I then thought I might venture to turn, and beheld Mr. Smelt, quite out of breath with running, but highly delighted to bring me word that the King had ordered me back, and into the room where they all were assembled, that I might not have two such walks in so high a wind, without rest.'-vol. iii. p. 215.

And on another occasion :

The royal family had all been to review Colonel Goldsworthy's regiment. Upon their return they saw through my windows that Mrs. Delany was with me, and the King and Queen both came in to speak to her. How they love her! and what mutual honour does such love confer on all three! The King counselled me to be as much as possible in the air, for the recovery of my strength, graciously naming to me that I should walk in the garden for that purpose-giving me, in those words, the licence with the advice. You may believe I would not let the day pass without accepting both.'-vol. iii. p. 363.

Our readers may perhaps be amused with two or three scenes, and we think the only ones in which Miss Burney describes His Majesty's deportment in his public character; everywhere else he is little better than Farmer George-a name which, though given by malice, by no means displeased the King's simple tastes and good old English feeling.

The first is, the King's behaviour on the attempt (2nd August, 1786) of Margaret Nicholson to assassinate him-a species of atrocity then unheard of, and which filled the nation with astonishment and indignation-feelings which the repetition of similar crimes has, since that first unhappy example, too frequently revived amongst us.

'While the guards and his own people now surrounded the King, the assassin was seized by the populace, who were tearing her away, no doubt to fall the instant sacrifice of her murtherous purpose, when the King, the only calm and moderate person then present, called aloud to the mob, "The poor creature is mad!-Do not hurt her! She has not hurt me!" He then came forward, and showed himself to all the people, declaring he was perfectly safe and unhurt; and then gave positive orders. that the woman should be taken care of, and went into the palace, and had his levee. There is something in the whole of his behaviour upon this occasion that strikes me as proof indisputable of a true and noble courage; for in a moment so extraordinary--an attack, in this country, unheard of before-to settle so instantly that it was the effect of insanity, to feel no apprehension of private plot or latent conspiracy-to stay out, fearlessly, among his people, and so benevolently to see himself to the safety of one who had raised her arm against his life-these little traits, all impulsive, and therefore to be trusted, have given me an impression of respect and reverence that I can never forget, and never think of but with fresh admiration.

The insanity of the woman has now fully been proved; but that

noble

noble confidence which gave that instant excuse for her was then all his own. Nor did he rest here; notwithstanding the excess of terror for his safety, and doubt of further mischief, with which all his family and all his household were seized, he still maintained the most cheerful composure, and insisted upon walking on the terrace, with no other attendant than his single equerry. The poor Queen went with him, pale and silent, the Princesses followed, scarce yet commanding their tears. In the evening, just as usual, the King had his concert: but it was an evening of grief and horror to his family; nothing was listened to, scarce a word was spoken; the Princesses wept continually; the Queen, still more deeply struck, could only, from time to time, hold out her hand to the King, and say "I have you yet!"

"The affection for the King felt by all his household has been at once pleasant and affecting to me to observe: there has not been a dry eye in either of the Lodges on the recital of his danger, and not a face but his own that has not worn marks of care ever since.'-vol. iii. pp. 45-48.

This conduct might have been expected from THE KING, from his innate courage, and from the habitual dignity and selfpossession which a reign of already six-and-twenty years would naturally create; but much more noble, or at least more surprising, was the hereditary spirit of his illustrious granddaughter on the late more trying occasion, in which we saw, with equal wonder and admiration, a young woman-a young sovereign-a young wife-a young mother-acting, not on a mere impulse, but with calm and considerate courage, and sense of duty, which would have done honour to the bravest and most experienced of her ancestors, and meeting a fore-known danger with no other fear than that of exposing her attendants to a risk which she felt it her own personal duty to disregard. History may be suspected of romancing on the theme of Edward and Eleanor; it does justice to George III., and will do so to Louis Philippe-all subjected to somewhat similar trials; but we cannot hesitate to say that nothing in ancient or modern story can exceed the amiable magnanimity, the gentle heroism of Queen Victoria, as attested by the indisputable evidence of the recent trial for High Treason.

Soon after the attack on King George the royal family paid that visit to Nuneham which was the source of so many tribulations to Miss Burney, and to Oxford, where, to do her justice, she seems to have almost forgotten herself in the enthusiasm which His Majesty's appearance after his recent danger lighted up:

The theatre was filled with company, all well dressed, and arranged in rows around it. The area below them was entirely empty, so that there was not the least confusion. The Chancellor's chair, at the head

of

of about a dozen steps, was prepared for the King; and just below him, to his left, a form for the Queen and the Princesses.

'The King walked foremost from the area, conducted by the University's Vice-Chancellor. The Queen followed, handed by her own Vice-Chamberlain. The Princess-Royal followed, led by the King's Aide-de-camp, General Harcourt; and Princess Augusta, leaning on Major Price. Princess Elizabeth walked alone, no other servant of the King being present, and no rank authorising such a conduct, without office.

