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the duke of Clarence happened to be present. And the two other princesses were full of the characters of the comedy, and called upon me to say which were my favourites, while they told me their own, at all our subsequent meetings for some time.

This is all I have been able to recollect of March in which my dearest readers might not themselves be writers. Chiefly I rejoice they witnessed the long-wished, long-dreaded interview with my formerly most dearly loved Mrs. Thrale— not writing it saves me much pang."

POETRY IN A PALACE.

"You may suppose my recovery was not much forwarded by a ball given at the Castle on TwelfthDay. The queen condescended to say that I might go to bed, and she would content herself with the wardrobe-woman, in consideration of my weak state; but then she exhorted me not to make it known to the Schwellenberg, who would be quite wretched at such a thing.

I returned my proper thanks, but declined the proposal, so circumstanced, assuring her majesty that it would make me wretched to have an indulgence that could produce an impropriety which would make Mrs. Schwellenberg so through my

means.

And now to enliven a little: what will you give me, fair ladies, for a copy of verses written between the queen of Great Britain and your most small little journalist?

The morning of the ball the queen sent for me, and said she had a fine pair of old-fashioned gloves, white, with stiff tops and a deep gold fringe, which she meant to send to her new master of the Horse, lord Harcourt, who was to be at the dance. She wished to convey them in a copy of verses, of which she had composed three lines, but could not get on. She told me her ideas, and I had the honour to help her in the metre; and now I have the honour to copy them from her own royal hand:

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nevertheless, the religious view in which your melancholy places it convinces me your grief will give way, when it can, and not be nourished repiningly or without effort. How, how shall I wish and pray, my dearest M., that a scene of new and permanent maternal comfort may repay, in some measure, your past afflictions, and awaken and enliven you to new happiness! I only fear the terror you will conceive from every possible alarm may lessen the coming consolation, by increasing its anxiety. Endeavour, my dear friend, endeavour, d'avance, to prepare your mind for a confidence without which you can enjoy nothing, and which, without exertion, will now surely fly you.

You

A singular instance of the unhappiness of wanting this confidence has lately fallen under my eyes. The mother of a very fine child felt and indulged a solicitude so great that, by degrees, it became a part of her existence; she was never without it,-in presence, in absence, in sickness, in health,‚—no matter which,-prosperity and adversity made no difference; and the anxiety grew to such a height that she is now threatened with a consumption herself, from no other cause. know, and may perhaps divine her. She used to walk out by the side of the nurse with a watch in her hand, to measure, to a minute, the exact time it spent in the air. She started forward to meet every passenger, and examine their appearance, before she suffered the child to proceed in its walk; and turned it to the right to avoid one face, and presently back to the left that it might not see another. She rose in the dead of night to go and look at it; she quitted all society two or three times in a visit, to examine it; and, in short, she made herself, her husband, and all her friends miserable by this constant distrust and apprehension, and is now, in a languishing and declining state, sent southward to try the change of air for herself, while all the time the child is one of the most healthy, beautiful, and robust I ever saw in my life.

What a world is this! can one help to exclaim, when the first of blessings can thus be rendered a scourge to our friends and an infelicity to ourselves? For this lady, who, happy in her conjugal fate, had no wish but for a child, has never known a tranquil day since her boon has been granted."

THE KING'S BIRTHDAY.

"June 4th, 1791. - Let me now come to the 4th, the last birthday of the good, gracious, benevolent king I shall ever, in all human probability, pass under his royal roof.

The thought was affecting to me, in defiance of my volunteer conduct, and I could scarce speak to the queen when I first went to her, and wished to say something upon a day so interesting. The king was most gracious and kind when he came into the state dressing-room at St. James's, and particularly inquired about my health and strength, and if they would befriend me for the day. I longed again to tell him how hard I would work them, rather than let them, on such a day, drive

me from my office; but I found it better suited me to be quiet; it was safer not to trust to any expression of loyalty, with a mind so full, and on a day so critical.

