I told her our plan, and ourfull conviction that she could not assist in it; as theobligations she herself owes are so great and so weighty, thatany request from her would be encroaching and improper. 

We did not get home till past eleven o'clock. We were theninformed that Lord Brudenel had called to say Mr. Parsons had apromise of the place from the lord chamberlain. This was notvery exhilarating. 

 A VISIT TO WARREN HASTINGS AND HIS WIFE. 

I had been invited by Mr. Cambridge to pass a day at Twickenhamwith Mr. And Mrs. Hastings, who had proposed to carry me withthem : accordingly, on May 24th, MrsHastings sent her carriagehere before ten o'clock. I made her and Mr. Hastings a visit ofabout half an hour previously to our journey. I am quite charmedwith Mr. Hastings, and, indeed, from all I can gather, and all Ican observe, -both which are but little, -he appears to me to beone of the greatest men now living, as a public character; whileas a private one, his gentleness, candour, soft manners, andopenness of disposition, make him one of the most pleasing. 

The little journey was extremely agreeable. He spoke with theutmost frankness of his situation and affairs, and with a nobleconfidence in his certainty of victory over his enemies, 327

from his consciousness of integrity and honour, that filled mewith admiration and esteem for him. Mrs. Hasting's is lively, obliging, and entertaining, and so adored by her husband, that, in her sight and conversation he seems to find a recompense, adequate to all his wishes, for the whole of his toils, and longdisturbances and labours. How rare, but how sweet and pleasant, the sight of such unions. (201)

 A PROPOSAL FROM THE QUEEN. 

[June, 1786. -A vacancy at this time occurred in the royalhousehold, from the resignation of Madame Haggerdorn, one of thequeen's German attendants who, together with MadameSchwellenberg, held the office of keeper of the robes. The placewas much sought after, but her majesty had been so well pleasedwith what she saw of Miss Burney, that she graciously empoWeredMr. Smelt to offer her this situation, allowing her time toconsider and weigh its advantages. 

Miss Burney, though deeply grateful for such a distinction, foresaw with alarm the separation from her family and the totalconfinement it would occasion; and, in her perplexity how todecide, she wrote to her friend, Miss Cambridge, in the followingterms. ]

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Monday, June, 1786. 

. . . . Yesterday evening, while I was with Mrs. Delany, Mr. Smelt arrived from Windsor, and desired a private conference withher; and, when it was over, a separate one with me: surprising menot a little, by entreating me to suffer some very home questionsfrom him, relative to my situation, my views, and even my wishes, with respect to my future life. At first, I only laughed: but mymerriment a little failed, me, when he gave me to understand hewas commissioned to make these inquiries by a great personage, who had conceived so favourable an opinion of me as to bedesirous of undoubted information, whether or not there was aprobability she might permanently attach me to herself and herfamily. 

You cannot easily, my dear Miss Cambridge, picture to yourselfthe consternation with which I received this intimation. It wassuch that the good and kind Mr. Smelt, perceiving it, had theindulgence instantly to offer me his services, first, inforbearing to mention even to my father his commission, and nextin fabricating and carrying back for me a respectful excuse. AndI must always consider myself the more obliged to him, as I sawin his own face the utmost astonishment and disappointment atthis reception of his embassy. 

I could not, however, reconcile to myself concealing from my dearfather a matter that ought to be settled by himself; yet Ifrankly owned to Mr. Smelt that no situation of that sort wassuited to my own taste, or promising to my own happiness. 

He seemed equally sorry and surprised ; he expatiated warmly uponthe sweetness of character of all the royal family, and thenbegged me to consider the very peculiar distinction shown me, that, unsolicited, unsought, I had been marked out with suchpersonal favour by the queen herself, as a person with whom shehad been so singularly pleased, as to wish to settle me with oneof the princesses, in preference to the thousands of offeredcandidates, of high birth and rank, but small fortunes, who werewaiting and supplicating for places in the new-formingestablishment. Her majesty proposed giving me apartments in thepalace ; making me belong to the table of Mrs. Schwellenberg, with whom all her own visitors--bishops, lords, or commons--always dine; keeping me a footman, and settling on me 200 poundsa year. "And in such a situation, " he

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added, "so respectably offered, not solicited, you may haveopportunities of serving your particular friends, --especiallyyour father, --such as scarce any other could afford you. "

My dear Miss Cambridge will easily feel that this was a plea notto be answered. Yet the attendance upon this princess was to beincessant, --the confinement to the court continual; I was scarceever to be spared for a single visit from the palaces, nor toreceive anybody but with permission, --and, my dear MissCambridge, what a life for me, who have friends so dear to me, and to whom friendship is the balm, the comfort, the very supportof existence!

Don't think me ungrateful, meanwhile, to the sweet queen, forthus singling out and distinguishing an obscure and mostunambitious individual. No indeed, I am quite penetrated withher partial and most unexpected condescension ; but yet, let mego through, for her sake, my tasks with what cheerfulness I may, the deprivations I must suffer would inevitably keep me from allpossibility of happiness. 

Though I said but little, my dear Mrs. Delany was disturbed andgood Mr. Smelt much mortified, that a proposition which hadappeared to them the most flattering and honourable, should beheard only with dejection. I cast, however, the whole into myfather's disposal and pleasure. 

But I have time for no more detail, than merely to say, that tillthe offer comes in form, no positive answer need be given, andtherefore that I am yet at liberty. Write to me, then, mydearest Miss Cambridge, with all your fullest honesty, and let meknow which you wish to strengthen--my courage in making my realsentiments openly known, or my fortitude in concealing what itmay be right I should endure. . . . 

Monday Night, I have now to add, that the zealous Mr. Smelt is just returnedfrom Windsor, whither he went again this morning, purposely totalk the matter over with her majesty. What passed I knownot, -but the result is, that she has desired an interview with meherself; it is to take place next Monday, at Windsor. I now seethe end--I see it next to inevitable. I can suggest nothing uponearth that I dare say for myself, in an audience so generouslymeant. I cannot even to my father utter my reluctance, --I seehim so much delighted at the prospect of an establishment helooks upon as so honourable. But for the queen's own word"permanent, "--but for her de-330

clared desire to attach me entirely to herself and family!--Ishould share in his pleasure; but what can make me amends for allI shall forfeit? But I must do the best I can, Write me a comforting and strengthening letter, my dearest MissCambridge. I have no heart to write to Mickleham, or Norbury. Iknow how they will grieve:--they have expected me to spend thewhole summer with them. My greatest terror is, lest the queen, from what Mr. Smelt hinted, should make me promise myself to herfor a length of years. What can I do to avoid that? Anythingthat has a period is endurable but what can I object that willnot sound ungrateful, to the honour she is doing me and meaningme? She has given the most highly flattering reasons for makingthis application, in preference to listening to that of others;she has put it upon terms of commendation the most soothing; sheis, indeed, one of the sweetest characters in the world. Willyou, too, condemn me, then, that I feel thus oppressed by herproposal? I hope not, -I think not ;-but be very honest if youreally do. I wish I could see you! It is not fromnervousness;--I have always and uniformly had a horror of a lifeof attendance and dependence. . . . 

 Miss BURNEY ACCEPTS THE QUEEN'S OFFER. 

[How Miss Cambridge replied is not known; but Miss Burney'sappreciation of the queen's kindness, and the desire avowed byDr. Burney and Mrs. Delany that so honourable and advantageous anoffer should not be declined, induced her to accept it ; and thefollowing letters to her father show the final result of herdeliberations, and her affectionate care to prevent him fromperceiving her uneasiness. ]

(Fanny Burney to Dr. Burney. )Monday, June 19. 

How great must have been your impatience, dearest sir but myinterview has only this morning taken place. Everything issettled, and to-morrow morning I go to the queen's Lodge, to seethe apartments, and to receive my instructions. 

I must confess myself extremely frightened and full of alarms ata change of situation so great, so unexpected, so unthought-of. Whether I shall suit it or not, heaven only knows, but I have athousand doubts. Yet nothing could be sweeter than

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the queen, --more encouraging, more gentle, or more delicate. Shedid not ask me one question concerning my qualifications for thecharge; she only said, with the most condescending softness, "Iam sure, Miss Burney, we shall Suit One another very well. " And, another time, "I arn sure we shall do very well together. "

And what is itl dear Sir, you suppose to be my business? Not toattend any of the princesses--but the queen herself! This, indeed, was a delightful hearing, reverencing and admiring her asI have so sincerely done ever since I first saw her. And inthis, my amazement is proportioned to my satisfaction; for theplace designed me is that of Mrs. Haggerdorn, who came with herfrom Germany, and it will put me more immediately and moreconstantly in her presence than any other place, but that of Mrs. Schwellenberg, in the Court. 

The prepossession the queen has taken in my favour is trulyextraordinary, for it seems as if her real view was, as Mr. Smelthinted, to attach me to her person. She has been long, she toldMrs. Delany, looking out for one to supply the place of Mrs. Haggerdorn, whose ill health forces her back to Germany; "and Iwas led to think of Miss Burney, first by her books ; then bySeeing her - then by always hearing how she was loved by herfriends; but chiefly by your friendship for her. "

I fancy my appointment will take place very soon. 

Windsor, June 20. 

Most dear Sir, I am sure you will be (glad to hear I have got one formalityover, that was very disagreeable to my expectations. I have beenintroduced to Mrs. Haggerdorn whom I am to succeed, and to Mrs, Schwellenberg, whom I am to accompany. This passed at thequeen's Lodge, in their own apartments, this morning. I cannoteasily describe the sensation with which I entered thatdwelling, --the thoughts of its so soon becoming my habitation, ---and the great hazard of how all will go on in it--and the suddenchange!

Everything was perfectly civil and easy; the queen had herselfprepared them to receive me, and requested me to go. They madeno use of the meeting in the way of business it was merely avisit of previous ceremony. . . . 

The utmost astonishment will take place throughout the Court whenthey hear of my appointment. Everybody has settled somesuccessor to Mrs. Haggerdorn; and I have never, 332

I am very sure, been suspected by a single person. I saw, thismorning, by all that passed with Mrs. S. , how unexpecteda step her majesty has taken. The place, she told me, has beensolicited, distantly, by thousands and thousands of women offashion and rank. . . . 

(Fanny Burney to Mrs. Francis. )(202)St. Martin's-street, June 27. 

. . . Her majesty has sent me a message, express, near afortnight ago, with an offer of a place at Court, to succeed Mrs. Haggerdorn, one of the Germans who accompanied her to England, and who is now retiring into her own country. 'Tis a place ofbeing constantly about her own person, and assisting in hertoilette, -a place of much confidence, and many comforts;apartments in the palace; a footmnan kept for me; a coach incommon with Mrs. Schwellenberg; 200 pounds a-year, etc. 

I have been in a state of extreme disturbance ever since, fromthe reluctance I feel to the separation it will cause me from allmy friends. Those, indeed, whom I most love, I shall be able toinvite to me in the palace - but I see little or no possibilityof being able to make what I most value, excursions into thecountry. . . . I repine at losing my loved visits to Mickleham, Norbury, Chesington, Twickenham, and Ayle sham ; all these I mustnow forego. . . . 

You may believe how much I am busied. I have been presented atthe queen's Lodge in Windsor, and seen Mrs. Haggerdorn in office, and find I have a place of really nothing to do, but to attend;and on Thursday I am appointed by her majesty to go to St. James's, to see all that belongs to me there. And I am now"fitting Out" just as you were, and all the maids and workerssuppose I am going to be married, and snigger every time theybring in any of My new attire. I do not care to publish theaffair till it is made known by authority ; so I leave them totheir conjectures, and I fancy their greatest wonder is, who andwhere is the sposo; for they must think it odd he should neverappear!

 (189) "Memoirs of Dr. Burney, " vol. Iii. P. 87. Fanny had, however, to assist in dressing the queen. See postea, P- 345. 

190) The death of the Duchess dowager of Portland. 

(191) Miss Planta was English teacher to the two eldestprincesses. -ED. 

(192) One of the governesses to the princesses. -ED. 

(193) Georgina Mary Anne Port, grandniece of Mrs. Delany, by whomshe was brought up from the age of seven until Mrs. Delany'sdeath. She was born in 1771, and mairied, in 1789, Mr. Waddington, afterwards Lord Llanover. She was for many years onterms of friendship with Fanny, but after Madame D'Arblay'sdeath, Lady Llanover seized the opportunity of publishing, in heredition of Mrs. Delany's Correspondence, an attack upon herformer friend, of which the ill-breeding is only equalled by theinaccuracy. The view which she there takes of Fanny is justlycharacterised by Mr. Shuckburgh as "the lady-in-waiting'slady's-maid's view. " (See Macmillan's magazine for February, 1890. )-ED. 

(194) Joseph Baretti, author of an Italian and EnglishDictionary, and other works; the friend Of JOhnson, well known toreaders of Boswell. He had long been acquainted wifh theBurneys. Fanny writes in her "Early Diary" (March, 1773): "Mr. Baretti appears to be very facetious; he amused himself very muchwith Charlotte, whom he calls churlotte, and kisses whether shewill or no, always calmly saying, 'Kiss A me, Churlotte!'"Charlotte Burney was then about fourteen; she was known afterthis in the family as Mrs. Baretti. -ED. 

(195) A character in "Cecilia. "-ED. 

(196) Mrs. Phillips (Susan)-ED. 

(197) Madame de Genlis had visited England during the spring of1785, and made the acquaintance of Dr. Burney and his daughterFanny. In July Fanny writes of her as "the sweetest as well asthe most accomplished Frenchwoman I ever met with, " and in thesame month Madame de Genlis writes to Fanny: "Je vous aime depuisl'instant o`u j'ai lu Evelina et Cecilia, et le bonheur de vousentendre et de vous conn6itre personellement a rendu ce sentimentaussi tendre qu'il est bien fond6. " The acquaintance, however, was not kept up. -ED. 

(198) The famous actress, Kitty Clive. She had quitted the stagein 1760. Genest says of her, "If ever there was a true ComicGenius, Mrs. Clive was one. "--ED. 

(199) John Henderson was by many people considered second only toGairick, especially in Shakspearean parts. He too was latelydead, having made his last appearance on the stage on the 8th ofNovember, 1785, within less than a month of his death. -ED. 

(200) "Ad`ele et Th`eodore, ou Lettres sur l'`education" byMadame de Genlis, ffirst published in 1782. -ED. 

(201) We shall hear again of 'Mr, and Mrs. Hastings, and of thescandal which was caused by the lady's reception at Court. Shewas bought by Hastings of her former husband for 10, 000 pounds. The story is briefly as follows:--

Among the fellow-passengers of Hastings on the ship whichconveyed him to India in 1769, were a German portrait-painter, named Imhoff, and his wife, who were going out to -Madras in thehope of bettering their circumstances. During the voyage astrong attachment sprang up between Hastings and the lady, whonursed him through an illness. The husband, it seems, had aslittle affection for his wife as she had for him, and was easilyprevailed upon to enter into an amicable arrangement, by virtueof which Madame Imhoff instituted proceedings for divorce againsthim in the German courts. Pending the result, the Imhoffscontinued to live together ostensibly as man and wife to avoidscandal. The proceedings- were long protracted, but a decree ofdivorce was finally procured in 1772, when Hastings married thelady and paid to the complaisant husband a sum, it Is said, exceeding, 10, 000 pounds. 

The favourable reception accorded by the queen to Mrs. Hastings, when, in 1784, she returned to England as wife of the Governor-general of Bengal, passed not without public comment. Herhusband, however, was in high esteem at Court from his greatservices, and she had an additional recommendation to the queen'sfavour in the friendship of Mrs. Schwellenberg, the keeper of therobes, whom she had known before her voyage to -India. -ED. 

(202) Fanny's sister Charlotte, who had mairied Clement Francis, Feb. 11, 1786. They were now settled at Aylesham, in Norfolk, where Mr. Francis was practising as a surgeon. -ED. 

333

 SECTION 7 1786 MISS BURNEY ENTERS UPON HER COURT DUTIES. 

[The original editor of Madame D'Arblay's Diary intimates thatfictitious names have been given to one or two of the personsspoken of in the following portion of the work. These names weretain in the present text, but the following persons have beenidentified :-

"Col. Fairly, " with Col. The Hon. Stephen Digby;"Col. Wellbred, " with Col. Greville;"Mr. Turbulent, " with the Rev. Charles de Guiffardi`ere; and"Miss Fuzilier" with Miss Gunning-ED. ]

 THE QUEEN'S SUMMONS. 

Queen's Lodge, Windsor, Monday, July 17-

 With what hurry of mind and body did I rise this morning!Everything had already been arranged for Mrs. Ord's carrying usto Windsor, and my father's carriage was merely to go asbaggage-waggon for my clothes. But I wept not then. I left noone behind me to regret; my dear father accompanied me, and allmy dear sisters had already taken their flight, never more toreturn. Even poor little Sarah. (203) whom I love very dearly, was at Chesington. 

Between nine and ten o'clock we set off. W e changed carriage inQueen Ann-street, and Mrs. Ord conveyed us thence to Windsor. With a struggling heart, I kept myself tolerably tranquil duringthe little journey. My dear father

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was quite happy, and Mrs. Ord felt the joy of a mother inrelinquishing me to the protection of a queen so universallyreverenced. Had I been in better spirits, their ecstasy wouldhave been unbounded ; but alas !-what I was approaching was notin my mind - -what I was leaving had taken Possession of itsolely. 

Miss Port flew out to us as the carriage stopped-the youthfulblush of pleasure heightening her complexion, and every featureshewing her kind happiness. Mrs. Delany, she said, was gone outwith the queen. I took leave of my good Mrs. Ord, whose eyesoverflowed with maternal feelings-chiefly of contentment. Mrs. Delany came home in about An hour. A chastened satisfaction washers; she rejoiced in the prospect before me; she was happy we, should now be so much united, but she felt for my deprivations, she saw the hard conflict within me, and the tenderest pitychecked her delight. 

It was now debated whether I was immediately to go to the Lodge, or wait for orders. The accustomed method for those who havetheir majesties' commands to come to them is, to presentthemselves to the people in waiting, and by them to be announced. My heart, however, was already sinking, and my spirits everymoment were growing more agitated, and mysweet Mrs. Delany determined to spare me the additional task ofpassing through such awe-striking formalities. She thereforeemployed my dear father-delighted with the employment-to write anote, in her name. 

" Mrs. Delany presents her most humble duty to the queen; shefound Dr. Burney and his daughter at her house. Miss Burneywaits the honour of her majesty's commands. "

This, though unceremonious and unusual, she was sure the queenwould pardon. A verbal answer came that I was to go to the Lodgeimmediately. 

O, my dear Susan! in what an agony of mind did I obey thesummons! I was still in my travelling dress, but could not stayto change it. My father accompanied me. Mrs. Delany, anxiouslyand full of mixed sensations, gave me her blessing. We walked;the queen's Lodge is not fifty yards from Mrs. Delany's door. Mydear father's own courage all failed him in this little step; foras I was now on the point of entering--probably for ever-into anentire new way of life, and of foregoing by it all my mostfavourite schemes, and every dear expectation my fancy had everindulged of happiness adapted to its taste--as now all was to begiven up--I335

could disguise my trepidation no longer--indeed I never haddisguised, I had only forborne proclaiming it. But my dearfather now, sweet soul ! felt it all, as I held by his arm, without power to say one word, but that if he did not hurry alongI should drop by the way. I heard in his kind voice that he wasnow really alarmed ; he would have slackened his pace, or havemade me stop to breathe; but I could not; my breath seemed gone, and I could only hasten with all my might, lest my strengthshould go too. 

A page was in waiting at the gate, who shewed us 'Into Mrs. Haggerdorn's room, which was empty. My dear father endeavouredhere to compose my spirits; I could have no other command overthem than to forbear letting him know the afflicted state of allwithin, and to suffer him to keep to his own conclusions, that myemotion was all from fear of the approaching audience. 

The page came in a minute or two to summon me to the queen. Thequeen was in her dressing-room. Mrs. Schwellenberg was standingbehind her : nobody else present. 

She received me with a most gracious bow of the head, and a smilethat was all sweetness. She saw me much agitated, and attributedit, no doubt, to the awe of her presence. O, she little knew mymind had no room in it for feelings of that sort! She talked tome of my journey, my father, my sisters, and my brothers; theweather, the roads, and Mrs. Delany, any, every thing she couldsuggest, that could best tend to compose and to make me easy; andwhen I had been with her about a quarter of an hour, she desiredMrs. Schwellenberg to shew me my apartment, and, with anothergraceful bow, motioned my retiring. 

Not only to the sweet queen, but to myself let me here dojustice, in declaring that though I entered her presence with aheart filled with everything but herself, I quitted it withsensations much softened. The condescension of her efforts toquiet me, and the elegance of her receiving me, thus, as avisitor, without naming to me a single direction, without eventhe most distant hint of business, struck me to shew so muchdelicacy, as well as graciousness, that I quitted her with a verydeep sense of her goodness, and a very strong conviction that shemerited every exertion on my part to deserve it. 

Mrs. Schwellenberg left me, --at the room door, where my dearfather was still waiting for me, too anxious to depart till heagain saw me. 336

We spent a short time together, in which I assured him I wouldfrom that moment take all the happiness in my power, and banishall the regret. I told him how gratifying had been my reception, and I omitted nothing I could think of to remove the uneasinessthat this day seemed first to awaken in him Thank God ! I had thefullest success; his hopes and gay expectations were all withincall, and they ran back at the first beckoning. 

This settled, and his dear countenance all fresh illumined withreturning content, we went together to Mrs. Schwellenherg, wherewe made a visit of about an hour, in which I had the pleasure ofseeing them upon very amicable terms ; and then we had one moret`ete-`a-t`ete all in the same cheering style, and he left me todrest, and went to dine with Mrs. Delany. 

Left to myself, I did not dare stop to think, nor look round uponmy new abode, nor consider for how long I was taking possession;I rang for my new maid, and immediately dressed for dinner. Inow took the most vigorous resolutions to observe the promise Ihad made my dear father. Now all was filially settled, to borrowmy own words, I needed no monitor to tell me it would be foolish, useless, even wicked, not to reconcile myself to my destiny. 

The many now wishing for just the same--O! could they look withinme. I am married, my dearest Susan--I look upon it In thatlight--I was averse to forming the union, and I endeavoured toescape it; but my friends interfered--they prevailed--and theknot is tied. What then now remains but to make the best wife inmy power? I am bound to it in duty, and I will strain everynerve to succeed. 

 A MILITARY GOURMAND. 

When summoned to dinner, I found Mrs. Schwellenberg and a Germanofficer, Colonel Polier, who is now an attendant of PrinceCharles of Mecklenburg, the queen's brother, who is on a visit totheir majesties. I was introduced to himpand we took our places. I was offered the seat of Mrs. Haggerdorn, which was at the headof the table; but that was an undertaking I could not bear. Ibegged leave to decline it; and as Mrs. Schwellenberg left me atmy own choice, I planted myself quietly at one side. 

Colonel Polier, though a German officer, is of a Swiss family. 

337

He is a fat, good-humoured man, excessively fond Of eating anddrinking. His enjoyment of some of the fare, and especially ofthe dessert, was really laughable; he could never finish a speechhe had begun, if a new dish made its appearance, without stoppingto feast his eyes upon it, exclaim something in German, and suckthe inside of his mouth; but all so openly, and with such perfectgood-humour, that it was diverting without anything distasteful. 

After dinner we went upstairs into Mrs. Schwellenber, -'s room, todrink coffee. This is a daily practice. Her rooms are exactlyover mine ; they are the same size, and have the same prospect, but they are much more sumptuously fitted up. 

 A SUCCESSION OF VISITORS. 

Colonel Polier soon left us, to attend Prince Charles. Mrs. Schwellenberg and I had then a long t`ete-`a-t`ete, in which Ifound her a woman of understanding, and fond of conversation. Iwas called down afterwards to Miss Port, who was eager to see mein my new dwelling, and dying with impatience to know, hear, andexamine everything about me. She ran about to make all theinquiries and discoveries she could for me, and was so highlydelighted with my situation, it was impossible not to receivesome pleasure even from looking at her. She helped me to unpack, to arrange, to do everything that came in the way. 

In a short time Madame de la Fite entered, nearly as impatient asherself to be my first visitor. She was quite fanciful andentertaining about my succeeding to Mrs. Haggerdorn, andrepeatedly turned round to look at me fresh and fresh, to see ifit was really me, and me in that so long differently appropriatedapartment. 

She had but just left me, when who should enter but my dear Mrs. Delany herself. This was indeed a sweet regale tome. She came to welcome me in my own apartment, and I am sure toteach me to love it. What place could I see her in and hate ? Icould hardly do anything but kiss her soft cheeks, and dearvenerable hands, with gratitude for her kindness, while shestayed with me, which was till the royal family came home fromthe Terrace, which they walk upon every fine evening. She hadalready been invited to the king's concert, which she thenattended. 

Miss Port and I now planned that we would drink t338

together. It was, indeed, my dearest Mrs. Locke's injunctionsthat determined me upon making that trial; for I knew nothingcould more contribute to my future chance of some happy hoursthan securing this time and this repast to imself. Mrs, Delanyhad the same wish, and encouraged me in the attempt. 

As I knew not to whom to speak, nor how to give a positive order, in my ignorance whether the measure I desired to take waspracticable or not, Miss Port undertook to be my agent. Shetherefore ran out, and scampered up and down the stairs andpassages in search of some one to whom she could apply. She metat last Mrs. Schwellenberg's man, and boldly bid him " bring MissBurney's tea. " "It is ready, " he answered, "in the diningparlour. " And then he came to me, with his mistress'scompliments, and that she was come down to tea, and waited forme. 

To refuse to go was impossible it would have been an opening sooffensive, with a person destined for my principal companion, andwho had herself begun very civilly and attentively, that I couldnot even hesitate. I only felt heavyhearted, and Miss Port madea thousand faces, and together we went to the eating-room. 

 THE TEA TABLE OF THE KEEPER OF THE ROBES. 

Mrs. Schwellenberg had already made the tea; and four gentlemenwere seated at the table. The Bishop of Salisbury, as Iafterwards found he was, came up to congratulate me, and spokevery kindly of my father, whom he said he had just seen on theTerrace. This is a brother of Lord Barrington's: I had never methim before. 

