SECTION 11.

(1787-8.)

COURT DUTIES: SOME VARIATIONS IN THEIR ROUTINE.

MEETING OF THE TWO PRINCES.

To-day, after a seven years' absence, arrived the Duke of York.

I saw him alight from his carriage, with an eagerness, a

vivacity, that assured me of the affectionate joy with which he

returned to his country and family. But the joy of his excellent

father!-O, that there is no describing It was the glee of the

first youth--nay, of ai ardent and innocent infancy,--so pure it

seemed, so warm, so open, so unmixed! Softer joy was the

queen's--mild, equal, and touching while all the princesses were

in one universal rapture.

To have the pleasure of seeing the royal family in this happy

assemblage, I accompanied Miss Port on the Terrace. It was

indeed an affecting sight to view the general content; but that

of the king went to my very heart, so delighted he looked-so

proud Of his son--so benevolently pleased that every one should

witness his satisfaction. The Terrace was very full; all Windsor

and its neighbourhood poured in upon it, to see the prince whose

whole demeanour seemed promising to merit his flattering

reception--gay yet grateful--modest, yet unembarrassed......

Early the next morning arrived the Prince of Wales, who had

travelled all night from Brighthelmstone. The day was a day Of

complete happiness to the whole of the royal family; the king was

in one transport of delight, unceasing, invariable;

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and though the newly-arrived duke was its source and Support the

kindness of his heart extended and expanded to his eldest' born,

whom he seemed ready again to take to his paternal breast;

indeed, the whole world seemed endeared to him by the happiness

he now felt in it.

Sunday, Aug. 5.-General Grenville brought in the duke this

evening to the tea-room. I was very much pleased with his

behaviour, which was modest, dignified, and easy. Might he but

escape the contagion of surrounding examples, he seems promising

of all his fond father expects and merits. . . .

Kew, Aug. 7-The next day the now happy family had the delight of

again seeing the two princes in its circle. They dined

here; and the Princess Augusta, who came to Mrs. Schwellenberg's

room in the evening, on a message, said, "There never had been so

happy a dinner since the world was created," The king, In the

evening, again drove out the queen and princesses. The Prince of

Wales, seeing Mr. Smelt in our room (which, at Kew, is in the

front of the house, as well as at Windsor), said he would come in

and ask him how he did. Accordingly, in he came, and talked to

Mr. Smelt for about a quarter of an hour; his subjects almost

wholly his horses and his rides. He gave some account of his

expedition to town to meet his brother. He was just preparing,

at Brighton, to give a supper entertainment to Madame La

Princesse de Lamballe,--when he perceived his courier. "I dare

say," he cried, "my brother's come!" set off instantly to excuse

himself to the princess, and arrived at Windsor by the time of

early prayers, at eight o'clock the next morning.

"To-day, again," he said, "I resolved to be in town to meet my

brother; we determined to dine somewhere together, but had not

settled where; so hither we came. When I went last to Brighton,

I rode one hundred and thirty miles, and then danced at the

ball,. I am going back directly; but I shall ride to Windsor

again for the birthday, and shall stay there till my brother's,

and then back on Friday. We are going now over the way: my

brother wants to see the old mansion."

The Prince of Wales's house is exactly opposite to the Lodge

The duke then came in, and bowed to every one present, very

attentively; and presently after, they went over the way, arm in

arm; and thence returned to town.

I had a long and painful discourse afterwards with Mr. Smelt,

deeply interested in these young princes , upon the many dangers

awaiting the newly-arrived, who seemed alike

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unfitted and unsuspicious for encountering them. Mr. Smelt's

heart ached as if he had been their parent, and the regard

springing from his early and long care of them seemed all revived

in his hopes and fears of what might ensue from this reunion.

I rejoiced at the public reconciliation with the Prince of Wales,

which had taken place during my illness, and which gave the

greater reason for hope that there might not now be a division!

BUNBURY, THE CARICATURIST.

Windsor, Aug. 14.-General Budé came in, with two strangers, whom

he introduced to us by the names of Bunbury and Crawfurd. I was

very curious to know if this was the Bunbury;(239) and I

conjectured it could be no other. When Colonel Gwynn joined us,

he proposed anew the introduction; but nothing passed to

ascertain my surmise. The conversation was general And

good-humoured, but without anything striking, or bespeaking

character or genius. Almost the whole consisted of inquiries

what to do, whither to go, and how to proceed; which, though

natural and sensible for a new man, were undistinguished by any

humour, or keenness of expression or manner.

Mr. Crawfurd spoke not a word. He is a very handsome young man,

just appointed equerry to the Duke of York.

I whispered my inquiry to Colonel Gwynn as soon as I found an

opportunity, and heard, "Yes,--'tis Harry Bunbury, sure enough!"

So now we may all be caricatured at his leisure! He is made

another of the equerries to the Duke. A man with such a turn,

and with talents so inimitable in displaying it, was rather a

dangerous character to be brought within a Court!

Aug. 15.-My sole conversation this evening was with Mr.

Bunbury, who drew a chair next mine, and chatted incessantly,

with great good humour, and an avidity to discuss the subjects he

started, which were all concerning plays and Players.

Presently the voice of the Duke of York was heard, calling aloud

for Colonel Goldsworthy. Off he ran. Mr. Bunbury laughed, but

declared he would not take the hint: "What," cried

he, "if I lose the beginning?(240)--I think I know it pretty

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well by heart'-'Why did I marry' '"--And then he began to spout,

and act, and rattle away, with all his might,-till the same voice

called out "Bunbury !--you'll be too late!"--And off he flew,

leaving his tea untasted--so eager had he been in discourse.

MRS. SIDDONS PROVES DISAPPOINTING ON NEAR ACQUAINTANCE.

Wednesday, Aug. 15.-Mrs. Schwellenberg's illness occasioned my

attending the queen alone; and when my official business was

ended, she graciously detained me, to read to me a new paper

called "Olla Podrida," which is now Publishing periodically.

Nothing very bright--nothing very deficient.

In the afternoon, while I was drinking coffee with Mrs.

Schwellenberg,--or, rather, looking at it, since I rarely,

swallow any,--her majesty came Into the room, and soon after a

little German discourse with Mrs. Schwellenberg told me Mrs.

Siddons had been ordered to the Lodge, to read a play, and

desired I would receive her in my room

I felt a little queer in the office ; I had only seen her twice

or thrice, in large assemblies, at Miss Monckton's, and at Sir

Joshua Reynolds's, and never had been introduced to her, nor

spoken with her. However, in this dead and tame life I now lead,

such an interview was by no means undesirable.

I had just got to the bottom of the stairs, when she entered the

passage gallery. I took her into the tea-room, and endeavoured

to make amends for former distance and taciturnity, by an open

and cheerful reception. I had heard from sundry people (in old

days) that she wished to make the acquaintance; but I thought it

then one of too conspicuous a sort for the quietness I had so

much difficulty to preserve in my ever increasing connections.

Here all was changed; I received her by the queen's commands, and

was perfectly well inclined to reap some pleasure from the

meeting.

But, now that we came so near, I was much disappointed in my

expectations. I know not if my dear Fredy has met with her in

private, but I fancy approximation is not highly in her favour.

I found her the heroine of a tragedy,--sublime, elevated, and

solemn. In face and person truly noble and commanding; in

manners quiet and stiff; in voice deep and dragging; and in

conversation, formal, sententious, calm, and

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dry. I expected her to have been all that is interesting; the

delicacy and sweetness with which she seizes every opportunity to

strike and to captivate upon the stage had persuaded me that her

mind was formed with that peculiar susceptibility which, in

different modes, must give equal powers to attract and to delight

in common life. But I was very much mistaken. As a stranger I

must have admired her noble appearance and beautiful countenance,

and have regretted that nothing in her conversation kept pace

with their promise and, as a celebrated actress I had

still only to do the same.

Whether fame and success have spoiled her, or whether she only

possesses the skill of representing and embellishing materials

with which she is furnished by others, I know not but still I

remain disappointed.

She was scarcely seated, and a little general discourse begun,

before she told me--at once--that "There was no part she had ever

so much wished to act as that of Cecilia."

I made some little acknowledgment, and hurried to ask when she

had seen Sir Joshua Reynolds, Miss Palmer, and others with whom I

knew her acquainted.

The play she was to read was "The Provoked Husband." She

appeared neither alarmed nor elated by her summons, but calmly to

look upon it as a thing of course, from her celebrity.

I should very much have liked to have heard her read the play,

but my dearest Mrs. Delany spent the whole evening with me, and I

could therefore take no measures for finding out a convenient

adjoining room. Mrs. Schwellenberg, I heard afterwards, was so

accommodated, though not well enough for the tea-table.

MR. FAIRLY'S BEREAVEMENT.

Aug. 23.-At St. James's I read in the newspapers a paragraph that

touched me much for the very amiable Mr. Fairly: it was the death

of his wife, which happened on the Duke of York's birth-day, the

16th.(242) Mr. Fairly has devoted his whole time, strength,

thoughts, and cares solely to nursing and attending her

during a long and most painful illness which she sustained. They

speak of her here as being amiable, but so

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cold and reserved, that she was little known, and by no means in

equal favour with her husband, who stands, upon the whole the

highest in general esteem and regard of any individual of the

household. I find every mouth open to praise and pity, love and

honour him.

