I had been invited by Mr. Cambridge to pass a day at Twickenham with Mr. and Mrs. Hastings, who had proposed to carry me with them: accordingly, on May 24th, Mrs. Hastings sent her carriage here before ten o'clock. I made her and Mr. Hastings a visit of about half an hour previously to our journey. I am quite charmed with Mr. Hastings, and, indeed, from all I can gather, and all I can observe,—both which are but little,—he appears to me to be one of the greatest men now living, as a public character; while as a private one, his gentleness, candour, soft manners, and openness of disposition, make him one of the most pleasing.
The little journey was extremely agreeable. He spoke with the utmost frankness of his situation and affairs, and with a noble confidence in his certainty of victory over his enemies, from his consciousness of integrity and honour, that filled me with 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 long disturbances and labours. How rare, but how sweet and pleasant, the sight of such unions.
Monday, June, 1786.
... Yesterday evening, while I was with Mrs. Delany, Mr. Smelt arrived from Windsor, and desired a private conference with her; and, when it was over, a separate one with me: surprising me not a little, by entreating me to suffer some very home questions from him, relative to my situation, my views, and even my wishes, with respect to my future life. At first, I only laughed: but my merriment a little failed, me, when he gave me to understand he was commissioned to make these inquiries by a great personage, who had conceived so favourable an opinion of me as to be desirous of undoubted information, whether or not there was a probability she might permanently attach me to herself and her family.
You cannot easily, my dear Miss Cambridge, picture to yourself the consternation with which I received this intimation. It was such that the good and kind Mr. Smelt, perceiving it, had the indulgence instantly to offer me his services, first, in forbearing to mention even to my father his commission, and next in fabricating and carrying back for me a respectful excuse. And I must always consider myself the more obliged to him, as I saw in his own face the utmost astonishment and disappointment at this reception of his embassy.
I could not, however, reconcile to myself concealing from my dear father a matter that ought to be settled by himself; yet I frankly owned to Mr. Smelt that no situation of that sort was suited to my own taste, or promising to my own happiness.
He seemed equally sorry and surprised; he expatiated warmly upon the sweetness of character of all the royal family, and then begged me to consider the very peculiar distinction shown me, that, unsolicited, unsought, I had been marked out with such personal favour by the queen herself, as a person with whom she had been so singularly pleased, as to wish to settle me with one of the princesses, in preference to the thousands of offered candidates, of high birth and rank, but small fortunes, who were waiting and supplicating for places in the new-forming establishment. Her majesty proposed giving me apartments in the palace; 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 pounds a year. “And in such a situation,” he added, “so respectably offered, not solicited, you may have opportunities of serving your particular friends,—especially your father,—such as scarce any other could afford you.”
My dear Miss Cambridge will easily feel that this was a plea not to be answered. Yet the attendance upon this princess was to be incessant,—the confinement to the court continual; I was scarce ever to be spared for a single visit from the palaces, nor to receive anybody but with permission,—and, my dear Miss Cambridge, what a life for me, who have friends so dear to me, and to whom friendship is the balm, the comfort, the very support of existence!
Don't think me ungrateful, meanwhile, to the sweet queen, for thus singling out and distinguishing an obscure and most unambitious individual. No indeed, I am quite penetrated with her partial and most unexpected condescension; but yet, let me go through, for her sake, my tasks with what cheerfulness I may, the deprivations I must suffer would inevitably keep me from all possibility of happiness.
Though I said but little, my dear Mrs. Delany was disturbed and good Mr. Smelt much mortified, that a proposition which had appeared to them the most flattering and honourable, should be heard only with dejection. I cast, however, the whole into my father's disposal and pleasure.
But I have time for no more detail, than merely to say, that till the offer comes in form, no positive answer need be given, and therefore that I am yet at liberty. Write to me, then, my dearest Miss Cambridge, with all your fullest honesty, and let me know which you wish to strengthen—my courage in making my real sentiments openly known, or my fortitude in concealing what it may be right I should endure....
Monday Night,
I have now to add, that the zealous Mr. Smelt is just returned from Windsor, whither he went again this morning, purposely to talk the matter over with her majesty. What passed I know not,—but the result is, that she has desired an interview with me herself; it is to take place next Monday, at Windsor. I now see the end—I see it next to inevitable. I can suggest nothing upon earth that I dare say for myself, in an audience so generously meant. I cannot even to my father utter my reluctance,—I see him so much delighted at the prospect of an establishment he looks upon as so honourable. But for the queen's own word “permanent,”—but for her declared desire to attach me entirely to herself and family!—I should share in his pleasure; but what can make me amends for all I shall forfeit? But I must do the best I can.