Next him sat a young clergyman, Mr. Fisher, whom I did notrecollect, but who said he had seen me once at Mrs. Ord's, andspoke to me of her, and of Mrs. Thrale, whom he had lately leftin Italy, where he has been travelling. 

And next was Major Price, the equerry of the king at present inwaiting. He is the same that all the Barborne family so adoredwhen a captain. He mentioned them all to me, with high praiseand great good-breeding. I am very much pleased with him, andhappy he should be the equerry in waiting on my first arrival. Colonel Polier was also of the party. 

I find it has always belonged to Mrs. Schwellenberg andMrs. Haggerdorn to receive at tea whatever company the king orqueen invite to the Lodge, as it is only a very select few OF them

339

that can eat with their majesties, and those few are only ladies;no men, of what rank soever, being permitted to sit in thequeen's presence. I mean and hope to leave this business whollyto Mrs. Schwellenberg, and only to succeed Mrs. Haggerdorn inpersonal attendance upon the queen. 

During tea the door opened, and a young lady entered, upon whoseappearance all the company rose, and retreated a few pacesbackward, with looks of high respect. She advanced to Mrs. Schwellenberg, and desired her to send a basin of tea into themusic-room for Mrs. Delany : then walking up to me, with acountenance of great sweetness, she said, "I hope you are verywell, Miss Burney?" I only curtseyed, and knew not till she leftthe room, which was as soon as she had spoken a few words toMajor Price, that this was the Princess Elizabeth. 

Immediately after the concert began; the band being very full, and the performance on the ground-floor, as is the eating-room. I heard it perhaps better, because softer, than if I had been inthe music-room. I was very glad of this circumstance. Nothingwas played but Handel; but I was pleased to hear any music, somuch had I persuaded myself I should hear no more. 

EVENING CEREMONIAL IN THE QuEEN's DRESSING ROOM. 

At night I was summoned to the queen's apartment. Mrs. Schwellenberg was there, waiting. We sat together some time. The queen then arrived, handed into her dressing-room by theking, and followed by the princess royal and Princess Augusta. None other of the princesses slept in the queen's Lodge. Thelower Lodge, which is at the further end of the garden, is thedwelling-place of the four younger princesses. 

The king, with a marked appearance of feeling for the-no doubtevident-embarrassment of my situation, on their entrance, with amild good-breeding inquired of me how I had found Mrs. Delany :and then, kissing both his daughters, left the room. The twoprincesses each took the queen's hand, which they respectfullykissed, and wishing her good night, curtseyed condescendingly toher new attendant, and retired. 

The queen spoke to me a little of my father, my journey, and Mrs. Delany, and then entered into easy conversation, in German, withMrs. Schwellenberg, who never speaks English but by necessity. Ihad no sort of employment given me. The queen was only waitedupon by Mrs. Schwellenberg and340

Mrs. Thielky, her wardrobe woman ; and when she had put on hernight dishabille, she wished me good night. 

This consideration to the perturbed state of my mind, that ledher majesty to permit my presence merely as a spectatress, by wayof taking a lesson of my future employment for my own use, thoughto her, doubtless, disagreeable, was extremely gratifying to me, and sent me to bed with as much ease as I now could hope to find. 

THE QUEEN'S TOILETTES. 

Monday, July 8. -I rose at six, and was called to the queen soonafter seven. Only Mrs. Schwellenberg was with her, and again shemade me a mere looker-on; and the obligation I felt to her sentme somewhat lighter hearted from her presence. 

When she was dressed, in a simple morning gown, she had her hatand cloak put on, to go to prayers at eight o'clock, at theking's chapel in the Castle; and I returned to my room. 

At noon came my dear father, and spent an hour or two with me--sohappy! so contented! so big with every pleasant expectation!--Irejoice to recollect that I did nothing, said nothing thismorning to check his satisfaction; it was now, suddenly and atonce, all my care to increase his delight. And so henceforwardit must invariably continue. 

We parted cheerfully on* both sides; yet I saw a little pang inhis last embrace, and felt it in his dear hands :-but I keptmyself well up, and he left me, I really believe, without a wishungratified. 

At dressing-time the same quiet conduct was still observed by thequeen--fixed in her benign determination to permit me to recoverbreath and ease, ere she gave me any other trial than merelystanding in her presence. 

At dinner we--I mean Mrs. Schwellenberg and myself-had MissPlanta and Colonel Polier; and I was happy to be again divertedwith the excess of his satisfaction at sight of turtle upon thetable. 

CONGRATULATORY VISITS FROM COURT OFFICIALS. 

in the evening I had a visit from Lady Elizabeth Waldegrave, whobrought her sister, Lady Caroline Waldegrave, both to paycongratulatory compliments. Lady Elizabeth is lady of thebedchamber to the princess royal, and lives in this Lodge. 341

Her sister, by the queen's, goodness, is permitted to spend . Somemonths of every year with her. They were left orphans at aboutsixteen: the queen instantly took them both under her protection. They are gentle and well bred, and seem very amiable. Theystayed with me till it was time for them to go into waiting forthe princess royal, whom they attend to the Terrace. 

My dearest Mrs. Delany came again, to visit me wholly, and drinktea with me. We had a thousand things to discuss, but werescarce a moment together before we were interrupted by Madame dela Fite, who, however, only stayed to give and receive from Mrs. Delany congratulations on meeting in my room at Windsor, and thenshe pretty soon took leave. 

We had but again arranged ourselves to a little comfort, when atat-tat at my door followed, and a lady entered whom I had neverseen before, with a very courteous air and demeanour, saying, "Icould not defer paying my compliments to Miss Burney, and wishingher much joy, which we must all feel in such an accession to oursociety: I must get my daughter to introduce me. " And thenadvanced Mrs. Fielding, and I found this was Lady CharlotteFinch. 

Mrs. Fielding is one of the women of the bedchamber. She liveswith her mother, Lady Charlotte, and her three daughters, girlsfrom ten to fifteen years of age. 

When she also wished me joy, I saw in her face a strong mark ofstill remaining astonishment at my appointment. Indeed all thepeople in office here are so evidently amazed that one sounthought of amongst them should so unexpectedly fill a place towhich they had all privately appropriated some acquaintance, thatI see them with difficulty forbear exclaiming, "How odd it is tosee you here!"

Lady Charlotte's visit was short and very civil; she was obligedto hasten to the Castle, to attend the younger princesses tillthey went to the Terrace. They are sent to wait in an apartmentof the Castle, till the king and queen and the elders walk out, and then they are called to join them, when the crowd is notgreat, and when the weather is fine. 

My Windsor apartment is extremely comfortable. I have a largedrawing-room, as they call it, which is on the ground floor, asare all the queen's rooms, and which faces the Castle and thevenerable round tower, and opens at the further side, from thewindows, to the little park. It is airy, pleasant, clean, andhealthy, My bed-room is small, but neat and comfortable; its342

entrance is only from the drawing-room, and it looks to thegarden. These two rooms are delightfully independent of all therest of the house, and contain everything I can desire'for myconvenience and comfort. 

In her way to my room, Mrs. Delany had met the king; she -wasalittle shocked, and feared she came at an improper hour, orought to have come in the back Way. I know not if he hadperceived her distress; but he soon removed It, for when he wentout to go to the Terrace he looked towards my windows, and seeingher there, advanced a few steps to ask her how she did. Thequeen turned round and curtseyed to her, and the Princess Augustaran up to speak to her. 

I had retired behind her; but when they moved on, MissGoldsworthy, the sub-governess, stole from her charges, and cameto the window to desire Mrs. Delany to introduce' her to me. 

Sweet Mrs. Delany, thwarted in her kind private views of aninteresting confabulation, grew fatigued, and went home; and thenMrs. Fielding rose to accompany her. Miss Port made a secondattempt for tea, but received for answer that Mrs. Schwellenbergwould come down and make it as soon as the king and queen camefrom the Terrace. 

The ceremony of waiting tea till the royal family return from theTerrace, is in order to make it for any company they may inviteto it. . . . 

To-night, like the rest of my attendance, I was merely treated asif an accidental visitor. Sweet queen !, ;z-she seems as fearfulof employing me as I am myself of being employed. 

 INOPPORTUNE VISITORS. 

July 20. -This morning the queen enquired of me if I lovedwalking? I answered yes; and she then told me I had better notleave off that exercise, but walk out every morning. 

I called at my dear Mrs. Delany's, and took Miss Port with me. We went together to Lady Louisa Clayton. We next went to LadyCharlotte Finch, who is one of 'her sisters, and governess to theprincesses. 

I called also at Madame de la Fite's; but she was so urgent withme to prolong my stay, that I returned too late to dress for mynoon attendance, and just as I was in the midst of my hairdishevelling, I was summoned. 

I was obliged to slip on my morning gown, and a large343

morning cap, and run away as fast as possible. The queen, whowas only preparing for her own hair-dresser, was already enpeignoir: she sat down, the man was called in, and then, lookingat me with a smile, she said "Now, Miss Burney, you may go andfinish your dress. "

Away I gallopped as fast as possible, to be ready against herhair-dresser departed : but when I came pretty near my ownapartment, I was stopped in the gallery by a lady, who coming upto me, said "Miss Burney?"

I started and looked at her; but finding her a perfect strangerto me, I only said "Ma'am!"--and my accent of surprise made herbeg my pardon and walk on. I was too much in haste to desire anyexplanation, 'and was only quickening my pace, when I was againstopped by a gentleman with a star and red ribbon, who, bowingvery civilly, said "Miss Burney, I presume?"

"Sir!--" was again all my answer and again, like the lady, hebegged my pardon, and retreated and I was too seriously earnestto pursue my business to dare lose a moment. On, therefore, Iagain hurried; but, at the very door of my room, which is threesteps down and three up place out of the even line of thegallery, I was once more stopped, by a very fat lady: who, comingup to me, also said "Miss Burney, I believe?"

"Yes, ma'am. "

"We have just, " cried she, "been to wait upon you, --but I couldfind nobody to introduce me; I believe I must introducemyself, -Lady Effingham. "

I thanked her for the honour she did me, --but when she proposedreturning with me to my room, in order to finish her visit, I wasquite disconcerted; and hesitated so much that she said "Perhapsit is not convenient to you?-"

"Ma'am--I--I was just going to dress--" cried I; I meant to add, and ought to have added, to " wait upon the queen, " but I was sounused to such a plea, that it sounded as a liberty to my vmind'svoice, and I could not get it out. 

She desired she might be no impediment to me, -and we parted I wasforced to let her go and to run into my own room, and fly - to mytoilette Not quite the sort of flight I have been used to making. However, all is so new here that it makes but a part in thegeneral change of system. 

The lady who had met me first was her daughter, Lady344

Frances Howard; and the gentleman, her second husband, Sir GeorgeHoward. 

I afterwards saw her ladyship in the queen's dressing-room, whereher majesty sent for her as soon as she was dressed, and verygraciously kept me some time, addressing me frequently while Istayed, in the conversation that took place, as if with a sweetview to point out to this first lady of her bedchamber I have yetseen, the favourable light in which she considers me, MAJOR PRICE AND COLONEL POLIER. 

The Duke de Saxe-Gotha, first cousin to the king, came to Windsorto-day, to spend some time. Major Price, who had the honours todo to his chief attendant, Baron ----, missed us therefore atcoffee ; but at tea we had them both, and my dear 'Mrs. Delany, as well as the jovial gourmand colonel, with whom I becameprodigiously well acquainted, by making him 'teach me a fewGerman phrases, which he always contrives, let me ask whatquestion I may, to turn into some expression relating to eatingand drinking. 

When all were gone, except the Duke de Saxe-Gotha's baron andMajor Price, I had a very long conversation with the major, whileMrs. Schwellenberg was entertaining the baron in German. I find, my dearest Susan, he has seen you often at Lady Clarges's; SirThomas(204) was his first cousin. He knows my dearest Mrs. Locke, also, by another cousin, Lady Templetown; and he knows memy own self by my cousins of Worcester. These mutualacquaintances have brought us into almost an intimacy at once, and I was quite glad of this opportunity of a little easy andnatural conversation. 

Sunday, July 23--Charles Wesley played the organ; and after theservice was over he performed six or seven pieces by the king'sorder. They were all of Handel, and so well suited to the organ, and so well performed on a remarkably good

345

instrument, that it was a great regale to me to hear them. Thepleasure I received from the performance led me into being toolate for the queen. I found I had already been enquired for toattend at the queen's toilette. 

When I came back the tea-party were all assembled in theeating-parlour. Colonel Polier was in the highest spirits : theking had just bestowed some appointment upon him in Hanover. He was as happy as if just casting his eyes upon pine-apple, melon, and grapes. I made Mrs. Schwellenberg teach me how towish him joy in German : which is the only phrase I have yet gotthat has no reference to eating or drinking. 

 MISS BURNEY'S DAILY ROUTINE AT WINDSOR. 

Monday, July 24-Having now journalized for one complete week, letme endeavour to give you, more connectedly, a concise abstract ofthe general method of passing the day, that then I may only writewhat varies, and occurs occasionally. 

I rise at six o'clock, dress in a morning gown and cap, and waitmy first summons, which is at all times from seven to near eight, but commonly in the exact half hour between them. 

The queen never sends for me till her hair is dressed. This, ina morning, is always done by her wardrobe-woman, Mrs. Thielky, aGerman, but who speaks English perfectly well. 

Mrs. Schwellenberg, since the first week, has never come down ina morning at all. The queen's dress is finished by Mrs. Thielkyand myself. No maid ever enters the room while the queen is init. Mrs. Thielky hands the things to me, and I put them on. 'Tis fortunate for me I have not the handing them! I shouldnever know which to take first, embarrassed as I am, and shouldrun a prodigious risk of giving the gown before the hoop, and thefan before the neckkerchief. 

By eight o'clock, or a little after, for she is extremelyexpeditious, she is dressed. She then goes out to join the king, and be joined by the princesses, and they all proceed to theking's chapel in the Castle, to prayers, attended by thegovernesses of the princesses, and the king's equerry. Variousothers at times attend, but only these indispensably. 

I then return to my own room to breakfast. I make this meal themost pleasant part of the day; I have a book for my

346

companion, and I allow myself an hour for it. At nine O'clock Isend off my breakfast things, and relinquish my book, to make aserious and steady examination of everything I have upon my handsin the way of business-in which preparations for dress are alwaysincluded, not for the present day alone, but for the Court-days, which require a particular dress; for the next arriving birthdayof any of the royal family, every one of which requires newapparel; for Kew, where the dress is plainest; and for going onhere, where the dress very pleasant to me, requiring no shew norfinery, but merely to be neat, not inelegant, and moderatelyfashionable. 

That over, I have my time at my own disposal till a quarterbefore twelve, except on Wednesdays and Saturdays, when I have itonly to a quarter before eleven. My rummages and businesssometimes occupy me uninterruptedly to those hours. When they donot, I give till ten to necessary letters of duty, ceremony, orlong arrears ;-and now, from ten to the times I have mentioned, Idevote to walking. These times mentioned call me to the irksomeand quick-returning labours of the toilette. The hour advancedon the Wednesdays and Saturdays is for curling and craping thehair, which it now requires twice a week. 

A quarter before one is the usual time for the queen to begindressing for the day. Mrs. Schwellenberg then constantlyattends; so do I; Mrs. Thielky, of course, at all times. We helpher off with her gown, and on with her powdering things, and thenthe hair-dresser is admitted. She generally reads the newspaperduring that operation. 

When she observes that I have run to her but half dressed, sheconstantly gives me leave to return and finish -as soon as she isseated. If she is grave, and reads steadily on, she dismissesme, whether I am dressed or not; but at all times she neverforgets to send me away while she is powdering, with aconsideration not to spoil my clothes, that one would not expectbelonged to her high station. Neither does she ever detain mewithout making a point of reading here and there some littleparagraph aloud. 

When I return, I finish, if anything is undone, my dress, andthen take Baretti's "Dialogues, " my dearest Fredy's "Tablet ofMemory, " or some such disjointed matter, for the few minutes thatelapse ere I am again summoned. 

I find her then always removed to her state dressing-room. Ifany room in this private mansion can have the epithet of347

state. There, in a very short time, her dress is finished. Shethen says she won't detain me, and I hear and see no more of hertill bed-time. 

It is commonly three o'clock when I am thus set at large. And Ihave then two hours quite at my disposal: but, in the naturalcourse of things, not a moment after! These dear and quiet twohours, my only quite sure and undisturbed time in the whole day, after breakfast is over, I shall henceforth devote to thustalking with my beloved Susan, my Fredy, and my other sisters, mydear father, or Miss Cambridge; with my brothers, cousins, Mrs. Ord, and other friends, in such terms as these two hours willoccasionally allow me. Henceforward, I say; for hithertodejection of spirits, with uncertainty how long my time mightlast, have made me waste moment after moment as sadly asunprofitably. 

At five, we have dinner. Mrs. Schwellenberg and I meet in theeating-room. We are commonly t`ete-`a-t`ete: when there isanybody added, it is from her invitation only. Whatever right myplace might afford me of also inviting my friends to the table Ihave now totally lost, by want of courage and spirits to claim itoriginally. 

When we have dined, we go upstairs to her apartment, which isdirectly over mine. Here we have coffee till the "terracing" isover: this is at about eight o'clock. Our t`ete-`a-t`ete thenfinishes, and we come down again to the eating-room. There theequerry, whoever he is, comes to tea constantly, and with him anygentleman that the king or queen may have invited for theevening; and when tea is over, he conducts them, and goeshimself, to the concert-room. This is commonly about nineo'clock. 

>From that time, if Mrs. Schwellenberg is alone, I never quit herfor a minute, till I come to my little supper at near eleven. Between eleven and twelve my last summons usually takes place, earlier and later occasionally. Twenty minutes is the customarytime then spent with the queen: half an hour, I believe, isseldom exceeded. 

I then come back, and after doing whatever I can to forward MYdress for the next morning, I go to bed-and to sleep, too, believe me : the early rising, and a long day's attention to newaffairs and occupations, cause a fatigue so bodily, that nothingmental stands against it, and to sleep I fall the moment I haveput Out my candle and laid down my head. 

Such is the day to your F. B. In her new situation at Wind-348

sor; such, I mean, is its usual destination, and its intendedcourse. I make it take now and then another channel, but neverstray far enough not to return to the original stream after alittle meandering about and about it. 

I think now you will be able to see and to follow me prettyclosely. 

With regard to those summonses I speak of, I will now explainmyself. My summons, upon all regular occasionsthat is, morning, noon, and night toilets-is neither more nor less than a bell. Upon extra occasions a page is commonly sent. At first, I feltinexpressibly discomfited by this mode of call. A bell!--itseemed so mortifying a mark of servitude, I always felt myselfblush, though alone, with conscious shame at my own strangedegradation. But I have philosophized myself now into somereconcilement with this manner of summons, by reflecting that tohave some person always sent would b often very inconvenient, andthat this method is certainly less an interruption to anyoccupation I may be employed in, than the entrance of messengersso many times in the day. It is, besides, less liable tomistakes. So I have made up my mind to it as well as I can ; andnow I only feel that proud blush when somebody is by to revive myoriginal dislike of it. 

 THE PRINCEss ROYAL. 

Tuesday, july 25. -I now begin my second week, with a scene alittle, not much, different. We were now to go to Kew, there toremain till Friday. 

I had this morning, early, for the first time, a little visitfrom one of the princesses. I was preparing for my journey, whena little rap at my room-door made me call out " Come in and whoshould enter but the princess royal!

I apologised for my familiar admittance, by my little expectationof such an honOUr. She told me she had brought the queen'ssnuff-box, to be filled with some snuff which I had been directedto prepare. It is a very fine-scented and mild snuff, butrequires being moistened from time to time, to revive its smell. The princess, with a very sweet smile, insisted upon holding thebox while I filled it; and told me she had seen Mrs. Delany atthe chapel, and that she was very well; and then she talked onabout her, with a visible pleasure in having a subject sointeresting to me to open upon, 349

When the little commission was executed, she took her leave withan elegant civility of manner as if parting with another king'sdaughter. I am quite charmed with the princess royal unaffectedcondescension and native dignity are so happily blended in herwhole deportment. 

She had left me but a short time before she again returned. "Miss Burney, " cried she, smiling with a look of congratulation, "Mamma says the snuff is extremely well mixed; and she has sentanother box to be filled. "

I had no more ready. She begged me not to mind, and not to hurrymyself, for she would wait till it was done. 

 THE COURT AT KEW: A THREE YEAR OLD PRINCESS. 

Mrs. Schwellenberg, Miss Planta, and myself travelled to Kewtogether. I have two rooms there; both small, and up two pair ofstairs; but tidy and comfortable enough. Indeed all theapartments but the king's and queen's, and one of Mrs. Schwellenberg's, are small, dark, and old-fashioned. There arestaircases in every passage, and passages to every closet. Ilost myself continually, only in passing from my own room to thequeen's. Just as I got upstairs, shown the way first by MissPlanta, I heard the king's voice. I slipped into my room ; buthe saw me, and following, said, "What! is Miss Burney taking possession?"

 And then he walked round the room, as if to see if it werecomfortable for me, and smiling very good-humouredly, walked outagain. A surveyor was with him, -- I believe he is giving ordersfor some alterations and additions. . . . 

When I went to the queen before dinner, the little PrincessAmelia was with her; and, though shy of me at first, weafterwards made a very pleasant acquaintance. She is a mostlovely little thing, just three years old, and full of sense, spirit, and playful prettiness: yet decorous and dignified whencalled upon to appear en princesse to any strangers, as ifconscious of her high rank, and of the importance ofcondescendingly sustaining it. 'Tis amazing what education cando, in the earliest years, to those of quick understandings. (205)This little princess, thus in infancy, by practice and example, taught her own consequence, conducts herself, upon all properoccasions, with an

350

air of dignity that is quite astonishing, though her naturalcharacter seems all sport and humour. 

When we became a little acquainted, the queen desired me to takeher by the hand, and carry her downstairs to the king, who waswaiting for her in the garden. She trusted herself to me with agrave and examining look, and shewed me, for I knew it not, theway. The king, who dotes upon her, seemed good-humouredlypleased to see me bring her. He took her little hand and led heraway. 

 A DRAWING-ROOM AT ST. JAMES'S. 

Thursday, July 27-This being a Court-day, we went to town. Thequeen dresses her head at Kew, and puts on her Drawing-roomapparel at St. James's. Her new attendant dresses all at Kew, except tippet and long ruffles, which she carries in paper, tosave from dusty roads. I forgot to tell you, I believe, that atSt. James's I can never appear, even though I have nothing to dowith the Drawing-room, except in a sacque: 'tis the etiquette ofmy place. 

Mrs. Schwellenberg, Miss Planta, and myself went about an hourbefore the king and queen. Mrs. Schwellenberg went to thequeen's dressing-room to give orders about the dress, Miss Plantawent to the princesses' room for the same purpose, and I wasshewn to mine for no purpose. 

Mine are two small rooms, newly and handsomely furnished, one ofwhich has a view of the park, over the stable-yard, and the otheronly of the passage to the park from St. James'sstreet. I hadnow the great satisfaction to find that there was a privatestaircase, from that same passage, that leads straight up to myapartments, and also that I may appoint any friend to meet me inthem on the court-days. I hope never to be there again withoutmaking use of this privilege. 

Having now neither companion nor book, I sent John, who came withme to town, to borrow some writing implements of one of thepages, and I employed myself in answering some letters, till thequeen arrived, and I was summoned, by Mrs. Leverick, the townwardrobe woman, to the dressing-room. There the queen put on hercourt dress, and as soon as she was attired sent for theprincesses royal and Augusta, who came to attend her to theDrawing-room. 

Mr. Nicolay, the page in waiting, then came to beg a littleaudience for the Duchess ofAncaster. . The queen went to her in351

the ante-room - The moment I was left with the princesses, theyboth came up to me, and began conversing in the most easy, unaffected, cheerful, and obliging manner that can be conceived. 

When the queen returned, the bell was rung for the bedchamberwoman; the etiquette of court-days requiring that one of themshould finish her dress. 

It happened now to be my acquaintance, Mrs. Fielding. She onlytied on the necklace, and handed the fan and gloves. The queenthen leaves the dressing. Room, her train being carried by thebedchamber woman. The princesses follow. She goes to theante-room, where she sends for the lady of the bedchamber inwaiting, who then becomes the first train-bearer, and they allproceed to the Drawing-room. 

We returned to Kew to dinner, very late. 

 ABSENCE OF STATE AT KEW. 

Friday, July 28. -The Kew life, you will perceive, is differentfrom the Windsor. As there are no early prayers, the queen riseslater; and as there is no form or ceremony here of any sort, herdress is plain, and the 'hour for the second toilette extremelyuncertain. The royal family are here always in so very retired away, that they live as the simplest country gentlefolks. Theking has not even an equerry with him, nor the queen any lady toattend her when she goes her airings. 

Miss Planta belongs here to our table; so does anybody thatcomes, as there is no other kept. There is no excuse for partingafter dinner, and therefore I live unremittingly with Mrs. Schwellenberg after the morning. 

It is a still greater difficulty to see company here than atWindsor, for as my apartments are upstairs, there is a greaterdanger of encountering some of the royal family ; and I find allthe household are more delicate in inviting or admitting anyfriends here than elsewhere, on account of the very easy andunreserved way in which the family live, running about from oneend of the house to the other, without precaution or care. 

 Miss BURNEY'S FIRST EVENING OUT. 

Windsor, July 28. -To-day I made my first evening visit, and for the first time failed Mrs. Schwellenberg's tea-tableentirely. You will be surprised to hear for whom I took thiseffort --Lady Effingham! But I found from Mrs. Delany352

she had been a little hurt by the passage-scene, and seemed tothink I meant to avoid her future visits and civilities. -Mrs. Delany, therefore, advised me to go to Stoke, hercountry-seat, by way of apologizing, and to request the queen'spermission, Promising to carry me herself. 

I never hesitate where she counsels. I thought it, too, a goodopportunity of trying my length of liberty, as Lady Effingham isone of the ladies of the bedchamber, and is frequently at theLodge as a private visitor. 

It was inexpressibly awkward to me to ask leave to go out, andawkwardly enough I believe I did it, only saying that if hermajesty had no objection, Mrs. Delany would carry me in theevening to Stoke. She smiled immediate approbation, and nothingmore passed. 