TROUBLESOME MR. TURBULENT.

Upon returning to Kew, I had a scene for which I was little

enough, indeed, prepared, though willing, and indeed, earnest to

satisfy Mr. Turbulent, I wished him to make an alteration of

behaviour. After hastily changing my dress, I went, as usual, to

the parlour, to be ready for dinner; but found there no Mrs.

Schwellenberg; she was again unwell; Miss Planta was not ready,

and Mr. Turbulent was reading by himself.

Away he flung his book in a moment, and hastening to shut the

door lest I should retreat, he rather charged than desired me to

explain my late "chilling demeanour."

Almost startled by his apparent entire ignorance of deserving it,

I found an awkwardness I had not foreseen in making myself

understood. I wished him rather to feel than be told the

improprieties I meant to obviate - and I did what was possible by

half evasive, half expressive answers, to call back his own

recollection and consciousness. In vain, however, was the

attempt; he protested himself wholly innocent, and that he would

rather make an end of his existence than give me offence.

He saw not these very protestations were again doing it, and he

grew so vehement in his defence, and so reproachful in his

accusation of unjust usage, that I was soon totally in a

perplexity how to extricate myself from a difficulty I had

regarded simply as his own. The moment he saw I grew

embarrassed, he redoubled his challenges to know the cause of my

"ill-treatment." I assured him, then, I could never reckon

silence ill-treatment.

"Yes," he cried, "yes, from you it is ill-treatment, and it has

given me the most serious uneasiness."

"I am sorry," I said, "for that, and did not mean it."

"Not mean it?" cried be. "Could you imagine I should miss your

conversation, your ease, your pleasantness, your gaiety, and take

no notice of the loss?"

Then followed a most violent flow of compliments, ending with a

fresh demand for an explanation, made with an energy

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that, to own the truth, once more quite frightened me. I

endeavoured to appease him, by general promises of becoming more

voluble - and I quite languished to say to him the truth at once;

that his sport, his spirit, and his society would all be

acceptable to me, would he but divest them of that redundance of

-gallantry which rendered them offensive : but I could only think

how to say this--I could not bring it out.

This promised volubility, though it softened him, he seemed to

receive as a sort of acknowledgment that I owed him some

reparation for the disturbance I had caused him. I stared enough

at such an interpretation, which I could by no means allow; but

no sooner did I disclaim it than all his violence was resumed,

and he urged me to give in my charge against him with an

impetuosity that almost made me tremble.

I made as little answer as possible, finding everything I said

seemed but the more to inflame his violent spirit; but his

emotion was such, and the cause so inadequate, and my uncertainty

so unpleasant what to think of him altogether, that I was seized

with sensations so nervous, I Could almost have cried. In the

full torrent of his offended justification against my displeasure

towards him, he perceived my increasing distress how to proceed,

and, suddenly stopping, exclaimed in quite another tone, "Now,

then, ma'am, I see your justice returning; you feel that you have

used me very ill!"

To my great relief entered Miss Planta. He contrived to say,

"Remember, you promise to explain all this."

I made him no sort of answer, and though he frequently, in the

course of the evening, repeated, "I depend upon your promise! I

build upon a conference," I sent his dependence and his building

to Coventry, by not seeming to hear him.

I determined, however, to avoid all tête-à-têtes with him

whatsoever, as much as was in my power. How very few people are

fit for them, nobody living in trios and quartettos can imagine!

A CONCEITED PARSON.

Windsor.-Who should find me out now but Dr. Shepherd.(243) He is

here as canon, and was in residence. He told me he had long

wished to come, but had never been able to find the

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way of entrance before. He made me an immense length of visit,

and related to me all the exploits of his life,-so far as they

were prosperous. In no farce did a man ever more floridly open

upon his own perfections. He assured me I should be delighted to

know the whole of his life; it was equal to anything; and

everything he had was got by his own address and ingenuity.

"I could tell the king," cried he, "more than all the chapter. I

want to talk to him, but he always gets out of my way; he does

not know me; he takes me for a mere common person, like the rest

of the canons here, and thinks of me no more than if I were only

fit for the cassock;--a mere Scotch priest! Bless 'em!--they

know nothing about me. You have no conception what things I have

done! And I want to tell 'em all this;--It's fitter for them to

hear than what comes to their ears. What I want is for somebody

to tell them what I am."

They know it already, thought I.

Then, when he had exhausted this general panegyric, he descended

to some few particulars; especially dilating upon his preaching,

and applying to me for attesting its excellence.

"I shall make one sermon every year, precisely for you!" he

cried; "I think I know what will please you. That on the

creation last Sunday was just to your taste. You shall have such

another next residence. I think I preach in the right tone--not

too slow, like that poor wretch Grape, nor too fast like Davis

and the rest of 'em; but yet fast enough never to tire them.

That's just my idea of good preaching."

Then he told me what excellent apartments he had here and how

much he should like my opinion in fitting them up.

MR. TURBULENT BECOMES A NUISANCE.

Aug.30.-Mrs. Schwellenberg invited Mr. Turbulent to dinner, for

she said he had a large correspondence, and might amuse her. He

came early; and finding nobody in the eating-parlour, begged to

wait in mine till Mrs. Schwellenberg came downstairs. This was

the last thing I wished; but he required no answer, and instantly

resumed the Kew discussion, entreating me to tell him what he had

done. I desired him to desist--in vain, he affirmed I had

promised him an explanation, and he had therefore a right to it.

"You fully mistook me, then," cried I, "for I meant no

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such thing then; I mean no such thing now; and I never shall mean

any such thing in future. Is this explicit? I think it best to

tell you so at once, that you may expect nothing more, but give

over the subject, and talk of something else. What is the news?"

"I'll talk of nothing else!--it distracts me;--pray No, no, tell

Me!--I call upon your good-nature!"

"I have none--about this! "

"Upon your goodness of heart!"

"'Tis all hardness here!"

"I will cast myself at your feet,--I will kneel to you!" And he

was preparing his immense person for prostration, when Goter(244)

opened the door. Such an interruption to his heroics made me

laugh heartily; nor could he help joining himself; though the

moment she was gone he renewed his importunity with unabated

earnestness.

"I remember," he cried, "it was upon the Terrace you first shewed

me this disdain; and there, too, you have shown it me repeatedly

since, with public superciliousness. . . . You well know you

have treated me ill,--you know and have acknowledged it!"

"And when?" cried I, amazed and provoked; "when did I do what

could never be done?"

"At Kew, ma'am, you were full of concern--full of remorse for the

treatment you had given me!--and you owned it!"

"Good heaven, Mr. Turbulent, what can induce you to say this?"

"Is it not true?"

"Not a word of it! You know it is not!"

"Indeed," cried he, "I really and truly thought so--hoped so;--I

believed you looked as if you felt your own ill-usage,- and it

gave to me a delight inexpressible!"

This was almost enough to bring back the very same supercilious

Distance of which he complained; but, in dread of fresh

explanations, I forbore to notice this flight, and only told him

he might be perfectly satisfied, since I no longer Persevered in

the taciturnity to which he objected.

"But how," cried he, "do you give up, without deigning to assign

one reason for It"?

"The greater the compliment!" cried I, laughing; "I give up to

your request."

"Yes, ma'am, upon my speaking,-but why did you keep Me so long in

that painful suspense?"

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"Nay," cried I, "could I well be quicker? Till you spoke could I

know if you heeded it?"

"Ah, ma'am--is there no language but of words? Do you pretend to

think there is no other?'--Must I teach it you,,--teach it to

Miss Burney who speaks, who

understands it so well?--who is never silent, and never can b

silent?"

And then came his heroic old homage to the poor eyebrows

vehemently finishing with, "Do you, can you affect to know no

language but speech?"

" Not," cried I, coolly, " without the trouble of more

investigation than I had taken here."

He called this "contempt," and, exceedingly irritated, de sired

me, once more, to explain, from beginning to end, how he had ever

offended me.

"Mr. Turbulent," cried I, "will you be satisfied if I tell you it

shall all blow over?"

"Make me a vow, then, you will never more, never while you live,

resume that proud taciturnity."

"No, no,--certainly not; I never make vows; it is a rule with me

to avoid them."

"Give me, then, your promise,--your solemn promise,--at least I

may claim that?"

"I have the same peculiarity about promises; I never make them."

He was again beginning to storm, but again I assured him I would

let the acquaintance take its old course, if he would but be

appeased, and say no more; and, after difficulties innumerable,

he at length gave up the point: but to this he was hastened, if

not driven, by a summons to dinner.

DR. HERSCHEL AND HIS SISTER.

Sept.-Dr. Herschel is a delightful man; so unassuming with his

great knowledge, so willing to dispense it to the ignorant, and

so cheerful and easy in his general manners, that were he no

genius it would be impossible not to remark him as a pleasing and

sensible man. I was equally pleased with his sister, whom I had

wished to see very much, for her great celebrity in her brother's

science. She is very little, very gentle, very modest, and very

ingenious; and her manners are those of a person unhackneyed and

unawed by the world, yet desirous to meet

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and to return its smiles. I love not the philosophy that braves

it. This brother and sister seem gratified with its favour, at

the same time that their own pursuit is all-sufficient to them

without it.