With regard to health, my side is all that is attended with any uneasiness, and that is sometimes a serious business. Certainly there is nothing premature in what has been done.

And-O picquet!-life hardly hangs on earth during its compulsion, in these months succeeding months, and years creeping, crawling, after years. At dinner Mrs. Schwellenberg presided, attired magnificently. Miss Goldsworthy, Mrs. Stainforth, Messrs. De Luc and Stanhope dined with us; and while we were still eating fruit, the duke of Clarence entered.

He was just risen from the king's table, and waiting for his equipage to go home and prepare for the ball. To give you an idea of the energy of his royal highness's language, I ought to set apart a general objection to writing, or rather intimating, certain forcible words, and beg leave to show you, in genuine colours, a royal sailor.

We all rose, of course, upon his entrance, and the two gentlemen placed themselves behind their chairs, while the footman left the room; but he ordered us all to sit down, and called the men back to hand about some wine. He was in exceeding high spirits and in the utmost good humour. He placed himself at the head of the table, next Mrs. Schwellenberg, and looked remarkably well, gay, and full of sport and mischief, yet clever withal, as well as comical.

Well, this is the first day I have ever dined with the king, at St. James's on his birthday. Pray, have you all drunk his majesty's health?"

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No, your roy'l highness: your roy'l highness might make dem do dat," said Mrs. Schwellenberg.

"O, by - will I Here, you (to the footman); bring champagne! I'll drink the king's health again, if I die for it! Yet, I have done pretty well already: so has the king, yet I promise you! I believe his majesty was never taken such good care of before. We have kept his spirits up, I promise you; we have enabled him to go through his fatigues; and I should have done more still, but for the ball and Mary-I have promised to dance with Mary!"

Princess Mary made her first appearance at court to-day she looked most interesting and unaffectedly lovely: she is a sweet creature, and perhaps, in point of beauty, the first of this truly beautiful race, of which princess Mary may be called pendant to the prince of Wales.

Champagne being now brought for the duke, he ordered it all round. When it came to me I whispered to Westerhaults to carry it on: the duke slapped his hand violently on the table, and called out, "O, by you shall drink it!"

There was no resisting this. We all stood up, the duke sonorously gave the royal toast.

"And now," cried he, making us sit down again, "where are my rascals of servants? I sha'nt be in time for the ball; besides, I've got a deuced tailor waiting to fix on my epaulette!

Here, you, go and see for my servants! d'ye hear? Scamper off!"

Off ran William.

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Come, let's have the king's health again. De Luc, drink it. Here, champagne to De Luc!" I wish you could have seen Mr. De Luc's mixed simper-half pleased, half alarmed. However, the wine came and he drank it, the duke taking a bumper for himself at the same time.

"Poor Stanhope!" cried he; "Stanhope shall have a glass too! Here, champagne! what are you all about? Why don't you give champagne to poor Stanhope?”

Mr. Stanhope, with great pleasure, complied, and the duke again accompanied him.

"Come hither, do you hear?" cried the duke to the servants; and on the approach, slow and submissive, of Mrs. Stainforth's man, he hit him a violent slap on the back, calling out, "Hang you! why don't you see for my rascals?"

Away flew the man, and then he called out to Westerhaults, "Hark'ee! bring another glass of champagne to Mr. De Luc!"

Mr. De Luc knows these royal youths too well to venture at so vain an experiment as disputing with them; so he only shrugged his shoulders and drank the wine. The duke did the same.

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"And now, poor Stanhope," cried the duke; "give another glass to poor Stanhope, d'ye hear?" Is not your royal highness afraid," cried Mr. Stanhope, displaying the full circle of his borrowed teeth, "I shall be apt to be rather up in the world, as the folks say, if I tope on at this rate?"

"Not at all! you can't get drunk in a better cause. I'd get drunk myself if it was not for the ball. Here, champagne! another glass for the philosopher! I keep sober for Mary."