Next followed the Duke and Duchess of Marlborough; then the Duchess of Ancaster, and Marquis of Blandford; next, Lord and Lady Harcourt, then the two Lady Spencers and Lady Charlotte Bertie, then the Miss Vernons, and then Miss Planta and a certain F. B.

'We were no sooner arranged, and the door of the theatre shut, than the King, his head covered, sat down; the Queen did the same, and then the three Princesses. All the rest, throughout the theatre, stood. The Vice-Chancellor then made a low obeisance to the King, and, producing a written paper, began the Address of the University, to thank his Majesty for this second visit, and to congratulate him and the nation on his late escape from assassination. He read it in an audible

and distinct voice; and in its conclusion an address was suddenly made to the Queen, expressive of much concern for her late distress, and the highest and most profound veneration for her amiable and exalted character.

The Queen could scarcely bear it, though she had already, I doubt not, heard it at Nuneham, as these addresses must be first read in private, to have the answers prepared. Nevertheless, this public tribute of loyalty to the King, and of respect to herself, went gratefully to her heart, and filled her eyes with tears-which she would not, however, encourage, but, smiling through them, dispersed them with her fan, with which she was repeatedly obliged to stop their course down her cheeks. The Princesses, less guarded, the moment their father's danger was mentioned, wept with but little control; and no wonder, for I question if there was one dry eye in the theatre. The tribute, so just, so honourable, so elegant, paid to the exalted character of the Queen, affected everybody, with joy for her escape from affliction, and with delight at the reward and the avowal of her virtues. When the address was ended the King took a paper from Lord Harcourt, and read his answer. King reads admirably; with ease, feeling, and force, and without any hesitation. His voice is particularly full and fine. I was very much surprised by its effect. When he had done, he took off his hat, and bowed to the Chancellor and Professors, and delivered the answer to Lord Harcourt, who, walking backwards, descended the stairs, and presented it to the Vice-Chancellor.

The

After this, the Vice-Chancellor and Professors begged for the honour of kissing the King's hand. Lord Harcourt was again the backward messenger; and here followed a great mark of goodness in the King: he saw that nothing less than a thorough-bred old courtier, such as Lord

Harcourt,

Harcourt, could walk backwards down these steps, before himself, and in sight of so full a hall of spectators; and he therefore dispensed with being approached to his seat, and walked down himself into the area, where the Vice-Chancellor kissed his hand, and was imitated by every Professor and Doctor in the room.'-vol. iii. pp. 95-97.

The following is interesting in a different style :

Monday, January 1st.-The King was to make an offering as Sovereign of the Garter. He was seated in the Dean of Windsor's stall, and the Queen sat by his side. The Princesses were in the opposite seats, and all of them at the end of the church. When the service was over, the offering ceremony began. The Dean and the Senior Canon went first to the communion-table: the Dean then read aloud, "Let your light so shine before men," &c. The organ began a slow and solemn movement, and the King came down from his stall, and proceeded, with a grave and majestic walk, towards the communiontable. When he had proceeded about a third of the way, he stopped, and bowed low to the altar: then he moved on, and again, at an equal distance, stopped for the same formality, which was a third and last time repeated as he reached the steps of the altar. Then he made his offering, which, according to the order of the original institution, was ten pounds in gold and silver, and delivered in a purse: he then knelt down, and made a silent prayer, after which, in the same measured steps, he returned to his stall, when the whole ceremony concluded by another slow movement on the organ. The air of piety, and the unaffected grace and dignity, with which the King performed this rite, surprised and moved me; Mr. Smelt, the most affectionate of his many loyal subjects, even shed tears from emotion, in looking at him in this serious office. The King, I am told, always acquits himself with true majesty, where he is necessarily to appear in state as a monarch.' -vol. iii. pp. 269, 270.

defi

We wish Miss Burney could have given us more of such scenes as these, instead of her squabbles with the Crutchleys, the Turbulents, and the Schwellenbergs. We have already intimated that, though living in the same house and in daily intercourse with their Majesties, her station did not enable her to form any part of their society; but still a woman of observation and sagacity might, if not wholly absorbed in self-admiration, have given us, without any undue betrayal of private confidence, or any ciency in duty to her royal patrons, many more valuable anecdotes than the few which these pages afford. We fully admit that in all she says of the royal family her narration is in better taste than any other portion of her Diary. We only lament that, talking so much, she says so little; and finding all the pages of the third volume so studded with the names of the King and Queen, we really have not been able to extract anything more interesting than we have presented to our readers.

The

The result of all is that we are conscientiously obliged to pronounce these three volumes to be-considering their bulk and pretensions-nearly the most worthless we have ever waded through, and that we do not remember in all our experience to have laid down an unfinished work with less desire for its continuation. That it may not mend as it proceeds, we cannot-where there is such room for improvement-venture to pronounce; and there is thus much to be said for it, that it can hardly grow worse.