I had then to tell my intention to Mrs. Schwellenberg who was, Ibelieve, a little surprised. Fortunately, Major Price cameupstairs to coffee. A little surprised, too, I am sure, wasMajor Price, when I made off for the whole evening. Everybodyhad taken it for granted I must necessarily pursue the footstepsof Mrs. Haggerdorn, and never stir out. But, thank God, I am notin the same situation ; she had no connections--I have such as noone, I believe, ever had before. 

The evening was rainy; but, my leave asked and obtained, my kindMrs. Delany would not defer the excursion. Stoke is about threemiles off. 

We were received in the civilest manner possible by LadyEffingham, and Sir George Howard and Lady Frances. There werealso several of their relations with them. Lady Effingham seemsa mighty good-humoured, friendly woman. Sir George is pompous, yet he, too, is as good-humoured in his manners as his Lady. 

 CASUAL CALLERS TO BE KEPT OFF: A NEw ARRIVAL. 

July 31. -I had a very pleasant visit from Mrs. Hastings(206) thismorning, whose gay good-humour is very enlivening : but shedetained me from my dress, and I was not ready for the queen ;and I have now adopted the measure of stationing John in thegallery while I am at that noble occupation, and making him keepoff all callers, by telling them I am dressing

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for the queen. I have no other way ; and being too late, or eventhe fear of being too late, makes me nervous and ill. 

Every little failure of this sort, though always from causesunknown to her majesty, she has borne without even a look ofsurprise or of gravity ; though she never waits an instant, forif Mrs. Schwellenberg is not with her, she employs Mrs. Thielky, or goes on with her dress or her undress without either. 

This graciousness, however, makes me but the more earnest to growpunctual; especially as I am now always employed, when presentand in time. 

I went in the afternoon to Mrs. De Luc. When I returned here, tothe conclusion of the tea-drinking, I found a new gentleman, dressed in the king's Windsor uniform-which is blue and gold, turned up with red, and worn by all the men who belong to hismajesty, and come into his presence at Windsor. 

Major Price immediately presented us to each other. It wasGeneral Bud`e: what his post may be I have not yet learned, buthe is continually, I am told, at Windsor, and always resides inthis Lodge, and eats with the equerries. 

I do not quite know what to say of General Bud`e; except that hisperson is tall and showy, and his manners and appearance arefashionable. But he has a sneer in his smile that lookssarcastic, and a distance in his manner that seems haughty. 

 THE ROYAL PRINCESSES. 

Wednesday, 2. --This morning, for the first time, I made a littlesort of acquaintance with the two younger princesses. I wascoming from the queen's room, very early, when I met the PrincessMary, just arrived from the lower Lodge: she was caperingupstairs to her elder sisters, but instantly stopped at sight ofme, and then coming up to me, inquired how I did, with all theelegant composure of a woman of maturest age. Amazingly well areall these children brought up. The readiness and the grace oftheir civilities, even in the midst of their happiest wildnessesand freedom, are at once a surprise and a charm to all who seethem. 

The queen, when she goes to early prayers, often leaves me thecharge of her little favourite dog, Badine. To-day, after herreturn, she sent her page for him ; and presently after, I had arap again at the door, and the little Princess Sophia354

entered. "Miss Burney, " cried she, curtseying and colouring, "Mamma has sent me for the little dog's basket. "

I begged her permission to carry it to the queen's room but shewould not suffer me, and insisted upon taking it herself, with amingled modesty and good breeding extremely striking in one soyoung. 

About half an hour after she returned again, accompanying theprincess royal. The queen had given me a new collection ofGerman books, just sent over, to cut open for her; and sheemployed the princess royal to label them. She came mostsmilingly to the occupation, and said she would write down theirnames, " if I pleased, " in my room. You may believe I was notmuch displeased. I gave her a pencil, and she seized a piece ofwhity-brown paper, inquiring "if she might have it?"--I wouldfain have got her better, but she began writing immediately, stooping to the table. 

I was now in a momentary doubt whether or not 'It Would b(' -proper, or too great a liberty, to ask her royal highness to beseated ; but, after a moment's hesitation, I thought it best toplace her a chair, and say nothing. 

I did ; and she turned about to me with a most graceful curtsey, and immediately accepted it, with a most condescending apologyfor my trouble. I then, thus encouraged, put another chair forthe little Princess Sophia, who took it as sweetly. 

"Pray sit down too, " cried the princess royal: "I beg you will, Miss Burney!"

I resisted a little while; but she would not hear me, insisting, with the most obliging earnestness, upon carrying her point. 

She writes German with as much facility as I do English andtherefore, the whole time she was taking down the titles of thebooks, she kept up a conversation, Mrs. Delany her well andkindly chosen subject. When she had done her task, she quittedme with the same sweetness, and the Princess Mary ran in for herlittle sister. 

The princess royal, not long after, again returned:--"There is noend to me, you will think, this morning, " cried she, on entering;and then desired to have all the books I had cut open; nor wouldshe suffer me to carry one for her, though they wereincommodious, from their quantity, for herself. 

Such has been the singular 'condescension of the queen, thatevery little commission with which she has yet intrusted355

me she has contrived to render highly honourable, by giving theprincesses some share in them. 

 ALARMING NEWS. 

In the evening I had no little difficulty how to manage to go toMrs. Delany, --for I have here to mention the worst thing that hashappened to me at Windsor, -the desertion of Major Price from thecoffee. The arrival of General Bud`e, who belongs to theequerries' table, has occasioned his staying to do the honours tohim till terrace time. At tea, they belong to Mrs. Schwellenberg. 

This has not only lost me some of his society, the most pleasantI had had in the Lodge, but has trebled my trouble to steal away. While I left him behind, the absconding from a beau was apologyall-sufficient for running away from a belle; but now I am doublywanted to stay, and too-doubly earnest to go! . . . 

I went into my own room for my cloak, and, as usual, . FoundMadame de la Fite just waiting for me. She was all emotion, --sheseized my hand, --"Have you heard?--O mon Dieu!--O le bon Roi! OMiss Burney!--what an horrreur!"

I was very much startled, but soon ceased to wonder at herperturbation ;-she had been in the room with the PrincessElizabeth, and there heard, from Miss Goldsworthy, that anattempt had just been made upon the life of the king!

I was almost petrified with horror at the intelligence. If thisking is not safe, -good, pious, beneficent as he is, . -if his lifeis in danger, from his own subjects, what is to guard the throne?and which way is a monarch to be secure?

Madame de la Fite had heard of the attempt only, not theparticulars; but I was afterwards informed of them in the mostinteresting manner, --namely, how they were related to the queen. And as the newspapers will have told you all else, I shall onlyand briefly tell that. 

No information arrived here of the matter before his majesty'sreturn, at the usual hour in the afternoon, from the levee. TheSpanish minister had hurried off instantly to Windsor, and was inwaiting, at Lady Charlotte Finch's, to be ready to assure hermajesty of the king's safety, in case any report anticipated hisreturn. 

The queen had the two eldest princesses, the Duchess of Ancaster, and Lady Charlotte Bertie with her when the king356

came in. He hastened up to her, with a countenance of strikingvivacity, and said, " Here I am !-safe and well, -as you see !-butI have very narrowly escaped being stabbed!"

His own conscious safety, and the pleasure he felt in thuspersonally shewing it to the queen, made him not aware of theeffect of so abrupt a communication. The queen was seized with aconsternation that at first almost stupefied her, and after amost painful silence, the first words she could articulate were, in looking round at the duchess and Lady Charlotte, who had bothburst into tears, -" I envy you !-I can't cry!"

The two princesses were for a little while in the same state butthe tears of the duchess proved infectious, and they then' wepteven with violence. 

 THE ATTEMPT AGAINST THE KING. 

The king, with the gayest good-humour, did his utmost to comfortthem ; and then gave a relation of the affair, with a calmnessand unconcern that, had any one but himself been his hero, wouldhave been regarded as totally unfeeling. 

You may have heard it wrong; I will concisely tell it right. Hiscarriage had just stopped at the garden-door at St. James's, andhe had just alighted from it, when a decently-dressed woman, whohad been waiting for him some time, approached him, with apetition. It was rolled up, and had the usual superscription--"For the king's most excellent majesty. " She presented it withher right hand; and at the same moment that the king bent forwardto take it, she drew from it, with her left hand, a knife, withwhich she aimed straight at his heart. 

The fortunate awkwardness of taking the instrument with the lefthand made her design perceived before it could be executed;--theking started back, scarce believing the testimony of his owneyes; and the woman made a second thrust, which just touched hiswaistcoat before he had time to prevent her;--and at that momentone of the attendants, seeing her horrible intent, wrenched theknife from her hand. 

"Has she cut my waistcoat?" cried he, in telling it, --Look! for Ihave had no time to examine. "

Thank heaven, however, the poor wretch had not gone quite so far. "Though nothing, " added the king, in giving his relation, "couldhave been sooner done, for there was nothing for her to gothrough but a thin linen, and fat. "357

While the guards and his own people now surrounded theking, the assassin was seized by the populace, who were tearingher away, no doubt to fall the instant sacrifice of hermurtherous purpose, when the king, the only calm and moderateperson then present, called aloud to the mob, "The poor creatureis mad!--Do not hurt her! She has not hurt me!"

He then came forward, and showed himself to all the people, declaring he was perfectly safe and unhurt; and then gavepositive orders that the woman should be taken care of, and wentinto the palace, and had his levee. (207)

There is something in the whole of his behaviour upon thisoccasion that strikes me as proof indisputable of a true andnoble courage : for in a moment so extraordinary-an attack, inthis country, unheard of before-to settle so instantly that itwas the effect of insanity, to feel no apprehension of privateplot or latent conspiracy-to stay out, fearlessly, among hispeople, and so benevolently to see himself to the safety of onewho had raised her arm against his life, --these little traits, all impulsive, and therefore to be trusted, have given me animpression of respect and reverence that I can never forget, andnever think of but with fresh admiration. 

If that love of prerogative, so falsely assigned, were true, whatan opportunity was here offered to exert it! Had he instantlytaken refuge in his palace, ordered out all his guards, stoppedevery avenue to St. James's, and issued his commands that everyindividual present at this scene should be secured andexamined, -who would have dared murmur, or even blame suchmeasures? The insanity of the woman has now fully been proved ;but that noble confidence which gave that instant excuse for herwas then all his own. 

 AGITATION OF THE QUEEN AND PRINCESSES. 

Nor did he rest here; notwithstanding the excess of terror forhis safety, and doubt of further mischief, with which all his

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family and all his household were seized, he still maintained themost cheerful composure, and insisted upon walking on theterrace, with no other attendant than his single equerry. 

The poor queen went with him, pale and silent, -the princessesfollowed, scarce yet commanding their tears. In the evening, just as usual, the king had his concert : but it was an eveningof grief and horror to his family: nothing was listened to, scarce a word was spoken ; the princesses wept continually; thequeen, still more deeply struck, could only, from time to time, hold out her hand to the king, and say, "I have you yet!"

The affection for the king felt by all his household has been atonce pleasant and affecting to me to observe : there has not beena dry eye in either of the Lodges, on the recital of his danger, and not a face but his own that has not worn marks of care eversince. 

I put off my visit to my dear Mrs. Delany; I was too muchhorror-struck to see her immediately; and when, at night, I wentto her, I determined to spare her the shock of this event tillthe next day. . . . General Bud`e and Major Price were with Mrs. Schwellenberg at my return; and not a word was uttered by eitherof them concerning the day's terrific alarm. There seemednothing but general consternation and silence. 

When I went to the queen at night she scarce once opened herlips. Indeed I could not look at her without feeling the tearsready to start into my eyes. But I was very glad to hear againthe voice of the king, though only from the next apartment, andcalling to one of his dogs. 

August 3-The poor queen looked so ill that it was easy to see howmiserable had been her night. It is unfortunately theunalterable opinion of Mrs. Schwellenberg that some latentconspiracy belongs to this attempt, and therefore that it willnever rest here. This dreadful suggestion preys upon the mind ofthe queen, though she struggles to conquer or conceal it. Ilonged passionately this morning, when alone with her, to speakupon the matter, and combat the opinion. ; but as she still saidnothing, it was not possible. 

When she was dressed for the chapel, she desired me to keeplittle Badine; but he ran out after her: I ran too, and in thegallery, leading from the queen's room to mine, all theprincesses, and their governesses, were waiting for the queen. They all looked very ill, the princess royal particularly. --Owell indeed might they tremble! for a father more tender, 359

more kind, more amiable, I believe has scarcely ever haddaughters to bless. . . . 

I then passed on to my own room, which terminates this gallery. But I have since heard it is contrary to rule to pass even thedoor of an apartment in which any of the royal family happen tobe, if it is open. However, these little formalities are alldispensed with to the ignorant - and as I learn better I shallobserve them more. I am now obliged to feel and find my way as Ican, having no friend, adviser, nor informer in the whole house. Accident only gives me any instruction, and that generallyarrives too late to save all error. My whole dependence is uponthe character of the queen ; her good sense and strong reasonwill always prevent the unnecessary offence of ranking mistakesfrom inexperience, with disrespect or inattention. I have never, therefore, a moment's uneasiness upon these points. Though thereis a lady who from time to time represents them as evils the mostheinous. (208)

I had afterwards a letter from my poor Mrs. Delany, written withher own hand, and with a pencil, as she is now too indistinct ofsight to see even a word. She writes therefore only by memory, and, if with pen and ink, cannot find her place again when sheleaves it, to dip the pen in the inkstand. 

She had escaped the news at the chapel, but had been told itafterwards by Lady Spencer, lest it should reach her ears in anyworse manner. You may imagine how greatly it shocked her. 

I ran to answer her note in person, determining, upon such anoccasion, to risk appearing before the queen a second time in mymorning dress, rather than not satisfy my dear Mrs. Delany byword of mouth. I gave her all the comfort in my power, andraised her agitated spirits by dwelling upon the escape, andslightly passing by the danger. 

The queen was so late before her second summons that I was stillin time. I found her with her eyes almost swollen out of herhead, but more cheerful and easy, and evidently relieved by thevent forced, at length, to her tears. 

She now first spoke upon the subject to me; inquiring how Mrs. Delany had borne the hearing it. I told her of the letter sentme in the morning, and half proposed shewing it, as it expressedher feelings beyond the power of any other words. She bowed herdesire to see it, and I ran and brought

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it. She read it aloud, Mrs. Schwellenberg being present, and waspleased and soothed by it. 

 A PRIVILEGE IS SECURED. 

A little incident happened afterwards that gave me greatsatisfaction in perspective. While I was drinking coffee withMrs. Schwellenberg, a message was brought to me, that Mrs. AndMiss Heberden(209) desired their compliments, and would come todrink tea with me if I was disengaged. 

To drink tea with me! The words made me colour. I hesitated, --Iknew not if I might accept such an offer. With regard tothemselves, I had little or no interest in it, as they werestrangers to me, but with regard to such an opening to futurepotentiality, --there, indeed, the message acquired consequence. After keeping the man some minutes, I was so much at a loss, still, to know what step I had power to take, that I was inducedto apply to Mrs. Schwellenberg, asking her what I must do. 

"What you please!" was her answer; and I waited nothing moreexplicit, but instantly sent back my compliments, and that Ishould be very glad of their company. 

This was a most happy event to me : it first let me know thepossibility of receiving a friend in my own room to tea. 

They left me before the tea-party assembled in our common room. It was very much crowded, everybody being anxious to hear news ofthe queen. When they were all gone but Mrs. Delany, Mrs. Schwellenberg made us both very happy by a private communicationthat the Prince of Wales was actually then in the Lodge, whitherhe rode post haste, on the first news of the alarm given to thequeen. 

THE QUEEN CONTINUES ANXIOUS. 

Friday, Aug. 4-This was an extremely arduous morning to the poorqueen. The king again went to town ; and her anxiety in hisabsence, and fear how it might end, oppressed her most painfully. She could not take her usual airing. She shut herself up withthe Princess Augusta ; but, to avoid any rumours of heruneasiness, the carriage and usual horsemes were all at the doorat the customary time ; and the princess

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royal, attended by the Duchess of Ancaster, went out, and passed, driving quick through the town, for the queen herself, to most ofthe people. 

At her toilette, before dinner, Lady Effingham was admitted. Thequeen had her newspapers as usual, and she read aloud, while herhair was dressing, several interesting articles concerning theattack, the noble humanity of the king, his presence of mind, andthe blessing to the whole nation arising from his preservation. The spirit of loyalty, warmth, and zeal with which all thenewspapers are just now filled seemed extremely gratifyin- to her; she dwelt upon several of the strongest expressions with markedapprobation, exclaiming from time to time, as she read particularpraises of his majesty's worth and importance, "That is true!--That is true, indeed!" But suddenly, afterwards, coming upon aparagraph beginning with the words of the coronation anthem, "Long live the king! May the king live for ever!" her tearsflowed so fast that they blinded her, and to hear her read suchwords was so extremely affecting, that I was obliged to stealbehind her chair to hide myself; while Lady Effingham took outher handkerchief, and cried in good earnest. I believe her to bewarmly and gratefully attached both to the king and queen and shehas received from the queen very uncommon assistance, I aminformed, in some very distressful Situations. 

The queen, however, read on; dispersing her tears as she could, and always smiling through them when the praise, not the danger, drew them forth. 

Nothing could be more gracious than her manner to me the wholetime - she (lid not, as usual, dismiss me, either for herhair-dressing, or for Lady Effingham; she was sure I must beinterested in what was going forward, and she looked at usalternately, for our comments, as she went on. 

I rejoiced she had not set me to read these papers. I expected, for the first week, every summons would have ended in a commandto read to her. But it never happened, and I was saved anexertion for which I am sure I should have had no voice. 

 SNUFF PREPARER-IN- CHIEF. 

Sunday, Au, -. 6-This morning, before church, Miss Planta was sentto me by the queen, for some snuff, to be mixed as before : whenI had prepared it, I carried it, as directed, to her majesty'sdressing-room. I turned round the lock, for that, not362

rapping at the door, is the mode of begging admission; and shecalled out to me to come in. 

I found her reading, aloud, some religious book, but I could notdiscover what, to the three eldest princesses. Miss Planta wasin waiting. She continued after my entrance, only motioning tome that the snuff might be put into a box on the table. 

I did not execute my task very expeditiously: for I was glad ofthis opportunity of witnessing, the maternal piety with which sheenforced, in voice and expression, every sentence that containedany lesson that might be useful to her royal daughters. Shereads extremely well, with great force, clearness, and meaning. 

just as I had slowly finished my commission, the king entered. She then stopped, and rose ; so instantly did the princesses. Hehad a letter in his hand open: he said something to the queen inGerman, and they left the room together but he turned round fromthe door, and first spoke to me, with a good-humoured laugh, saying, "Miss Burney, I hear you cook snuff very well!"

"Cook snuff!" repeated the Princess Augusta, laughing and comingup to me the moment they left the room. "Pray, Miss Burney, letme have one pinch!" The Princess Elizabeth ran up to me, also, exclaiming, "Miss Burney, I hope you hate snuff? I hope you do, for I hate it of all things in the world!"

 A SUPPER MYSTERY. 

After tea, one of Mrs. Schwellenberg's domestics called me out ofthe room. John waited to speak to me in the gallery. "Whattime, ma'am, " cried he, "shall you have your Supper?"

"What supper?" cried I. "I only eat fruit, as usual. "

"Have not you ordered supper, ma'am, for to-night?

"No. "

"There is one cooking for you--a fowl and peas. "

"It's some great mistake; run down and tell them so. "

I returned to the company, and would have related the adventure, had I been in spirits; but voluntary speech escaped me not. Where I am not happy, or forced to it, it never does. PresentlyI was called out again. 363

"Ma'am, " cried John, "the supper is ordered in your name. I sawthe order--the clerk of the kitchen gave it in. "

This was the most ridiculous thing I ever heard. I desired himto run down forthwith, and inquire by whose directions all thiswas done. He came back, and said, "By Sir Francis Drake's. " SirFrancis Drake is, I think, steward of the housebold. I thendesired John to interfere no more, but let the matter be pursuedin their own way. 

As soon as the company was gone, all but a Miss Mawer, who is ona visit to Mrs. Schwellenberg, I told my tale. Mrs. Schwellenbergsaid the orders had been hers, that a hot supper belonged to myestablishment, and that sometimes she might come and eat it withme. 

I had now not a word to add. At ten o'clock both she and MissMawer accompanied me to my room. Miss Mawer is an old maid;tall, thin, sharp-featured, hurrying and disagreeable in hermanner, but, I believe, good-natured and good-hearted, from all Ihave observed in her. The smell of the meat soon grew offensiveto Mrs. Schwellenberg, who left me with Miss Mawer. As I nevereat any myself at night, all I could devise to make the perfumetolerable was to consider it as an oppor'tunity for a lesson incarving: so I went to work straightforward to mangle my unbiddenguest, for the use and service of Miss Mawer. 

Soon after, I was delighted and surprised by the entrance of Mrs. Delany, ushered to my room by Major Price. The concert beingover, and the royal family retired to supper, shewould not go away without seeing me. I thanked the major forbringing me so sweet a guest, but I almost fear he expected to beinvited in with her. I am sure I could have had nothing butpleasure from his joining us; but I had made a rule, on my thusfirst setting up for myself, to invite no man whatsoever, young, old, married, single, acquaintance or stranger, till I knewprecisely the nature of my own situation : for I had been warnedby an excellent friend, Mrs. De Luc, on my first entrance intooffice that there was no drawing back in a place such as this;and that therefore I ought studiously to keep back, till I feltmy way, and knew, experimentally, what I could do, and what Ishould wish to leave alone. This advice has been of singular useto me, in a thousand particulars, from the very first to thepresent day of my abode in this Lodge. 364

 LITTLE PRINCESs AMELIA's BIRTHDAY. 

Monday, Aug. 7-This has been the first cheerful day since thememorable and alarming attack of the 2nd of August. It was thebirthday of the little Princess Amelia : and the fond ness of thewhole family for that lovely child, and her own infantineenjoyment of the honours paid her, have revived the spirits ofthe whole house. 

The manner of keeping the birth-days here is Very simple. Allthe royal family are new-dressed; so--at least so they appear--are all their attendants. The dinners and desserts areunusually sumptuous ; and some of the principal officers ofstate, and a few of the ladies of the Court, come to Windsor tomake their compliments; and at night there is a finer concert, byan addition from town of the musicians belonging to the queen'sband. If the weather is fine, all the family walk upon theTerrace, which is crowded with people of distinction, who takethat mode of showing respect, to avoid the trouble and fatigue ofattending at the following Drawing-room. 

Another method, too, which is taken to express joy and attachmentupon these occasions, is by going to the eight o'clock prayers atthe royal chapel. The congregation all assemble, after theservice, in the opening at the foot of the great stairs which theroyal family descend from their gallery, and there those who haveany pretensions to notice scarce ever fail to meet with it. 

 To-day, this staircase Drawing-room, as it is named by MajorPrice, was very much crowded; and it was a sweet sight to me, from my windows, to see that the royal group-respectfullyfollowed by many people of distinction, who came on the occasion, and, at a still greater distance, encircled by humbler, but notless loyal congratulators-had their chief attention upon my dear, aged, venerable Mrs. Delany, who was brought in by the king andqueen, to partake with them the birth-day breakfast. 

In the evening, for the first time since my arrival, I went uponthe Terrace, under the wing and protection of my dear Mrs. Delany, who was tempted to walk there herself, in order to payher respects on the little princess's birth-day. She was carriedin her chair to the foot of the steps. Mrs. Delany was desirousto save herself for the royal encounter : she thereFore sat downon the first seat till the royal party appeared 'In sight: wethen, of course, stood up. 365

It was really a mighty pretty procession. The little princess, just turned of three years old, in a robe-coat covered with finemuslin, a dressed close cap, white gloves, and a fan, walked onalone and first, highly delighted in the parade, and turning fromside to side to see everybody as she passed : for all theterracers stand up against the walls, to make a clear passage forthe royal family, the moment they come in sight. Then followedthe king and queen, no less delighted themselves with the joy oftheir little darling. The princess royal, leaning on LadyElizabeth Waldegrave, followed at a little distance. Thisprincess, the second female in the kingdom, shews, I think, moremarked respect and humility towards the king and queen than anyof the family. 

Next the Princess Augusta, holding by the Duchess of Ancaster;and next the Princess Elizabeth, holding by Lady CharlotteBertie. Office here takes place of rank, which occasioned LadyElizabeth Waldegrave, as lady of her bedchamber, to walk with theprincess royal. 

Then followed the Princess Mary with Miss Goldsworthy, and thePrincess Sophia with Mademoiselle Monmoulin and Miss Planta thenGeneral Bud`e and the Duke of Montagu and, lastly, Major Price, who, as equerry, always brings up the rear, walks at a distancefrom the group, and keeps off all crowd from the royal family. 

On sight of Mrs. Delany, the king instantly stopped to speak toher. The queen, of course, and the little princess, and all therest, stood still, in their ranks. They talked a good while withthe sweet old lady; during which time the king once or twiceaddressed himself to me. I caught the queen's eye, and saw in ita little surprise, but by no means any displeasure, to see me ofthe party. 

The little princess went up to Mrs. Delany, of whom she is veryfond, and behaved like a little angel to her: she then, with alook of inquiry and recollection, slowly, of her own accord, camebehind Mrs. Delany to look at me. "I am afraid, " said I, in awhisper, and stooping down, "your royal highness does notremember me?"

What think you was her answer? An arch little smile, and anearer approach, with her lips pouted out to kiss me. I couldnot resist so innocent an invitation, but the moment I hadaccepted it, I was half afraid it might seem, in so public aplace, an improper liberty: however, there was no help for it. She then took my fan, and, having looked at

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it on both sides, gravely returned it me, saying, "O! a brownfan!"

The king and queen then bid her curtsey to Mrs. Delany which shedid most gracefully, and they all moved on; each of theprincesses speaking to Mrs. Delany as they passed, andcondescending to curtsey to her companion. 

 THE CIPHER BECOMES A NUMBER. 

Mrs. Delany was too much fatigued to return to the Lodge to tea;but Mrs. Fielding and her three daughters, L ord Courtown, Mr. Fisher, the general, and the major, made up our set. 