"O, your royal highness!" cried Mr. De Luc, gaining courage as he drank, "you will make me quite droll of it if you make me go on,- quite droll!"

"So much the better! so much the better! it will do you a monstrous deal of good. Here, another of champagne for the queen's philosopher!"

Mr. De Luc obeyed, and the duke then addressed Mrs. Schwellenberg's George. "Here! you! you! why, where is my carriage? run and see, do you hear?"

Off hurried George, grinning irrepressibly.

"If it was not for that deuced tailor, I would not stir. I shall dine at the Queen's house on Monday, Miss Goldsworthy; I shall come to dine with princess royal. I find she does not go to Windsor with the queen."

The queen meant to spend one day at Windsor, on account of a review which carried the king that way.

Some talk then ensued upon the duke's new carriage, which they all agreed to be the most beautiful that day at court. I had not seen it, which, to me, was some impediment against praising it.

He then said it was necessary to drink the queen's health.

The gentlemen here made no demur, though

Mr. De Luc arched his eyebrows in expressive fear

of consequences.

The passage was made so narrow by attendants, that they were all forced to go one by one. "A bumper," cried the duke, "to the queen's First, all the king's great state-officers, amongst gentleman-usher."

whom I recognized lord Courtown, Treasurer of

They all stood up and drank the queen's the Household; lord Salisbury carried a candle! health.

"Here are three of us," cried the duke, "all belonging to the queen; the queen's philosopher, the queen's gentleman-usher, and the queen's son; but, thank Heaven, I'm nearest!"

"Sir," cried Mr. Stanhope, a little affronted, "I am not now the queen's gentleman-usher; I am the queen's equerry, sir."

"A glass more of champagne here! What are you all so slow for? Where are all my rascals gone? They've put me in one passion already this morning. Come, a glass of champagne for the queen's gentleman-usher!" laughing heartily. "No, sir," repeated Mr. Stanhope; "I am equerry now, sir."

-'tis an odd etiquette. These being passed, came the king-he saw us and laughed; then the queen's Master of the Horse, lord Harcourt, who did ditto; then some more.

The Vice-Chamberlain carries the queen's candle, that she may have the arm of the Lord Chamberlain to lean on; accordingly, lord Aylesbury, receiving that honour, now preceded the queen: she looked amazed at sight of us. The kind princesses one by one acknowledged us. I spoke to sweet princess Mary, wishing her royal highness joy; she looked in a delight and an alarm nearly equal. She was to dance her first minuet. Then followed the Ladies of the Bedchamber, and lady Harcourt was particularly civil. Then the Maids

us.

"And another glass to the queen's philoso- of Honour, every one of whom knew and spoke to pher!" I peered vainly for the Duke of Clarence, but none of the princes passed us. What a crowd brought up the rear! I was vexed not to see the Prince of Wales.

Neither gentleman objected; but Mrs. Schwellenberg, who had sat laughing and happy all this time, now grew alarmed, and said, "Your royal highness, I am afraid for the ball!"

"Hold you your potato-jaw, my dear," cried the duke, patting her; but, recollecting himself, he took her hand and pretty abruptly kissed it, and then, flinging it hastily away, laughed aloud, and called out, 66 There! that will make amends for anything, so now I may say what I will. So here! a glass of champagne for the queen's philosopher and the queen's gentleman-usher! Hang me if it will not do them a monstrous deal of good?"

Here news was brought that the equipage was in order. He started up, calling out, "Now, then, for my deuced tailor."

"O, your royal highness!" cried Mr. De Luc, in a tone of expostulation, "now you have made us droll, you go!"

Off, however, he went. And is it not a curious scene? All my amaze is, how any of their heads bore such libations.

In the evening, I had by no means strength to encounter the ball-room. I gave my tickets to Mrs. and Miss Douglass.