Write me a comforting and strengthening letter, my dearest Miss Cambridge. I have no heart to write to Mickleham, or Norbury. I know how they will grieve:—they have expected me to spend the whole summer with them. My greatest terror is, lest the queen, from what Mr. Smelt hinted, should make me promise myself to her for a length of years. What can I do to avoid that? Anything that has a period is endurable but what can I object that will not sound ungrateful, to the honour she is doing me and meaning me? She has given the most highly flattering reasons for making this application, in preference to listening to that of others; she has put it upon terms of commendation the most soothing; she is, indeed, one of the sweetest characters in the world. Will you, too, condemn me, then, that I feel thus oppressed by her proposal? I hope not,—I think not;—but be very honest if you really do. I wish I could see you! It is not from nervousness;—I have always and uniformly had a horror of a life of attendance and dependence....
Monday, June 19.
How great must have been your impatience, dearest sir but my interview has only this morning taken place. Everything is settled, and to-morrow morning I go to the queen's Lodge, to see the apartments, and to receive my instructions.
I must confess myself extremely frightened and full of alarms at a change of situation so great, so unexpected, so unthought-of. Whether I shall suit it or not, heaven only knows, but I have a thousand doubts. Yet nothing could be sweeter than the queen,—more encouraging, more gentle, or more delicate. She did not ask me one question concerning my qualifications for the charge; she only said, with the most condescending softness, “I am sure, Miss Burney, we shall suit one another very well.” And, another time, “I am sure we shall do very well together.”
And what is it, dear Sir, you suppose to be my business? Not to attend any of the princesses—but the queen herself! This, indeed, was a delightful hearing, reverencing and admiring her as I have so sincerely done ever since I first saw her. And in this, my amazement is proportioned to my satisfaction; for the place designed me is that of Mrs. Haggerdorn, who came with her from Germany, and it will put me more immediately and more constantly 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 truly extraordinary, for it seems as if her real view was, as Mr. Smelt hinted, to attach me to her person. She has been long, she told Mrs. Delany, looking out for one to supply the place of Mrs. Haggerdorn, whose ill health forces her back to Germany; “and I was led to think of Miss Burney, first by her books; then by seeing her—then by always hearing how she was loved by her friends; 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 formality over, that was very disagreeable to my expectations. I have been introduced to Mrs. Haggerdorn whom I am to succeed, and to Mrs. Schwellenberg, whom I am to accompany. This passed at the queen's Lodge, in their own apartments, this morning. I cannot easily describe the sensation with which I entered that dwelling,—the thoughts of its so soon becoming my habitation,—and the great hazard of how all will go on in it—and the sudden change!
Everything was perfectly civil and easy; the queen had herself prepared them to receive me, and requested me to go. They made no use of the meeting in the way of business it was merely a visit of previous ceremony....
The utmost astonishment will take place throughout the Court when they hear of my appointment. Everybody has settled some successor to Mrs. Haggerdorn; and I have never, I am very sure, been suspected by a single person. I saw, this morning, by all that passed with Mrs. S., how unexpected a step her majesty has taken. The place, she told me, has been solicited, distantly, by thousands and thousands of women of fashion and rank....
St. Martin's Street, June 27.
... Her majesty has sent me a message, express, near a fortnight 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 of being constantly about her own person, and assisting in her toilette,—a place of much confidence, and many comforts; apartments in the palace; a footman kept for me; a coach in common with Mrs. Schwellenberg; 200 pounds a-year, etc.
I have been in a state of extreme disturbance ever since, from the reluctance I feel to the separation it will cause me from all my friends. Those, indeed, whom I most love, I shall be able to invite to me in the palace—-but I see little or no possibility of being able to make what I most value, excursions into the country.... I repine at losing my loved visits to Mickleham, Norbury, Chesington, Twickenham, and Ayle sham; all these I must now forego....
You may believe how much I am busied. I have been presented at the 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 workers suppose I am going to be married, and snigger every time they bring in any of my new attire. I do not care to publish the affair till it is made known by authority; so I leave them to their conjectures, and I fancy their greatest wonder is, who and where is the sposo; for they must think it odd he should never appear!
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 us to Windsor, and my father's carriage was merely to go as baggage-waggon for my clothes. But I wept not then. I left no one behind me to regret; my dear father accompanied me, and all my dear sisters had already taken their flight, never more to return. Even poor little Sarah.[203] whom I love very dearly, was at Chesington.