I inquired of Miss Herschel if she was still comet-hunting, or

content now with the moon? The brother answered that he had the

charge of the moon, but he left to his sister to sweep the

heavens for comets.

Their manner of working together is most ingenious and curious.

While he makes his observations without-doors, he has a method of

communicating them to his sister so immediately, that she can

instantly commit them to paper, with the precise moment in which

they are made. By this means he loses not a minute, when there

is anything particularly worth observing, by writing it down, but

can still proceed, yet still have his accounts and calculations

exact. The methods he has contrived to facilitate this commerce

I have not the terms to explain, though his simple manner of

showing them made me, fully, at the time, comprehend them.

The night, unfortunately, was dark, and I could not see the moon

with the famous new telescope. I mean not the great telescope

through which I had taken a walk, for that is still incomplete,

but another of uncommon powers. I saw Saturn, however, and his

satellites, very distinctly, and their appearance was very

beautiful.

GAY AND ENTERTAINING MR. BUNBURY.

Sept.-I saw a great deal of Mr. Bunbury in the course of this

month, as he was in waiting upon the Duke of York, who spent

great part of it at Windsor, to the inexpressible delight of his

almost idolising father. Mr. Bunbury did not open upon me with

that mildness and urbanity that might lead me to forget the

strokes of his pencil, and power of his caricature: he early

avowed a general disposition to laugh at, censure, or despise all

around him. He began talking of everybody and everything about

us, with the decisive freedom of a confirmed old intimacy.

"I am in disgrace here, already!" he cried almost exultingly.

"In disgrace?" I repeated.

"Yes,--for not riding out this morning!--I was asked--what Could

I have better to do?--Ha! ha!"

The next time that I saw him after your departure from

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Windsor,(245) he talked a great deal of painting and painters,

and then said, "The draftsman of whom I think the most highly of

any in the world was in this room the other day, and I did not

know it, and was not introduced to him!"

I immediately assured him I never held the honours of the room

when its right mistress was in it, but that I would certainly

have named them to each other had I known he desired it.

"O, yes,"' cried he, "of all things I wished to know him. He

draws like the old masters. I have seen fragments in the style

of many of the very best and first productions of the greatest

artists of former times. He could deceive the most critical

judge. I wish greatly for a sight of his works, and for the

possession of one of them, to add to my collection, as I have

something from almost everybody else and a small sketch of his I

should esteem a greater curiosity than all the rest put

together."(246)

Moved by the justness of' this praise, I fetched him

the sweet little cadeaux so lately left me by Mr. William's

kindness. He was very much pleased, and perhaps thought I

might bestow them. O, no--not one stroke of that pencil could I

relinquish!

Another evening he gave us the history, of his way of life

at Brighthelmstone. He spoke highly of the duke, but with much

satire of all else, and that incautiously, and evidently with

an innate defiance of consequences, from a consciousness of

secret powers to overawe their hurting him.

Notwithstanding the general reverence I pay to extraordinary

talents, which lead me to think it even a species of

impertinence to dwell upon small failings in their rare

possessors, Mr. Bunbury did not gain my good-will. His serious

manner is supercilious and haughty, and his easy conversation

wants rectitude in its principles. For the rest, he is

entertaining and gay, full of talk, sociable, willing to enjoy

what is going forward, and ready to speak his opinion with

perfect unreserve.

Plays and players seem his darling theme; he can rave about them

from morning to night, and yet be ready to rave again when

morning returns, He acts as he talks, spouts as

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he recollects, and seems to give his whole soul to dramatic

feeling and expression. This is not, however, his only subject

Love and romance are equally clear to his discourse, though they

cannot be introduced with equal frequency. Upon these topics he

loses himself wholly--he runs into rhapsodies that discredit him

at once as a father, a husband, and a moral man. He asserts that

love Is the first principle of life, and should take place of

every other; holds all bonds and obligations as nugatory that

would claim a preference; and advances such doctrines of exalted

sensations in the tender passion as made me tremble while I heard

them.

He adores Werter, and would scarce believe I had not read it-

-still less that I had begun It and left it off, from distaste at

its evident tendency. I saw myself sink instantly in his

estimation, though till this little avowal I had appeared to

Stand in it very honourably.

THE PRINCE OF WALES AT WINDSOR AGAIN.

One evening, while I was sitting with Mrs. Delany, and her fair

niece, when tea was over, and the gentlemen all withdrawn, the

door was Opened, and a star entered, that I perceived presently

to be the Prince of Wales. He was here to hunt with his royal

father and brother. With great politeness he made me his first

bow, and then advancing to Mrs. Delany, insisted, very

considerately, on her sitting still, though he stood himself for

half an hour--all the time he stayed. He entered into discourse

very good-humouredly, and with much vivacity; described to her

his villa at Brighthelmstone, told several anecdotes of

adventures there, and seemed desirous to entertain both her and

myself . . . . .

NOV. 8.-At near one o'clock in the morning, while the wardrobe

woman was pinning up the queen's hair, there was a sudden rap-tap

at the dressing-room door. Extremely surprised, I looked at the

queen, to see what should be done; she did not speak. I had

never heard such a sound before, for at the royal doors there

Is always a peculiar kind of scratch used, instead of tapping. I

heard it, however, again,--and the queen called out, "What is

that?" I Was really startled, not conceiving who could take so

strange a liberty as to come to the queen's apartment without the

announcing of a page - and no page, I was very sure, would make

such a noise.

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Again the sound was repeated, and more smartly. I grew quite

alarmed, imagining some serious evil at hand--either regarding

the king or some of the princesses. The queen, however, bid me

open the door. I did--but what was MY surprise to see there a

large man, in an immense wrapping great coat, buttoned up round

his chin, so that he was almost hid between cape and hat!

I stood quite motionless for a moment--but he, as if also

surprised, drew back; I felt quite sick with sudden terror--I

really thought some ruffian had broke into the house, or a

madman.

"Who is it?" cried the queen.

"I do not know, ma'am," I answered.

"Who is it?" she called aloud; and then, taking off his hat,

entered the Prince of Wales!

The queen laughed very much, so did I too, happy in this

unexpected explanation.

He told her, eagerly, he merely came to inform her there were the

most beautiful northern lights to be seen that could possibly be

imagined, and begged her to come to the gallery windows.

FALSE RUMOURS OF Miss BURNEY'S RESIGNATION.

Wednesday, Sept. 14--We went to town for the drawing-room, and I

caught a most severe cold, by being oblige to have the glass down

on my side, to suit Mrs. Schwellenberg, though the sharpest wind

blew in that ever attacked a poor phiz. However, these are the

sort of desagremens I can always best bear; and for the rest, I

have now pretty constant civility.

My dear father drank tea with me - but told me of a paragraph in

"The World," that gave me some uneasiness; to this effect:--"We

hear that Miss Burney has resigned her place about the queen, and

is now promoted to attend the princesses, an office far more

suited to her character and abilities, which will now be called

forth as they merit."--Or to that purpose. As "The World" is not

taken in here, I flattered myself it would not be known; for I

knew how little pleasure such a paragraph would give, and was

very sorry for it.

The next day, at St. James's, Miss Planta desired to speak to me,

before the queen arrived. She acquainted me Of the same "news,"

and said, "Everybody spoke of it;" and the queen might receive

twenty letters of recommend, to

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my place before night. Still I could only be sorry. Another

paragraph had now appeared, she told me, contradicting the first,

and saying, "The resignation of Miss Burney is premature; it only

arose from an idea of the service the education of the princesses

might reap from her virtues and accomplishments."

I was really concerned - conscious how little gratified my royal

mistress would be by the whole :-and, presently, Miss Planta came

to me again, and told me that the princesses had mentioned it!

They never read any newspapers; but they had heard of it from the

Duke of York.

I observed the queen was most particularly gracious with me,

softer, gentler, more complacent than ever; and, while dressing,

she dismissed her wardrobe-woman, and, looking at me very

steadfastly, said, "Miss Burney, do you ever read newspapers?"

"Sometimes," I answered, "but not often: however. I believe I

know what your majesty means!"

I could say no less; I was so sure of her meaning.

"Do you?" she cried.

"Yes, ma'am, and I have been very much hurt by it: that is, if

your majesty means anything relative to myself?"

"I do!" she answered, still looking at me with earnestness.

"My father, ma'am," cried I, "told me of it last night, with a

good deal of indignation."

"I," cried she, "did not see it myself: you know how little I

read the newspapers."

"Indeed," cried I, "as it was in a paper not taken in here, I

hoped it would quite have escaped your majesty."

".So it did: I only heard of it."

I looked a little curious, and she kindly explained herself.

"When the Duke of York came yesterday to dinner, he said almost

immediately, 'Pray, ma'am, what has Miss Burney left You for?'

'Left me?' 'Yes, they say she's gone; pray what's the reason?'

'Gone?' 'Yes, it's at full length in all the newspapers: is not

she gone?' 'Not that I know of.'"

"All the newspapers" was undoubtedly a little flourish of the

duke; but we jointly censured and lamented the unbridled liberty

of the press, in thus inventing, contradicting, and bringing on

and putting off, whatever they pleased.

I saw, however, she had really been staggered: she concluded, I

fancy, that the paragraph arose from some latent Muse, which

might end in matter of fact; for she talked to me of Mrs.

