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if not opulence, was within her reach, and that she was more than usually happy in her domestic circle, and when we compare the sacrifice which she was invited to make with the remuneration which was held out to her, we are divided between laughter and indignation.

we say of him who parts with his birthright, and does not get even the pottage in return? It is not necessary to inquire whether opulence be an adequate compensation for the sacrifice of bodily and mental freedom; for Frances Burney paid for leave to be a prisoner and a menial. It was evidently understood as one of the terms of her engagement, that, while she was a member of the royal household, she was not to appear before the public as an author: and, even had there been no such understanding, her avocations were such as left her no leisure for any consider

What was demanded of her was that she should consent to be almost as completely separated from her family and friends as if she had gone to Calcutta, and almost as close a prisoner as if she had been sent to gaol for a libel; that with talents which had instructed and delighted the highest living minds, she should now be employed only in mix-able intellectual effort. That her place ing snuff and sticking pins; that she should be summoned by a waiting woman's bell to a waiting woman's duties; that she should pass her whole life under the restraints of a paltry etiquette, should sometimes fast till she was ready to swoon with hunger, should sometimes stand till her knees gave way with fatigue; that she should not dare to speak or move without considering how her mistress might like her words and gestures. Instead of those distinguished men and women, the flower of all political parties, with whom she had been in the habit of mixing on terms of equal friendship, she was to have for her perpetual companion the chief keeper of the robes, an old hag from Germany, of mean understanding, of insolent manners, and of temper which, naturally savage, had now been exasperated by disease. Now and then, indeed, poor Frances might console herself for the loss of Burke's and Windham's society, by joining in the "celestial colloquy sublime" of his Majesty's Equerries.

was incompatible with her literary pursuits was indeed frankly acknowledged by the King when she resigned. "She has given up," he said, "five years of her pen." That during those five years she might, without painful exertion, without any exertion that would not have been a pleasure, have earned enough to buy an annuity for life much larger than the precarious salary which she received at court, is quite certain. The same income, too, which in Saint Martin's Street would have afforded her every comfort, must have been found scanty at Saint James's. We cannot venture to speak confidently of the price of millinery and jewellery; but we are greatly deceived if a lady, who had to attend Queen Charlotte on many public occasions, could possibly save a farthing out of a salary of two hundred a year. The principle of the arrangement was, in short, simply this, that Frances Burney should become a slave, and should be rewarded by being made a beggar.

With what object their Majesties brought her to their palace, we must own ourselves unable to conceive. Their object could not be to encourage her literary exertions; for they took her from a situation in which it was almost certain that she would write, and put her into a situation in which it was impossible for her to write. Their ob

And what was the consideration for which she was to sell herself to this slavery? A peerage in her own right? A pension of two thousand a year for life? A seventy-four for her brother in the navy? A deanery for her brother in the church? Not so. The price at which she was valued was her board, her lodging, the attendance of a man-ser-ject could not be to promote her pecuvant, and two hundred pounds a year.

The man who, even when hard pressed by hunger, sells his birthright for a mess of pottage, is unwise. But what shall

niary interest; for they took her from a situation where she was likely to become rich, and put her into a situation in which she could not but continue