Between nine and ten o'clock we set off. We changed carriage in Queen Ann-street, and Mrs. Ord conveyed us thence to Windsor. With a struggling heart, I kept myself tolerably tranquil during the little journey. My dear father was quite happy, and Mrs. Ord felt the joy of a mother in relinquishing me to the protection of a queen so universally reverenced. Had I been in better spirits, their ecstasy would have been unbounded; but alas!—what I was approaching was not in my mind—what I was leaving had taken Possession of it solely.
Miss Port flew out to us as the carriage stopped—the youthful blush of pleasure heightening her complexion, and every feature shewing her kind happiness. Mrs. Delany, she said, was gone out with the queen. I took leave of my good Mrs. Ord, whose eyes overflowed with maternal feelings—chiefly of contentment. Mrs. Delany came home in about an hour. A chastened satisfaction was hers; 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 pity checked 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 have their majesties' commands to come to them is, to present themselves to the people in waiting, and by them to be announced. My heart, however, was already sinking, and my spirits every moment were growing more agitated, and my sweet Mrs. Delany determined to spare me the additional task of passing through such awe-striking formalities. She therefore employed my dear father—delighted with the employment—to write a note, in her name.
“Mrs. Delany presents her most humble duty to the queen; she found Dr. Burney and his daughter at her house. Miss Burney waits the honour of her majesty's commands.”
This, though unceremonious and unusual, she was sure the queen would pardon. A verbal answer came that I was to go to the Lodge immediately.
O, my dear Susan! in what an agony of mind did I obey the summons! I was still in my travelling dress, but could not stay to change it. My father accompanied me. Mrs. Delany, anxiously and full of mixed sensations, gave me her blessing. We walked; the queen's Lodge is not fifty yards from Mrs. Delany's door. My dear father's own courage all failed him in this little step; for as I was now on the point of entering—probably for ever—into an entire new way of life, and of foregoing by it all my most favourite schemes, and every dear expectation my fancy had ever indulged of happiness adapted to its taste—as now all was to be given up—I could disguise my trepidation no longer—indeed I never had disguised, I had only forborne proclaiming it. But my dear father 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 along I should drop by the way. I heard in his kind voice that he was now really alarmed; he would have slackened his pace, or have made me stop to breathe; but I could not; my breath seemed gone, and I could only hasten with all my might, lest my strength should go too.
A page was in waiting at the gate, who shewed us into Mrs. Haggerdorn's room, which was empty. My dear father endeavoured here to compose my spirits; I could have no other command over them than to forbear letting him know the afflicted state of all within, and to suffer him to keep to his own conclusions, that my emotion was all from fear of the approaching audience.
The page came in a minute or two to summon me to the queen. The queen was in her dressing-room. Mrs. Schwellenberg was standing behind her: nobody else present.
She received me with a most gracious bow of the head, and a smile that was all sweetness. She saw me much agitated, and attributed it, no doubt, to the awe of her presence. O, she little knew my mind had no room in it for feelings of that sort! She talked to me of my journey, my father, my sisters, and my brothers; the weather, the roads, and Mrs. Delany, any, every thing she could suggest, that could best tend to compose and to make me easy; and when I had been with her about a quarter of an hour, she desired Mrs. Schwellenberg to shew me my apartment, and, with another graceful bow, motioned my retiring.
Not only to the sweet queen, but to myself let me here do justice, in declaring that though I entered her presence with a heart filled with everything but herself, I quitted it with sensations much softened. The condescension of her efforts to quiet me, and the elegance of her receiving me, thus, as a visitor, without naming to me a single direction, without even the most distant hint of business, struck me to shew so much delicacy, as well as graciousness, that I quitted her with a very deep sense of her goodness, and a very strong conviction that she merited every exertion on my part to deserve it.
Mrs. Schwellenberg left me,—at the room door, where my dear father was still waiting for me, too anxious to depart till he again saw me.
We spent a short time together, in which I assured him I would from that moment take all the happiness in my power, and banish all the regret. I told him how gratifying had been my reception, and I omitted nothing I could think of to remove the uneasiness that this day seemed first to awaken in him, thank God! I had the fullest success; his hopes and gay expectations were all within call, and they ran back at the first beckoning.
This settled, and his dear countenance all fresh illumined with returning content, we went together to Mrs. Schwellenherg, where we made a visit of about an hour, in which I had the pleasure of seeing them upon very amicable terms; and then we had one more tete-a-tete all in the same cheering style, and he left me to drest, and went to dine with Mrs. Delany.
