catcalling epistle ' from the two; Mr. Crisp thinking that it recalled too strongly to its own disadvantage Moliere's ‘Femmes Savantes,’ a work which she had never read. Returning to her more natural occupation, she composed with great care her second novel, ‘Cecilia,’ which was published in five volumes in the summer of 1782. Macaulay had heard from contemporaries that it was expected as impatiently as any of Scott's novels; and the success was unequivocal. Three editions of ‘Evelina’ had consisted of 800, 500, and 1,000 copies; and a fourth edition had been published in the summer of 1779. The first edition of ‘Cecilia’ was of 2,000 copies, which were all sold in three months (Diary and Letters, i. 175 and vi. 66). She was now introduced to her admirer, Burke, who had praised her second work with an enthusiasm all but unqualified. Miss Burney had already been introduced to Mrs. Montagu, the female Mæcenas of the day; and her acquaintance was now (January 1783) sought by the venerable Mrs. Delany. In 1785 George III. assigned to Mrs. Delany a house at Windsor and a pension of 300l. a year. The Streatham household had been broken up after the death of Mr. Thrale; his widow's marriage (1784) to Piozzi led to a coolness between the friends, and Miss Burney attached herself to Mrs. Delany. Though always on good terms with her father and his wife, their affection seems to have been of the kind which is not cooled by absence and therefore, doubtless, does not dread separation. She helped Mrs. Delany to settle at Windsor, and there she was seen by the royal family, who were constantly dropping in at Mrs. Delany's house. She soon received the offer of an appointment to be second keeper of the robes, under Madame Schwellenberg. She was to have 200l. a year, a footman, and to dine at Madame Schwellenberg's table. After many misgivings she accepted the offer, partly in the belief that she would be able to serve her father. She was assured that there were ‘thousands of candidates of high birth and rank,’ and her appointment was regarded as matter for the warmest congratulation by Dr. Burney, Mrs. Delany, and her acquaintance generally. She accordingly entered upon her service 17 July 1786. A desire to compensate Dr. Burney for his failure in an application for the mastership of the king's band was probably one cause of the appointment. Her misgivings were amply fulfilled. Her duties were menial—those, in fact, of a lady's maid. She attended the queen's toilette three times a day, and spent much of the intervening time in looking after her own clothes. She rose early and went to bed late. She dined with Madame Schwellenberg, whom she describes as coarse, tyrannical, and ill-tempered. She was rarely permitted to see her friends, and her society was that of the backstairs of a court, a ‘weary, lifeless uniformity,’ relieved by petty scandal and squabbles. She always speaks of the king, the queen, and all the royal family with a fervent loyalty which verges, to say the least of it, upon adulation. But the queen, though kindly in intention, was a rigid upholder of etiquette, and Miss Burney, whose health was not strong, suffered under rules which sometimes kept her for hours upon trembling legs. Her diary, during her confinement to the court, is lively and interesting, especially the descriptions of the impeachment of Warren Hastings; of the scenes during the king's attack of insanity in 1788-9; and of various details of the domestic life of royalty during the courtly progresses. Of the fictitious names in the diary, Mr. Turbulent means La Guiffardière, French reader to the queen and princesses; Miss P. is Miss Port (afterwards Mrs. Waddington); Colonel Welbred is Colonel Greville; Colonel Fairly is the Hon. Stephen Digby, who lost his first wife, a daughter of Lord Ilchester, in 1787, and married Miss Gunning, called in the diary Miss Fuzilier, in January 1790. Colonel Digby talked poetry and religious sentiment to Miss Burney, who appears to have had a tender feeling for him, and to have been annoyed at his marriage. Her health became worse as time went on; her friends heard rumours of her decline; she confided at last to her father her desire to resign, and he seemed to admit the necessity, yet hesitated long, till there arose a general ‘outcry in their own little world’ (Memoirs of Dr. Burney, iii. 112). Windham declared that he would ‘set the literary club’ upon him to hasten his resolution; Boswell swore that all her friends were growing ‘outrageous;’ Reynolds, ‘all the Burkes,’ and even Horace Walpole protested against her seclusion; and at last, at the close of 1790, she entreated the queen's permission to retire in a humble memorial delivered with much trembling. After ‘a scene almost horrible’ with Madame Schwellenberg and long negotiations, she was at last permitted to retire, 7 July 1791, with a pension of 100l. a year. Miss Burney travelled for some time through different parts of England, and her health improved. Her sister Susanna (now Mrs. Phillips) was living at this time at Mickleham, close to Norbury Park, which belonged to the Lockes, old friends of the Burney family. Some of the French refugees had