poor. Their object could not be to merical hopes, on the other liberty, obtain an eminently useful waiting peace of mind, affluence, social enjoymaid; for it is clear that, though Miss ments, honourable distinctions. Strange Burney was the only woman of her to say, the only hesitation was on the time who could have described the death part of Frances. Dr. Burney was of Harrel, thousands might have been transported out of himself with delight. found more expert in tying ribands and Not such are the raptures of a Circasfilling snuff boxes. To grant her asian father who has sold his pretty pension on the civil list would have daughter well to a Turkish slavemerbeen an act of judicious liberality, chant. Yet Dr. Burney was an amiable honourable to the court. If this was man, a man of good abilities, a man impracticable, the next best thing was who had seen much of the world. But to let her alone. That the King and he seems to have thought that going to Queen meant her nothing but kind- court was like going to heaven; that to ness, we do not in the least doubt. But see princes and princesses was a kind their kindness was the kindness of per- of beatific vision; that the exquisite sons raised high above the mass of felicity enjoyed by royal persons was mankind, accustomed to be addressed not confined to themselves, but was with profound deference, accustomed communicated by some mysterious to see all who approach them morti- efflux or reflection to all who were suffied by their coldness and elated by fered to stand at their toilettes, or to their smiles. They fancied that to be bear their trains. He overruled all his noticed by them, to be near them, to daughter's objections, and himself esserve them, was in itself a kind of hap-corted her to her prison. The door piness; and that Frances Burney ought closed. The key was turned. She, to be full of gratitude for being per-looking back with tender regret on all mitted to purchase, by the surrender of that she had left, and forward with health, wealth, freedom, domestic affec-anxiety and terror to the new life on tion, and literary fame, the privilege of which she was entering, was unable to standing behind a royal chair, and speak or stand; and he went on his holding a pair of royal gloves. way homeward rejoicing in her marvellous prosperity.

And who can blame them? Who can wonder that princes should be And now began a slavery of five under such a delusion, when they are years, of five years taken from the best encouraged in it by the very persons part of life, and wasted in menial who suffer from it most cruelly? Was drudgery or in recreations duller than it to be expected that George the Third even menial drudgery, under galling and Queen Charlotte should under-restraints and amidst unfriendly or unstand the interest of Frances Burney interesting companions. The history better, or promote it with more zeal than herself and her father? No deception was practised. The conditions of the house of bondage were set forth with all simplicity. The hook was presented without a bait; the net was spread in sight of the bird: and the naked hook was greedily swallowed, and the silly bird made haste to entangle herself in the net.

It is not strange indeed that an invitation to court should have caused a fluttering in the bosom of an inexperienced young woman. But it was the duty of the parent to watch over the child, and to show her that on one side were only infantine vanities and chi

of an ordinary day was this. Miss Burney had to rise and dress herself early, that she might be ready to answer the royal bell, which rang at half after seven. Till about eight she attended in the Queen's dressing-room, and had the honour of lacing her august mistress's stays, and of putting on the hoop, gown, and neckhandkerchief. The morning was chiefly spent in rummaging drawers and laying fine clothes in their proper places. Then the Queen was to be powdered and dressed for the day. Twice a week her Majesty's hair was curled and craped; and this operation appears to have added a full hour to the business of the toilette. It

was generally three before Miss Burney | tient than women; for we are utterly

was at liberty. Then she had two hours at her own disposal. To these hours we owe great part of her Diary. At five she had to attend her colleague, Madame Schwellenberg, a hateful old toadeater, as illiterate as a chambermaid, as proud as a whole German Chapter, rude, peevish, unable to bear solitude, unable to conduct herself with common decency in society. With this delightful associate, Frances Burney had to dine, and pass the evening. The pair generally remained together from five to eleven, and often had no other company the whole time, except during the hour from eight to nine, when the equerries came to tea. If poor Frances attempted to escape to her own apartment, and to forget her wretchedness over a book, the execrable old woman railed and stormed, and complained that she was neglected. Yet, when Frances stayed, she was constantly assailed with insolent reproaches. Literary fame was, in the eyes of the German crone, a blemish, a proof that the person who enjoyed it was meanly born, and out of the pale of good society. All her scanty stock of broken English was employed to express the contempt with which she regarded the author of Evelina and Cecilia. Frances detested cards, and indeed knew nothing about them; but she soon found that the least miserable way of passing an evening with Madame Schwellenberg was at the cardtable, and consented, with patient sadness, to give hours, which might have called forth the laughter and the tears of many generations, to the king of clubs and the knave. of spades. Between eleven and twelve the bell rang again. Miss Burney had to pass twenty minutes or half an hour in undressing the Queen, and was then at liberty to retire, and to dream that she was chatting with her brother by the quiet hearth in Saint Martin's Street, that she was the centre of an admiring assemblage at Mrs. Crewe's, that Burke was calling her the first woman of the age, or that Dilly was giving her a cheque for two thousand guineas.

at a loss to conceive how any human being could endure such a life, while there remained a vacant garret in Grub Street, a crossing in want of a sweeper, a parish workhouse, or a parish vault. And it was for such a life that Frances Burney had given up liberty and peace, a happy fireside, attached friends, a wide and splendid circle of acquaintance, intellectual pursuits in which she was qualified to excel, and the sure hope of what to her would have been affluence.