Left to myself, I did not dare stop to think, nor look round upon my new abode, nor consider for how long I was taking possession; I rang for my new maid, and immediately dressed for dinner. I now took the most vigorous resolutions to observe the promise I had made my dear father. Now all was filially settled, to borrow my 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 within me. I am married, my dearest Susan—I look upon it in that light—I was averse to forming the union, and I endeavoured to escape it; but my friends interfered—they prevailed—and the knot is tied. What then now remains but to make the best wife in my power? I am bound to it in duty, and I will strain every nerve to succeed.
When summoned to dinner, I found Mrs. Schwellenberg and a German officer, Colonel Polier, who is now an attendant of Prince Charles of Mecklenburg, the queen's brother, who is on a visit to their majesties. I was introduced to him and we took our places. I was offered the seat of Mrs. Haggerdorn, which was at the head of the table; but that was an undertaking I could not bear. I begged leave to decline it; and as Mrs. Schwellenberg left me at my own choice, I planted myself quietly at one side.
Colonel Polier, though a German officer, is of a Swiss family.
He is a fat, good-humoured man, excessively fond Of eating and drinking. His enjoyment of some of the fare, and especially of the dessert, was really laughable; he could never finish a speech he had begun, if a new dish made its appearance, without stopping to feast his eyes upon it, exclaim something in German, and suck the inside of his mouth; but all so openly, and with such perfect good-humour, that it was diverting without anything distasteful.
After dinner we went upstairs into Mrs. Schwellenberg's room, to drink coffee. This is a daily practice. Her rooms are exactly over mine; they are the same size, and have the same prospect, but they are much more sumptuously fitted up.
Colonel Polier soon left us, to attend Prince Charles. Mrs. Schwellenberg and I had then a long tete-a-tete, in which I found her a woman of understanding, and fond of conversation. I was called down afterwards to Miss Port, who was eager to see me in my new dwelling, and dying with impatience to know, hear, and examine everything about me. She ran about to make all the inquiries and discoveries she could for me, and was so highly delighted with my situation, it was impossible not to receive some 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 as herself to be my first visitor. She was quite fanciful and entertaining about my succeeding to Mrs. Haggerdorn, and repeatedly turned round to look at me fresh and fresh, to see if it was really me, and me in that so long differently appropriated apartment.
She had but just left me, when who should enter but my dear Mrs. Delany herself. This was indeed a sweet regale to me. She came to welcome me in my own apartment, and I am sure to teach me to love it. What place could I see her in and hate? I could hardly do anything but kiss her soft cheeks, and dear venerable hands, with gratitude for her kindness, while she stayed with me, which was till the royal family came home from the Terrace, which they walk upon every fine evening. She had already been invited to the king's concert, which she then attended.
Miss Port and I now planned that we would drink together. It was, indeed, my dearest Mrs. Locke's injunctions that determined me upon making that trial; for I knew nothing could more contribute to my future chance of some happy hours than securing this time and this repast to myself. Mrs. Delany had 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 was practicable or not, Miss Port undertook to be my agent. She therefore ran out, and scampered up and down the stairs and passages in search of some one to whom she could apply. She met at last Mrs. Schwellenberg's man, and boldly bid him “bring Miss Burney's tea.” “It is ready,” he answered, “in the dining parlour.” And then he came to me, with his mistress's compliments, and that she was come down to tea, and waited for me.
To refuse to go was impossible it would have been an opening so offensive, with a person destined for my principal companion, and who had herself begun very civilly and attentively, that I could not even hesitate. I only felt heavy-hearted, and Miss Port made a thousand faces, and together we went to the eating-room.
Mrs. Schwellenberg had already made the tea; and four gentlemen were seated at the table. The Bishop of Salisbury, as I afterwards found he was, came up to congratulate me, and spoke very kindly of my father, whom he said he had just seen on the Terrace. This is a brother of Lord Barrington's: I had never met him before.
Next him sat a young clergyman, Mr. Fisher, whom I did not recollect, but who said he had seen me once at Mrs. Ord's, and spoke to me of her, and of Mrs. Thrale, whom he had lately left in Italy, where he has been travelling.
And next was Major Price, the equerry of the king at present in waiting. He is the same that all the Barborne family so adored when a captain. He mentioned them all to me, with high praise and great good-breeding. I am very much pleased with him, and happy 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 and Mrs. Haggerdorn to receive at tea whatever company the king or queen invite to the Lodge, as it is only a very select few of them that can eat with their majesties, and those few are only ladies; no men, of what rank soever, being permitted to sit in the queen's presence. I mean and hope to leave this business wholly to Mrs. Schwellenberg, and only to succeed Mrs. Haggerdorn in personal attendance upon the queen.