Dickenson, and of all that related to her retreat, and

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dwelt upon the subject with a sort of solicitude that seemed

apprehensive--if I may here use such a word-of a similar action.

It appeared to me that she rather expected some further assurance

on my part that no such view or intention had given rise to this

pretended report; and therefore, when I had again the honour of

her conversation alone, I renewed the subject, and mentioned that

my father had had some thoughts of contradicting the paragraph

himself.

"And has he done it ? " cried she quite eagerly.

"No, ma'am; for, upon further consideration, he feared it might

only excite fresh paragraphs, and that the whole would sooner

die, if neglected."

"So," said she, "I have been told; for, some years ago, there

was a paragraph in the papers I wanted myself to have had

contradicted, but they acquainted me it was best to be patient,

and it would be forgot the sooner."

"This, however, ma'am, has been contradicted this morning."

"By your father?" cried she, again speaking eagerly.

"No, ma'am; I know not by whom."

She then asked how it was done. This was very distressing but I

was forced to repeat It as well as I could, reddening enough,

though omitting, you may believe, the worst.

just then there happened an interruption; which was vexatious, as

it prevented a concluding speech, disclaiming all thoughts of

resignation, which I saw was really now become necessary for the

queen's satisfaction; and since it was true--why not say it?

And, accordingly, the next day, when she was most excessively

kind to me, I seized an opportunity, by attending her through the

apartments to the breakfast-room, to beg, permission to speak to

her. It was smilingly granted me.

"I have now, ma'am, read both the paragraphs."

"Well?" with a look of much curiosity.

"And indeed I thought them both very impertinent. They

say that the idea arose from a notion of my being promoted to a

place about the princesses!"

"I have not seen either of the paragraphs," she answered, "but

the Prince of Wales told me of the second yesterday."

"They little know me, ma'am," I cried, "who think I should regard

any other place as a promotion that removed me from your

majesty."

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"I did not take it ill, I assure you," cried she, gently.

"Indeed, ma'am, I am far from having a wish for any such

promotion--far from it! your majesty does not bestow a smile upon

me that does not secure and confirm my attachment."

one of her best smiles followed this, with a very condescending

little bow, and the words, "You are very good," uttered in a most

gentle Voice; and she went on to her breakfast.

I am most glad this complete explanation passed. Indeed it is

most true I would not willingly quit a place about the queen for

any place; and I was glad to mark that her smiles were to me the

whole estimate of its value.

This little matter has proved, in the end, very gratifying to me

for it has made clear beyond all doubt her desire of retaining

me, and a considerably increased degree of attention and

complacency have most flatteringly shown a wish I should be

retained by attachment.

TYRANNICAL MRS. SCHWELLENBERG.

Nov. 27-I had a terrible journey indeed to town, Mrs.

Schwellenberg finding it expedient to have the glass down on my

side, whence there blew in a sharp wind, which so painfully

attacked my eyes that they were inflamed even before we -arrived

in town.

Mr. de Luc and Miss Planta both looked uneasy, but no one durst

speak; and for me, it was among the evils that I can always best

bear yet before the evening I grew so ill that I could not

propose going to Chelsea, lest I should be utterly unfitted for

Thursday's drawing-room.

The next day, however, I received a consolation that has been

some ease to my mind ever since. My dear father spent the

evening with me, and was so incensed at the state of my eyes,

which were now as piteous to behold as to feel, and at the

relation of their usage, that he charged me, another time, to

draw up my 'glass in defiance of all opposition, and to abide by

all consequences, since my place was wholly immaterial when put

in competition with my health.

I was truly glad of this permission to rebel, and it has given Me

an internal hardiness in all similar assaults, that has at least

relieved my mind from the terror of giving mortal offence where

most I owe implicit obedience, should provocation overpower my

capacity of forbearance.

When we assembled to return to Windsor, Mr. de Luc was

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in real consternation at sight of my eyes; and I saw an indignant

glance at my coadjutrix, that could scarce content itself without

being understood. Miss Planta ventured not at such a glance, but

a whisper broke out, as we were descending the stairs, expressive

of horror against the same poor person--poor person indeed--to

exercise a power productive only of abhorrence, to those who view

as well as to those who feel it!

Some business of Mrs. Schwellenberg's occasioned a delay of the

journey, and we all retreated back; and when I returned to my

room, Miller, the old head housemaid, came to me, with a little

neat tin saucepan in her hand, saying, "Pray, ma'am, use this for

your eyes; 'tis milk and butter, much as I used to make for

Madame Haggerdorn when she travelled in the winter with Mrs.

Schwellenberg."

Good heaven! I really shuddered when she added, that all that

poor woman's misfortunes with her eyes, which, from inflammation

after inflammation, grew nearly blind, were attributed by herself

to these journeys, in which she was forced to have the glass down

at her side in all weathers, and frequently the glasses behind

her also! Upo n my word this account of my predecessor was the

least exhilarating intelligence I could receive! Goter told me,

afterwards, that all the servants in the house had remarked I was

going just the same way!

Miss Planta presently ran into my room, to say she had hopes we

should travel without this amiable being; and she had left me but

a moment when Mrs. Stainforth succeeded her, exclaiming, "O, for

heaven's sake, don't leave her behind; for heaven's sake, Miss

Burney, take her with you!"

'Twas impossible not to laugh at these opposite' interests, both,

from agony of fear, breaking through all restraint. Soon after,

however, we all assembled again, and got into the coach. Mr.' de

Luc, who was my vis-`a-vis, instantly pulled up the glass.

"Put down that glass!" was the immediate order.

He affected not to hear her, and began conversing. She enraged

quite tremendously, calling aloud to be obeyed without delay. He

looked compassionately at me, and shrugged his shoulders, and

said, "But, ma'am-"

"Do it, Mr. de Luc, when I tell you! I will have it! When you

been too cold, you might bear it!"

""It is not for me, ma'am, but poor Miss Burney."

"O, poor Miss Burney might bear it the same! put it down, Mr. de

Luc! without, I will get out! put it down, when I tell

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you! It is my coach! I will have it selfs! I might go alone in

it, or with one, or with what you call nobody, when I please!"

Frightened for good Mr. de Luc, and the more for being much

obliged to him, I now interfered, and begged him to let down the

glass. Very reluctantly he complied, and I leant back in the

coach, and held up my muff to my eyes. What a journey ensued!

To see that face when lighted up with fury is a sight for horror!

I was glad to exclude it by my muff.

Miss Planta alone attempted to speak. I did not think it

incumbent on me to "make the agreeable," thus used; I was

therefore wholly dumb : for not a word, not an apology, not one

expression of being sorry for what I suffered, was uttered. The

most horrible ill-humour, violence, and rudeness, were all that

were shown. Mr. de Luc was too much provoked to take his usual

method of passing all off by constant talk and as I had never

seen him venture to appear provoked before, I felt a great

obligation to his kindness. When we were about half way, we

stopped to water the horses. He then again pulled up the glass,

as if from absence. A voice of fury exclaimed, "Let it down!

without I won't go!"

"I am sure," cried he, "all Mrs. de Luc's plants will be killed

by this frost For the frost was very severe indeed.

Then he proposed my changing places with Miss Planta, who sat

opposite Mrs. Schwellenberg, and consequently on the sheltered

side. "Yes!" cried Mrs. Schwellenberg, "MISS Burney might sit

there, and so she ought!"

I told her, briefly, I was always sick in riding backwards.

"O, ver well! when you don't like it, don't do it. You might

bear it when you like it? what did the poor Haggerdorn bear it!

when the blood was all running down from her eyes!"

This was too much! "I must take, then," I cried, "the more

warning!" After that I spoke not a word. I ruminated all the

rest of the way upon my dear father's recent charge and

permission. I was upon the point continually of availing myself

of both, but alas! I felt the deep disappointment I should give

him, and I felt the most cruel repugnance to owe a resignation to

a quarrel.

These reflections powerfully forbade the rebellion to which this

unequalled arrogance and cruelty excited me; and after revolving

them again and again, I----accepted a bit of cake which she

suddenly offered me as we reached Windsor, and

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determined, since I submitted to my monastic destiny from motives

my serious thoughts deemed right, I would not be prompted to

oppose it from mere feelings of resentment to one who, strictly,

merited only contempt. . . .

I gulped as well as I could at dinner; but all civil fits are

again over. Not a word was said to me: yet I was really very ill

all the afternoon; the cold had seized my elbows, from holding

them up so long, and I was stiff and chilled all over.

In the evening, however, came my soothing Mrs. Delany. Sweet

soul ! she folded me in her arms, and wept over my shoulder! Too

angry to stand upon ceremony she told Mrs. Schwellenberg, after

our public tea, she must retire to my room, that she might speak

with me alone. This was highly resented, and I was threatened,

afterwards, that she would come to tea no more, and we might talk

our secrets always.

Mr. de Luc called upon me next morning, and openly avowed his

indignation, protesting it was an oppression he could not bear to

see used, and reproving me for checking him when he would have

run all risks. I thanked him most cordially; but assured him the

worst of all inflammations to me was that of a quarrel, and I

entreated him, therefore, not to interfere. But we have been

cordial friends from that time forward.