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There is nothing new under the sun. The last great master of Attic eloquence and Attic wit has left us a forcible and touching description of the misery of a man of letters, who, lured by hopes similar to those of Frances, had entered the service of one of the magnates of Rome. Unhappy that I am," cries the victim of his own childish ambition: "would nothing content me but that I must leave mine old pursuits and mine old companions, and the life which was without care, and the sleep which had no limit save mine own pleasure, and the walks which I was free to take where I listed, and fling myself into the lowest pit of a dungeon like this? And, O God! for what? Was there no way by which I might have enjoyed in freedom comforts even greater than those which I now earn by servitude? Like a lion which has been made so tame that men may lead him about by a thread, I am dragged up and down, with broken and humbled spirit, at the heels of those to whom, in mine own domain, I should have been an object of awe and wonder. And, worst of all, I feel that here I gain no credit, that here I give no pleasure. The talents and accomplishments, which charmed a far different circle, are here out of place. I am rude in the arts of palaces, and can ill bear comparison with those whose calling, from their youth up, has been to flatter and to sue. Have I, then, two lives, that, after I have wasted one in the service of others, there may yet remain to me a second, which I may live unto myself?"

Now and then, indeed, events ocMen, we must suppose, are less pa-curred which disturbed the wretched

monotony of Frances Burney's life. | memorials of the illustrious dead. Had The court moved from Kew to Wind- she still been what she was before her sor, and from Windsor back to Kew. father induced her to take the most One dull colonel went out of waiting, fatal step of her life, we can easily and another dull colonel came into imagine what pleasure she would have waiting. An impertinent servant made derived from a visit to the noblest of a blunder about tea, and caused a mis- English cities. She might, indeed, understanding between the gentlemen have been forced to travel in a hack and the ladies. A half witted French chaise, and might not have worn so Protestant minister talked oddly about fine a gown of Chambery gauze as that conjugal fidelity. An unlucky mem- in which she tottered after the royal ber of the household mentioned a pas-party; but with what delight would sage in the Morning Herald, reflecting she have then paced the cloisters of on the Queen; and forthwith Madame Magdalene, compared the antique Schwellenberg began to storm in bad gloom of Merton with the splendour English, and told him that he made her of Christ Church, and looked down "what you call perspire!" from the dome of the Radcliffe Library A more important occurrence was on the magnificent sea of turrets and the King's visit to Oxford. Miss Bur- battlements below! How gladly would ney went in the royal train to Nuneham, learned men have laid aside for a few was utterly neglected there in the hours Pindar's Odes and Aristotle's crowd, and could with difficulty find Ethics, to escort the author of Cecilia a servant to show the way to her bed- from college to college! What neat room, or a hairdresser to arrange her little banquets would she have found curls. She had the honour of entering set out in their monastic cells! With Oxford in the last of a long string of what eagerness would pictures, medals, carriages which formed the royal pro- and illuminated missals have been cession, of walking after the Queen all brought forth from the most mysterious day through refectories and chapels, cabinets for her amusement! How and of standing, half dead with fatigue much she would have had to hear and and hunger, while her august mistress to tell about Johnson, as she walked was seated at an excellent cold colla-over Pembroke, and about Reynolds, tion. At Magdalene College, Frances in the antechapel of New College! But was left for a moment in a parlour, where she sank down on a chair. A goodnatured equerry saw that she was exhausted, and shared with her some apricots and bread, which he had wisely put into his pockets. At that moment the door opened; the Queen entered; the wearied attendants sprang up; the bread and fruit were hastily concealed. "I found," says poor Miss Burney, "that our appetites were to be supposed annihilated, at the same moment that our strength was to be invincible."