Mrs. Schwellenberg was very ill. She declined making tea, andput it into the hands of' the general. I had always kept backfrom that office, as well as from presiding at the table, that Imight keep the more quiet, and be permitted to sit silent; which, at first, was a repose quite necessary to my depressed state ofspirits, and which, as they grew better, I found equallynecessary to keep off the foul fiends of Jealousy and Rivalry inmy colleague; who, apparently, never wishes to hear my voice butwhen we are t`ete-`a-t`ete, and then never is in good-humour whenit is at rest. I could not, however, see this feminineoccupation in masculine hands, and not, for shame, propose takingit upon myself. The general readily relinquished it, and I wasfain to come forth and do the honours. 

Lord Courtown sat himself next me, and talked with me the wholetime, in well-bred and pleasant discourse. The Major waited uponme as assiduously as if he had been as much my equerry as theking's, and all went smooth, well, and naturally, except that thepoor sick lady grew evidently less and less pleased with thearrangement of things, and less and less in humour with itsarrangers: so obvious, indeed, was the displeasure that thecipher should become a number, that had my own mind been easy, Ishould have felt much vexed to observe what a curb was placedover me: for hitherto, except when she had been engaged herself, and only to Major Price and Mr. Fisher, that cipher had "wordspoke never one. " 'Tis wonderful, my dearest Susan, what wretchedtempers are to be met with--wretched in and to themselves--wretched to and for all that surround them. However, while onlyto be Stupid and silent will do, we shall not be at variance. Were I367

happier, perhaps I might comply with more difficulty; so be notsorry, my Susan, nor you, my sweet Fredy, if, bye-and-bye, Youshould hear me complain. It will be a very good sign. 

 DISPLAY OF LOYALTY AT LITTLE KEW. 

Aug. 8. -An exceedingly pretty scene was exhibited to-day to theirmajesties. We came, as usual on every alternate Tuesday, to Kew. The queen's Lodge is at the end of a long meadow, surrounded withhouses, which is called Kew green ; and this was quite filledwith all the inhabitants of the place-- the lame, old, blind, sick, and infants, who all assembled, dressed in their Sundaygarb, to line the sides of the roads through which theirmajesties passed, attended by a band of musicians, arranged inthe front, who began "God save the King!" the moment they cameupon the green, and finished it with loud huzzas. This was acompliment at the expense of the better inhabitants, who paid themusicians themselves, and mixed in with the group, which indeedleft not a soul, I am told, in any house in the place. 

This testimony of loyal. Satisfaction in the king's safe return, after the attempted assassination, affected the queen to tears :nor were they shed alone; for almost everybody's flowed thatwitnessed the scene. The queen, speaking of it afterwards, said, "O! I shall always love little Kew for this!"

 MISS BERNAR, THE QUEEN WILL GIVE YOU A GOWN. "

At the second toilette to-day, Mrs. Schwellenberg, who left thedressing-room before me, called out at the door, "Miss Bernar, when you have done from the queen, come to my room. "

There was something rather more peremptory in the order than wasquite pleasant to me, and I rather drily answered, "Verywell, Mrs. Schwellenberg. "

The queen was even uncommonly sweet and gracious in her mannerafter this lady's departure, and kept me with her some time aftershe was dressed. I never go rom her presence till I amdismissed; no one does, not even when they come in only with ahurried message, --except the pages, who enter merely asmessengers, and Mrs. Schwellenberg, whose place and illnesstogether have given her that privilege. 368

The general form of the dismission, which you may perhap's becurious to hear, is in these words, "Now I Will let You go, "which the queen manages to speak with a grace that takes fromthem all air of authority. 

At first, I must confess, there was something inexpressiblyawkward to me, in waiting to be told to go, instead of watchingan opportunity, as elsewhere, for taking leave before I thoughtmyself de trop: but I have since found that this is, to me, amark of honour; as it is the established custom to people of thefirst rank, the princesses themselves included, and only not usedto the pages and the wardrobe-women, who are supposed only toenter for actual business, and therefore to retire when it isfinished, without expectation of being detained to converse, orbeyond absolute necessity. 

I give you all these little details of interior royalty, becausethey are curious, from opening a new scene of life, and can onlybe really known by interior residence. 

When I went to Mrs. Schwellenberg, she said, "You might know Ihad something to say to you, by my calling you before the queen. "She then proceeded to a long prelude, which I could but illcomprehend, save that it conveyed much of obligation on my part, and favour on hers; and then ended with, "I might tell you now, the queen is going to Oxford, and you might go with her; it is asecret--you might not tell it nobody. But I tell you once, Ishall do for you what I can; you are to have a gown. "

I stared, and drew back, with a look so undisguised of wonder anddispleasure at this extraordinary speech, that I saw it wasunderstood, and she then thought it time, therefore, to name herauthority, which with great emphasis, she did thus: "The queenwill give you a gown! The queen says you are not rich, " etc. 

There Was something in the manner of this quite intolerable tome, and I hastily interrupted her with saying, "I have two newgowns by me, and therefore do not require another. "

Perhaps a proposed present from her majesty was never so receivedbefore; but the grossness of the manner of the messengerswallowed up the graciousness of the design in the principal: andI had not even a wish to conceal how little it was to my taste. 

The highest surprise sat upon her brow; she had imagined that agown--that any present-would have been caught at with obsequiousavidity, --but indeed she was mistaken. 369

Seeing the wonder and displeasure now hers, I calmlyadded, "The queen is very good, and I am very sensible of hermajesty's graciousness; but there is not, in this instance, theleast occasion for it. "

"Miss Bernar, " cried she, quite angrily, "I tell you once, whenthe queen will give you a gown, you must be humble, thankful, when you are Duchess of Ancaster. "

She then enumerated various ladies to whom her majesty had madethe same present, many of them of the first distinction, and all, she said, great secrets. Still I only repeated again the samespeech. 

I can bear to be checked and curbed in discourse, and wouldrather be subdued into silence-and even, if that proves agratification that secures peace and gives pleasure, intoapparent insensibility ; but to receive a favour through thevehicle of insolent ostentation--no! no! To submit to ill humourrather than argue and dispute I think an exercise of patience, and I encourage myself all I can to practice it : but to accepteven a shadow of an obligation upon such terms I should thinkmean and unworthy ; and therefore I mean always, in a Court as Iwould elsewhere, to be open and fearless in declining suchsubjection. 

When she had finished her list of secret ladies, I told her Imust beg to speak to the queen, and make my own acknowledgmentsfor her gracious intention. 

This she positively forbid ; and said it must only pass throughher hands. "When I give you the gown, " she added, "I will tellyou when you may make your curtsey. "

I was not vexed at this prohibition, not knowing what etiquette Imight offend by breaking it; and the conversation concluded withnothing being settled. 

How little did the sweet queen imagine that this her first markof favour should so be offered me as to raise in me my firstspirit of resistance ! How differently would she have executedher own commission herself! To avoid exciting jealousy was, Idoubt not, her motive for employing another. 

 A CROWDED DRAWING-ROOM. 

Aug. 10. -I journeyed to town, with Mrs. Schwellenberg and MissPlanta; and this morning I was employed for the first time on amessage to the queen. I was in the ante-room, when Mr. Nicolay, her majesty's page at St. James's, came and370

told me the Duchess of Ancaster sent her humble duty to thequeen, and begged an audience before the Drawing-room. I toldthe queen, who, when dressed, all but her necklace, received theduchess in the ante-room. 

I mention all these little ceremonies as they occur, thathereafter I may have no occasion, when they lead to othermatters, , to explain them. 

The bedchamber woman was rung for on the queen's return. So yousee I am not the only one to answer a bell. It was Mrs. Fielding, who looked at me with an attention that will not leaveher much in doubt as to my dress, at least, though she could notspeak. I have told you, I believe, that no one, not even theprincesses, ever speak in the presence of the king and queen, butto answer what is immediately said by themselves. There are, indeed, occasions in which this is set aside, from particularencouragement given at the moment; but it is not less a rule, andit is one very rarely infringed. 

When the Drawing-room began, I went to my own roomand there I had the great happiness of finding my father, who hadcontrived to be in town purposely, and to whom I had sent John, in St. Martin's-street, that he might be shown the straight wayto my apartment. He had determined upon going to theDrawing-room himself, to manifest, amongst the general zeal ofthe times, his loyal joy in his majesty's safety. 

The drawing-room was over very late indeed. So anxious has beenthe whole nation to show their affectionate attachment to theking, that this, the first Drawing-room since his danger, was assplendid, and as much crowded, as upon a birthday. When thequeen summoned me, upon returning to her dressing-room, andmentioned how full and how hot it had been, I ventured to say, "I am very glad of it, ma'am; it was an honest crowd to-day. "

 THE KEEPER OF THE ROBES IS VERY MUCH PUT OUT. 

At tea I found a new uniform. Major Price, immediatelyintroduced me to him; he was Colonel Fairly. (210) He is a man ofthe most scrupulous good-breeding, diffident, gentle, andsentimental in his conversation, and assiduously attentive in

371

his manners. He married Lady ---, and I am told he is a mosttender husband to her. 

A very unfortunate subject happened to be started during our tea;namely, the newspaper attacks upon Mrs. Hastings. The colonel, very innocently, said he was very sorry that lady was evermentioned in the same paragraph with her majesty. Mrs. Schwellenberg indignantly demanded "Why?--where?--when? andwhat?"

Unconscious of her great friendship for Mrs. Hastings, thecolonel, unfortunately, repeated his concern, adding, "Nothinghas hurt me so much as the queen's being ever named in suchcompany. "

The most angry defence was now made, but in so great a storm. Ofdispleasure, and confusion of language, that the colonel, lookingutterly amazed, was unable to understand what was the matter. Major Price and myself were both alarmed; Miss Port longed tolaugh; Miss Mawer sat perfectly motionless; Mrs. Fisher decidedlysilent. No one else was present. The colonel, whenever he couldbe heard, still persisted in his assertion, firmly, thoughgently, explaining the loyalty of his motives. 

This perseverance increased the storm, which now blew withgreater violence, less and less distinct as more fierce. Brokensentences were all that could be articulated. "You might not saysuch thing!"--"Upon my vord!"--"I tell you once!"--"colonelwhat-you-call, I am quite warm!"--"Upon my vord!--I tell you thesame!"--"You might not tell me such thing!"--"What for you sayall that?"

As there was nothing in this that could possibly clear thematter, and the poor colonel only sunk deeper and deeper, by notunderstanding the nature of his offence, Major Price nowendeavoured to interfere ; and, as he is a great favourite, hewas permitted not only to speak, but to be heard. 

"Certainly, " said he, "those accounts about Mrs. Hastings, andthe history of her divorce, are very unpleasant anecdotes inpublic newspapers; and I am sorry, too, that they should be toldin the same paragraph that mentions her being received by thequeen. "

Nothing could equal the consternation with which. Thisunexpected speech was heard. "Upon my vord! You sorprise me!"was all that could now be got out. 

As I found them now only running further from generalcomprehension, I felt so sorry that poor Mrs. Hastings, whom I372

believe to be a most injured woman, should so ill be defendedeven by her most zealous friend, that I compelled myself to theexertion of coming forward, now, in her behalf myself, and Itherefore said, it was a thousand pities her story should' not bemore accurately made known: as the mode of a second marriage froma divorce was precisely the contrary here of what it was inGermany; since here it could only take place upon misconduct, andthere, I had been told, a divorce from misconduct prohibited asecond marriage, which could only be permitted where the divorcewas the mere effect of disagreement from dissimilar tempers. Mrs. Hastings, therefore, though acquitted of ill-behaviour bythe laws of her own country seemed, by those of England, convicted; and I could not but much regret that her vindicationwas not publicly made by this explanation. 

"So do I, too, " cried Major Price "for I never heard thisbefore. "

"Nor I, " cried the colonel "and indeed it ought to be made known, both for the sake of Mrs. Hastings, and because she has beenreceived at Court, which gave everybody the greatest surprise, and me, in my ignorance, the greatest concern, on account of thequeen. "'

This undid all again, though my explanation had just stilled thehurricane; but now it began afresh. 

"You might not say that, Colonel Fairly; you might not name thequeen!--O, I can't bear it!--I tell you once it is too moch!--What for you tell me that?"

"Ma'am, I--I only said--It is not me, ma'am, but the newspapers. "

"What for you have such newspapers?--I tell you the same--it is--what you call--I don't like such thing!"

"But, ma'am--"

"O, upon my vord, I might tell you once, when you name the queen, it is--what you call--I can't bear it!--when it is nobody else, with all my heart! I might not care for that--but when it is thequeen, --I tell you the same, Colonel Fairly--it makes me--whatyou call--perspire. "

The major again interfered, saying it was now all cleared up, bythe account of the difference of the German customs, andtherefore that it was all very well. A certain quiet, but yetdecisive way, in which he sometimes speaks, was here verysuccessful ; and as the lady stopped, the colonel saw allexplanation too desperate to aim at further argument. 

(203) Dr. Burney's daughter by his second wife-ED. 

(204) Sir Thomas Clarges, whose wife was a dear friend of SusanBurney. Sir Thomas died in December, 1782. In the "Early Diary"he is mentioned once or twice, as a visitor at Dr. Burney's. Fanny writes of him in May, 1775, as "a young baronet, who wasformerly so desperately enamoured of Miss Linley, now Mrs. Sheridan, that his friends made a point of his going abroad torecover himself: he is now just returned from italy, and I hopecured. He still retains all the schoolboy English mauvaisehonte; scarce speaks but to make an answer, and is as shy as ifhis last residence had been at Eton instead of Paris. -ED. 

(205) 'Tis amazing what nonsense sensible people can write, whentheir heads are turned by cunsiderations of rank andflummery!-ED. 

(206) The wife of Warren Hastings. Fanny had made theacquaintince of Mr. And Mrs. Hastings from her friend Mr. Cambridge, some months previously. (See note (201), ante, P. 327). -ED. 

(207 The name of the poor woman was Margaret Nicholson. She was, of course, insane, and had, a few days previously, presented apetition, which had probably been left unread at the time, butwhich turned out on investigation to be full of incoherentnonsense. On her examination before the Privy Council shedeclared that "the crown was hers, and that if she had not herrights England would be deluged with blood. " She was ultimatelyconsigned to Bedlam. -ED. 

(208) Fanny's bitter experience of Mrs. Schwellenberg is nowcommencing. -ED. 

(209) The wife and daughter of Dr. William Heberden, an eminentphysician, and author of "Medical Commentaries on the History andCure of Disease. " Fanny had met these ladies recently at Mrs. Delany's-ED. 

(210) "Colonel Fairly" is the name given in the "Diary" to theHon. Stephen Digby. His first wife, Lady Lucy Strangwayes Fox, youngest daughter of Lord Ilchester, died in 1787. He married, in1790, Miss Gunning, "Miss Fuzilier, " of the "Diary. "--ED. 

373

 SECTION 8 (1786. )

 ROYAL VISIT TO NUNEHAM, OXFORD AND BLENHEIM. 

 A JOB'S COMFORTER. 

Aug. 12, Saturday. The Prince of Wales's birthday. How Igrieve at whatever may be the cause which absents him from hisfamily!--a family of so much love, harmony, and excellence, thatto mix with them, even rarely, must have been the first oflessons to his heart; and here, I am assured, his heart is good, though, elsewhere, his conduct renders it so suspicious. 

I come now to the Oxford expedition. 

The plan was to spend one day at Lord Harcourt's, at Nuneham, oneat Oxford, and one at Blenheim; dining and sleeping always atNuneham. 

I now a little regretted that I had declined meeting LadyHarcourt, when invited to see her at Mrs. Vesey's about threeyears ago. I was not, just then, very happy--and I was surfeitedof new acquaintances; when the invitation, therefore, came, Isent an excuse. But now when I was going to her house, I wishedI had had any previous knowledge of her, to lessen thedifficulties of my first appearance in my new character, uponattending the queen on a visit. I said something of this sort toMrs. Schwellenberg, in our conversation the day before thejourney ; and she answered that it did not signify for, as I wentwith the queen, I might be sure I should be civilly treated. 374

Yes, I said, I generally had been; and congratulated myself thatat least I knew a little of Lord Harcourt, to whom I had beenintroduced, some years ago, at Sir Joshua Reynolds', and whom Ihad since met two or three times. "O, " she said, "it is thesame, --that is nothing, --when you go With the queen, it isenough; they might be civil to you for that sake. You might goquite without no, what you call, fuss; you might take no gown butwhat you go in:--that is enough, --you might have no servant, --forwhat?--You might keep on your riding-dress. There is no need youmight be seen. I shall do everything that I can to assist you toappear for nobody. "

I leave you to imagine my thanks. But the news about the servantwas not very pleasant, as I thought it most likely I could nevermore want one than in a strange house added to a strangesituation. However, I determined upon assuming no competition incommand, and therefore I left the matter to her own direction. 

 THE JOURNEY To NUNEHAM: UNGRACious RECEPTION. 

Their majesties went to Nuneham to breakfast. Miss Planta andmyself were not to follow till after an early dinner. PrincessElizabeth, in a whisper, after the rest left the room, - advisedme to go and lie down again as soon as they were gone. And, indeed, I was sufficiently fatigued to be glad to follow theadvice. 

My dear Mrs. Delany came to sit with me while I packed up. Whata pleasure to rne is her constant society, and the reciprocalconfidence of all our conversations ! She intrusts me with everything in the world-I intrust her with every thing that nowhappens to me. 

Our early dinner was with Mrs. Schwellenberg and Miss Mawer. Weset out at three o'clock, and took with us Mrs. Thielky, thequeen's wardrobe woman, and the comfort of my life in the absenceof Mrs. Schwellenberg, for she is the real acting person, thoughI am the apparent one : and she is also a very good sort ofwoman, -plain, sensible, clear-headed, mild-mannered, sedate, andsteady. I found her in this journey of infinite service, for shenot only did almost every thing for the queen, but made it herbusiness to supply also the place of maid to me, as much as everI would suffer her. How fortunate for me that the person soimmediately under me should be so good a creature ! The otherperson we took was a Miss375

Mhaughendorf, a dresser to the Princesses Royal and Augusta, avery pleasing young woman, gentle and in teresting, who is justcome from the king, s German dominions to this place, to whichshe has been recommended by her father, who is clerk of thekitchen to the Duke of York. The princesses have a German inthis office, to assist their study of that language, which, intheir future destinations, may prove essential to them. 

Miss Planta's post in the Court-calendar is that of Englishteacher, but it seems to me, that of personal attendant upon thetwo eldest princesses. She is with them always when they sup, work, take their lessons, or walk. 

We arrived at Nunebam at about six o'clock. The house is one ofthose straggling, half new, half old, half comfortable, and halfforlorn mansions, that are begun in one generation and finishedin another. It is very pleasantly situated, and commands, fromsome points of view, all the towers of Oxford. 

In going across the park to the entrance, we saw not a creature. All were busy, either in attendance upon the royal guests, or infinding hiding-places from whence to peep at them. We stopped atthe portico, -but not even a porter was there : we were obliged toget out of the carriage by the help of one of the postilions, andto enter the house by the help of wet grass, which would notsuffer me to stay out of it, otherwise, I felt so strange ingoing in uninvited and unconducted, that I should have beggedleave to stroll about till somebody appeared. 

Miss Planta, more used to these expeditions, though with quite aslittle taste for them, led the way, and said we had best go andseek for our rooms. I was quite of the same opinion, but much ata loss how we might find them. We went through various passages, unknowing whither they might lead us, till at length weencountered a prodigious fine servant. Miss Planta, asked himfor Lady Harcourt's maid; he bowed slightly, and passed onwithout making any answer. 

Very pleasant this!--I then begged we might turn back, not caringfor another adventure of the same sort. Miss Planta complied;and we met two more of the yellow-laced saunterers, with whom shehad precisely the same success. 

I think I never remember to have felt so much shame from mysituation as at that time. To arrive at a house where nomistress nor master of it cared about receiving me; to wanderabout, a guest uninvited, a visitor unthought of; without even aroom to go to, a person to inquire for, or even a servant to376

speak to! It was now I felt the real want of either a man ormaid, to send forward, and find out what we were to do withourselves ; and indeed I resolved, then, I would not another timebe so passive to unauthorized directions. 

The fault of this strange reception was certainly in the lady ofthe house, whose affair it was to have given orders, previous toour arrival, that some of her people should shew us to whateverapartment she destined for us. The queen herself had sent wordthat we were to attend her; and however impossible it was thatshe could receive us herself, which her own attendance upon theirmajesties made really impracticable, it was incumbent upon her tohave taken care that we should not have been utterly neglected. 

We strayed thus, backwards and forwards, for a full quarter of anhour, in these nearly deserted straggling passages ; and then, atlength, met a French woman, whom Miss Planta immediately seizedupon : it was Lady Harcourt's woman, and Miss Planta had seen herat Windsor. 

"Pray shew us, " cried Miss Planta, "where we are to go. "

She was civil, and led us to a parlour looking very pleasantlyupon the park, and asked if we would have some tea. Miss Plantaassented. She told us the king and queen were in the park, andleft us. As there was a garden-door to this room, I thought itvery possible the royal party and their suite might return to thehouse that way. This gave great addition to my discomposure, forI thought that to see them all in this forlorn plight would bestill the worst part of the business, - I therefore pressed MissPlanta to let us make another attempt to discover our own rooms. 

Miss Planta laughed exceedingly at my disturbance, but compliedvery obligingly with my request. In this our second wanderingforth we had no better success than in the first; we either metnobody, or only were crossed by such superfine men in lacedliveries, that we attempted not to question them. My constantdread was Of meeting any of the royal party, while I knew notwhither to run. Miss Planta, more inured to such situations, wasnot at all surprised by our difficulties and disgraces, and onlydiverted by my distress from them. 

We met at last with Mhaughendorf, and Miss Planta eagerly desiredto be conducted to the princesses' rooms, that she might see ifevery thing was prepared for them. When they had looked at theapartments destined for the princesses, Miss Planta proposed oursitting down to our tea in the Princess Eliza-377

beth's room. This was extremely disagreeable to me, as I wassensible it must seem a great freedom from me, should her royalhighness surprise us there; but it was no freedom for MissPlanta, as she had belonged to all the princesses these nineyears, and is eternally in their sight. I could not, therefore, persuade her of the difference ; and she desired Mhaughendorf togo and order our tea upstairs. 

 A HASTY INTRODUCTION To LADY HARCOURT. 

Miss Planta, followed by poor me, then whisked backwards andforwards, from one of the apartments to another, superintendingall the preparations; and, as we were crossing a landing-place, alady appeared upon the stairs, and Miss Planta called out "It'sLady Harcourt, " and ran down to meet her. 

They talked together a few minutes. "I must get you, MissPlanta, " said she, looking up towards me, "to introduce me toMiss Burney. "

She then came up the stairs, said she was glad to see me, anddesired I would order any thing I wanted, either for the queen orfor myself. Cold enough was my silent curtsey. 

She talked again to Miss Planta, who, already knowing her, fromseeing her frequently when in waiting, as she is one of theladies of the bedchamber, was much more sociable than myself. She afterwards turned to me, and said, "If there is anything youwant, Miss Burney, pray speak for it. " And she added, "My sisterswill attend you presently;--you will excuse me, -I have not amoment from their majesties. " And then she curtseyed, and leftus. 

We returned to the Princess Elizabeth's room, and there the teafollowed, but not the promised sisters. I never saw Miss Plantalaugh so heartily before nor since; but my dismay was possiblycomical to behold. 

 APPARITION OF THE PRINCESSES. 

The tea was just poured out, when the door opened, and in enteredall the princesses. I was very much ashamed, and started up, buthad no asylum whither to run. They all asked us how we did afterour journey; and I made an apology, as well as I could, to thePrincess Elizabeth, for my intrusion into her apartment -confessing I did not know where to find my own. 378

The princess royal, eagerly coming up to me, said, "I thought youwould be distressed at first arriving, and I wanted to help you;and I enquired where your room was, and said I would look at itmyself ; and I went round to it, but I found the king was thatway, and so, you know, I could not go past him; but indeed Iwished to have seen it for you. "

There was hardly any thanking her for such infinite sweetness;-they then desired us to go on with our tea, and went into theprincess royal's room. 

I was now a little revived ; and soon after the PrincessElizabeth came back, and asked if we had done, desiring us at thesame time not to hurry. 

Yes, we said; and ashamed of thus keeping possession of her room, I was gliding out, when she flew to me, and said, " "Don't go!--pray come and stay with me a little. " She then flew to anotherend of the room, and getting a chair, brought it herself close upto me, and seating herself on another, said, "Come, sit down byme, Miss Burney. "

You may suppose how I resisted and apologised, -truly telling herthat I had not opposed her royal highness's design, from beingashamed of even suspecting it. She only laughed good-humouredly, and made me take the chair she had thus condescended to fetch me. . . . In a very few minutes, the other princesses - came for her. The princess royal then told me she was quite sorry to hear wehad been so much distressed --and I found Miss Plantabadrecounted our adventures. 

I was not glad of this, though greatly gratified by the goodnessof the princess. But I know how quickly complaints circulate, and I wish not even for redress by such means, which commonly, when so obtained, is more humiliating than the offence whichcalls for it. 

 FROM PILLAR TO POST. 

When the princesses left us, we were again at a loss what to dowith ourselves ; we saw several passing servants, maids as wellas men, and Miss Planta applied to them all to shew me my room, which I was anxious to inhabit in peace and solitude: however, they all promised to send, some one else, but no one came. MissPlanta, in the midst of the diversion she received from myunavailing earnestness to get into some retreat, had thegood-nature to say, "I knew how this would turn out, and wishedthe visit over before it began ; but it must really be379

very new to you, unused as you are to it, and accustomed to somuch attention in other places. "

At length she seized upon a woman servant, who undertook toconduct me to this wished-for room. Miss Planta accompanied me, and off we set. In descending the stairs, a door opened whichled to one of the state rooms, in which were the royal family. We glided softly past ; but the princess royal, attended by theDuchess of Ancaster, came out to us. We soon found her royalhighness had told our tale. "Miss Vernons, " said the duchess, "will come to take care of you; you must both go and takepossession of the eating-parlour, where you will sup; and theequerries will be of your party. "

I said not a word, but of general thanks, still longing only togo to my own room. I whispered this to Miss Planta, whoobligingly, though rather reluctantly, consented to pursue ourfirst scheme. But when the duchess observed that we were turningoff, she called out, "I see you do not know your way, so I'llcome and show you to the eating-parlour. " The princess royal saidshe would come with us also; and. , according to direction, wewere therefore necessitated to proceed. 