Miss Planta also called, kindly bringing me some eye-water, and

telling me she had "Never so longed to beat anybody in her life;

and yet, I assure you," she added, "everybody remarks that she

behaves, altogether, better to you than to any body!"

O heavens!

MRS. SCHWELLENBERG'S CAPRICIOUSNESS.

Saturday, Dec. 1.-'Tis strange that two feelings so very opposite

as love and resentment should have nearly equal power in

inspiring courage for or against the object that excites them yet

so it is. In former times I have often, on various occasions,

felt it raised to anything possible, by affection, and now I have

found it mount to the boldest height, by disdain For, be it

known, such gross and harsh usage I experienced at the end of

last month, since the inflammation of the eyes which I bore much

more composedly than sundry personal indignities that followed,

that I resolved upon a new mode of

Page 69

conduct--namely, to go out every evening, in Order to show that I

by no means considered myself as bound to stay at home after

dinner, if treated very ill; and this most courageous plan I

flattered myself must needs either procure me a liberty of

absence, always so much wished, or occasion a change of behaviour

to more decency and endurability. I had received for to-day an

invitation to meet Lady Bute and Lady Louisa Stuart at my dearest

Mrs. Delany's, and I should have wished it at all times, so much

I like them both. I had no opportunity to speak first to my

royal mistress, but I went to her at noon, rather more dressed

than usual, and when I saw her look a little surprised, I

explained my reason. She seemed very well satisfied with it, but

my coadjutrix appeared in an astonishment unequalled, and at

dinner, when we necessarily met again, new testimonies of conduct

quite without example were exhibited: for when Mrs. Thackeray and

Miss Planta were helped, she helped herself, and appeared

publicly to send me to Coventry--though the sole provocation was

intending to forego her society this evening!

I sat quiet and unhelped a few minutes, considering what to do:

for so little was my appetite, I was almost tempted to go without

dinner entirely. However, upon further reflection, I concluded

it would but harden her heart still more to have this fresh

affront so borne, and so related, as it must have been, through

Windsor, and therefore I calmly begged some greens from Miss

Planta.

The weakness of my eyes, which still would not bear the light,

prevented me from tasting animal food all this time.

A little ashamed, she then anticipated Miss Planta's assistance,

by offering me some French beans. To curb my own displeasure, I

obliged myself to accept them. Unfortunately, however, this

little softening was presently worn out, by some speeches which

it encouraged from Mrs. Thackeray, who seemed to seize the moment

of permission to acknowledge that I was in the room, by telling

me she had lately met some of my friends in town, among whom Mrs.

Chapone and the Burrows family had charged her with a thousand

regrets for My Seclusion from their society, and as many kind

compliments and good wishes.

This again sent me to Coventry for the rest of the dinner. When

it was over, and we were all going upstairs to coffee, I spoke to

Columb,(247) in passing, to have a chair for me at seven o'clock.

Page 70

"For what, then," cried a stern voice behind me, "for What go you

upstairs at all, when you don't drink coffee?

Did she imagine I should answer "For your society, ma'am"? No--I

turned back quick as lightning, and only saying, "Very well,

ma'am," moved towards my own room.

Again a little ashamed of herself, she added, rather more

civilly, "For what should you have that trouble?"

I simply repeated my "Very well, ma'am," in a voice of, I

believe, rather pique than calm acquiescence, and entered my own

apartment, unable to enjoy this little release, however speedy to

obtain it, from the various, the grievous emotions of my mind,

that this was the person, use me how she might, with whom I must

chiefly pass my time!

So unpleasant were the sensations that filled me, that I could

recover no gaiety, even at the house of my beloved friend, though

received there by her dear self, her beautiful niece, and Lady

Bute and Lady Louisa, in the most flattering manner. . . .

The behaviour of my coadjutrix continued in the same strain--

-really shocking to endure. I always began, at our first

meeting, some little small speech, and constantly received so

harsh a rebuff at the second word, that I then regularly seated

myself by a table, at work, and remained wholly silent the rest

of the day. I tried the experiment of making my escape; but I

was fairly conquered from pursuing it. The constant black

reception depressed me out of powers to exert for flight; and

therefore I relinquished this plan, and only got off, as I could,

to my own room, or remained dumb in hers.

To detail the circumstances of the tyranny and the grossieret`e I

experienced at this time would be afflicting to my beloved

friends, and oppressive to myself, I am fain, however, to confess

they vanquished me. I found the restoration of some degree of

decency quite necessary to my quiet, since such open and horrible

ill-will from one daily in my sight even affrighted me: it

pursued me in shocking visions even when I avoided her presence;

and therefore I was content to put upon myself the great and

cruel force of seeking to conciliate a person who had no

complaint against me, but that she had given me an inflammation

of the eyes, which had been witnessed and resented by her

favourite Mr. de Luc. I rather believe that latter circumstance

was what incensed her so inveterately.

Page 71

The next extraordinary step she took was one that promised me

amends for all: she told me that there was no occasion we should

continue together after coffee, unless by her invitation. I

eagerly exclaimed that this seemed a most feasible way of

producing some variety in our intercourse, and that I would adopt

it most readily. She wanted instantly to call back her words :

she had expected I should be alarmed, and solicit her leave to be

buried -with her every evening! When she saw me so eager in

acceptance, she looked mortified and disappointed ; but I would

not suffer her to retract, and I began, at once, to retire to my

room the moment coffee was over.

This flight of the sublime, which, being her own, she could not

resent, brought all round: for as she saw me every evening

prepare to depart with the coffee, she constantly began, at that

period, some civil discourse to detain me. I always suffered it

to succeed, while civil, and when there was a failure, or a

pause, I retired.

By this means I recovered such portion of quiet as is compatible

with a situation like mine: for she soon returned entirely to

such behaviour as preceded the offence of my eyes; and I

obtained a little leisure at which she could not repine, as a

caprice of her own bestowed it. . . .

To finish, however, with respect to the présidente, I must now

acquaint you that, as my eyes entirely grew -well, her incivility

entirely wore off, and I became a far greater favourite than I

had ever presumed to think myself till that time! I was obliged

to give up my short-lived privilege of retirement, and live on as

before, making only my two precious little visits to my beloved

comforter and supporter, and to devote the rest of my wearisome

time to her presence--better satisfied, however, since I now saw

that open war made me wretched, even When a victor, beyond what

any subjection could do that had peace for its terms.

This was not an unuseful discovery, for it has abated all

propensity to experiment in shaking off a yoke which, however

hard to bear, is so annexed to my place, that I must take one

with the other, and endure them as I can.

My favour, now, was beyond the favour of all others; I was "good

Miss Berner," at every other word, and no one else was listened

to if I would speak, and no one else was Accepted for a partner

if I would play! I found no cause to Which I could attribute

this change. I believe the whole mere Matter of caprice.

Page 72

New YEAR's DAY.

Queen's Lodge, Windsor, Tuesday, Jan. 1, 1788-I began the new

year, as I ended the old one, by seizing the first moment it

presented to my own disposal, for flying to Mrs. Delany, and

begging her annual benediction. She bestowed it with the

sweetest affection, and I spent, as usual all the time with her I

had to spare. . . .

In the evening, by long appointment, I was to receive Mr. Fisher

and his bride.(248) Mrs. Schwellenberg, of her own accord desired

me to have them in my room, and said she would herself make tea

for the equerries in the eating-parlour. Mrs. Delany and Miss

Port came to meet them. Mrs. Fisher seems good-natured,

cheerful, and obliging, neither well nor ill in appearance, and,

I fancy, not strongly marked in any way. But she adores Mr.

Fisher, and has brought him a large fortune.

The Princess Amelia was brought by Mrs. Cheveley, to fetch Mrs.

Delany to the queen. Mrs. Fisher was much delighted in seeing

her royal highness, who, when in a grave humour, does 'the

honours of her rank with a seriousness extremely entertaining.

She commands the company to sit down, holds out her little fat

hand to be kissed, and makes a distant courtesy, with an air of

complacency and encouragement that might suit any princess of

five times her age.

I had much discourse, while the rest were engaged, with Mr.

Fisher, about my ever-valued, ever-regretted Mrs. Thrale. Can I

call her by another name, loving that name so long, so well, for

her and her sake? He gave me concern by information that she is

now publishing, not only the "Letters " of Dr. Johnson, but her

own. How strange!

Jan. 4.-In the morning, Mrs. Schwellenberg presented me, from the

queen, with a new year's gift. It is plate, and very elegant.

The queen, I find, makes presents to her whole household every

year: more or less, according to some standard of their claims

which she sets up, very properly, in her own mind.

CHATTY MR. BRYANT AGAIN.

Jan. 8.-I met Mr. Bryant, who came, by appointment to give me

that pleasure. He was in very high spirits, full Of anecdote and

amusement. He has as much good-humoured

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chit-chat and entertaining gossiping as if he had given no time

to the classics and his studies, instead of having nearly devoted

his life to them. One or two of his little anecdotes I will try

to recollect.

in the year thirty-three of this century, and in his own memory,

there was a cause brought before a judge, between two highwaymen,

who had quarrelled about the division of their booty; and these

men had the effrontery to bring their dispute to trial. "In the

petition of the plaintiff," said Mr. Bryant, "he asserted that he

had been extremely ill-used by the defendant: that they had

carried on a very advantageous trade together, upon Black-heath,

Hounslow-heath, Bagshot-heath, and other places; that their

business chiefly consisted in watches, wearing apparel, and

trinkets of all sorts, as well as large concerns between them in

cash; that they had agreed to an equitable partition of all

profits, and that this agreement had been violated. So impudent

a thing, the judge said, was never before brought out in a court,

and so he refused to pass sentence in favour of either of them,

and dismissed them from the court."