Mrs. Stainforth was dying to see the princess Mary in her court dress. Mr. Stanhope offered to conduct her to a place of prospect. She went with him. I thought this preferable to an unbroken evening with my fair companion, and, Mr. De Luc thinking the same, we both left Mrs. Schwellenberg to unattire, and followed. But we were rather in a scrape by trusting to Mr. Stanhope after all this champagne: he had carried Mrs. Stainforth to the very door of the ball-room, and there fixed her-in a place which the king, queen, and suite, must brush past in order to enter the ball-room. I had followed, however, and the crowds of beef-eaters, officers, and guards, that lined all the state-rooms through which we exhibited ourselves, prevented my retreating alone. I stood, therefore, next to Mrs. Stainforth, and saw the ceremony.

Well, God bless the king! and many and many such days may he know!

I was now so tired as to be eager to go back; but the queen's philosopher, the good and most sober and temperate of men, was really a little giddy with all his bumpers, and his eyes, which were quite lustrous, could not fix any object steadily: while the poor gentleman-usher-equerry, I mean-kept his mouth so wide open with one continued grin,—I suppose from the sparkling beverage, that I was every minute afraid its pearly ornaments, which never fit their case, would have fallen at our feet. Mrs. Stainforth gave me a significant look of making the same observation, and, catching me fast by the arm, said, "Come, Miss Burney, let's you and I take care of one another;" and then she safely toddled me back to Mrs. Schwellenberg, who greeted us with saying, “Vel! bin you much amused? Dat prince Villiamoders de duke de Clarence-bin raelly ver merry oders vat you call tipsy."

ARCHINTA, MARGHERITA,

Was born in Milan towards the beginning of the sixteenth century. She was of noble birth, but more distinguished for her talent than for this accident of nature. She composed many lyric poems, and pieces of music, according to the taste of that age.

ARMYNE, LADY MARY,

DAUGHTER of Henry Talbot, fourth son of George, earl of Shrewsbury, married Sir William Armyne, and distinguished herself by her knowledge of history, divinity, and of the languages. She was very liberal to the poor, and contributed largely to the support of the missionaries sent to North America. She endowed three hospitals; and died in 1675.

ARNAUDE DE ROCAS,

ONE of the daughters of Chypriotes, who, after the taking of Nicosie, in 1570, was carried away by the Turks and held in captivity. Arnaude, destined by her beauty for the seraglio of the sultan, was, with several of her companions, put into a vessel about to sail for Constantinople. But, preferring death to dishonour, the heroic maiden contrived, in the dead of night, to convey fire to the powder-room, and perished, amidst the wreck of the vessel, with the victims of her desperation.

ARNAULD, MARIE ANGELIQUE, SISTER of Robert, Antoine, and Henri Arnauld, was abbess of the Port-Royal convent, and distinguished herself by the reformation and sanctity she introduced there, and also at the convent of Maubuisson, where she presided five years. She returned to Port-Royal, and died in 1661, aged seventy. Her mother and six of her sisters passed the evening of their life in her convent.

She was early distinguished for her capacity and her virtues. While at Maubuisson, she became acquainted with St. Francis de Sales, bishop of Geneva, who continued through his whole life to correspond with her. She displayed peculiar skill and sagacity in the changes she introduced into the convents under her control. Careful to exact nothing of the nuns of which she had not set the example, she found, in the respect and emulation she inspired, an engine to which constraint is powerless. Self-denial, humility, and charity, were among the most prominent of her virtues.

ARNAULD, ANGELIQUE,

NIECE to the celebrated Marie Angelique Arnauld, abbess of Port-Royal, entered the cloister at six years of age, and formed herself upon the model of her aunts, by whom she was educated. She inherited their virtues and endowments, and was at length elevated to the same station, which she filled with equal dignity and capacity. She was distinguished for her taste and penetration, and for her eloquence and facility in speaking and composition. She died January 29th, 1684, at the age of fifty-nine.

