MISS BURNEY IN A NEW CAPACITY.
March 2.—-In one of our Windsor excursions at this time, while I was in her majesty’s dressing-room, with only Mr. de Luc present, she suddenly said, “Prepare yourself, Miss Burney, with all your spirits, for to-night you must be reader.”
She then added that she recollected what she had been told by my honoured Mrs. Delany, of my reading Shakspeare to her, and was desirous that I should read a play to herself and the princesses; and she had lately heard, from Mrs. Schwellenberg, “nobody could do it better, when I would.”
I assured her majesty it was rather when I could, as any reading Mrs. Schwellenberg had heard must wholly have been better or worse according to my spirits, as she had justly seemed to suggest.
The moment coffee was over the Princess Elizabeth came for me. I found her majesty knotting, the princess royal drawing, Princess Augusta spinning, and Lady Courtown I believe in the same employment, but I saw none of them perfectly well.
“Come, Miss Burney,” cried the queen, “how are your spirits?—How is your voice?”
“She says, ma’am,” cried the kind Princess Elizabeth, “she shall do her best!”
This had been said in attending her royal highness back. I could only confirm it, and that cheerfully—to hide fearfully.
I had not the advantage of choosing my play, nor do I know what would have been my decision had it fallen to my lot. Her majesty, had just begun Colman’s works, and “Polly Honeycomb” was to open my campaign.
“I think,” cried the queen most graciously, “Miss Burney will read the better for drawing a chair and sitting down." “Wes, mamma! I dare say so!” cried Princess Augusta and Princess Elizabeth, both in a moment.
The queen then told me to draw my chair close to her side. I made no scruples. Heaven knows I needed not the addition of standing! but most glad I felt in being placed thus near, as it saved a constant painful effort of loud reading.
“Lady Courtown,” cried the queen, “you had better draw nearer, for Miss Burney has the misfortune of reading rather low at first.”
Nothing could be more amiable than this opening. Accordingly, I did, as I had promised, my best; and, indifferent as that was, it would rather have surprised you, all things considered, that it was not yet worse. But I exerted all the courage I possess, and, having often read to the queen, I felt how much it behoved me not to let her surmise I had any greater awe to surmount.
It is but a vulgar performance; and I was obliged to omit, as well as I could at sight, several circumstances very unpleasant for reading, and ill enough fitted for such hearers, it went off pretty flat. Nobody is to comment, nobody is to interrupt; and even between one act and another not a moment’s pause is expected to be made.
I had been already informed of this etiquette by Mr. Turbulent and Miss Planta; nevertheless, it is not only oppressive to the reader, but loses to the hearers so much spirit and satisfaction, that I determined to endeavour, should I again be called upon, to introduce a little break into this tiresome and unnatural profundity of respectful solemnity. My own embarrassment, however, made it agree with me for the present uncommonly well.
Lady Courtown never uttered one single word the whole time; yet is she one of the most loquacious of our establishment. But such is the settled etiquette.
The queen has a taste for conversation, and the princesses a good-humoured love for it, that doubles the regret of such an annihilation of all nature and all pleasantry. But what will not prejudice and education inculcate? They have been brought up to annex silence to respect and decorum: to talk, therefore, unbid, or to differ from any given opinion even when called upon, are regarded as high improprieties, if not presumptions.
They none of them do justice to their own minds, while they enforce this subjection upon the minds of others. I had not experienced it before; for when reading alone with the queen, or listening to her reading to me, I have always frankly spoken almost whatever has occurred to me. But there I had no other examples before me, and therefore I might inoffensively be guided by myself; and her majesty’s continuance of the same honour has shown no disapprobation of my proceeding. But here it was not easy to make any decision for myself: to have done what Lady Courtown forbore doing would have been undoubtedly a liberty.
So we all behaved alike and easily can I now conceive the disappointment and mortification of poor Mr. Garrick when he read “Lethe” to a royal audience. Its tameness must have tamed even him, and I doubt not he never acquitted himself so ill.