When we got to the hall leading to this parlour, we were suddenlystopped by the appearance of the king, who just then came out ofthat very room. Lord Harcourt attended with a candle in hishand, and a group of gentlemen followed. We were advanced toofar to retreat, and therefore only stood still. The kingstopped, and spoke to the Duchess of Ancaster; and then spokevery graciously to Miss Planta and me, inquiring when we set out, and what sort of journey we had had. He then ascended thestairs, the princess royal accompanying him, and all the restfollowing; the duchess first pointing to the door of theeating-parlour, and bidding us go there and expect Miss Vernons. 

Lord Harcourt, during this meeting, had contrived to slip behindthe king, to make me a very civil bow; and when his majesty movedon, he slid nearer me, and whispered a welcome to his house invery civil terms. This was all he could do, so situated. 

We now entered the eating-room. We sat down, --but no MissVernons! Presently the door opened, -I hoped they were coming, --but a clergyman, a stranger to us both, appeared. Thisgentleman, I afterwards found, was Mr. Hagget, chaplain to LordHarcourt, and rector of a living in his lordship's gift andneighbourhood ; a young man, sensible, 380

easy, and remarkably handsome, in very high favour with all thefamily. With nobody to introduce us to each other, we could butrise and bow, and curtsey, and sit down again. 

In a few minutes, again the door gave hopes to me of Miss Vernons ;-but there onlyappeared a party of gentlemen. Major Price came foremost, andimmediately introduced me to General Harcourt. The general is avery shy man, with an air of much haughtiness ; he bowed andretreated, and sat down, and was wholly silent. Colonel Fairlyfollowed him, and taking a chair next mine, began some of thecivilest speeches imaginable, concerning this opportunity ofmaking acquaintance with me. 

just then came in a housemaid, and said she would show me myroom. I rose hastily. Miss Planta, who knew everybody presentexcept the clergyman, was now willing to have sat still andchatted ; but nothing short of compulsion Could have kept me insuch a situation, and therefore I instantly accompanied the maid;and poor Miss Planta could not stay behind. The truth is thenon-appearance of any of the ladies of the house struck me asbeing so extremely uncivil, that I desired nothing but to retirefrom all the party. 

I felt quite relieved when I once took possession of a room that, for the time, I might call my own; and I could not possiblylisten to Miss Planta's desire of returning to the company. Itold her frankly that it was a situation so utterly disagreeableto me, that I must beg to decline placing myself in it again. She was afraid, she said, that, as the Duchess of Ancaster hadtaken the trouble to show us the room, and to tell us what to do, in the presence of the princess royal, the queen might hear ofour absconding, and not be pleased with it. 

"I must risk that, " I answered - "I shall openly tell my reasons, If questioned, and I firmly believe they will be satisfactory, Ifnot questioned, I shall say nothing ; and indeed I very much wishyou would do the same. "

She agreed, --consented, rather--and I was the more obliged to herfrom seeing it was contrary to her inclination. I was sorry, butI could not compliment at the expense of putting myself againinto a situation I had been so earnest to change. Miss Plantabore it very well, and only wished the maid farther for neverfinding us out till we began to be comfortable without her. 381

 "THE EQUERRIES WANT THE LADIES. "

Here we remained about two hours, unsummoned, unnoticed, unoccupied, -except in forcing open a box which Mrs. Thielky hadlent me for my wardrobe, and of which I had left the key, ingeniously, at Windsor. At ten o'clock a maid caine to thedoor, and said supper was ready. 

"Who sent you?" I called out. 

"Who do you come from?" cried Miss Planta. 

She was gone;--we could get no answer. About a quarter of anhour after, one of those gentlemen footmen, for whom you mustalready have discovered my partiality, called out, from thestairs, without troubling himself to come to the door, "Thesupper waits. "

He was already gone; but Miss Planta darted after him, callingout, "Who sent you?--who did you come to?"

She was not heard by this gentleman, but what she said was echoedafter him by some other, and the answer that reached our earswas, "The equerries want the ladies. "

This was enough; Miss Planta returned quite indignant, afterhastily replying, "We don't choose any supper. "

We were now precisely of an opinion. Miss Planta, indeed, wasmuch more angry than myself; for I was very sure the equerrieshad sent a very different message, and therefore thought nothingof the words used by the servant, but confined all mydissatisfaction to its first origin, --the incivility of theladies of the house, that they came not themselves, or some onefrom them, to invite us in a manner that might be accepted. Fromthis time, however, we became more comfortable, as absconding wasour mutual desire; and we were flung, by this means, into a styleof sociability we might else never have arrived at. 

We continued together till Miss Planta thought it right to go andsee if Mhaughendorf had prepared every thing for the princesses;and then I was left to myself-the very companion I just at thattime most wished a t`ete-`a-t`ete with--till I was summoned tothe queen. In this t`ete-`a-t`ete, I determined veryconcisely upon my plan of procedure: which was to quietly keep myown counsel, unless I found my conduct disapproved - and, in thatcase, to run all risks in openly declaring that I must alwaysprefer solitude to society upon terms to which I wasunaccustomed. 382

 SUMMONED TO THE QUEEN. 

A little after the scenes I have described, I was surprised when, late at night, my summons was brought me by Lady Harcourt, whotapped gently at my door, and made me 'a little visit, previouslyto telling me her errand. She informed me, also, that the queenhad given her command, for Miss Planta 'and me to belong to thesuite the next day, in the visit to Oxford; and that a carriagewas accordingly ordered for us. 

The queen said not a word to me of the day's adventures and I wasglad to have them passed over, especially as Lady Harcourt'svisit, and the civility which accompanied it, appeared a littleconscious of remissness. But when, in speaking of Oxford, hermajesty condescended to ask what gown I had brought with me, howdid I rejoice to answer, a new chamberry gauze, instead of onlythat which I have on, according to my Cerbera's advice. 

My next difficulty was for a hair-dresser. Nuneham is three orfour miles from Oxford; and I had neither maid to dress nor manto seek a dresser. I could only apply to Mrs. Thielky, and shemade it her business to prevail with one of the royal footmen toget me a messenger, to order a hair-dresser from Oxford at sixo'clock in the morning. The queen, with most graciousconsideration, told me, over night, that she should not want metill eight o'clock. 

Thus ended the first night of this excursion. 

Aug. 13. -At six o'clock my hair-dresser, to my greatsatisfaction, arrived. Full two hours was he at work, yet was Inot finished, when Swarthy, the queen's hair-dresser, camerapping at my door to tell me her majesty's hair was done, andshe was waiting for me. I hurried as fast as I could, and randown without any cap. She smiled at sight of my hasty attire, and said I should not be distressed about a hair-dresser the nextday, but employ Swarthy's assistant, as soon as he had done withthe princesses: "You should have had him, " she added, "to-day, ifI had known you wanted him. "

When her majesty was dressed, all but the hat, she sent for thethree princesses - and the king came also. I felt very foolishwith my uncovered head; but it was somewhat the less awkward fromits being very much a custom, in the royal family, to go withoutcaps ; though none that appear before them use such a freedom. As soon as the hat was OD, -383

"Now, Miss Burney, " said the queen, "I won't keep you; you hadbetter go and dress too. "

While I was dressing, a footman came to my door, with a formalmessage that Miss Vernons begged I would come to breakfast. Iimmediately promised to make haste, glad to find something moreresembling civility at length coming round to me. Presentlyafter entered Miss Planta, in high spirits and great enjoyment. She told me she had been acquainting the queen with the wholeaffair, and that the queen quite approved of our stayingupstairs. She had been also with the equerries, and had a finelaugh with them about their " wanting the ladies they declaredthey had sent no message at all, and that the servant had simplyreceived orders to tell us that Miss Vernons desired our companyto supper. 

I thought it mighty unnecessary to have acquainted the equerrieswith what could only furnish a laugh against ourselves : however, the thing was done, and down we went together. 

 A CHECK FOR THE COLONEL. 

The two Miss Vernons, General Harcourt, Colonel Fairly, MajorPrice, and -Mr. Hagget were all at breakfast. The Miss Vernonsimmediately began an apology about the supper the precedingnight, declaring themselves exceedingly sorry we should not havehad any, which they found was entirely owing to a blunder in themessage given by the servants. 

The gentlemen were all dying to make a laugh about the equerries" wanting the ladies ; " and Colonel Fairly began ; but thegravity of my behaviour soon quieted him. Mr. Hagget was contentto be observant of a new person ; General Harcourt scarce everspeaks but from necessity; and Major Price was as grave asmyself. 

The eldest Miss Vernon is plain, and a little old-maidish but Ifound her afterwards sensible, well read, and well bred but notquite immediately did she appear so, as you will soon see. Theyoungest is many years her junior, and fat and handsome, good-humoured, and pleasing in her smiles, though high anddistant till they are called forth. 

After breakfast, when we were all breaking up, to prepare forchurch, I had a short explanatory conversation with Major Price, who came to speak to me concerning the preceding evening, and toconfess his extreme surprise at our shutting384

ourselves up from their society. He had had a great mind, hesaid, to have come himself to see for us, but did not knowwhether it would be right. They waited, he added--Miss Vernonsand all of them -a quarter of an hour after the supper was uponthe table, and then a servant came in from us, to tell theequerries that we would not have any supper;--"And, indeed, "continued he, a little forcibly, "I must own I was rather hurt bythe message. "

"Hurt?" cried I, --"what a gentle word!--I am sure I think youmight rather have been angry. "

"Why-to own the truth--I believe I was. "

I was interrupted before I could explain more fully how thematter stood ; nor have I ever found opportunity since. However, I think it very likely he suggested the truth himself. Be that asit may, Miss Vernons went for their cloaks, and Miss Planta ranto the princesses, and therefore I was obliged to be a littleabrupt, and retreat also. 

When Miss Planta was ready, she came to fetch me. We wentdownstairs, but knew not whither to proceed. In theeating-parlour we had left only the gentlemen, and they werewaiting to attend the king. There was no other place to which wecould turn, and we had another of those wandering distresses thathad made me so comfortless the night before. My wish was to findMiss Vernons:-niy expectation was to be found by them. Neither, however, happened; and the first time we met anybody that couldgive us any information, we were told they had been gone sometime. 

Very agreeable news!

THANKSGIVING SERVICE; AT NUNEHAM. 

I could not, however, bear to give Up going to church, for I knewthat the thanksgiving was to be that morning for the preservationof the king from assassination : and to let pique at thisunaccountable behaviour, after all the apologies just passed, prevent my hearing and joining in a prayer of such a nature, inwhich now I am peculiarly interested, would have been ill worththe while. I therefore - proposed to Miss Planta that we shouldgo by ourselves, and desire one of the servants to show us atonce into Mr. Hagget's pew: for that we had already heardoffered to the use of Miss Vernons, as Lord Harcourt's wasreserved for their majesties. She agreed; and we proceeded, following such stragglers as385

shewed us our way : the servant to whom we applied having soondeserted us. 

The church is in a very beautiful situation in the park, andbuilt in the form of a Grecian temple. I admired it very muchfor its plainness and elegance. When we got to it, the veryfirst step we took in it shewed us the Miss Vernons, verycomposedly seated in a large pew at the entrance. I now led theway, and took a place next to Miss Vernons, as much withoutapology as without invitation. 

Mr. Hagget both read and preached. I was a good deal touched bythe occasional thanksgiving, chiefly from knowing how much itmust affect the queen and the princesses. Cause enough, indeed, is there for thanksgiving and rejoicing the safety of so mild andexemplary a sovereign. 

When the service was over, and the royal family were gone, Ithought it but right, in such a place, to subdue my proudfeelings so far as to say to the Miss Vernons, I hoped we had notdisturbed them. 

I was very glad I took this little step down, for Miss Vernon, colouring, apologised for not waiting for us, which she said wasowing to the fear of not getting into the chapel before the royalfamily. And then she asked if we should like to look at thealtar-piece, which was the work of Mr. Mason. 

 ROYAL VISIT TO OXFORD: RECEPTION BY THE UNIVERSITY. 

And now for the Oxford expedition. 

How many carriages there were, and how they were arranged, Iobserved not sufficiently to recollect; but the party consistedof their majesties, the Princesses Royal, Augusta, and Elizabeth, the Duchess of Ancaster, Lord and Lady Harcourt, Lady CharlotteBertie, and the two Miss Vernons. These last ladies aredaughters of the late Lord Vernon, and sisters of Lady Harcourt. 

General Harcourt, Colonel Fairly, and Major Price and Mr. Hagget, with Miss Planta and myself, completed the group. Miss Plantaand I, of course, as the only undignified persons, brought up therear. We were in a chaise of Lord Harcourt. 

The city of Oxford afforded us a very noble view on the road, andits spires, towers, and domes soon made me forget all the littleobjects of minor spleen that had been crossing me

 386

as I journeyed towards them ; and indeed, by the time I arrivedin the midst of them, their grandeur, nobility, antiquity, andelevation impressed my mind so forcibly, that I felt for thefirst time since my new situation had taken place a rushing in ofideas that had no connection with it whatever. 

The roads were lined with decently dressed people, and the highstreet was so crowded we were obliged to drive gently andcarefully, to avoid trampling the people to death. Yet theirbehaviour was perfectly respectful and proper. Nothing couldpossibly be better conducted than the whole of this expedition. 

We all drove straight to the theatre(211) in procession. Here, in alightingfrom the carriages, there was some difficulty, onaccount of the pressure of the people to see the king and queen, and princesses : however, even then, it was still the genteelestand most decent crowd I ever saw. 

Here it was that Major Price signalised that part of hischaracter I have so strongly marked, of his being truly agentleman. It was his business to attend and guard the king. But he was determined to take almost equal care of some of hismajesty's subjects: he was everybody's equerry during the wholeexpedition, assisting and looking after every creature, seeing usall out of our carriages and into them, and addressing thepeople, when they pressed too forward, with a steadiness andauthority that made them quicker in retreat than all the stavesof all the constables, who were attending by dozens at theentrance of every college. 

At the outward gate of the theatre, the vice-chancellor, Dr. Chapman, received their majesties. All the professors, doctors, etc. , then in Oxford, arrayed in their professional robes, attended him. --How I wished my dear father amongst them

The vice-chancellor then conducted their majesties along theinner court, to the door of the theatre, all the rest following ;and there, waiting their arrival, stood the Duke and Duchess ofMarlborough, the Marquis of Blandford, in a nobleman's Oxfordrobe, and Lady Caroline and Lady Elizabeth Spencer. 

After they had all paid their duties, a regular processionfollowed, which I should have thought very pretty, and much haveliked to have seen, had I been a mere looker on; but wasfrequently at a loss, what to do with myself, and uncertain

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whether I ought to proceed in the suite, or stand by as aspectator ; and Miss Planta was still, if possible, more fearful. 

The theatre was filled with company, all well dressed, andarranged in rows around it. The area below them was entirelyempty, so that there was not the least confusion. Thechancellor's chair, at the head of about a dozen steps, wasprepared for the king ; and just below him, to his left, a formfor the queen and the princesses. 

The king walked foremost from the area, conducted by theUniversity's vice-chancellor. The queen followed, handed by herown vice-chamberlain. The Princess royal followed, led by theking's aide-de-camp, General Harcourt; and Princess Augusta, leaning on Major Price. Princess Elizabeth walked alone, noother servant of the king being present, and no rank authorisingsuch a conduct, without office. 

Next followed the Duke and Duchess of Marlborough ; then theDuchess of Ancaster, and Marquis of Blandford - next, Lord andLady Harcourt, then the two Lady Spencers and Lady CharlotteBertie, then the Miss Vernons, and then Miss Planta and a certainF. B. . 

We were no sooner arranged, and the door of the theatre shut, than the king, his head covered, sat down ; the queen did thesame, and then the three princesses. All the rest, throughoutthe theatre, stood. 

THE ROYAL FAMILY ARE MUCH AFFECTED. 

 The vice-chancellor then made a low obeisance to the king, andproducing a written paper, began the address of the University, to thank his majesty for this second visit, and to congratulatehim and the nation on his late escape from assassination. Heread it in an audible and distinct voice; and in its CODclusion, an address was suddenly made to the queen, expressive of muchconcern for her late distress, and the highest and most profoundveneration for her amiable and exalted character. 

An address, to me so unexpected, and on a subject so recent andof so near concern, in presence of the person preserved, hiswife, and his children, was infinitely touching. 

The queen could scarcely bear it, though she had already, I doubtnot, heard it at Nuneham, as these addresses niust be first readin private, to have the answers prepared. Nevertheless, thispublic tribute of loyalty to the king, and of respect to388

herself, went gratefully to her heart, and filled her eyes withtears-which she would not, however, encourage, but smilingthrough them, dispersed them with her fan, with which she wasrepeatedly obliged to stop their Course down her cheeks. 

The princesses, less guarded, the moment their father's dangerwas mentioned, wept with but little control; and no wonder, for Iquestion if there was one dry eye in the theatre. The tribute, so just, so honourable, so elegant, paid to the exalted characterof the queen, affected everybody, with joy for her escape fromaffliction, and with delight at the reward and the avowal of hervirtues. 

When the address was ended, the king took a paper from LordHarcourt, and read his answer. The king reads admirably; withease, feeling, and force, and without any hesitation. His voiceis particularly full and fine. I was very much surprised by itseffect. When he had done, he took off his hat, and bowed to thechancellor and professors, and delivered the answer to LordHarcourt, who, walking backwards, descended the stairs, andpresented it to the vice chancellor. 

All this ceremony was so perfectly new to me, that I rejoicedextremely in not missing it. Indeed I would not have given upthe pleasure of seeing the queen on this occasion for any sort ofsight that could have been exhibited to me. 

Next followed music: a good organ, very well played, anthem-edand voluntary-ed us for some time. 

 THE PRESENTATIONS : RETIRING BACKWARDS. 

After this, the vice-chancellor and professors begged for thehonour of kissing the king's hand. Lord Harcourt was again thebackward messenger ; and here followed a great mark of goodnessin the king: he saw that nothing less than a thoroughbred oldcourtier, such as Lord Harcourt, could walk backwards down thesesteps, before himself, and in sight of so full a hall ofspectators - and he therefore dispensed with being approached tohis seat, and walked down himself into the area, where thevice-chancellor kissed his hand, and was imitated by everyprofessor and doctor in the room. 

Notwithstanding this considerate good-nature in his majesty, thesight, at times, was very ridiculous. Some of the worthycollegiates, unused to such ceremonies, and unaccustomed to389

such a presence, the moment they had kissed the king, 's hand, turned their backs to him, and walked away as in any common room; others, attempting to do better, did still worse, by totteringand stumbling, and falling foul of those behind them some, ashamed to kneel, took the king's hand straight up to theirmouths; others, equally off their guard, plumped down on bothknees, and could hardly get up again; and many, in theirconfusion, fairly arose by pulling his majesty's hand to raisethem. 

As the king spoke to every one, upon Lord Harcourt's presentingthem, this ceremonial took up a good deal of time but it was toonew and diverting to appear long. 

It was vacation time; there were therefore none of the studentspresent. 

When the whole was over, we left the theatre in the same form wehad entered it. The Duke and Duchess of Marlborough, the Marquisand the Ladies Spencer, attended the king and queen to theircarriages, and then went back to the theatre, to wait for theirown. 

I cannot now go on with our progress regularly, for I do notremember it. I will only, therefore, in general, say, that I wasquite delighted with the city, and so entertained and so pleasedwith such noble buildings as it presented to me, that I felt, asI have told you, a consciousness to pleasure revived in me, whichhad long lain nearly dormant. 

 THE COLLEGES VISITED: A STEALTHY COLLATION. 

We went to all the colleges in the same order that we came to thetheatre. I shall attempt no descriptions ; I shall only mentiona few little personal circumstances, and some of those courtetiquettes which, from their novelty to me, will, I judge, be newalso to my Susan ; and what is new in customs or manners isalways worth knowing. 

At Christ-church college, when we arrived at about three o'clock, in a large hall there was a cold collation prepared for theirmajesties and the princesses. It was at the upper end of thehall. I could not see of what it consisted, though it would havebeen very agreeable, after so much standing and sauntering, tohave given my opinion of it in an experimental way. 

Their majesties and the princesses sat down to this table - aswell satisfied, I believe, as any of their subjects so to do. 

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Duchess of Ancaster and Lady Harcourt stood behind the chairs ofthe queen and the princess royal. There were 11, other ladies ofsufficient rank to officiate for Princesses Augusta andElizabeth. Lord Harcourt stood behind the king's chair and thevice-chancellor, and the head master of Christ-church' withsalvers in their hands, stood near the table, and ready to hand, to the three noble waiters, whatever was wanted : while the otherreverend doctors and learned professors stood aloof, equallyready to present to the chancellor and the master whatever theywere to forward. 

We, meanwhile, untitled attendants, stood at the other end of theroom, forming a semi-circle, and all strictly facing the royalcollationers. We consisted of the Miss Vernons, thrown out hereas much as their humble guests-Colonel Fairly, Major Price, General Harcourt, and, -though I know not why, --Lady CharlotteBertie;--with all the inferior professors, in their gowns, andsome, too much frightened to advance, of the upper degrees. These, with Miss Planta, Mr. Hagget, and myself, formed thisattendant semi-circle. 

The time of this collation was spent very pleasantly-to me, atleast, to whom the novelty of the scene rendered it entertaining. It was agreed that we must all be absolutely famished unless wecould partake of some refreshment, as we had breakfasted early, and had no chance of dining before six or seven o'clock. Awhisper was soon buzzed through the semi-circle, of thedeplorable state of our appetite apprehensions ; and presently itreached the ears of some of the worthy doctors. Immediately anew whisper was circulated, which made its progress with greatvivacity, to offer us whatever we would wish, and to beg us toname what we chose. 

Tea, coffee, and chocolate, were whispered back. 

The method of producing, and the means of swallowing them, weremuch more difficult to settle than the choice of what wasacceptable. Major Price and Colonel Fairly, however, seeing avery large table close to the wainscot behind us, desired ourrefreshments might be privately conveyed there, behind thesemi-circle, and that, while all the group backed very near it, one at a time might feed, screened by all the rest fromobservation. 

I suppose I need not inform you, my dear Susan, that to eat inpresence of any of the royal family is as much hors d'usage as tobe seated. This plan had speedy success, and the very gooddoctors soon, by sly degrees and with watchful

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caution, covered the whole table with tea, coffee, chocolate, cakes, and bread and butter. 

The further plan, however, of one at a time feasting and the restfasting and standing sentinels, was not equally approved; therewas too much eagerness to seize the present moment, and too muchfear of a sudden retreat, to give patience for so slowproceeding. We could do no more, therefore, than stand in doublerow, with one to screen one throughout the troop ; and, in thismanner, we were all very plentifully and very pleasantly served. 

The Duchess of Ancaster and Lady Harcourt, as soon as the firstserving attendance was over, were dismissed from the royalchairs, and most happy to join our group, and partake of ourrepast. The duchess, extremely fatigued with standing, drew asmall body of troops before her, that she might take a fewminutes' rest on a form by one of the doors ; and Lady CharlotteBertie did the same, to relieve an ankle which she hadunfortunately sprained. 

"Poor Miss Burney, " cried the good-natured duchess, "I wish shecould sit down, for she is unused to this work. She does notknow yet what it is to stand for five hours following, as we do. "

The beautiful window of Sir Joshua Reynolds and Mr. Jervis, inNew college, would alone have recovered me, had my fatigue beeninfinitely more serious. 

In one of the colleges I stayed so long in an old chapel, lingering over antique monuments, that all the party werevanished before I missed them, except doctors and professors ;for we had a train of those everywhere ; and I was then a littlesurprised by the approach of one of them, saying, "You seeminclined to abide with us, Miss Burney?"--and then another, in anaccent of facetious gallantry, cried, "No, no, don't let us shutup Miss Burney among old tombs!--No, no!"

After this, many of the good doctors occasionally spoke to me, when there happened to be opportunity. How often did I wish mydear father amongst them! They considered me as a doctor'sdaughter, and were all most excessively courteous, handing, andpointing, and showing me about as much as possible. 

In another college, while Miss Planta and myself were hanging alittle back, at the entrance into a small cedar chapel, thatwould not much more than hold the royal family and theirimmediate suite, the Duchess of Ancaster, 392

who took every opportunity to show me civilities, and distinguishme, came down the steps, and made me ascend them, to turn withher, when she called to her daughter, and in the most obligingterms introduced me to her, with many kind speeches of her wishthat we should cultivate much acquaintance. Lady Charlotte isvery handsome, and has a very good figure: she unfortunatelylisps very much, which, at first, never prejudices in favour ofthe understanding; but I have conversed with her too little toknow anything more of her than that she is well bred, and seemsto have a large portion internally, of the good-natured andobliging disposition of her mother. 

At the Town-hall, an address was presented by the mayor andcorporation of the city of Oxford to the king, which the miayorread, while the same ceremony of the sitting and standing waspractised that I have described at the theatre. The king tookoff his hat, and bowed, and received the address, after hearingit, but returned no answer. Nor has his majesty made any exceptto the Oxford University, though they have, since, poured in uponhim from every part of the kingdom. The mayor was then knighted. 

I think it was in Trinity college that we saw the noblest libraryI have ever happened to enter. For 'tis but little, my dearSusan, I have seen of sights. Here we had new court scenery, inwhich I acted but an uncourtier-like part. The queen andprincess had seats prepared for them, which, after a stroll upand down the library, they were glad, I believe, to occupy. Theladies of their suite were then graciously ordered by her majestyto be seated, as there was not here the state or publicappearance that was observed at the theatre, and in the collegewhere the refreshments were given. As to the poor men, theynever must sit in the presence of the queen, be they whom theywill, or what they will: so they were fain to stand it out. 

Miss Planta glided away, behind a pillar, and, being thereunseen, was able to lounge a little. She was dreadfully tired. So was everybody but myself. For me, my curiosity was so awaketo every thing, that I seemed insensible to all inconvenience. Icould not, in such a library, prevail with myself to so nodest aretirement as Miss Planta's: I considered that the queen hadherself ordered my attendance in this expedition, and I thoughtmyself very well privileged to make it as pleasant as I could. Itherefore stole softly down the room, to the further end, andthere amused myself with examining what393

books were within reach of my eyes, and with taking down andlooking into all such as were also within reach of myunderstanding. This was very pleasant sport to me, and had westayed there till midnight would have kept me from weariness. 

 RETREATING FROM THE ROYAL PRESENCE. 