ARNAULD, CATHARINE AGNES,

WAS chosen, while yet in her noviciate, by her elder sister, Marie Angelique, to be the mistress of the novices at the convent of Port-Royal. During the five years that Marie Angelique passed in the abbey at Maubuisson, Catharine was entrusted with the government of Port-Royal, and appointed coadjutrix with her sister, who was desirous of resigning it wholly to her management. Agnes, respected and beloved by the nuns, instructed them no less by her example than by her eloquent discourses. She was equally celebrated for her talents and her piety. She was the author of two small treatises, entitled "Le Chapelet Secret du Saint Sacrament," and "L'Image de la Réligeuse, parfaite et imparfaite." The former was censured by some members of the Sorbonne, and it was suppressed.

Catharine Agnes Arnauld died February 19th, 1671, at the age of seventy-seven.

ARNOULT, SOPHIE,

A PARISIAN actress, born at Paris, February 17th, 1740. Her father kept a hôtel garni, and gave her a good education. Nature endowed her with wit, sensibility, a charming voice, and great personal attractions. Chance brought her upon the stage, where she delighted the public from 1757 to 1778. The princess of Modena happened to be in retirement at the Val de Grâce, and was struck with a very fine voice that sang at evening mass. Sophie Arnoult was the songstress; and on the princess speaking of her discovery, she was obliged, against her mother's wish, to join the royal choir. This paved the way for Sophie to the Parisian opera, where she soon became queen. All persons of rank, and all the literati, sought her society; among the latter, were D'Alembert, Diderot, Helvétius, Duclos, and Rousseau. She was compared to Aspasia and Ninon de l'Enclos. Her wit was so successful, that her bons mots were collected. It was sometimes severe, yet it made her no enemies. She died in 1802. In the beginning of the revolution, she bought the parsonage at Luzarche, and transformed it into a country-house, with this inscription over the door, Ite missa est. Her third son, Constant Dioville de Brancas, colonel of cuirassiers, was killed at the battle of Wagram.

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ARRAGON, JOAN OF,

WAS the wife of Ascanio Colonna, prince of Tagliacozza, who was made grand constable of the kingdom of Naples by Charles V., in 1520. He assisted the imperial forces when Rome was besieged, under the command of Bourbon, in 1527, and obtained a great reputation for bravery and military skill. Like all the petty sovereigns of that age of war and violence, his life was one of vicissitude and agitation. He died in the state prison of Castel Nuovo, at Naples, in 1557. He has been accused of traitorous practices with the French, at that time at war with his country; other authorities say that he was incarcerated by orders of the Inquisition. His son, Marc Antonio

Colonna, appears to have been one of those heroes, "Impiger iracundus, inexorabilis acer," born to give and take blows all his life. His gallantry at the battle of Lepanto, and daring actions while viceroy of Sicily, merit the praise of a good soldier. He died, it is supposed, by poison; no unusual close of the stormy existences of the leaders of that time.

Of Joan herself, there are no anecdotes recorded. Nothing is known of the events of her life; but a more widely-spread contemporary celebrity is attached to few women. All the writers of her epoch, speak of her in terms that appear hyperbolical, so very extravagant are their epithetsdivine, perfect, adorable, are the least of these. She is very much commended for her good judgment, practical sense, courage, and fortitude; but we are no where told how or where she exerted these qualities. Agostine Ninfo, a physician and philosophic writer, in speaking of perfect beauty, proposes Joan of Arragon as an example. Eulogies were composed to her honour by the greatest wits of her time; and in most languages, as Greek, Latin, Italian, French, Spanish, Sclavonic, Polonese, Hungarian, and even Hebrew and Chaldean; one of the most singular monuments, undoubtedly, that gallantry ever raised to female merit. This homage was decreed her in 1555, at Venice, in the Academy of Dubbiosi, and a volume was published there in 1558, a few years before her death, ❘ with this magnificent title, "Temple to the divine Lady Signora Joan of Arragon-constructed by all the most elegant minds, in all the polite languages of the world." She died in 1577.