Then he told us a great number of comic slip-slops, of the first

Lord Baltimore, who made a constant misuse of one word for

another: for instance, "I have been," says he, "upon a little

excoriation to see a ship lanced; and there is not a finer going

vessel upon the face of God's earth: you've no idiom how well it

sailed."

Having given us this elegant specimen of the language of one

lord, he proceeded to give us one equally forcible of the

understanding of another. The late Lord Plymouth, meeting in a

country town with a puppet-show, was induced to see it; and, from

the high entertainment he received through Punch, he determined

to buy him, and accordingly asked his price, and paid it, and

carried the puppet to his country-house, that he might be

diverted with him at any odd hour. Mr. Bryant protests he met

the same troop Just as the purchase had been made, and went

himself to the puppet-show, which was exhibited senza punch!

Next he spoke upon the Mysteries, or origin of our theatrical

entertainments, and repeated the plan and conduct Of several Of

these strange compositions, in particular one he remembered which

was called "Noah's Ark," and in which that patriarch and his

sons, just previous to the Deluge, made it all their delight to

speed themselves into the ark without Mrs. Noah,

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whom they wished to escape; but she surprised them just as they

had embarked, and made so prodigious a racket against the door

that, after a long and violent contention, she forced them to

open it, and gained admission, having first content, them by

being kept out till she was thoroughly wet to the skin. These

most eccentric and unaccountable dramas filled up the chief of

our conversation.

DR. JOHNSON's LETTERS To MRS. THRALE DISCUSSED.

Wednesday, Jan. 9.-To-day Mrs. Schwellenberg did me a real

favour, and with real good nature; for she sent me the "Letters"

of my poor lost friends, Dr. Johnson and Mrs. Thrale,(249) which

she knew me to be almost pining to procure. The book belongs to

the Bishop of Carlisle, who lent it to Mr. Turbulent, from whom

it was again lent to the queen, and so passed on to Mrs.

Schwellenberg. It is still unpublished.(249)

With what a sadness have I been reading!--what scenes in it

revived!--what regrets renewed! These letters have not been more

improperly published in the whole, than they are injudiciously

displayed in their several parts. She has all--every word--and

thinks that, perhaps, a justice to Dr. Johnson, which, in fact,

is the greatest injury to his memory. The few she has selected

of her own do her, indeed, much credit; she has discarded all

that were trivial and merely local, and given only such as

contain something instructive, amusing, or ingenious.

About four of the letters, however, of my ever-revered Dr.

Johnson are truly worthy his exalted powers: one is upon death,

in considering its approach as we are surrounded, or not by

mourners; another, upon the sudden and premature loss of poor

Mrs. Thrale's darling and only son.(250)

Our name once occurs: how I started at its sight It is to mention

the party that planned the first visit to our house: Miss Owen,

Mr. Seward, Mrs. and Miss Thrale, and Dr. Johnson. How well

shall we ever, my Susan, remember that morning!

I have had so many attacks upon her subject, that at last I

fairly begged quarter,--and frankly owned to Mrs. Schwellenberg

that I could not endure to speak any more upon the matter,

endeavouring, at the same time, to explain to her my

Page 75

long and intimate connection with the family. Yet nothing I

could say put a stop to "How can you defend her in this?--how can

you justify her in that?"" etc. Alas! that I cannot defend her

is precisely the reason I can so ill bear to speak of her. How

differently and how sweetly has the queen conducted herself -upon

this occasion! Eager to see the "Letters," she began reading

them with the utmost avidity : a natural curiosity arose to be

informed of several names and several particulars, which she knew

I could satisfy; yet, when she perceived how tender a string she

touched, she soon suppressed her inquiries, or only made them

with so much gentleness towards the parties mentioned, that I

could not be distressed in my answers; and even In a short time I

found her questions made so favourable a disposition, that I

began secretly to rejoice in them, as the means by which I reaped

opportunity of clearing several points that had been darkened by

calumny, and of softening others that had been viewed wholly

through false lights.

Jan. 10.-When we were summoned to the tea-room I met Miss de Luc

coming out. I asked if she did not stay tea? "O How can I,"

cried she, in a voice of distress, "when already, as there is

company here without me, Mrs. Schwellenberg has asked me what I

came for?" I was quite shocked for her, and could only shrug in

dismay and let her pass. When there is no one else she is

courted to stay!

Mr. and Mrs. Fisher came soon after; and the Princesses Augusta

and Amelia fetched away Mrs. Delany.

Soon after Colonel Wellbred came, ushering in Mr. Fairly and his

young son, who is at Eton school. I had seen Mr. F. but once

since his great and heavy loss, though now near half a year had

elapsed. So great a personal alteration in a few months I have

seldom seen: thin, haggard, worn with care, grief, and watching--

his hair turned grey--white, rather, and some of his front teeth

vanished. He seemed to have suffered, through his feelings, the

depredations suffered by Others through age and time. His

demeanour, upon this trying occasion, filled me with as much

admiration as his countenance did with compassion : calm,

composed, and gentle, he seemed bent on appearing not only

resigned, but cheerful. I might even have supposed him verging

on being happy, had not the havoc of grief on his face, and the

tone of deep melancholy in his voice, assured me his Solitude was

all sacred to his sorrows.

Page 76

Mr. Fisher was very sad himself, grieving at the death of Dr.

Harley, Dean of Windsor and Bishop of Hereford. He began,

however, talking to me of these "Letters," and, with him, I could

speak of them, and of their publisher, without reserve: but the

moment they were named Mrs. Schwellenberg uttered such hard and

harsh things, that I could not keep my seat and the less,

because, knowing my strong friendship there in former days, I was

sure it was meant I should be hurt, I attempted not to speak,

well aware all defence is irritation, where an attack is made

from ill-nature, not justice.

The gentle Mr. Fisher, sorry for the cause and the effect of this

assault, tried vainly to turn it aside: what began with censure

soon proceeded to invective; and at last, being really sick from

crowding recollections of past scenes, where the person now thus

vilified had been dear and precious to my very heart, I was

forced, abruptly, to walk out of the room.

It was indifferent to me whether or not my retreat was noticed.

I have never sought to disguise the warm friendship that once

subsisted between Mrs. Thrale and myself, for I always hoped

that, where it was known, reproach might be spared to a name I

can never hear without a secret pang, even when simply mentioned.

Oh, then, how severe a one is added, when its sound is

accompanied by the hardest aspersions!

I returned when I could, and the subject was over.

When all were gone Mrs. Schwellenberg said, "I have told it Mr.

Fisher that he drove you out from the room, and he says he won't

not do it no more."

She told me next--that in the second volume I also was mentioned.

Where she may have heard this I cannot gather, but it has given

me a sickness at heart inexpressible. It is not that I expect

severity: for at the time of that correspondence--at all times,

indeed, previous to the marriage with Piozzi, if Mrs. Thrale

loved not F. B., where shall we find faith in words, or give

credit to actions? But her present resentment, however unjustly

incurred, of my constant disapprobation of her conduct, may

prompt some note, or other mark, to point out her change of

sentiments--but let me try to avoid such painful expectations; at

least, not to dwell upon them.

O, little does she know how tenderly at this moment I could run

again into her arms, so often opened to receive me with a

cordiality I believed inalienable. And it was sincere then, I am

satisfied: pride, resentment of disapprobation, and consciousness

of unjustifiable proceedings --- these have now

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changed her: but if we met, and she saw and believed my faithful

regard, how would she again feel all her own return!

Well, what a dream am I making!

Jan. 11.-Upon this ever-interesting subject, I had to-day a very

sweet scene with the queen. While Mrs. Schwellenberg and myself

were both in our usual attendance at noon, her majesty inquired

of Mrs. Schwellenberg if she had yet read any of the "Letters"?

"No," she answered, "I have them not to read."

I then said she had been so obliging as to lend them to me, to

whom they were undoubtedly of far greater personal value.

"That is true," said the queen; "for I think there is but little

in them that can be of much consequence or value to the public at

large."

"Your majesty, you will hurt Miss Burney if you speak about that;

poor Miss Burney will be quite hurt by that."

The queen looked much surprised, and I hastily exclaimed, "O,

no!--not with the gentleness her majesty names it."

Mrs. Schwellenberg then spoke in German; and, I fancy, by the

names she mentioned, recounted how Mr. Turbulent and Mr. Fisher

had "driven me out of the room."

The queen seemed extremely astonished, and I was truly vexed at

this total misunderstanding; and that the goodness she has

exerted upon this occasion should seem so little to have

succeeded. But I could not explain, lest it should seem to

reproach what was meant as kindness in Mrs. Schwellenberg, who

had not yet discovered that it was not the subject, but her own

manner of treating it, that was so painful to me.