In another college (we saw so many, and in such quick succession, that I recollect not any by name, though all by situation) I sawa performance of courtly etiquette, by Lady Charlotte Bertie, that seemed to me as difficult as any feat I ever beheld, even atAstley's or Hughes's. It was in an extremely large, long, spacious apartment. The king always led the way out, as well asin, upon all entrances and exits : but here, for some reason thatI know not, the queen was handed out first ; and the princesses, and the aide-de-camp, and equerry followed. The king was veryearnest in conversation with some professor ; the attendantshesitated whether to wait or follow the queen ; but presently theDuchess of Ancaster, being near the door, slipped out, and LadyHarcourt after her. The Miss Vernons, who were but a few stepsfrom them, went next. But Lady Charlotte, by chance, happened tobe very high up the room, and near to the king. Had I been inher situation, I had surely waited till his majesty went first -but that would not, I saw, upon this occasion, have beenetiquette she therefore faced the king, and began a marchbackwards, -her ankle already sprained, and to walk forward, andeven leaning upon an arm, was painful to her: nevertheless, backshe went, perfectly upright, without one stumble, without everlooking once behind to see what she might encounter ; and with asgraceful a motion, and as easy an air, as I ever saw anybodyenter a long room, she retreated, I am sure, full twenty yardsbackwards out of one. 

For me, I was also, unluckily, at the upper end of the room, looking at some portraits of founders, and one of Henry VIII. Inparticular, from Holbein. However, as soon as I perceived whatwas going forward, -backward, rather, -I glided near the wainscot, (Lady Charlotte, I should mention, made her retreat along thevery middle of the room, ) and having paced a few steps backwards, stopped short to recover, and, while I seemed examining someother portrait, disentangled my train from the heels of my shoes, and then proceeded a few steps only more . - and then, observingthe king turn another way, I slipped a yard or two at a timeforwards - and hastily looked back, and394

then was able to go again according to rule, and in this manner, by slowand varying means, I at length made my escape. MissPlanta stood upon less ceremony, and fairly ran off. 

Since that time, however, I have come on prodigiously, byconstant practice, in the power and skill of walking backwards, without tripping up my own heels, feeling my head giddy, ortreading my train out of the plaits--accidents very frequentamong novices in that business; and I have no doubt but that, inthe course of a few months, I shall arrive at all possibleperfection in the true Court retrograde motion. 

In another college, in an old chapter house, I had theopportunity to see another Court-scene. It was nearly round inshape, and had various old images and ornaments. We were alltaken in by the doctors attendant, and the party, with doctorsand all, nearly filled it ; but, finding it crowded, everybodystood upon the less ceremony, and we all made our examinations ofthe various contents of the room quite at our ease: till suddenlythe king and queen, perceiving two very heavy old-fashionedchairs were placed at the head of the room for their reception, graciously accepted them, and sat down. Nothing could exceed thecelerity with which all confusion instantly was over, and themost solemn order succeeded to it. Chairs were presented to thethree princesses by the side of the queen, and the Duchess ofAncaster anc Lady Harcourt planted themselves at their backs ;while Lady Charlotte instantly retreated close to the wall, andso did every creature else in the room, all according to theirrank or station, and the royal family remained conspicuous andalone, all crowd dispersed, and the space of almost the wholeroom unoccupied before them, so close to the walls did every bodyrespectfully stand. 

 SURPRISED BY THE QUEEN. 

The last college we visited was Cardinal Wolsey's--an immensefabric. While roving about a very spacious apartment, Mr. Fairly(212) came behind me, and whispered that I might easilyslip out into a small parlour, to rest a little while ; almosteverybody having taken some opportunity to contrive

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themselves a little sitting but myself. I assured him, verytruly, I was too little tired to make it worth while ; but poorMiss Planta was so woefully fatigued that I could not, upon heraccount, refuse to be of the party. He conducted us into a veryneat little parlour, belonging to the master of the college, andMiss Planta flung herself on a chair, half dead with weariness. 

Mr. Fairly was glad of the opportunity to sit for a moment also;for 'my part, I was quite alert. Alas! my dear Susan, 'tis mymind that is so weak, and so open to disorder;- my body, I reallyfind, when it is an independent person, very strong, and capableof much exertion without suffering from it. 

Mr. Fairly now produced, from a paper repository concealed in hiscoat pocket, some apricots and bread, and insisted upon my eating;-but I was not inclined to the repast, and saw he was halffamished himself;-so was poor Miss Planta : however, he was sopersuaded I must both be as hungry and as tired as himself, thatI was forced to eat an apricot to appease him. 

Presently, while we were in the midst of this regale, the doorsuddenly opened, and the queen came in!--followed by as manyattendants as the room would contain. Up we all started, myselfalone not discountenanced ; for I really think it quite respectsufficient never to sit down in the royal presence, withoutaiming at having it supposed I have stood bolt upright ever sinceI have been admitted to it. Quick into our pockets was crammedour bread, and close into our hands was squeezed our fruit; bywhich I discovered that our appetites were to be supposedannihilated, at the same time that our strength was to beinvincible. 

Very soon after this we were joined by the king, and in a fewminutes we all paraded forth to the carriages, and drove back toNuneham. 

I have been very minute in this Oxford account, because itpresented scenes so new to me, and because I concluded that, after you have had a month or two of general journal, you willhave nothing more to be new to either of us. 

This Oxford expedition was, altogether, highly entertaining tome; but I ought not to close it without telling you the sweetnessof all the princesses, who each made a point of speaking to, MissPlanta and to me upon entering or quitting every college, as westood in the ranks, while they passed. 396

 AT NUNEHAM AGAIN. 

I stayed in my own room till a message from the miss Vernonsbrought me down to dinner; and from this time forward thoseladies exerted themselves to the utmost in being attentive, sociable, and civil. I found the major, Mr. Fairly Mr. Hagget, Miss Planta, and themselves ; and we had a very pleasant dinner, talking over the sights just seen. All the afternoon was spentin the same party. We went into Lord Harcourt's library to teaand coffee, and there we had short visits from his lordship andthe Duchess of Ancaster. 

In the evening Lady Harcourt came also, and was amazinglycourteous. The queen then sent for the Miss Vernons into thedrawing-room, and Miss Planta and myself left the gentlemen totake care of themselves, and retired for the evening to our ownrooms. 

You must know, wherever the king and queen are, nobody comes intotheir sight unsent for, not even the master and mistress of thehouse, unless they are publicly acquainted that their majestiesare coming, and mean to see them. 

 A LIVELY BREAKFAST INCIDENT. 

Monday, Aug. 14. -I come now to introduce to you a newacquaintance. 

I did not get down to breakfast till it was almost over, as I wasdetained with the queen, and as everybody was obliged to makewhat haste they could, in order to insure a meal before asummons. I found Miss Planta, and the aide-de-camp, vicechamberlain, and equerry; Lady Harcourt had already breakfastedwith them, but made off as soon as the queen was visible, to waitupon her majesty. Miss Vernons lay in bed from yesterday'sfatigues. 

The extreme silence and gravity of the aide-de-camp threw areserve and constraint on all the party, and we were all nearlydumb, when a new lady suddenly rushed into the room. This wasMrs. Harcourt, the aide-de-camp's wife, who had been ill thepreceding day, and therefore had not ventured to Oxford. She isa showy, handsome woman, extremely talkative, with quick parts, high spirits, and a rattling vein of humour. 

Miss Planta, who had taken Lady Harcourt's place, in397

order to pour out the tea, instantly moved to another. Mrs. Harcourt hurried into that just vacated, without ceremony, calling out, "How monstrous late you all are!--though I need nottalk, for I hate getting up early. I was so vastly ill yesterdayI could not stir, but I am vastly well to-day, so I am going toBlenheim. "

This day had been previously dedicated to seeing Blenheim. 

"To Blenheim?" repeated General Harcourt, in a low voice. 

"Yes, sir, to Blenheim! So no grave faces, for my plan is fixed. "

He half articulated a fear of her being ill again, but shestopped him with "O, no matter, leave that to the Fates;--thequeen has been so gracious as to say I may go, and therefore go Ishall : so say nothing about it, for that's settled andunalterable. "

"After being so ill yesterday, " said Mr. Fairly, "I think it willbe rather too much for you. "

"Not at all !-and what's more, you must carry me. "

"I am very glad to hear it, " cried he, " if go you will. "

"Yes, that I will, certainly; and some of you must take me. Ihave no coach ordered, -and there is not one to spare : so, amongst you, you equerries, You must carry me. I have never beento Blenheim since I married. "

"Were you before ? " said the general. 

"Yes, sir, and you took me. "

"Did I?)"

" Yes, sir, you had that honour ; and I think you have nevertaken that trouble since. "

All this, though uttered in a voice as peremptory as thelanguage, was spoken with very becoming smiles, and an air ofsaucy good humour. 

The breakfast all this while had stood quite still: indeed therewas nobody but myself that had not nearly done. Major Pricehanded me roll and butter and bread across the table, by way ofhint, I believe ; all which I declined: at last Mr. Fairly said, "Miss Burney, which is your cup?"

Upon this, Mrs. Harcourt, abruptly turning to me, exclaimed "Odear, you've got no tea!" Then pouring out a dish of slop, added, "Can you drink it? It looks very melancholy. "

"No, " I said, "I have had enough. "

Have not you also, my Susan, had enough of this scene ?

The Blenheim visit being considered as a private one, 398

nobody went but of the Marlborough acquaintance: though in allroyal parties, the whole company is always named by the royals, and the lords and ladies of the mansions have no more right toinvite a guest than a guest has to come uninvited. 

I spent this day very pleasantly, in walking over the groundswhich are extremely pretty, seeing a flower-garden planned by Mr. Mason, and the pictures in the house. The two MISS Vernons, MissPlanta, and Mr. Hagget, were all that remained at Nuneham. Andit was now I wholly made peace with those two ladies; especiallythe eldest, as I found her, the moment she was removed from raysso bright that they had dazzled her, a rational, composed, obliging woman. She took infinite and unwearied pains to makeamends for the cold and strange opening of our acquaintance, bythe most assiduous endeavours to give me pleasure and amusement. And she succeeded very well. I could blame nobody but thecountess' sister for our reception ; I plainly saw these ladieshad been unprepared to look upon us as any charge to themselves. 

The royal excursioners did not return till between six and seveno'clock, when we dined with the same party as the preceding day. The evening, too, had just the same visitors, and passed in justthe same manner. 

(211) i. E. The University theatre. -ED. 

(212) Colonel Digby, who from this time is always called Mr. Fairly instead of Colonel Fairly, in the "Diary, "-ED, 399

 SECTION 9 (1786-7-)

 COURT DUTIES AT WINDSOR AND KEW. 

[The following section and the two sections which succeed it, relate, almost exclusively, to Fanny's dreary prison-life in theroyal household. Of the world without the palace, of the friendswhom she had left, we hear next to nothing. The change for herwas complete ; the rare visits of her father, her sister, and theLockes, one hasty excursion to Chesington, and one delightfulevening at Mrs. Ord's, form nearly the sum total of her personalintercourse, during these eighteen months, with those whosekindness and sympathy had brightened her past years. Shecomplained seldom, and only to her best-beloved Susan, but thereis something truly pathetic in these occasional evidences of thestruggle which she was making to conquer her repugnance, and tobe happy, if that were possible, in her new situation. Dazzledby the royal condescension Fanny may have been ; blinded she wasnot. It was her father who, possessed by a strange infatuation, remained blind to the incongruity, charmed by the fancied honour, of his daughter's position; and she, tender-hearted as she was, could not bear to inflict upon one so dear the pain which sheknew must be the consequence of his enlightenment. Meanwhile, her best comfort was still in the friendship of Mrs. Delany, andthis, in the course of nature, could not be of long duration. 

But dreary as this life of routine was to the unfortunate victim, we venture to assure the reader that he will find the victim'saccount of it very far from dreary. Indeed, these pages mightalmost be instanced to show from what unpromising materials aperson endowed with humour and observation can construct asingularly entertaining narrative. Our wonder is that neitherthe monotony of her official duties, nor the insipidity of herassociates, nor even *the odious tyranny of her colleague, couldwholly subdue in the author of "Evelina" and "Cecilia" thatbright and humorous disposition to which the following pages bearfrequent testimony. -ED. ]400

 THE MISCHIFF-MAKING KEEPER OF THE ROBES. 

Tuesday, Aug. 15. -This morning we all breakfasted together, andat about twelve o'clock we set off again for Windsor. 

Lord Harcourt came into the breakfast room with abundance ofcivil speeches upon his pleasure in renewing our acquaintance, and the Miss Vernons parted with me like wholly different peoplefrom those I met. 

As soon as I returned to the queen's Lodge at Windsor, I calledupon Mrs. Schwellenberg. I found her still occupied concerningthe newspaper business about Mrs. Hastings. She was more thanever irritated against Mr. Fairly for his information, and toldme she was sure he must have said it to her on purpose, and thatshe wished people might hold their tongue: but that she was bentupon having satisfaction, and therefore she had sent for Mrs. Hastings, and informed her of the whole business. 

I was not only sorry, but frightened, lest any mischief shouldarise through misrepresentations and blunders, between Mr. Fairlyand Mr. Hastings: however, this imprudent step was taken already, and not to be called back. 

She protested she was determined to insist that Mr. Fairly shouldproduce the very paper that had mentioned the queen, which sheshould show, and have properly noticed. 

I, on the other side, instantly resolved to speak myself to Mr. Fairly, to caution him by no means to be led into seeking anysuch paper, or into keeping such a search awake; for, with thebest intentions in the world, I saw him on the point of beingmade the object of vindictive resentment to Mr. Hastings, or ofindignant displeasure to the queen herself, -so wide-spreading isthe power of misapprehension over the most innocent conversation. 

I saw, however, nothing of Mr. Fairly till tea-time; indeed, except by very rare chance, I never see any of the king's peoplebut at that meeting. Mrs. Schwellenberg was then present, andnothing could I do. Major Price and Mr. Fisher were of theparty. Mr. Fairly fortunately had letters to write, and hastilyleft us, after taking one dish of tea. The moment he was goneMrs. Schwellenberg said she had forgot to speak401

to him about the newspaper, and told Major Price to ask him forit. Major Price assented with a bow only, and the matterdropped. 

I, however, who best knew the danger of its going any farther, now determined upon speaking to Major Price, and making himcontrive to hush it up. Utterly impossible, nevertheless, provedthis scheme; Major Price was too great a favourite to be aninstant disengaged. I was obliged, therefore, to be quiet. 

 A TERRACE PARTY. 

Wednesday, Aug. 16-Was the birthday of Prince Frederick, Duke ofYork. The queen sent me in the morning to my dear Mrs. Delany, whom I had but just found a moment to fly to the preceding day, and I was commanded to brin- her, if well enough, just as shewas, in her home morning dress, to her majesty. This I did withgreat delight ; and that most venerable of women accepted theinvitation with all the alacrity of pleasure she could have feltat fifteen. The queen, in the late excursion, had made manypurchases at Woodstock : and she now made some little presentsfrom them to this dear lady. 

In the evening, as it was again a birthday, I resolved upon goingto the Terrace, as did Mrs. Delany, and with her and Miss Mawer, and Miss Port, I sallied forth. To avoid the high steps leadingto the Terrace from the Lodge, we went through a part of theCastle. 

The Terrace was much crowded, though so windy we could hardlykeep our feet ; but I had an agreeable surprise in meeting therewith Dr. Warton. (213) He joined Mrs. Delany instantly, and keptwith us during the whole walk. He congratulated me upon myappointment, in terms of rapture; his ecstacies are excited soreadily, from the excessive warmth of his disposition, and itsproneness to admire and wonder, that my new situation was asubject to awaken an enthusiasm the most high-flown. 

Presently after we were joined by a goodly priest, fat, jovial, breathing plenty, ease, and good living. I soon heard himwhisper Mrs. Delany to introduce him to me. It was Dr. Roberts, provost of Eton: I had already seen him at Mrs. Delany's lastwinter, but no introduction had then passed. He

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is a distant relation of Mr. Cambridge. His wife was with him, and introduced also. 

These also joined us; and in a few minutes more a thin, little, wizen old gentleman, with eyes that scarce seemed to see, and arather tottering gait, came up to Mrs. Delany, and after talkingwith her some time, said in a half whisper, "Is that MissBurney?" and then desired a presentation. It was Mr. Bryant, the mythologist. (214) I was very glad to see him, as he bears avery high character, and lives much in this neighbourhood. Hetalks a great deal, and with the utmost good humour and ease, casting entirely aside his learning, which I am, nevertheless, assured is that of one of the most eminent scholars of the age. 

We had now a very good party, and seated ourselves in a sort ofalcove, to be sheltered from the wind; but it was so, ery violentthat it deterred the royal family from walking. They merely cameon the Terrace to show themselves to those who were eager to paytheir compliments upon the day, and then returned to the Castle. 

Dr. Warton insisted upon accompanying me home as far as the ironrails, to see me enter my re, ,al premises. I did not dare invitehim in, without previous knowledge whether I had any suchprivilege; otherwise, with all his parts, and all his experience, I question whether there is one boy in his school at Winchesterwho would more have delighted in feeling himself under the roofof a sovereign. 

 A NERVOUS READER. 

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

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

Not a book, not a pamphlet, not a newspaper, had I ever seen nearthe queen, for the first week, without feeling a panic ; I alwaysexpected to be called upon. She frequently bid me give her thepapers ; I felt that they would be the worst reading I couldhave, 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 ownroom; and the queen, instead of leaving mee, as usual, to go tomine, desired me to follow her to her sitting dressing-room. Shethen employed me in helping her to arrange her work, which ischair covers done in ribbon; and then told me to fetch her avolume of the "Spectator. " I obeyed with perfect tranquillity. She let me stand by her a little while without speaking, andthen, suddenly, but very gently, said, "Will you read a paperwhile I work?"

I was quite "consternated!" I had not then the smallestexpectation of such a request. I said nothing, and held the bookunopened. 

She took it from me, and pointed out the place where I shouldbegin. She is reading them regularly through, for the firsttime. I had no choice: I was forced to obey; but my voice wasless obedient than my will, and it became so husky, and sounmanageable, that nothing more unpleasant could be heard. Thepaper was a curious one enough--all concerning a Court favourite. I could hardly rejoice when my task was over, from myconsciousness how ill it was performed. The queen talked of thepaper, 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 todeal with!--it struggles so hard to be sad--and silent--and flyfrom you entirely, since it cannot fly entirely to you. I do allI can to conquer it, to content it, to give it a taste andenjoyment for what is still attainable: but at times I cannotmanage404

it, and it seems absolutely indispensable to my peace to occupymyself in anything rather than in writing to the person most dearto me upon earth! . . . If to you alone I show myself in thesedark colours, can you blame the plan that I have intentionallybeen forming, namely, to wean myself from myself--to lessen allmy affections--to curb all my wishes--to deaden all mysensations? This design, my Susan, I formed so long ago as thefirst day my dear father accepted my offered appointment: Ithought that what demanded a complete new system of life, required, if attainable, a new set of feelings for all enjoymentof new prospects, and for lessening regrets at what were quitted, or lost. Such being my primitive idea, merely from my grief ofseparation, imagine but how it was strengthened and confirmedwhen the interior of my position became known to me!--when I sawmyself 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 acceptedunder such different auspices, that nothing but my horror ofdisappointing, perhaps displeasing, my dearest father, hasdeterred me, from the moment that I made this mortifyingdiscovery, from soliciting his leave to resign. 

But oh my Susan, --kind, good, indulgent as he is to me, Ihave not the heart so cruelly to thwart his hopes--his views--hishappiness, in the honours he conceived awaiting my so unsolicitedappointment. The queen, too, is all sweetness, encouragement, and gracious goodness to me, and I cannot endure to complain toher of her old servant. You see, then, my situation; here I mustremain!--The die is cast, and that struggle is no more. --To keepoff every other, to support the loss of the dearest friends, andbest 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 myhappiness, she redoubles my conflicts never to shock her withmurmurs against one who, however to me noxious and persecuting, is to her a faithful and truly devoted old servant. This willprevent my ever having my distress and dis-405

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

 MADAME DE GENLIs DISCUSSED. 

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

Madame de la Fite has long pressed me with great earnestness towrite to Madame de Genlis, whose very elegant little note to me Inever have answered. Alas! what can I do?I think of her as of one of the first among women--I see her fullof talents and of charms--I am willing to believe her good, virtuous, and dignified;--yet, with all this, the cry against heris so violent and so universal, and my belief in her innocence iswholly unsupported by proof in its favour, or any other argumentthan internal conviction, from what I observed of her conduct andmanners and conversation when I saw her in London, that I knownot how to risk a correspondence with her, till better able tosatisfy others, as well as I am satisfied Myself: mostespecially, I dare not enter into such an intercourse throughMadame de la Fite, whose indiscreet zeal for us both would leadher to tell her successful mediation to everybody she could makehear her. Already she has greatly distressed me upon thissubject. 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 writtenMadame de Genlis word that I am here, belonging to the same royalhousehold as herself; and then came to tell me, that as we werenow so closely connected, she proposed our writing jointly, inthe same letter. 

All this, with infinite difficulty, I passed over, --pleading mylittle time; which indeed she sees is true. But when M. Argantwas 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; hewill tell her he saw us together, and he will carry her a letter'from me; and surely Miss Burney will not refuse M. Argant thehappiness of carrying two lines from one lady so celebrated toanother?" I was quite vexed; a few lines answer the same purposeas a few sheets; since, once her correspondent, all that I amhesitating about is as completely over, right or wrong, as if Iwrote to her weekly. 

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

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

An opportunity offered the next morning, for the queen againcommanded me to follow her into her saloon ; and there she was sogentle, and so gracious, that I ventured to speak of Madame deGenlis. 

It was very fearfully that I took this liberty. I dreaded lestshe should imagine I meant to put myself under her direction, asif presuming she would be pleased to direct me. Something, Itold her, I had to say, by the advice of Mrs. Delany, which Ibegged her permission to communicate. She assented in silence, but with a look of the utmost softness, and yet mixed with strongsurprise. I felt my voice faltering, and I was with difficultyable to go on, -so new to me was it to beg to be heard, who, hitherto, have always been begged to speak. There is noabsolutely accounting for the forcible emotions which everytotally new situation and new effort will excite in a mindenfeebled, like mine, by a long succession of strugglingagitations. I got behind her chair, that she might not see adistress she might wonder at: for it was not this application407

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

With many pauses, and continual hesitation, I then told her thatI had been earnestly pressed by Madame de Genlis to correspondwith her; that I admired her with all my heart, and, with all myheart, believed all good of her; but that, nevertheless, mypersonal knowledge of her was too slight to make me wish sointimate an intercourse, which I had carefully shunned upon alloccasions but those where my affection as well as my admirationhad been interested ; though I felt such a request from such awoman as Madame de Genlis as an honour, and therefore not to bedeclined without some reason stronger than my own generalreluctance to proposals of that sort ; and I found her unhappily, and I really and sincerely believed undeservedly, encircled withsuch powerful enemies, and accused with so much confidence ofhaving voluntarily provoked them, that I could not, even in myown mind, settle if it were right to connect myself with her soclosely, till I could procure information more positive in herfavour, in order to answer the attacks of those who asperseher, (216) and who would highly blame me for entering into acorrespondence with a character not more unquestionably known tome. I had been desirous to wait, suspended, till this fullerknowledge might be brought about; but I was now solicited into adecision, by M. Argant, who was immediately going to her, and whomust either take her a letter from me or show her, by takingnone, 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 itjust as the Duchess of Portland died, when my whole mind was somuch occupied by Mrs. Delany, that I could not answer it. \"I will speak to you then, " cried she, "very honestly; if youhave not yet writ, I think it better you should not write. Ifyou 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 easilysay, without giving her any offence, that you are now too muchengaged to find time for entering into any new correspondence. "

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

The queen talked on, then, of Madame de Genlis with the utmostfrankness; she admired her as much as I had done myself, but hadbeen so assaulted with tales to her disadvantage, that shethought it unsafe and indiscreet to form any connection with her. Against her own judgment, she had herself been almost tormentedinto granting her a private audience, from the imprudentvehemence of one of Madame de G. 's friends here, with whom shefelt herself but little pleased for what she had done, and who, Iplainly saw, from that unfortunate injudiciousness, would loseall power of exerting any influence in future. Having thusunreservedly explained herself, she finished the subject, and hasnever started it since. But she looked the whole time with amarked approbation of my applying to her. 

Poor Madame de Genlis! how I grieve at the cloud which hoversover 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 seenthat very extraordinary man at Mrs. De Luc's, but was happy tosee him again, for he has not more fame to awaken curiosity, thansense and modesty to gratify it. He is perfectly unassuming, yetopenly happy; and happy in the success of those studies whichwould render a mind less excellently formed presumptuous andarrogant. The king has not a happier subject than this man, whoowes wholly to his majesty that he is not wretched : for such washis eagerness to quit all other pursuits to follow astronomysolely, 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 hisdarling study, but he is indulged in licence from the king tomake a telescope according to his new ideas and discoveries, thatis to have no cost spared in its construction, and is wholly tobe paid for by his majesty. 

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

At night, Mr. Herschel, by the king's command, came to exhibit tohis majesty and the royal family the new comet lately discoveredby his sister, Miss Herschel; and while I was playing at piquetwith 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. Iwas glad to accept it, for all Sorts Of reasons. 

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

 EFFUSIVE MADAMF DE LA ROCHE. 

I come now to introduce to you, with a new character, some newperplexities from my situation. Madame de la Fite called thenext morning, to tell me she must take no denial to forming me anew acquaintance--Madarne de la Roche, a German by birth, butmarried to a Frenchman;--an authoress, a woman of talents anddistinction, a character highly celebrated, and unjustlysuffering from an adherence to the Protestant religion. (218)

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"She dies with eagerness to see you, " she added, in French, ". AndI have invited her to Windsor, where I have told her I have noother feast prepared for her but to show her Dr. Herschel andMiss Burney. "

I leave you to imagine if I felt competent to fulfil such apromise : openly, on the contrary, I assured her I was quiteunequal to it. She had already, she said, written to Madame dela Roche, to come the next day, and if I would not meet her shemust be covered with disgrace. Expostulation was now vain; Icould only say that to answer for myself was quite, out of my ownpower. 