ARRAGON, TULLIA D',

lady Arundel, whose husband was then at Oxford, replied, that she had the orders of her lord to keep the castle, and those orders she was determined to obey. On this reply the battery commenced, and continued without intermission for nearly six days. The castle contained but twentyfive fighting-men; and wearied with exertion their strength began to fail, when the ladies and their maid-servants took their place in keeping watch, and loading their muskets. The women and children were repeatedly offered safety if the besieged would surrender, but they chose rather to perish than to buy their own lives at the expense of those of their brave soldiers.

At length, reduced to extremity, lady Arundel was forced to surrender, after making stipulations that the lives of all in the fortress should be spared, &c. The conditions were agreed to, but all excepting that relating to their personal safety were violated. Lady Arundel, and her children, were carried prisoners to Shaftesbury, where her two sons, children of seven and nine, were taken from her. She died October 29th, 1649, at the age of sixty-six. Her husband had died at Oxford, in 1643, of wounds he received in the battle of Lansdown, in the service of Charles I.

Lady Arundel is buried with her husband, near the altar of an elegant chapel, at Wardour Castle. On the monument is an inscription, which, after giving their titles and ancestry, thus concludes : "This lady, as distinguished for her courage as for the splendour of her birth, bravely defended, in the absence of her husband, the castle of Wardour, with a spirit above her sex, for nine days, with a few men, against Sir Edward Hungerford, Edmund Ludlow, and their army, and then delivered it up on honourable terms. Obit. 28 October, 1649, Etat. 66. Requiescat in pace. Who shall find a valiant woman? The price of her is as things brought from afar off, and from the uttermost coast. The heart of her husband trusteth

AN Italian poetess, who lived about the middle of the sixteenth century, was the natural daughter of Peter Tagliava d'Arragon, archbishop of Palermo and a cardinal, himself an illegitimate descendant of the royal house of Arragon. She was a woman of great beauty, genius, and education, in her.'-Prov. 31." so that the first scholars of the age celebrated her Girolamo praises with enthusiastic admiration. Muzio, by whom she was passionately beloved, expatiates, in the third book of his letters, on her talents and virtues; her perfections are the constant theme of his poems, in which she is sometimes spoken of under the name of Thalia and Syrrhenie.

One of her most celebrated productions was a poem, entitled "Dell 'Infinita d'Amor." She also wrote "Il Meschino," or "The Unfortunate One," a poetical romance. In her early years, she resided at Ferrara, Rome and Venice; but the latter part of her life she spent at Florence, where she died.

ARUNDEL, LADY BLANCHE,

A DAUGHTER of the earl of Worcester, and wife of lord Arundel of Wardour, is celebrated for her heroic defence of Wardour Castle, in Wiltshire, England. She was summoned to surrender, May 2d, 1643, by Sir Edward Hungerford, commanderin-chief of the parliamentary forces in Wiltshire, at the head of about thirteen hundred men; but

ARUNDEL, MARY,

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WAS the daughter of sir Thomas Arundel, knight. She was married, first to Robert Ratcliff, who died without issue, 1566; secondly, to Henry Howard, earl of Arundel.

She translated from English into Latin "The Wise Sayings and Eminent Deeds of the Emperor Alexander Severus." This translation is dedicated to her father; the manuscript is in the royal library at Westminster. She translated also from Greek into Latin, select "Sentences of the seven wise Grecian Philosophers." In the same library are preserved, of her writing, "Similies collected from the books of Plato, Aristotle, Seneca, and other philosophers," which she also dedicated to her father.

ASCHAM, MARGARET,

WAS married in 1554 to Roger Ascham, the celebrated preceptor of queen Elizabeth. Margaret brought a considerable fortune to her husband, and what was of more worth, a heart and mind willing and qualified to aid him. To her

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