During tea the door opened, and a young lady entered, upon whose appearance all the company rose, and retreated a few paces backward, with looks of high respect. She advanced to Mrs. Schwellenberg, and desired her to send a basin of tea into the music-room for Mrs. Delany: then walking up to me, with a countenance of great sweetness, she said, “I hope you are very well, Miss Burney?” I only curtseyed, and knew not till she left the room, which was as soon as she had spoken a few words to Major 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 in the music-room. I was very glad of this circumstance. Nothing was played but Handel; but I was pleased to hear any music, so much had I persuaded myself I should hear no more.
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 the king, and followed by the princess royal and Princess Augusta. None other of the princesses slept in the queen's Lodge. The lower Lodge, which is at the further end of the garden, is the dwelling-place of the four younger princesses.
The king, with a marked appearance of feeling for the—no doubt evident—embarrassment of my situation, on their entrance, with a mild good-breeding inquired of me how I had found Mrs. Delany: and then, kissing both his daughters, left the room. The two princesses each took the queen's hand, which they respectfully kissed, and wishing her good night, curtseyed condescendingly to her 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, with Mrs. Schwellenberg, who never speaks English but by necessity. I had no sort of employment given me. The queen was only waited upon by Mrs. Schwellenberg and Mrs. Thielky, her wardrobe woman; and when she had put on her night dishabille, she wished me good night.
This consideration to the perturbed state of my mind, that led her majesty to permit my presence merely as a spectatress, by way of taking a lesson of my future employment for my own use, though to her, doubtless, disagreeable, was extremely gratifying to me, and sent me to bed with as much ease as I now could hope to find.
Monday, July 8.—I rose at six, and was called to the queen soon after seven. Only Mrs. Schwellenberg was with her, and again she made me a mere looker-on; and the obligation I felt to her sent me somewhat lighter hearted from her presence.
When she was dressed, in a simple morning gown, she had her hat and cloak put on, to go to prayers at eight o'clock, at the king'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—so happy! so contented! so big with every pleasant expectation!—I rejoice to recollect that I did nothing, said nothing this morning to check his satisfaction; it was now, suddenly and at once, all my care to increase his delight. And so henceforward it must invariably continue.
We parted cheerfully on both sides; yet I saw a little pang in his last embrace, and felt it in his dear hands:—but I kept myself well up, and he left me, I really believe, without a wish ungratified.
At dressing-time the same quiet conduct was still observed by the queen—fixed in her benign determination to permit me to recover breath and ease, ere she gave me any other trial than merely standing in her presence.
At dinner we—I mean Mrs. Schwellenberg and myself—had Miss Planta and Colonel Polier; and I was happy to be again diverted with the excess of his satisfaction at sight of turtle upon the table.
In the evening I had a visit from Lady Elizabeth Waldegrave, who brought her sister, Lady Caroline Waldegrave, both to pay congratulatory compliments. Lady Elizabeth is lady of the bedchamber to the princess royal, and lives in this Lodge.
Her sister, by the queen's, goodness, is permitted to spend some months of every year with her. They were left orphans at about sixteen: the queen instantly took them both under her protection. They are gentle and well bred, and seem very amiable. They stayed with me till it was time for them to go into waiting for the princess royal, whom they attend to the Terrace.
My dearest Mrs. Delany came again, to visit me wholly, and drink tea with me. We had a thousand things to discuss, but were scarce a moment together before we were interrupted by Madame de la Fite, who, however, only stayed to give and receive from Mrs. Delany congratulations on meeting in my room at Windsor, and then she pretty soon took leave.
We had but again arranged ourselves to a little comfort, when a tat-tat at my door followed, and a lady entered whom I had never seen before, with a very courteous air and demeanour, saying, “I could not defer paying my compliments to Miss Burney, and wishing her much joy, which we must all feel in such an accession to our society: I must get my daughter to introduce me.” And then advanced Mrs. Fielding, and I found this was Lady Charlotte Finch.
Mrs. Fielding is one of the women of the bedchamber. She lives with her mother, Lady Charlotte, and her three daughters, girls from ten to fifteen years of age.