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

Accordingly I went, and arrived before Madame de la Roche. PoorMadame de la Fite received me in transport; and I soon witnessedanother transport, at least equal, to Madame de la Roche, whichhappily was returned with the same warmth; and it was not tillafter a thousand embraces, and the most ardent professions--"Madigne amie!--est il possible?--te vois-je?" etc. --that Idiscovered they had never before met in their lives!--they hadcorresponded, but, no more!(219)

This somewhat lessened my surprise, however, when my turnarrived; for no sooner was I named than all the embrassades weretransferred 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 havepleased me in no common degree; for could I have conceived hercharacter to be unaffected, her manners have a softness thatwould render her excessively engaging. She is now bien pass`ee--no doubt fifty--yet has a voice of touching sweetness, eyes ofdove-like gentleness, looks supplicating for favour, and an airand demeanour the most tenderly caressing. I can suppose she hasthought herself all her life the model of the favourite heroineof her own favourite romance, and I can readily believe that shehas 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 Iconstantly felt myself forgiving and excusing what in her absenceI as constantly found past defence or apology. 

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

I returned still time enough to find Mrs. Schwellenberg with hertea-party ; and she was very desirous to hear something of Madamede 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 quiteindependent of all reference to poor Madame de la Fite; but therewas still enough to make a little narration. Madame de ]a Rochehad told me that she had been only three days in England, and hadyet made but a beginning of seeing les spectacles and les gensc`el`ebres;--and what do you think was the first, and, as yet, sole spectacle to which she had been carried?--Bedlam!--And whothe first, and, as yet, only homme c`el`ebre she had seen--LordGeorge Gordon!--whom she called le fameux George Gordon, and withwhom she had dined, in company with Count Cagliostro. 

Sunday, Sept. 17-At the chapel this morning, Madame de la Fiteplaced Madame de la Roche between herself and me, and proposedbringing her to the Lodge, "to return my visit. " This beingprecisely what I had tried to avoid, and to avoid withoutshocking Madame de la Fite, by meeting her corre-412

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

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

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

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

"O, oui, oui!" cried her friend, "mais la vraie C`ecile, est MissBorni! charmante Miss Borni! digne, douce, et aimable--com to mearms! que je vous embrasse millefois!"

Again we were all deranged, and again the same ceremony beingperformed, we all sat ourselves down. "Cecilia" was hen talkedover throughout, in defiance of every obstacle I could put in itsway. After this, Madame de la Fite said, in French, that Madamede la Roche had had the most extraordinary life and adventuresthat 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 itelligiblewithout his story. 

Madame de la Roche, looking down upon her fan, began then therecital. She related their first interview, the gradations oftheir mutual attachment, his extraordinary talents, his literaryfame and name; the breach of their union from motives of prudencein their friends; his change of character from piety tovoluptuousness, in consoling himself for her loss with anactress; his various adventures, and various transformations fromgood to bad, in life and conduct; her own marriage with413

M. De ]a Roche, their subsequent meeting when she was mother ofthree children, and all the attendant circumstances. 

This narrative was told in so touching and pathetic a manner, andinterspersed with so many sentiments of tenderness and ofheroism, that I could scarcely believe I was not actuallylistening to a Clelia, or a Cassandra, recounting the stories ofher youth. (220)

When she had done, and I had thanked her, Madame de la Fitedemanded of me what I thought of her, and if she was notdelightful ? I assented, and Madame de la Roche then, rising, andfixing her eyes, filled with tears, in my face, while she heldboth my hands, in the most melting accents, exclaimed, "MissBorni! 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 verypositive. Madame de la Fite came up to us, and desired we mightmake a trio of friendship, which should bind us to oneanother forlife. And then they both embraced me, and both wept for joyfulfondness! I fear I seemed very hard-hearted; but no spring wasopened whence one tear of mine could flow. 

A DINNER DIFFICULTY. 

The clock had struck four some time, and Madame de la Fite saidshe feared they kept me from dinner. I knew it must soon beready, and therefore made but a slight negative. She then, withan anxious look at her watch, said she feared she was already toolate for her own little dinner. I was shocked at a hint I had nopower 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 downstairs to dinner. "

"And can you dine, ma ch`ere mademoiselle--can you dine at thatgreat 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 isnot given to me. "

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

She stopped, and I was quite disconcerted. An attack soexplicit, and in presence of Madame de la Roche, was beyond allmy expectations. She then went to the window, and exclaimed, "Itrains!--Mon Dieu! que ferons-nous?--My poor littel dinner!--itwill be all spoilt!--La pauvre Madame de la Roche! une tellefemme!"

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

The rain continued. Madame de la Roche could understand butimperfectly what passed, and waited its result with an air ofsmiling patience. I endeavoured to talk of other things - butMadame de la Fite was restless in returning to this charge. Shehad several times given me very open hints of her desire to dineat Mrs. Schwellenberg's table ; but I had hitherto appeared notto comprehend them: she was now determined to come home to thepoint; and the more I saw her determination, the less liable Ibecame to being overpowered by it. At length John came toannounce dinner. 

Madame de la Fite looked at me in a most expressive manner, asshe rose and walked towards the window, exclaiming that the rainwould not cease; and Madame de la Roche cast upon me a mosttender smile, while she lamented that some accident must haveprevented her carriage from coming for her. I felt excessivelyashamed, and could only beg them not to be in haste, faithfullyassuring them I was by no means disposed for eating. 

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

I was obliged to be equally frank. I acknowledged that I hadreason to believe I might have had that power, from the custom ofmy predecessor, Mrs. Haggerdorn, upon my first succeeding to her; but that I was then too uncertain of any Of my privileges toassume a single one of them unauthorised by the queen. Madame dela 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, andher niece, come to me; and they have had the sanction of thequeen's own desire. "

"Mais, enfin, ma ch`ere Miss Burney, --when it rains, --and when itis so late, --and when it is for such a woman as Madame de laRoche!"

So hard pressed, I was quite shocked to resist her ; but Iassured her that when my own sisters, Phillips and Francis, cameto Windsor purposely to see me, they had never dined at the Lodgebut by the express invitation of Mrs. Schwellenberg; and thatwhen my father himself was here, I had not ventured to ask him. This, though it surprised, somewhat appeased her; and we werecalled into the other room to Miss Planta, who was to dine withme, 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 bearto do this, but entreated Miss Planta, who was in haste, to goand dine by herself. This, at last, was agreed to, and I triedonce again to enter into discourse upon other matters. But howgreatly did my disturbance at all this urgency increase, whenMadame de la Fite said she was so hungry she must beg a bit ofbread and a glass of water!

I was now, indeed, upon the point of giving way; but when Iconsidered, while I hesitated, what must follow-my own necessaryapology, which would involve Madame de la Fite in much blame, ormy own concealing silence, which would reverse all my plans ofopenness with the queen, and acquiesced with my own situation-Igrew firm again, and having assured her a thousand times of myconcern for my little power, I went into the next room : but Isent her the roll and water by John; I was too much ashamed tocarry them. 

When I returned to them again, Madame de la Fite requested rne togo at once to the queen, and tell her the case. Ah, poor Madamede la Fite Fi to see so little a way for herself, and to suppose mealso so every way short-sighted ! I informed her that I neverentered the presence of the queen unsummoned. . . . 

Again she desired to speak to me in my own room ; and then shetold me that Madame de la Roche had a most earnest wish, to seeall the royal family; she hoped, therefore, the416

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

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

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

In the end, the carriage of Madame de la Roche arrived, abouttea-time, and Madame de la Fite finished with making me promiseto relate my difficulties to the queen, that she might give mesuch orders as to enable me to keep them any other time. To giveyou the result at once, Miss Planta, of her own accord, brieflyrelated the affair to the queen, dwelling upon my extremeembarrassment, with the most good-natured applause of itsmotives. The queen graciously joined in commendation of mysteadiness, expressed her disapprobation of the indelicacy ofpoor Madame de la Fite, and added that if I had been overcome, itwould have been an encouragement to her to bring foreigners forever 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 promisedourselves the whole afternoon t`ete-`a-t`ete, with no otherinterruption than what we were well contented to allow to MajorPrice and General Bud`e. But before we were well settled in myroom, after our late dinner in the next, a visitor appeared, -MissFinch. 

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

417

beaus; and well as I like their company, I by no means enjoyedthe prospect of receiving them alone: not, I protest, and amsure, from any prudery, but simply from thinking that a singlefemale, in a party, either large or small, of men, unless verymuch used to the world, appears to be in a situation awkward andunbecoming. 

I was quite concerned, therefore, to hear from Miss Finch thatshe meant but a short visit, for some reasons belonging to hercarriage ; and when she rose to go, I felt my distaste to thisnew mode of proceeding so strong, that I hastily related to hermy embarrassment, and frankly begged her to stay and help torecreate my guests. She was very much diverted with thisdistress, which she declared she could not comprehend, butfrankly agreed to remain with me; and promised, at my earnestdesire, not to publish what I had confessed to her, lest I shouldgain, around Windsor, the character of a prude. 

I had every reason to be glad that I detained her, for she notonly made my meeting with the equerries easy and pleasant, butwas full of odd entertainment herself. She has a large portionof whimsical humour, which, at times, is original and amusing, though always eccentric, and frequently, from uttering whatevercomes uppermost, accidental. 

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

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

THE WRONG GUEST INVITED. 

I have something to relate now that both my dearest friends willtake great pleasure in hearing, because it appertains to mydignity 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, "Iassure 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 thepresidency 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 hadnever seen, and invite him to dine with me. But there was noother mode --I could not name the queen. I knew Miss Port wouldbe happy to make us a trio, and I begged her not to fail me. 

But alas!--If awkwardness was removed, something worse wassubstituted in its place ; my presidency was abolished on thevery day it was to be declared, by the sudden return of itsrightful superseder. I acquainted her with the invitation I hadbeen desired to send, and I told her I bad also engaged MissPort. I told of both as humbly as possible, that I might raiseno alarms of any intention of rivalry in power. 

Mr. Mithoff was not yet come when dinner was announced, nor yetMiss Port; we sat down t`ete-`a-t`ete, myself in some pain for myinvitations, my companion well content to shew she would wait fornone of my making, At length came Miss Port, and presently after a tall Germanclergyman entered the room. I was a little confused by hisimmediately making up to me, and thanking me in the strongestterms for the honour of my invitation, and assuring me it was themost flattering one he had ever received. 

I answered as short as I could, for I was quite confounded by thelooks of Mrs. Schwellenberg. Towards me they were directed withreproach, and towards the poor visitor with astonishment: why Icould 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 takea place at the table myself, which he did; still, and with greatglee of manner, addressing himself wholly to me, and neverfinishing his warm expressions of gratitude for my invitation. Iquite longed to tell him I had her majesty's orders for what Ihad 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 dohimself mischief. 

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

stairs, for coffee, my new guest again poured forth such atorrent of thanks, that I could not resist taking the firstopportunity 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 Iam very happy indeed, madam; I had been afraid at first there wassome mistake in the honour you did me. "

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

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

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

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

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

I then cleared myself to Mrs. Schwellenberg of any voluntary deedin " bringing her this man, " and inquired of John how ithappened. He told me he had forgot the gentleman's name, but asI had said he was a German clergyman, he had asked for him assuch, and thought this must be the right person. I heardafterwards that this is a M. Schrawder, one of the masters of theGerman language to the princesses. I jDacle all the apologies inmy power to him for the error. . . . 

The queen, at night, with great good humour, laughed at the420

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

Friday, Sept. 29-This day the princess royal entered hertwenty-first year. I had the pleasure of being in the room withthe queen when she sent for her, early in the morning. Hermajesty bid me stop, while she went into another apartment tofetch her birthday gifts. The charming princess entered with somodest, so composed an air, that it seemed as if the day, withall its preparations for splendour, was rather solemn thanelevating to her. I had no difficulty, thus alone with her, inoffering my best wishes to her. She received them mostgracefully, and told me, with the most sensible pleasure, thatthe King had just been with her, and presented to her amagnificent diamond necklace. 

The queen then returned, holding in her hands two very prettyportfolios for her drawings, and a very fine gold etui. Theprincess, in receiving them with the lowest curtsey, kissed herhand repeatedly, while the queen gave back her kisses upon hercheeks. 

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

I shall not easily forget this little innocent lesson. It seemsall the household dress twice on these birthdays--for their firstappearance, 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 alittle out of countenance ; and the queen, probably perceivingit, said--

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

"Lany, " answered the quick little creature ; for so she callsMrs. Delany, who had already exerted herself to come to the Lodgewith her congratulations. 

The king, taking the hand of the little princess, said they421

would go and see her ; and turning to the queen as they left theroom, 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 thepreceding evening, and that he had ordered for this day for theprincess royal. It is rather unfortunate her royal highnessshould have her birth-day celebrated by an art which she evenprofesses 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 theprincess royal. It is a lilac tabby. I saw the king for aminute at night, as he returned from the Castle, and hegraciously admired it, calling out "Emily should see MissBurney'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 forMr. De Luc, and told me to go into the eating-roorn, and make thetea for her. I instantly wrote to Miss Port, to beg she wouldcome to assist me : she did, and Mrs. Schwellenberg, changing herplan, came downstairs at the same time. The party was MajorPrice, General Bud`e, Mr. Fisher, and the colonel. Major Priceimmediately presented us to each other. 

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

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

Colonel Goldsworthy's character stands very high for worth andhonour, and he is warmly attached to the king, both for his ownsake, and from the tie that binds him to all the royal family, ofregard for a sister extremely dear to him, Miss Goldsworthy, whose residence here brings him frequently to the palace. Heseems to me a man of but little cultivation or literature, butdelighting in a species of dry humour, in which he shines mostsuccessfully, 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 hisregiment. He rattled away very amusingly upon the balls and thebelles he had seen there, laughing at his own gallantry, andpitying and praising himself alternately for venturing to exertit. 

 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 longbox, called here the jewel box, in which her jewels are carriedto and from town that are worn on the Drawing-room days. Thegreat bulk of them remain in town all the winter, and remove toWindsor for all the summer, with the rest of the family. Shetold me, as she delivered the key into my hands, that as therewas always much more room in the box than her travelling jewelsoccupied, I might make what use I pleased of the remaining part ;adding, with a very expressive smile, "I dare say you have booksand letters that you may be glad to carry backwards and forwardswith you. "

I owned that nothing was more true, and thankfully accepted theoffer. It has proved to me since a comfort of the firstmagnitude, in conveying all my choice papers and letters safelyin the carriage with me, as well as books in present reading, andnumerous 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 royalcame into my room. 

"I beg pardon, " she cried, "for what I am going to say: I hopeyou will excuse my taking such a liberty with you--but, hasnobody told you that the queen is always used to have thejewel-box carried into her bedroom?"

"No, ma'am, nobody mentioned it to me. I brought it here becauseI 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 Iwould come to you myself: I hope you will excuse it?"

You may believe how I thanked her, while I promised to take outmy own goods and chattels, and have it conveyed to423

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

"My dear ma'am, " cried she, "I am sure I should be most happy todo anything for you that should be in my power, always; andreally 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 thencame up to me and said, "Now will you excuse me, Miss Burney, if I ask you the truth ofsomething I have heard about you?"

"Certainly, ma'am. "

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

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

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

"And pray, Miss Burney, " cried the Princess Elizabeth, "had younot 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 youcarried out of town, when you were in such a weak condition thatyou could not walk?"

"Where could your royal highness hear all this?"

"And were you not almost starved by Sir Richard jebb?" criedPrincess 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 thequeen's entrance silenced us all, 424

 A LAUDATORY ESTIMATE OF THE QUEEN. 

The queen was unremittingly sweet and gracious, never making mesensible of any insufficiency from My single attendance; which, to me, was an opportunity the most favourable in the world forbecoming more intimately acquainted with her mind andunderstanding. For the excellency of her mind I was fullyprepared ; the testimony of the nation at large could not beunfaithful ; but the depth and soundness of her understandingsurprised me : good sense I expected - to that alone she couldowe the even tenor of her conduct, universally approved, thoughexamined and judged by the watchful eye of multitudes. But I hadnot imagined that, shut up in the confined limits of a Court, shecould have acquired any but the most superficial knowledge of theworld, and the most partial insight into character. But I find, now, I have only done justice to her disposition, not to herparts, which are truly of that superior order that makes sagacityintuitively supply the place of experience. In the course ofthis month I spent much time quite alone with her, and never oncequitted her presence without fresh admiration of her talents. 

There are few points I have observed with more pleasure in herthan all that concerns the office which brings me to her in thisprivate and confidential manner. All that breaks from her, inour t`ete-`a-t`etes, upon the subject of dress, is both edifyingand amiable. She equips herself for the drawing-room with allthe attention in her power; she neglects nothing that she thinksbecoming to her appearance upon those occasions, and is sensiblyconscious that her high station makes her attire in public amatter of business. As such, she submits to it withoutmurmuring; but a yet stronger consciousness of the real futilityof such mere outward grandeur bursts from her, involuntarily, themoment the sacrifice is paid, and she can never refuse herselfthe satisfaction of expressing her contentment to put on a quietundress. The great coats are so highly in her favour, from thequickness with which they enable her to finish her toilette, thatshe sings their praise with fresh warmth every time she isallowed to wear them, archly saying to me, with most expressiveeyes, "If I could write--if I could but write!--how I wouldcompose upon a great coat! I wish I were a poetess, that I mightmake a song upon it--I do think something very pretty might besaid about it. "

These hints she has given me continually ; but the Muse425

was not so kind as ever to make me think of the matter again whenout of her sight-till, at last, she one day, in putting on thisfavourite dress, half gravely, said, "I really take it a littleill 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 werefinished, into her room ; and there kept them safely in mypocket-book, for I knew not how to produce them, and she, by oddaccident, forbore from that time to ask for them, though herrepeated suggestion had, at last, conquered my literaryindolence. (221)

I cannot here help mentioning a very interesting little scene atwhich I was present, about this time. The queen had nobody butmyself with her, one morning, when the king hastily entered theroom, with some letters in his hand, and addressing her inGerman, which he spoke very fast, and with much apparent interestin what he said, he brought the letters up to her, and put theminto her hand. She received them with much agitation, butevidently of a much pleased sort, and endeavoured to kiss hishand as he held them. He would not let her, but made an effort, with a countenance of the highest satisfaction, to kiss hers. Isaw instantly in her eyes a forgetfulness, at the moment, thatany one was present, while, drawing away her hand, she presentedhim her cheek. He accepted her kindness with the same frankaffection that she offered it; and the next moment they bothspoke English, and talked upon common and general subjects. 

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

 TABLE DIFFICULTIES. 

No sooner did I find that my coadjutrix ceased to speak ofreturning to Windsor, (222) and that I became, by that means, thepresidentess of the dinner and teatable, than I formed a granddesign--no other than to obtain to my own use the disposal of myevenings. 

426

>From the time of my entrance into this Court, to that of which Iam writing, I had never been informed that it was incumbent uponme to receive the king's equerries at the teatable ; yet Iobserved that they always came to Mrs. Schwellenberg, and thatshe expected them so entirely as never to make tea till theirarrival. Nevertheless, nothing of that sort had ever beenintimated to me, and I saw no necessity of falling into all herways, without commands to that purpose : nor could I concludethat the king's gentlemen would expect from me either the sameconfinement, or readiness of reception, as had belonged to twoinvalid old ladies, glad of company, and without a singleconnection to draw them from home. . . . 

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

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

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

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

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

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

As I now knew I must return myself, at any rate, I slipped intothe tea-room before I set off. I found there ColonelGoldsworthy, looking quite glum, General Bud`e, Mr. Fisher, Mr. -Fisher, his brother, and Mr. Blomberg, chaplain to the Prince ofWales. 

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 aquarter of an hour, when I should be happy to have their company, if they could wait so long ; but if they were hurried, my manshould bring their tea. 

They all turned to Colonel Goldsworthy, who, as equerry inwaiting, was considered as head of the party; but he seemed sochoked with surprise and displeasure, that he could only muttersomething too indistinct to be heard, and bowed low anddistantly. 

"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 andsolemnly bowed, and I curtsied in the same manner, and burriedaway. 

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

I found them all waiting. Colonel Goldsworthy received me withthe same stately bow, and a look so glum and disconcerted, that Iinstantly turned from him to meet the soft countenance of thegood Mr. Fisher, who took a chair next mine, and entered intoconversation with his usual intelligence and mildness. GeneralBud`e was chatty and well bred, and the two strangers whollysilent. 

I could not, however, but see that Colonel Goldsworthy grew lessand less pleased. Yet what had I done ?-I had never beencommanded to devote my evenings to him, and, if excusedofficially, surely there could be no private claim from eitherhis situation or mine. His displeasure therefore appeared to meso unjust, that I resolved to take not the smallest notice of it. He never once opened his mouth, neither to me nor to any oneelse. In this strange manner we drank our tea. When428

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 thecolonel for a speech : it came forth with great difficulty, andmost considerable hesitation. 

"I am afraid, ma'am, --I am afraid you--you--that is--that we areintruders upon you. "

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

"I am sure, ma'am, if we are--if you think--if we take too muchliberty--I am sure I would not for the world!--I only--yourcommands--nothing else--"

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

"I see, ma'am, we only intrude upon you: however, you must excusemy just saying we would not for the world have taken such aliberty, though very sensible of the happiness of being allowedto come in for half an hour, --which is the best half-hour of thewhole 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 speechesto the same no purpose, before I could draw from him anythingexplicit ; all of them listening silently the whole time, andmyself invariably staring. At last, a few words escaped him moreintelligible. 

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

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

"Indeed, ma'am!" cried he, staring in his turn; "why yourservant, little John there, came rapping at our door, at theequerry 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 entirefabrication of my servant's, as I had never sent, nor eventhought of sending him, for I was going Out. 

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

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

Again I repeated my ignorance of this step ; and he then429

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

I could scarce find words to express my amazement at thiscommunication. I cleared myself instantly from having any thesmallest knowledge of John's proceedings, and Colonel Goldsworthysoon recovered all his spirits and good humour, when he wassatisfied he had not designedly been treated with such strangeand unmeaning inconsistency. He rejoiced exceedingly that he hadspoke out, and I thanked him for his frankness, and the eveningconcluded very amicably. . . . 

The evening after, I invited Miss Port, determined to spend itentirely with my beaus, in order to wholly explain away thisimpertinence. Colonel Goldsworthy now made me a thousandapologies for having named the matter to me at all. I assuredhim I was extremely glad he had afforded me an opportunity ofclearing it. In the course of the discussion, I mentioned theconstant summons brought me by John every afternoon. He liftedup his hands and eyes, and protested most solemnly he had neversent a single one. 

"I vow, ma'am, " cried the colonel, "I would not have taken such aliberty on any account; though all the comfort of my life in thishouse, is one half-hour in a day spent in this room. After allone's labours, riding, and walking, and standing, and bowing-whata life it is! Well! it's honour ! that's one comfort ; it's allhonour ! royal honour !-one has the honour to stand till one hasnot a foot left ; and to ride till one's stiff, and to walk tillone's ready to drop, -and then one makes one's lowest bow, d'yesee, 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 thedischarge 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 prettytaste of them! Running along in these cold passages, thenbursting into rooms fit to bake you, then back430

again into all these agreeable puffs !-Bless us ! I believe in myheart there's wind enough in these passages to carry a man ofwar! 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 thehunting, to be sure, nor amusing yourself with wading a foot anda-half through the dirt, by way of a little pleasant walk, as wepoor equerries do!, It's a wonder to me we outlive the firstmonth. But the agreeable puffs of the passages you will havejust as completely as any of us. Let's see, how many blasts mustyou have every time you go to the queen? First, one upon youropening your door; then another, as you get down the three stepsfrom it, which are exposed to the wind from the garden doordownstairs; then a third, as you turn the corner to enter thepassage; then you come plump upon another from the hall door;then comes another, fit to knock you down, as You turn to theupper passage ; then, just as You turn towards the queen's room, comes another; and last, a whiff from the king's stairs, enoughto blow you half a mile off!"

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

"Stay till Christmas, " cried he, with a threatening air, "onlystay till then, and let's see what you'll say to them; you'll belaid up as sure as fate! you may take my word for that. Onething, however, pray let me caution you about--don't go to earlyprayers 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 onething, or else it's all over with you, I do assure you!"

It was in vain I begged him to be more merciful in hisprophecies; he failed not, every night, to administer to me thesame pleasant anticipations. 

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

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

One evening, when he had been out very late hunting with theking, he assumed so doleful an air of weariness, that had notMiss Port exerted her utmost powers to revive him, he would nothave uttered a word the whole night; but when once broughtforward, he gave us more entertainment than ever, by relating hishardships. 

"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, butthe--the perspiration--and--and all that--after being wet throughover head, and soused through under feet, and popped intoditches, 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 inthe afternoon, home we come, looking like so many drowned rats, with not a dry thread about us, nor a morsel within us--sore tothe very bone, and forced to smile all the time! and then afterall this what do you think follows?--'Here, Goldsworthy, ' crieshis majesty: so up I comes to him, bowing profoundly, and my hairdripping down to my shoes; 'Goldsworthy, ' cries his majesty. 'Sir, ' says I, smiling agreeably, with the rheumatism justcreeping all over me ! but still, expecting something a littlecomfortable, I wait patiently to know his gracious pleasure, andthen, 'Here, Goldsworthy, say !' he cries, 'will you have alittle barley water?' Barley water in such a plight as that!Fine compensation for a wet jacket, truly!--barley water! Inever heard of such a tiling in my life! barley water after awhole day's hard hunting!"

"And pray did you drink it?"

"I drink it?--Drink barley water? no, no; not come to thatneither. But there it was, sure enough!--in a jug fit for a sickroom, just such a thing as you put upon a hob in a chimney, forsome poor miserable soul that keeps his bed! just such a thing asthat!--And, 'Here, Goldsworthy, ' says his majesty, 'here's thebarley water, '"

"And did the king drink it himself?"

"Yes, God bless his majesty! but I was too humble a subject to dothe same as the king!--Barley water, quoth I!--Ha! ha!--a finetreat truly! Heaven defend me! I'm not432

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 atKew. A very pleasant circumstance happened to me on this day, inventuring to present the petition of an unfortunate man who hadbeen shipwrecked; whose petition was graciously attended to, 'andthe money he solicited was granted him. I had taken a greatinterest in the poor man, from the simplicity and distress of hisnarration, and took him into one of the parlours to assist him indrawing Up his memorial. 