Yet Oxford, seen even under such disadvantages, "revived in her," to use her own words, "a consciousness to pleasure which had long lain nearly dormant." She forgot, during one moment, that she was a waiting maid, and felt as a woman of true genius might be expected to feel amidst venerable remains of antiquity, beautiful works of art, vast repositories of knowledge, and

these indulgences were not for one who had sold herself into bondage.

About eighteen months after the visit to Oxford, another event diversified the wearisome life which Frances led at court. Warren Hastings was brought to the bar of the House of Peers. The Queen and Princesses were present when the trial commenced, and Miss Burney was permitted to attend. During the subsequent proceedings a day rule for the same purpose was occasionally granted to her; for the Queen took the strongest interest in the trial, and, when she could not go herself to Westminster Hall, liked to receive a report of what had passed from a person who had singular powers of observation, and who was, moreover, acquainted with some of the most distinguished managers. The portion of the Diary which relates to this celebrated proceeding is lively and pic

ment.

cause she chose to differ from him respecting a vast and most complicated question, which he had studied deeply during many years, and which she had never studied at all? It is clear, from Miss Burney's own narrative, that when she behaved so unkindly to Mr. Burke, she did not even know of what Hastings was accused. One thing, however, she must have known, that Burke had been able to convince a House of Com

turesque. Yet we read it, we own, with | Was this a man to be uncivilly treated pain; for it seems to us to prove that by a daughter of Doctor Burney, bethe fine understanding of Frances Burney was beginning to feel the pernicious influence of a mode of life which is as incompatible with health of mind as the air of the Pomptine marshes with health of body. From the first day she espouses the cause of Hastings with a presumptuous vehemence and acrimony quite inconsistent with the modesty and suavity of her ordinary deportment. She shudders when Burke enters the Hall at the head of the Com-mons, bitterly prejudiced against himmons. She pronounces him the cruel self, that the charges were well founded, oppressor of an innocent man. She is and that Pitt and Dundas had conat a loss to conceive how the managers curred with Fox and Sheridan, in supcan look at the defendant, and not porting the impeachment. Surely a blush. Windham comes to her from woman of far inferior abilities to Miss the manager's box, to offer her refresh- Burney might have been expected to "But," says she, "I could not see that this never could have happened break bread with him." Then, again, unless there had been a strong case she exclaims, "Ah, Mr. Windham, how against the late Governor General. came you ever engaged in so cruel, so And there was, as all reasonable men unjust a cause?" "Mr. Burke saw me," now admit, a strong case against him. she says, "and he bowed with the most That there were great public services marked civility of manner." This, be to be set off against his great crimes is it observed, was just after his opening perfectly true. But his services and speech, a speech which had produced a his crimes were equally unknown to mighty effect, and which, certainly, no the lady who so confidently asserted other orator that ever lived, could his perfect innocence, and imputed to have made. "My curtsy," she con- his accusers, that is to say, to all the tinues, "was the most ungrateful, dis-greatest men of all parties in the state, tant, and cold; I could not do other- not merely error, but gross injustice wise; so hurt I felt to see him the head and barbarity. of such a cause." Now, not only had Burke treated her with constant kindness, but the very last act which he performed on the day on which he was turned out of the Pay Office, about four years before this trial, was to make Doctor Burney organist of Chelsea Hospital. When, at the Westminster election, Doctor Burney was divided between his gratitude for this favour and his Tory opinions, Burke in the noblest manner disclaimed all right to exact a sacrifice of principle. "You have little or no obligations to The truth is that she had been too me," he wrote; "but if you had as long at Court. She was sinking into a many as I really wish it were in my slavery worse than that of the body. power, as it is certainly in my desire, The iron was beginning to enter into to lay on you, I hope you do not think the soul. Accustomed during many me capable of conferring them, in order months to watch the eye of a mistress, to subject your mind or your affairs to to receive with boundless gratitude the a painful and mischievous servitude.”" | slightest mark of royal condescension,

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

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