However, the instant Mrs. Schwellenberg left the room, and we

remained alone, the queen, approaching me in the softest manner,

and looking earnestly in my face, said, "You could not be

offended, surely, at what I said."

"O no, ma'am," cried I, deeply indeed penetrated by such

unexpected condescension. "I have been longing to make a speech

to your majesty upon this matter; and it was but yesterday that I

entreated Mrs. Delany to make it for me, and to express to your

majesty the very deep sense I feel of the lenity with which this

Subject has been treated in my hearing."

"Indeed," cried she, with eyes strongly expressive of the

complacency with which she heard me, "I have always spoke as

little as possible upon this affair. I remember but twice that I

have named it: once I said to the Bishop of Carlisle,

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that I thought most of these letters had better have been spared

the printing; and once to Mr. Langton, at the Drawing-room, I

said, 'Your friend Dr. Johnson, sir, has had many friends busy to

publish his books, and his memoirs, and his meditations, and his

thoughts; but I think he wanted one friend more.' 'What for?

ma'am,' cried he; 'A friend to suppress them,' I answered. And,

indeed, this is all I ever said about the business."

A PAIR OF PARAGONS.

.....I was amply recompensed in spending an evening the most to

my natural taste of any I have spent officially under the royal

roof. How high Colonel Wellbred stands with me you know; Mr.

Fairly., with equal gentleness, good breeding, and delicacy, adds

a far more general turn for conversation, and seemed not only

ready, but pleased, to open upon subjects of such serious import

as were suited to his state of mind, and could not but be

edifying, from a man of such high moral character, to all who

heard him.

Life and death were the deep themes to which he .led; and the

little space between them, and the little value of that space

were the subject of his comments. The unhappiness of man at

least after the ardour of his first youth, and the near

worthlessness of the world, seemed so deeply impressed on his

mind, that no reflection appeared to be consolatory to it, save

the necessary shortness of our mortal career. . . .

"Indeed," said he, "there is no time--I know of none--in which

life is well worth having. The prospect before us is never such

as to make it worth preserving, except from religious motives."

I felt shocked and sorry. Has he never tasted happiness, who so

deeply drinks of sorrow? He surprised me, and filled me, indeed,

with equal wonder and pity. At a loss how to make an answer

sufficiently general, I made none at all, but referred to Colonel

Wellbred: perhaps he felt the same difficulty, for he said

nothing; and Mr. Fairly then gathered an answer for himself, by

saying, "Yes, it may, indeed, be attainable in the only actual as

well as only right way to seek it,--that of doing good!"

"If," cried Colonel Wellbred, afterwards, "I lived always in

London, I should be as tired of life as you are: I always sicken

of it there, if detained beyond a certain time."

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They then joined in a general censure of dissipated life, and a

general distaste of dissipated characters, which seemed, however,

to comprise almost all their acquaintance; and this presently

occasioned Mr. Fairly to say,

"It is, however, but fair for you and me to own, Wellbred, that

if people in general ,'are bad, we live chiefly amongst those who

are the worst."

Whether he meant any particular set to which they belong, or

whether his reflection went against people in high life, such 'as

constitute their own relations and connexions in general, I

cannot say, as he did not explain himself.

Mr. Fairly, besides the attention due to him from all, in

consideration of his late loss, merited from me peculiar

deference, in return for a mark I received of his disposition to

think favourably of me from our first acquaintance: for not more

was I surprised than pleased at his opening frankly upon the

character of my coadjutrix, and telling me at once, that when

first he saw me here, just before the Oxford expedition, he had

sincerely felt for and pitied me. . . .

Sunday, Jan. 13.-There is something in Colonel Wellbred so

elegant, so equal, and so pleasing, it is impossible not to see

him with approbation, and to speak of him with praise. But I

found in Mr. Fairly a much greater depth of understanding, and

all his sentiments seem formed upon the most perfect basis of

religious morality.

During the evening, in talking over plays and players, we all

three united warmly in panegyric of Mrs. Siddons; but when Mrs.

Jordan was named, Mr. Fairly and myself were left to make the

best of her. Observing the silence of Colonel Wellbred, we

called upon him to explain it.

"I have seen her," he answered, quietly, "but in one part."

"Whatever it was," cried Mr. Fairly, "it must have been well

done."

"Yes," answered the colonel, "and so well that it seemed to be

her real character: and I disliked her for that very reason, for

it was a character that, off the stage or on, is equally

distasteful to me--a hoyden."

I had had a little of this feeling myself when I saw her in "The

Romp,"(251) where she gave me, in the early part, a real disgust;

but afterwards she displayed such uncommon humour that it brought

me to pardon her assumed vulgarity, in favour of a representation

of nature, which, In its particular class, seemed to me quite

perfect.

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MR. TURBULENT'S SELF CONDEMNATION.

At the usual tea-time I sent Columb, to see if anybody had come

upstairs. He brought me word the eating-parlour was empty. I

determined to go thither at once, with my work, that there might

be no pretence to fetch me when the party assembled; but upon

opening the door I saw Mr. Turbulent there, and alone!

I entered with readiness into discourse with him, and showed a

disposition to placid good-will, for with so irritable a spirit

resentment has much less chance to do good than an appearance of

not supposing it deserved. Our conversation was in the utmost

gravity. He told me he was not happy, though owned he had

everything to make him so; but he was firmly persuaded that

happiness in this world was a real stranger. I combated this

misanthropy in general terms; but he assured me that such was his

unconquerable opinion of human life.

How differently did I feel when I heard an almost similar

sentiment from Mr. Fairly! In him I imputed it to unhappiness of

circumstances, and was filled with compassion for his fate: in

this person I impute it to something blameable within, and I

tried by all the arguments I could devise to give him better

notions. For him, however, I soon felt pity, though not of the

same composition : for he frankly said he was good enough to be

happy-that he thought human frailty incompatible with happiness,

and happiness with human frailty, and that he had no wish so

strong as to turn monk!

I asked him if he thought a life of uselessness and of goodness

the same thing?

"I need not be useless," he said; "I might assist by my counsels.

I might be good in a monastery--in the world I cannot! I am not

master of my feelings: I am run away by passions too potent for

control!"

This was a most unwelcome species of confidence, but I affected

to treat it as mere talk, and answered it only slightly, telling

him he spoke from the gloom of the moment.

"No," he answered, "I have tried in vain to conquer them. I have

made vows--resolutions--all in vain! I cannot keep them!"

"Is not weakness," cried I, "sometimes fancied, merely to save

the pain and trouble of exerting fortitude."

"No, it is with me inevitable. I am not formed for success in

self-conquest. I resolve--I repent--but I fall! I blame--

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reproach--I even hate myself--I do everything, in short, yet

cannot save myself! Yet do not," he continued, seeing me shrink,

"think worse of me than I deserve: nothing of injustice, of

ill-nature, of malignancy--I have nothing of these to reproach

myself with."

"I believe you," I cried, "and surely, therefore, a general

circumspection, an immediate watchfulness---"

"No, no, no--'twould be all to no purpose."

"'Tis that hopelessness which is most your enemy. If you would

but exert your better reason--"

"No, madam, no!--'tis a fruitless struggle. I know myself too

well--I can do nothing so right as to retire--to turn monk--

hermit."

"I have no respect," cried I, "for these selfish seclusions. I

can never suppose we were created in the midst of society, in

order to run away to a useless solitude. I have not a doubt but

you may do well, if you will do well."

Some time after he suddenly exclaimed, "Have you--tell me--have

you, ma'am, never done what you repent?"

O "yes!--at times."

"You have?" he cried, eagerly.

"O yes, alas!--yet not, I think, very often--for it is not very

often I have done anything!"

"And what is it has saved you?"

I really did not know well what to answer him; I could say

nothing that would not sound like parade, or implied superiority.

I suppose he was afraid himself of the latter ; for, finding me

silent, he was pleased to answer for me.

"Prejudice, education, accident!--those have saved you."

"Perhaps so," cried I. "And one thing more, I acknowledge myself

obliged to, on various occasions--fear. I run no risks that I

see--I run--but it is always away from all danger that I

perceive."

"You do not, however, call that virtue, ma'am--you do not call

that the rule of right?"

"No--I dare not--I must be content that it is certainly not the

rule of wrong."

He began then an harangue upon the universality of depravity and

frailty that I heard with much displeasure; for, it seems to me,

those most encourage such general ideas of

general worthlessness who most wish to found upon them partial

excuses for their own.

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MISS BURNEY AMONG HER OLD FRIENDS.

Jan. 31.--And now I must finish my account of this month by my

own assembly at my dear Mrs. Ord's.

I passed through the friendly hands of Miss Ord to the most

cordial ones of Mrs. Garrick,(252) who frankly embraced me,

saying, "Do I see you, once more, before I die, my tear little

spark? for your father is my flame, all my life, and you are a

little spark of that flame!"

She added how much she had wished to visit me at the queen's

house, when she found I no longer came about the world; but that

she was too discreet, and I did not dare say "Do come!"

unauthorized.

Then came Mr. Pepys, and he spoke to me instantly, of the

'Streatham Letters.' He is in agony as to his own fate, but said

there could be no doubt of my faring well. Not, I assured him,

to my own content, if named at all.

We were interrupted by Sir Joshua Reynolds. I was quite glad to

see him; and we began chatting with all our old spirit,

and he quite raved against my present life of confinement, an the

invisibility it had occasioned, etc., etc.