When she also wished me joy, I saw in her face a strong mark of still remaining astonishment at my appointment. Indeed all the people in office here are so evidently amazed that one so unthought of amongst them should so unexpectedly fill a place to which they had all privately appropriated some acquaintance, that I see them with difficulty forbear exclaiming, “How odd it is to see you here!”
Lady Charlotte's visit was short and very civil; she was obliged to hasten to the Castle, to attend the younger princesses till they went to the Terrace. They are sent to wait in an apartment of the Castle, till the king and queen and the elders walk out, and then they are called to join them, when the crowd is not great, and when the weather is fine.
My Windsor apartment is extremely comfortable. I have a large drawing-room, as they call it, which is on the ground floor, as are all the queen's rooms, and which faces the Castle and the venerable round tower, and opens at the further side, from the windows, to the little park. It is airy, pleasant, clean, and healthy, My bed-room is small, but neat and comfortable; its entrance is only from the drawing-room, and it looks to the garden. These two rooms are delightfully independent of all the rest of the house, and contain everything I can desire for my convenience and comfort.
In her way to my room, Mrs. Delany had met the king; she was a little shocked, and feared she came at an improper hour, or ought to have come in the back way. I know not if he had perceived her distress; but he soon removed It, for when he went out to go to the Terrace he looked towards my windows, and seeing her there, advanced a few steps to ask her how she did. The queen turned round and curtseyed to her, and the Princess Augusta ran up to speak to her.
I had retired behind her; but when they moved on, Miss Goldsworthy, the sub-governess, stole from her charges, and came to the window to desire Mrs. Delany to introduce' her to me.
Sweet Mrs. Delany, thwarted in her kind private views of an interesting confabulation, grew fatigued, and went home; and then Mrs. Fielding rose to accompany her. Miss Port made a second attempt for tea, but received for answer that Mrs. Schwellenberg would come down and make it as soon as the king and queen came from the Terrace.
The ceremony of waiting tea till the royal family return from the Terrace, is in order to make it for any company they may invite to it....
To-night, like the rest of my attendance, I was merely treated as if an accidental visitor. Sweet queen—she seems as fearful of employing me as I am myself of being employed.
July 20.—This morning the queen enquired of me if I loved walking? I answered yes; and she then told me I had better not leave 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 Lady Charlotte Finch, who is one of her sisters, and governess to the princesses.
I called also at Madame de la Fite's; but she was so urgent with me to prolong my stay, that I returned too late to dress for my noon attendance, and just as I was in the midst of my hair dishevelling, I was summoned.
I was obliged to slip on my morning gown, and a large morning cap, and run away as fast as possible. The queen, who was only preparing for her own hair-dresser, was already en peignoir: she sat down, the man was called in, and then, looking at me with a smile, she said “Now, Miss Burney, you may go and finish your dress.”
Away I gallopped as fast as possible, to be ready against her hair-dresser departed: but when I came pretty near my own apartment, I was stopped in the gallery by a lady, who coming up to me, said “Miss Burney?”
I started and looked at her; but finding her a perfect stranger to me, I only said “Ma'am!”—and my accent of surprise made her beg my pardon and walk on. I was too much in haste to desire any explanation, and was only quickening my pace, when I was again stopped by a gentleman with a star and red ribbon, who, bowing very civilly, said “Miss Burney, I presume?”
“Sir!—” was again all my answer and again, like the lady, he begged my pardon, and retreated and I was too seriously earnest to pursue my business to dare lose a moment. On, therefore, I again hurried; but, at the very door of my room, which is three steps down and three up place out of the even line of the gallery, I was once more stopped, by a very fat lady: who, coming up to me, also said “Miss Burney, I believe?”
“Yes, ma'am.”
“We have just,” cried she, “been to wait upon you,—but I could find nobody to introduce me; I believe I must introduce myself,—Lady Effingham.”
I thanked her for the honour she did me,—but when she proposed returning with me to my room, in order to finish her visit, I was quite disconcerted; and hesitated so much that she said “Perhaps it 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 so unused to such a plea, that it sounded as a liberty to my mind's voice, and I could not get it out.
She desired she might be no impediment to me,—and we parted I was forced to let her go and to run into my own room, and fly—to my toilette 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 the general change of system.
The lady who had met me first was her daughter, Lady Frances Howard; and the gentleman, her second husband, Sir George Howard.
I afterwards saw her ladyship in the queen's dressing-room, where her majesty sent for her as soon as she was dressed, and very graciously kept me some time, addressing me frequently while I stayed, in the conversation that took place, as if with a sweet view to point out to this first lady of her bedchamber I have yet seen, the favourable light in which she considers me.