The queen, when, with equal sweetness and humanity, she haddelivered 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 areal object, I must give you one caution : there are so manyimpostors about, who will try to speak to you, that, if you arenot upon your guard, you may be robbed yourself before you canget any help : I think, therefore, you had better never trustyourself in a room alone with anybody you don't know. "

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

I was afterwards much touched with a sort of unconsciousconfidence with which she relieved her mind. She asked me myopinion of a paper in the "Tatler, " which I did not recollect;and when she was dressed, and seated in her sitting-room, shemade me give her the book, and read to me this paper. It is anaccount of a young man of a good heart and sweet disposition, whois allured by pleasure into a libertine life, which he pursues byhabit, but with constant remorse, and ceaseless shame andunhappiness. It was impossible for me to miss her object: allthe mother was in her voice while she read it, and her glisteningeyes told the application made throughout. (223) My mindsympathised sincerely, though my tongue did not dare allude toher feelings. She looked pensively down when she had finishedit, and before she broke silence, a page came to announce theDuchess of Ancaster. 

433

 THE QUEEN TIRED OF HER GEWGAWS. 

Nov. 3. -In the morning I had the honour of a conversation withthe queen, the most delightful, on her part, I had ever yet beenindulged with. It was all upon dress, and she said so nearlywhat I had just imputed to her in my little stanzas, that I couldscarce refrain producing them ; yet could not muster courage. She told me, with the sweetest grace imaginable, how well she hadliked at first her jewels and ornaments as queen, --"But howsoon, " cried she, "was that over! Believe me, Miss Burney, it isa pleasure of a week, --a fortnight, at most, --and to return nomore! I thought, at first, I should always choose to wear them, but the fatigue, and trouble of putting them on, and the carethey 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 toldme she had never, in her most juvenile years, loved dress andshew, nor received the smallest pleasure from any thing in herexternal appearance beyond neatness and comfort : yet did notdisavow that the first week or fortnight of being a queen, whenonly in her seventeenth year, she thought splendour sufficientlybecoming her station to believe she should thenceforth chooseconstantly to support it. But her eyes alone were dazzled, nother mind ; and therefore the delusion speedily vanished, and herunderstanding 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 ifI should like to go and see my father at Chesington ? and thengave orders immediately for a chaise to be ready without delay--"And there is no need you should hurry yourself, " she added, "forit will do perfectly well if you are back to dinner; when Idress, I will send for Miss Planta. "

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

And soon after, to make me yet more comfortable she found434

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

I need not tell my two dear readers how sensibly I felt hergoodness, when I acquaint them of its effect upon me ; which wasno less than to induce, to impel me to trust her with myperformance of her request. Just as she was quitting herdressing-room, I got behind her, and suddenly blurted out--

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

She turned round with great quickness, --"The great coat?" shecried, "is it that?"

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

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

She gave me a ready promise, and took it with an alacrity andwalked off with a vivacity that assured me she would not be verylong before she examined it; though, when I added another littlerequest, almost a condition, that it might not be read till I wasfar away, she put it into her pocket unopened, and, Wishing me apleasant ride, and that I might find my father well, sheproceeded 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 notremember it completely. (224)

435

My breakfast was short, the chaise was soon ready, and forth Isallied for dear--once how dear!--old Chesington! Every step ofthe road brought back to my mind the first and most loved andhonoured friend of my earliest years, and I felt a melancholyalmost like my first regret for him, when I considered what joy, what happiness I lost, in missing his congratulations on asituation 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 itmyself--I mean even then--for now the struggle is over, and I amcontent enough. 

John rode on, to open the gates ; the gardener met him and Ibelieve surprise was never greater than he carried into the housewith my name. Out ran dear Kitty Cooke, whose honestlyaffectionate reception touched me very much, --"O, "436

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

Her grief, ever fresh, then overflowed in a torrent and I couldhardly either comfort her, or keep down the sad regretfulrecollections rising in my own memory. O my dear Susan, withwhat unmixed satisfaction, till that fatal period when I paid himmy last visit, had I ever entered those gates-where passed thescenes of the greatest ease, gaiety, and native mirth that havefallen to my lot!

Mrs. James Burney next, all astonishment, and our dear Jameshimself, all incredulity, at the report carried before me, cameout. (225) Their hearty welcome and more pleasant surpriserecovered me from the species of consternation with which I hadapproached their dwelling, and the visit, from that time, turnedout perfectly gay and happy. 

My dearest father was already gone to town; but I had had muchreason to expect I should miss him, and therefore I could not besurprised. . . . 

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

I set out a little the sooner, to enable me to make anothervisit, which I had also much at heart, -it was to our aunts atKingston. I can never tell you their astonishment at sight ofme; they took me for my own ghost, I believe, at first, but theysoon put my substance to the proof, and nothing could betteranswer my motives than my welcome, which I need not paint to mySusan, who never sees them without experiencingit. To my greatsatisfaction, also, my nieces Fanny and Sophy happened to bethere at that time. 

My return was just in time for my company, which I foundincreased by the arrival of two more gentlemen, Mr. Fisher andMr. Turbulent. Mr. Fisher had been ordered to come, that hemight read prayers the next day, Sunday. Mr. Turbulent(226) wassummoned, I suppose, for his usual occupations; reading with theprincesses, or to the queen. Shall I introduce to you thisgentleman such as I now think him at once? or wait to let hischaracter open itself to you by

437

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

He took his seat next mine at the table, and assisted me, whileMr. Fisher sat as chaplain at the bottom. The dinner went offextremely well, though from no help of mine. . . . The three menand the three females were all intimately acquainted with oneanother, and the conversation, altogether, was equal, open, andagreeable. 

You may a little judge of this, when I tell you a short speechthat escaped Miss Planta. Mr. Turbulent said he must go early totown 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 herof how comfortable we are here !-it will bring her backdirectly!"

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 toplay with her, and Mr. Smelt joined in our gambols. We pretendedto put her in a phaeton, and to drive about and make visits withher. 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 womenthere are who are never tired, in return, of playing at beingchildren!

In the midst of this frolicking, which at times was rather noisy, by Mr. Smelt's choosing to represent a restive horse, the kingentered! We all stopped short, guests, hosts, and horses ; andall, with equal celerity, retreated, making the usual circle forhis majesty to move in. The little princess bore thisinterruption to her sport only while surprised into quiet by thegeneral 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 mostridiculously by her innocent appeals. 

"Miss Burney!--come!--why don't you play?--Come, Miss Burney, Isay, 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 forcedto whisper her that I really could play no longer. 

" But why? why, Miss Burney?--do! do come and play with me!--Youmust, Miss Burney!"

This petition growing still more and more urgent, I was obligedto declare my reason, in hopes of appeasing her, as she keptpulling me by the hand and gown, so entirely with all her littlestrength, that I had the greatest difficulty to save myselt frombeing 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 inearnest 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 playingwith 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 thisappeal: the king took not any notice of it, but set her down, andwent on with his discourse. She was not, however, a moment quiettill he retired: and then we renewed our diversions, which lastedto her bed-time. 

 A DREADFUL MISHAP. 

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

The affair thus came to pass. I walked for some time early inKew gardens, and then called upon Mrs. Smelt. I there heard thatthe king and queen were gone, privately, to Windsor, to the Lodge: probably for some papers they could not intrust with amessenger. Mr. Smelt, therefore, proposed taking thisopportunity of shewing me Richmond gardens, offering to be mysecurity that I should have full time. I439

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

He saw me safe to the Lodge, and there took his leave : and I wasgoing 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 sometime, and that I had been sent for immediately. 

Thunderstruck at this intelligence, I hastened to herdressing-room; when I opened the door, I saw she was having herhair dressed. To add to my confusion, the Princess Augusta, LadyEffingham, and Lady Frances Howard were all in the room. I stoodstill at the door, not knowing whether to advance, or wait a newsummons. In what a new situation did I feel myself!-and how didI long to give way to my first impulse, and run back to my ownroom. 

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

I told her my tale, -that hearing she was gone to Windsor, I hadbeen walking in Richmond gardens with Mr. Smelt. She said nomore, and I stood behind her chair. The princess and two ladieswere seated. 

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

This made a dutiful subject of me again in a moment. Yet I felta discomposure all day, that determined me upon using theseverest caution to avoid such a surprise for the future. TheWindsor journey having been merely upon business, had been morebrief than was believed possible. 

When I left the queen, I was told that Mrs. Delany was waitingfor me in the parlour. What a pleasure and relief to me to runto that dear lady, and relate to her my mischance, and itscircumstances! Mr. Smelt soon joined us there; he was shocked atthe accident ; and I saw strongly by his manner how much moreseriously such a matter was regarded, than any one, unused to theinside of a Court, could possibly imagine. 440

 "IS IT PERMITTED?"

Nov. 8. -This was the birth-day of the Princess Augusta, noweighteen. I could not resist this opportunity of presenting herone of my fairings, though I had some little fear she might thinkherself past the age for receiving birth-day gifts, except fromthe royal family: however they had arrived so seemingly `apropos, and had been so much approved by the queen, that Idetermined to make the attempt. I took one of the work-boxes, and wrote with a pencil, round the middle ornament, "Est-ilpermis?"--and then I sent for Miss Makentomb, the princess'swardrobe woman, and begged her to place the box upon her royalhighness's table. 

At the queen's dressing-time, as I opened the door, her majestysaid, " "O, here she is!--Est-il permis?--Come, come in toAugusta!" and made me follow her into the next room, the door ofwhich 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 forthe little cadeau, saying, "Only one thing I must beg, that youwill write the motto with a pen. "

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

And afterwards, in the evening, the Princess Augusta cameto the parlour, to fetch Mrs. Delany and Mrs. Smelt, and againsaid, "Now, will you, Miss Burney--will you write that for mewith 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, andMadame de la Fite. The party had the royal sanction, I need nottell you. The king and queen are always well disposed to shewcivility to the people of Eton and Windsor, and were thereforeeven pleased at the visit. 

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

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

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

The king came into the room to fetch Mrs. Delany, and looked muchdisappointed at missing her; nevertheless, he came forward, andentered into conversation with the provost, upon Eton, thepresent state of the school, and all that belongs to itsestablishment. His majestytakes a great interest in the welfareand prosperity of that seminary. 

The provost was enchanted by this opportunity of a long andprivate conference, and his lady was in raptures in witnessingit. She concluded, from that time, that the door would neveropen, but for the entrance of some of the royal family; and whenthe equerries came, she whispered me, " Who are they ? " Andagain, on the appearance of a star on the Duke of Montagu. , shesaid, "Who can that be, Miss Burney?"

THE EQUERRIES VIOLATE THE RULES. 

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

On the day when this grand experiment was to be made, that wemight not seem all to have eloped clandestinely, in case ofinquiry, 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 theywere missed, gave no notice of their scheme, but followed me toMrs. Delany's as soon as they quitted their own table. I had sentto speak with General Bud`e in the morning, and then arranged theparty: he proposed that the colonel and

442

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

Mrs. Delany received us with her usual sweetness. We then beganamusing ourselves with surmises of the manner in which we shouldall be missed, if our rooms were visited in our absence ; and thecolonel, in particular, drew several scenes, highly diverting, ofwhat he supposed would pass, -of the king's surprise andincredulity, of the hunting up and down of the house in search ofhim, and of the orders issued throughout the house to examine towhat bed-post he had hanged himself, -for nothing less than suchan act of desperation could give courage to an equerry to beabsent without leave!

Further conjectures were still starting, and all were engaged inaiding them and enjoying them, when suddenly a violent knockingat the door was followed by the most unexpected entrance of thequeen and the Princess Amelia!

Universal was the start, and most instantaneous and solemn thesilence ! I felt almost guilty, though not for myself: my owninvariable method of avowing all my proceedings saved me from thesmallest embarrassment on my own account in this meeting; but Iwas ashamed to appear the leader in a walk so new as that ofleaving the Lodge in an evening, and to have induced any othersto follow my example. The queen looked extremely surprised, butnot at me, whom she knew she should encounter; and the twogentlemen hardly could settle whether to make humbleexplanations, or frank ridicule, of the situation in which theywere caught. The queen, however, immediately put them at theirease, speaking to them with marked civility, and evidentlydesirous not to mar what she found intended as a private frolic, by any fears of her disapprobation. 

She did not stay long, and they soon followed her to the Lodge. I also returned, and at night the queen owned to me, but verygood-humouredly, that she had never been more astonished than atsight of the equerries that evening, and asked me how it came topass. 

"Mrs. Delany, ma'am, " I answered, "as she had taken away theirtea-maker, thought she could do no less than offer them tea foronce at her own table. "

And here the matter rested. But the enterprise has never beenrepeated. . 443

 MR. TURBULENT ON COURT ROUTINE. 

Dec. 13. -Our dinner was as usual, the Smelts, Messrs. De Luc andTurbulent, and Miss Planta; and the last only was gone when Mr. And Mrs. Hayes arrived. Mrs. Hayes is a really pretty as well asa pretty sort of woman, (228) and modest, well-bred, and sensible- and the afternoon, with the assistance of Mr. Smelt, did verywell. They went early home, and both the Smelts were called tothe queen's rooms; M. De Luc said he must retire to write down "some thoughts upon an experiment in his head, " and only Mr. Turbulent remained. 

I found the partner of my confinement a man of uncommon capacity, but something there was hung about him, or hung about me, thatprevented my assimilating-with him in anything. I saw he wasendowed with great powers of agreeability; but I thought himobtrusive ; and that alone is a drawback to all merit, that Iknow not how to pass over. He spoke his opinions with greatopenness, equally upon people and things ; but it seemed ratherfrom carelessness than confidence, and I 'know him too little tofeel obliged in his trust. 

The talk was chiefly upon mere general subjects, till by 'someaccident the approaching birth-day of the queen was mentioned. He then inquired of me how I should like the state business ofthat day?

I told him I knew nothing of what I had to expect from it. Heundertook readily to inform me. He said I was to be sumptuouslyarrayed, to sit in one of the best rooms at St. James's, andthere to receive all the ladies of the queen in particular, andto do the honours to all the gentlemen also, belonging to theestablishment. 

I laughed, and told him he had painted to me a scene of happinesspeculiarly adapted to my taste!

He did not concern himself to examine whether or not I wasserious, but said he supposed, of course, the dignity of such amatter of state could not be disagreeable to me, and added, heshould take the liberty to wish me joy of the day, among therest, when it arrived, and to see me in my glory. After this hesaid, "You have now nearly seen the whole of everything that willcome before you: in a very short time you will have passed sixmonths here, and then you will know your life for as many, andtwice and thrice as many years. 

444

You will have seen everybody and everything, and the same roundwill still be the same, year after year, without intermission oralteration. "

 AN EQUERRY ON THE COURT CONCERT. 

Dec. 26-Colonel Goldsworthy ran on, till General Bud`e remindedhim it was time they should appear in the concertroom. 

"Ay, " cried he, reluctantly, "now for the fiddlers! There I go, plant myself against the side of the chimney, stand first on onefoot, then on the other, hear over and over again all that finesqueaking, and then fall fast asleep, and escape by mere miraclefrom flouncing down plump in all their faces. "

"What would the queen say if you did that?"

"O, ma'am, the queen would know nothing of the matter; she'd onlysuppose it some old double bass that tumbled. "

" Why, could not she see what it was?"

"O no! ma'am, we are never in the room with the queen! that's thedrawing-room, beyond, where the queen sits; we go no farther thanthe fiddling-room. As to the queen, we don't see her week afterweek sometimes. The king, indeed, comes there to us, betweenwhiles, though that's all as it happens, now Price is gone. Heused to play at backgammon with Price. "

"Then what do you do there?"

"Just what I tell you--nothing at all, but stand as furniture. But the worst is, sometimes, when my poor eye-peepers are notquite closed, I look to the music-books to see what's coming; andthere I read 'Chorus of Virgins:' so then, when they begin, Ilook about me. A chorus of virgins, indeed! why, there's nothingbut ten or a dozen fiddlers! not a soul beside! it's as true asI'm alive ! So then, when we've stood supporting thechimney-piece about two hours, why then, if I'm not called upon, I shuffle back out of the room, make a profound bow to theharpsichord, and I'm off. "

 DR. HERSCHFL's LARGE TELESCOPE. 

Dec. 3o. -This morning my dear father carried me to Dr. Herschel. That great and very extraordinary man received us with almostopen arms, He is very fond of my father, who is one of theCouncil of the Royal Society this year, as well as445

himself, and he has much invited me when we have met at the Lodgeor at Mr. De Luc's. 

At this time of day there was nothing to see but his instruments:those, however, are curiosities sufficient. His immense newtelescope, the largest ever constructed, will still, I fear, require a year or two more for finishing, but I hope it will thenreward his labour and ingenuity by the new views of the heavenlybodies, and their motions, which he flatters himself will beprocured by it. Already, with that he has now in use, he hasdiscovered fifteen hundred universes ! How many more he can findwho can conjecture? The moon, too, which seems his favouriteobject, has already afforded him two volcanoes ; and his ownplanet, the Georgium sidus, (229) has now shewn two satellites. >From such a man what may not astronomy expect, when an instrumentsuperior in magnitude to any ever yet made, and constructedwholly by himself or under his own eye, is the vehicle of hisobservation?

I wished very much to have seen his sister, whose knowledge inhis own science is so extraordinary, and who herself was thefirst discoverer of the last comet ; but she had been up allnight, and was then in bed. 

Mr. Smelt joined us by appointment ; and the Bishop of Worcestercame afterwards, with Dr. Douglas, to whom I was then introduced. He is the famous editor, who has published and revised andcorrected so many works: among them the last voyage round theworld. 

By the invitation of Mr. Herschel, I now took a walk which willsound to you rather strange : it was through his telescope and itheld me quite upright, and without the least inconvenience ; sowould it have done had I been dressed in feathers and a bellhoop--such is its circumference. Mr. Smelt led the way, walkingalso upright ; and my father followed. After we were gone, thebishop and Dr. Douglas were tempted, for its oddity, to make thesame promenade. 

 ILLNESS, AND SOME REFLECTIONS IT GAVE RISE TO. 

Wednesday, Jan. 10, 1787. -This morning, when I was hurrying tothe queen, I met Mr. Fairly, who said he was waiting to see me. Very melancholy he looked-very much changed from what I had seenhim. His lady, to whom he is much attached, 446

is suffering death by inches, from the most painful of allcomplaints, a cancer. His eldest son, who seems about twelveyears old, was with him. He was going, he said, to place him atEton. 

The day following I was taken very ill myself; a'bilious fever, long lurking, suddenly seized me, and a rheumatism in my head atthe same time. I was forced to send to Mr. Battiscombe foradvice, and to Miss Planta to officiate for me at night with thequeen. 

Early the next morning Miss Planta came to me from the queen, todesire I would not be uneasy in missing my attendance, and that Iwould think of nothing but how to take care of myself. This, however, was not all, for soon after she came herself, not onlyto my room, but to my bedside, and, after many enquiries, desiredme to say sincerely what I should do if I had been so attacked athome. 

A blister, I said, was all I could devise; and I had oneaccordingly, which cured the head, and set me at ease. But thefever had been long gathering, and would not so rapidly bedismissed. I kept my bed this day and the next. The third day Iwas sufficiently better to quit my bed and bedroom ; and then Ihad not only another visit from the queen, but also from the twoeldest princesses. 

Tuesday, Jan. 16-Was the day appointed for removing to town forthe winter; from which time we were only to come to Windsor foran occasional day or two every week. 

I received a visit, just before I set out, from the king. Hecame in alone, and made most gracious enquiries into my health, and whether I was sufficiently recovered for the journey. 

The four days of my confinement, from the fever after the pain, were days of meditation the most useful: I reflected upon all mymental sufferings in the last year; their cause seemed inadequateto their poignancy. In the hour of sickness and confinement, theworld, in losing its attractions, forfeits its regrets :-a newtrain of thinking, a new set of ideas, took possession of all myfaculties ; a steady plan, calm, yet no longer sad, deliberatelyformed itself in my mind; my affliction was already subsided; Inow banished, also, discontent. I found myself as well off, uponreflection, as I could possibly merit, and better, by comparison, than most of those around me. The beloved friends of my ownheart447

had joined me unalterably, inviolably to theirs --who, in number, who, in kindness, has more?

Now, therefore, I took shame to myself, and resolved to be And mysuccess has shown me how far less chimerical than it appears issuch a resolution. To be patient under two disappointments nowno longer recent;--to relinquish, without repining, frequentintercourse with those I love;--to settle myself in my monastery, without one idea of ever quitting it; to study for theapprobation of my lady abbess, and make it a principal source ofcontent, as well as spring of action; -and to associate morecheerily with my surrounding nuns and monks;--these were thearticles which were to support my resolution. 

I thank God I can tell my dearest friends I have observed themall; and, from the date of this illness to the time in which I amnow drawing out my memorandums, I can safely affirm I know notthat I have made one break with myself in a single promise hereprojected. 

And now, I thank God, the task is at an end;-what I began fromprinciple, and pursued from resolution, is now a mere naturalconduct. My destiny is fixed, and my mind is at ease; nay, Ieven think, upon the whole, that my lot Is, altogether, the bestthat can betide me, except for one flaw in its very vitals, whichsubjects me at times, to a tyranny wholly subversive of all powerof tranquillity. 

(213) Dr. Joseph Warton, author of the "Essay on the Genius andWritings of Pope. " He was headmaster of Winchester school-ED. 

(214) Jacob Bryant, the distinguished classical scholar andauthor; born 1715; died 1804. His principal work was "A NewSystem or an Analysis of Ancient Mythology, " published in 1774. During the last part of his life he resided at Cypenham, inFarnham Royal, near Windsor. One of Bryant's friends said of himthat "he was a very good scholar, and knew all things up to Noah, but not a single thing in the world beyond the Deluge!"-ED. 

(215) Aim`e Argand, inventor of the argand lamp. -ED. 

 (216) Madame de Genlis was governess to the children ofthe Duke D'Orl`eans (Philippe `egalit`e), and, there is no doubt, his mistress. The beautiful Pamela, who married Lord EdwardFitzgerald, was generally supposed to be her daughter by theduke, but this appears to be questionable. -ED. 

(217) William Herschel, the famous astronomer. He was the sonof a German musician, and in early life followed his father'sprofession, which he afterwards abandoned for the study ofastronomy. He received much encouragement from George III. , wasknighted in 1816, and died at Slough, near Windsor, in 1822. Hismonster telescope, mentioned in the text, was completed in 1787, and was forty feet in length. -ED. 

(218) Maria Sophie de la Roche was a German authoress ofsentimental novels, of some distinction in her day, but nowchiefly remembered as the friend of Wieland and Goethe. Thehistory of the attachment between her andWieland is very pretty, very idyllic, and very German. Sophie was born in 1731, and theidyll commenced when she was nineteen, and Wieland only seventeenyears old. It lasted some time, too, for a passion so verytender and tearful; but the fate;, and, more particularly, theparents, were unpropitious, and after about three years it cameto an end, the heart-broken Sophie consoling herself by marryingM. De la Roche shortly afterwards. Her friendship with Wieland, however was maintained to the end of her days, he editing thefirst and last productions of her pen--the "History of Fr`auleinvon Sternheim, " published 1771, and "Melusinens Sommerabende, "18o6. Madame de la Roche died in 1807-ED. 

(219) Madame de la Fite had, however, translated her friend's"History of Fr`aulein von Sternheim" into French, and thetranslation had been published in 1773. -ED. 

(220) "Clelia" and "Cassandra" were celebrated heroic romances ofthe seventeenth century, the former (in ten volumes) written byMdlle Scud`eri, the latter by the Sieur de la Calprende. One ofthe most constant and tiresome characteristics of the heroes andheroines of the romances of this school, is the readiness withwhich they seize every opportunity of recounting, or causingtheir confidential attendants to recount, their adventures, usually with the utmost minuteness of detail-ED. 

(221) See P. 434. -ED. 

(222) Mrs. Schwellenberg found her health better in London, andwas prolonging her stay there in consequence. -ED, (223) The reader will scarcely need to be told that allusion ismade here to the Prince of Wales, afterwards George 1V. -ED. 

(224) It is hardly worth remembering, except for Fanny's sake;however, it has the merit of brevity, and here it is. 

 "THE GREAT COAT. 

"Thrice honour'd Robe! couldst thou espyThe form that deigns to show thy worth;Hear the mild voice, view the arch eye, That call thy panegyric forth;

"Wouldst thou not swell with vain delight?With proud expansion sail along?And deem thyself more grand and brightThan aught that lives in ancient song, "Than Venus' cestus, Dian's crest, Minerva's helmet, fierce and bold, Or all of emblem gay that dress'dCapricious goddesses of old?"Thee higher honours yet await:-Haste, then, thy triumphs quick prepare, Thy trophies spread in haughty state, Sweep o'ei the earth, and scoff the air. 

"Ah no!--retract!--retreat!--oh stay!Learn, wiser, whence so well thou'st sped;She whose behest produced this layBy no false colours is misled. 

"Suffice it for the buskin'd racePlaudits by pomp and shew to win;Those seek simplicity and graceWhose dignity is from within. 

"The cares, or joys, she soars aboveThat to the toilette's duties cleave;Far other cares her bosom move, Far other joys those cares relieve. 

"The garb of state she inly scorn'd, Glad from its trappings to be freed, She saw thee humble, unadorn'd, Quick of attire, --a child of speed. 

"Still, then, thrice honour'd Robe! retainThy modest guise, thy decent ease;Nor let thy favour prove thy baneBy turning from its fostering breeze. 

"She views thee with a mental eye, And from thee draws this moral end:--Since hours are register'd on high, The friend of Time is Virtue's friend. "

For this precious production Fanny received quite as much as itwas worth, --the thanks of the queen, who added, "Indeed it isvery pretty--only! I don't deserve it. " -ED. 

(225) Captain James Burney had married, on the 6th of September, 1785, Miss Sally Payne, daughter of Mr. Thomas Payne, bookseller. -ED. 

(226) "Mr. Turbulent" is the name given in the "Diary" to theRev. Charles de Guiffardiere, a French Protestant minister, whofilled the office of French reader to the queen andprincesses. -ED. 

(227) Mrs. Delany had been for a short time indisposed. -ED. 

(228) The queen had spoken of Mrs. Hayes as a "very pretty kindof woman, " and desired Fanny to invite her to tea. -ED. 

(229) Herschel had discovered this planet in 1781, and named itin honour of the king. -ED. 

 END OF VOL. 1.