The approach of Mrs. Porteus stopped this. She is always most

obliging and courteous, and she came to inquire whether now she

saw I really was not wholly immured, there was any chance of a

more intimate cultivation of an acquaintance long begun, but

stopped in its first progress. I could only make a general

answer of acknowledgment to her kindness. Her bishop, whom I had

not seen since his preferment from Chester to London, joined us,

and most good-naturedly entered into discourse upon my health.

I was next called to Mrs. Montagu, who was behind with no one in

kind speeches, and who insisted upon making me a visit at the

queen's house, and would take no denial to my fixing my own time,

whenever I was at leisure, and sending her word; and she promised

to put off any and every engagement for that Purpose. I could

make no other return to such

Page 83

civility, but to desire to postpone it till my dear Mr. and Mrs.

Locke came to town, and could meet her.

Mrs. Boscawen(253) was my next little t`ete-`a-t`ete, but I had

only begun it when Mr. Cambridge came to my side.

"I can't get a word!" cried he, with a most forlorn look, "and

yet I came on purpose!" I thanked him, and felt such a real

pleasure in his sight, from old and never-varying regard, that I

began to listen to him with my usual satisfaction. He related to

me a long history of Lavant, where the new-married Mrs. Charles

Cambridge is now very unwell: and then he told me many good

things of his dear and deserving daughter; and I showed him her

muff, which she had worked for me, in embroidery, and we were

proceeding a little in the old way, when I saw Mrs. Pepys leaning

forward to hear us; and then Lady Rothes, who also seemed all

attention to Mr. Cambridge and his conversation.

The sweet Lady Mulgrave came for only a few words, not to take

me, she said, from older claimants; the good and wise Mrs.

Carter(254) expressed herself with equal kindness and goodness on

our once more meeting; Miss Port, looking beautiful as a little

angel, only once advanced to shake hands, and say, "I can see you

another time, so I won't be unreasonable now."

Mr. Smelt, who came from Kew for this party, made me the same

speech, and no more, and I had time for nothing beyond a "how do

do " with Mr. Langton, his Lady Rothes,(255) Mr. Batt, Mr.

Cholmondoley, Lord Mulgrave, Sir Lucas Pepys, and Lady Herries.

Then up came Mrs. Chapone, and, after most cordially shaking

hands with me, "But I hope," she cried, "you are not always to

appear only as a comet, to be stared at, and then vanish? If you

are, let me beg at least to be brushed by your tail, and not hear

you have disappeared before my telescope is ready for looking at

you!"

When at last I was able to sit down, after a short conference

with every one, it was next to Mr. Walpole,(256) who had secured

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me a place by his side ; and with him was my longest

conversation, for he was in high spirits, polite, ingenious,

entertaining, quaint, and original.

But all was so short!--so short!--I was forced to return home so

soon! 'Twas, however, a very great regale to me, and the sight of

so much kindness, preserved so entire after so long an absence,

warmed my whole heart with pleasure and satisfaction. My dearest

father brought me home.

SOME TRIVIAL COURT INCIDENTS.

Friday, Feb. 1.-To-day I had a summons in the morning to Mrs.

Schwellenberg, who was very ill; so ill as to fill me with

compassion. She was extremely low-spirited, and spoke to me with

quite unwonted kindness of manner, and desired me to accept a

sedan-chair, which had been Mrs. Haggerdorn's, and now devolved

to her, saying, I might as well have it while she lived as when

she was dead, which would soon happen.

I thanked her, and wished her, I am sure very sincerely, better.

Nor do I doubt her again recovering, as I have frequently seen

her much worse. True, she must die at last, but who must not?

Feb. 2.-The king always makes himself much diversion with Colonel

Goldsworthy, whose dryness of humour and pretended servility of

submission, extremely entertain him. He now attacked him upon

the enormous height of his collar, which through some mistake of

his tailor, exceeded even the extremity of fashion. And while

the king, who was examining and pulling it about, had his back to

us, Colonel Wellbred had the malice to whisper me, "Miss Burney,

I do assure you it is nothing to what it was; he has had two

inches cut off since morning!

Fortunately, as Colonel Wellbred stood next me, this was not

heard for the king would not easily have forgotten. He soon

after went away, but gave no summons to his gentlemen.

And now Colonel Wellbred gave me another proof of his

extraordinary powers of seeing. You now know, my dear friends,

that in the king's presence everybody retreats back, as far as

they can go, to leave him the room to himself. In all this,

through the disposition of the chairs, I was placed so much

behind Colonel Wellbred as to conclude myself out of his sight;

but the moment the king retired, he said, as

Page 85

we all dropped on Our seats, "Everybody is tired--Miss Burney the

most--for she has stood the stillest. Miss Planta has leant on

her chair, Colonel Goldsworthy against the wall, myself

occasionally on the screen, but Miss Burney has stood perfectly

still--I perceived that without looking."

'Tis, indeed, to us standers, an amazing addition to fatigue to

keep still.

We returned to town next day. In the morning I had had a very

disagreeable, though merely foolish, embarrassment. Detained, by

the calling in of a poor woman about a subscription, from

dressing myself, I was forced to run to the queen, at her

summons, without any cap. She smiled, but said nothing. Indeed,

she is all indulgence in those points of externals, which rather

augments than diminishes my desire of showing apparent as well as

my feeling of internal respect but just as I had assisted her

with her peignoir, Lady Effingham was admitted, and the moment

she sat down, and the hair-dresser began his office, a page

announced the Duke of York, who instantly followed his name.

I would have given the world to have run away, but the common

door of entrance and exit was locked, unfortunately, on account

of the coldness of the day; and there was none to pass, but that

by which his royal highness entered, and was standing. I was

forced. therefore, to remain, and wait for dismission.

Yet I was pleased, too, by the sight of his affectionate manner

to his royal mother. He flew to take and kiss her hand, but she

gave him her cheek; and then he began a conversation with her, so

open and so gay, that he seemed talking to the most intimate

associate.

His subject was Lady Augusta Campbell's elopement from. the

masquerade. The Duchess of Ancaster had received masks at her

house on Monday, and sent tickets to all the queen's household.

I, amongst the rest, had one; but it was impossible I could be

spared at such an hour, though the queen told me that she had

thought of my going, but could not manage it, as Mrs.

Schwellenberg was so ill. Miss Planta went, and I had the entire

equipment of her. I started the Project of dressing her at Mrs.

Delany's, in all the most antique and old-fashioned things we

could borrow; and this was Put very happily in execution, for she

was, I have heard, one of the best and most grotesque figures in

the room.

(239) Henry William Bunbury, the well-known caricaturist. He was

connected by marriage with Colonel Gwynn, having married, in

1771, Catherine, the "Little Comedy," sister of the "Jessamy

Bride."-ED.

(240) i.e., of the Play which was to be read by Mrs. Siddons.

See P- 55.-ED.

(241) This excellent comedy was completed by Colley Cibber, from

an unfinished play of Sir John Vanbrugh's.-ED.

(242) See note 210, ante, vol. 1, P. 370.-ED.

(243) Mr. Anthony Shepherd, Plumian Professor of Astronomy at

Cambridge. We meet with him occasionally in the "Early Diary:"

"dullness itself" Fanny once calls him (in 1774).-ED.

(244) Fanny's maid.-ED.

(245) Susan Phillips and the Lockes had stayed at Windsor from

the 10th to the 17th of September.-ED.

(246) This magnificent panegyric relates to a young amateur,

William Locke, the son of Fanny's friends, Mr. and Mrs. Locke.

But there was more than a little of the amateur about Mr.

Bunbury himself. His works bear no comparison with those of the

great masters of caricatured Rowlandson and Gulray.-ED.

(247) Fanny's man-servant, a Swiss.-ED.

(248) Mr. Fisher was a canon at Windsor, and an amateur

landscape-painter. He had recently married.-ED.

(249) "Letters to and from Dr. Johnson," published by Mrs. Piozzi

in 1788.-ED.

(250) Thrale's only son died, a child, in March, 1776.--ED.

(251) A farce, adapted from Bickerstaff's opera, "Love in the

City."-ED.

(252) Eva Maria Feigel, a Viennese dancer, whom Garrick married

in 1749. Fanny writes of her in 1771: "Mrs. Garrick is the most

attentively polite and perfectly well-bred woman in the world;

her speech is all softness; her manners all elegance; her smiles

all sweetness. There is something so peculiarly graceful in her

motion, and pleasing in her address, that the most trifling words

have weight and power, when spoken by her, to oblige and even

delight." ("Early Diary," vol. i. p. 111.) She died in 1822;

her husband in 1779.-ED.

(253) The Hon. Mrs. Boscawen, widow of Admiral Boscawen.-ED.

(254) Elizabeth Carter, the celebrated translator of Epictetus.

She was now in her seventieth year, and had been for many years

an esteemed friend of Dr. Johnson. She died in 1806.-ED. , '

(255) Mr. Langton's wife was the Countess dowager of Rothes,

widow of the eighth earl. Lady Jane Leslie, who married Sir

Lucas Pepys, the physician, also enjoyed, in her own right, the

title of Countess of Rothes.-ED.

(256) Horace Walpole. -E D.

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