The Diary and Collected Letters of Madame D'Arblay, Frances Burney. Frances Burney
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.
Major Price and Colonel Polier
The Duke de Saxe–Gotha, first cousin to the king, came to Windsor today, to spend some time. Major Price, who had the honours to do to his chief attendant, Baron ——, missed us therefore at coffee; but at tea we had them both, and my dear Mrs. Delany, as well as the jovial gourmand colonel, with whom I became prodigiously well acquainted, by making him ‘teach me a few German phrases, which he always contrives, let me ask what question I may, to turn into some expression relating to eating and drinking.
When all were gone, except the Duke de Saxe–Gotha’s baron and Major Price, I had a very long conversation with the major, while Mrs. Schwellenberg was entertaining the baron in German. I find, my dearest Susan, he has seen you often at Lady Clarges’s; Sir Thomas173 was his first cousin. He knows my dearest Mrs. Locke, also, by another cousin, Lady Templetown; and he knows me my own self by my cousins of Worcester. These mutual acquaintances have brought us into almost an intimacy at once, and I was quite glad of this opportunity of a little easy and natural conversation.
Sunday, July 23—Charles Wesley played the organ; and after the service was over he performed six or seven pieces by the king’s order. They were all of Handel, and so well suited to the organ, and so well performed on a remarkably good instrument, that it was a great regale to me to hear them. The pleasure I received from the performance led me into being too late for the queen. I found I had already been enquired for to attend at the queen’s toilette.
When I came back the tea-party were all assembled in the eating-parlour. Colonel Polier was in the highest spirits: the king had just bestowed some appointment upon him in Hanover. He was as happy as if just casting his eyes upon pine-apple, melon, and grapes. I made Mrs. Schwellenberg teach me how to wish him joy in German: which is the only phrase I have yet got that has no reference to eating or drinking.
Miss Burney’s Daily Routine at Windsor
Monday, July 24—Having now journalized for one complete week, let me endeavour to give you, more connectedly, a concise abstract of the general method of passing the day, that then I may only write what varies, and occurs occasionally.
I rise at six o’clock, dress in a morning gown and cap, and wait my first summons, which is at all times from seven to near eight, but commonly in the exact half hour between them.
The queen never sends for me till her hair is dressed. This, in a morning, is always done by her wardrobe-woman, Mrs. Thielky, a German, but who speaks English perfectly well.
Mrs. Schwellenberg, since the first week, has never come down in a morning at all. The queen’s dress is finished by Mrs. Thielky and myself. No maid ever enters the room while the queen is in it. Mrs. Thielky hands the things to me, and I put them on. ’Tis fortunate for me I have not the handing them! I should never know which to take first, embarrassed as I am, and should run a prodigious risk of giving the gown before the hoop, and the fan before the neckkerchief.
By eight o’clock, or a little after, for she is extremely expeditious, she is dressed. She then goes out to join the king, and be joined by the princesses, and they all proceed to the king’s chapel in the Castle, to prayers, attended by the governesses of the princesses, and the king’s equerry. Various others at times attend, but only these indispensably.
I then return to my own room to breakfast. I make this meal the most pleasant part of the day; I have a book for my companion, and I allow myself an hour for it. At nine O’clock I send off my breakfast things, and relinquish my book, to make a serious and steady examination of everything I have upon my hands in the way of business—in which preparations for dress are always included, not for the present day alone, but for the Court-days, which require a particular dress; for the next arriving birthday of any of the royal family, every one of which requires new apparel; for Kew, where the dress is plainest; and for going on here, where the dress very pleasant to me, requiring no shew nor finery, but merely to be neat, not inelegant, and moderately fashionable.
That over, I have my time at my own disposal till a quarter before twelve, except on Wednesdays and Saturdays, when I have it only to a quarter before eleven. My rummages and business sometimes occupy me uninterruptedly to those hours. When they do not, I give till ten to necessary letters of duty, ceremony, or long arrears;—and now, from ten to the times I have mentioned, I devote to walking. These times mentioned call me to the irksome and quick-returning labours of the toilette. The hour advanced on the Wednesdays and Saturdays is for curling and craping the hair, which it now requires twice a week.
A quarter before one is the usual time for the queen to begin dressing for the day. Mrs. Schwellenberg then constantly attends; so do I; Mrs. Thielky, of course, at all times. We help her off with her gown, and on with her powdering things, and then the hair-dresser is admitted. She generally reads the newspaper during that operation.
When she observes that I have run to her but half dressed, she constantly gives me leave to return and finish—as soon as she is seated. If she is grave, and reads steadily on, she dismisses me, whether I am dressed or not; but at all times she never forgets to send me away while she is powdering, with a consideration not to spoil my clothes, that one would not expect belonged to her high station. Neither does she ever detain me without making a point of reading here and there some little paragraph aloud.
When I return, I finish, if anything is undone, my dress, and then take Baretti’s “Dialogues,” my dearest Fredy’s “Tablet of Memory,” or some such disjointed matter, for the few minutes that elapse ere I am again summoned.
I find her then always removed to her state dressing-room. If any room in this private mansion can have the epithet of state. There, in a very short time, her dress is finished. She then says she won’t detain me, and I hear and see no more of her till bed-time.
It is commonly three o’clock when I am thus set at large. And I have then two hours quite at my disposal: but, in the natural course of things, not a moment after! These dear and quiet two hours, my only quite sure and undisturbed time in the whole day, after breakfast is over, I shall henceforth devote to thus talking with my beloved Susan, my Fredy, and my other sisters, my dear father, or Miss Cambridge; with my brothers, cousins, Mrs. Ord, and other friends, in such terms as these two hours will occasionally allow me. Henceforward,