12 January 1789 – 18 January 1789

A melancholy day: news bad both at home and abroad. At home the dear unhappy king still worse—abroad new examinations voted of the physicians! Good heaven! what an insult does this seem from parliamentary power, to investigate and bring forth to the world every circumstance Of such a malady as is ever held sacred to secrecy in the most private families! How indignant we all feel here no words can say.

The two younger Willises, Dr. John and Mr. Thomas, came upstairs in the afternoon, to make a visit to Mrs. Schwellenberg. I took the opportunity to decamp to my own room, where I found Mr. Fairly in waiting. In the course of conversation that followed, Mrs. Carter was named: Mr. Smelt is seriously of opinion her ode is the best in our language. I spoke of her very highly, for indeed I reverence her. Learning in women was then Our theme. I rather wished to hear than to declaim upon this subject, yet I never seek to disguise that I think it has no recommendation of sufficient value to compensate its evil excitement of envy and satire. He spoke with very uncommon liberality on the female powers and intellects, and protested he had never, in his commerce with the world, been able to discern any other inferiority in their parts than what resulted from their Pursuits-and yet, with all this, he doubted much whether he had ever seen any woman who might not have been rather better without than with the learned languages, one only excepted. He was some time silent, and I could not but suppose he meant his correspondent, Miss Fuzilier; but, with a very tender sigh, he said, “And she was my mother,—who neglected nothing else, while she cultivated Latin, and who knew it very well, and would have known it very superiorly, but that her brother disliked her studying, and one day burnt all her books!” This anecdote led to one in return, from myself. I told him, briefly the history of Dr. Johnson’s most kind condescension, in desiring to make me his pupil, and beginning to give me regular lessons of the Latin language, and i proceeded to the speedy conclusion—my great apprehension,—conviction rather,—that what I learnt of so great a man could never be private, and that he himself would contemn concealment, if any progress should be made; which to Me was sufficient motive for relinquishing the scheme, and declining the honour, highly as I valued it, of obtaining Such a master—“and this,” I added, “though difficult to be done without offending, was yet the better effected, as my father himself likes and approves all accomplishments for women better than the dead languages.”

I must now mention a rather singular conversation. I had no opportunity last night to name, as usual, my visitor; but I have done it so often, so constantly indeed, that I was not uneasy In the omission. But this morning, while her hair was dressing, my royal Mistress suddenly said, “Did you see any body yesterday?” I could not but be sure of her meaning, and though vexed to be anticipated in my avowal, which had but waited the departure of the wardrobe-woman, Sandys, I instantly answered, “Yes, ma’am; Mr. Smelt in the morning and Mr. Fairly in the evening.” “O! Mr. Fairly was here, then?” I was now doubly sorry she should know this only from me! He had Mentioned being just come from town, but I had concluded Lady Charlotte Finch, as usual, knew of his arrival, and had made it known to her Majesty. A little while after,—“Did he go away from you early?” she said. “No, ma’am,” I Immediately answered, “not early: he drank tea with Me, as he generally does, I believe, when he is here for the night.” “Perhaps,” cried she after a pause, “the gentlemen below do not drink tea.” “I cannot tell, ma’am, I never heard him say; I only know he asked me if I would give him some, and I told him yes, with great pleasure.” Never did I feel so happy in unblushing consciousness of internal liberty as in this little catechism! However, I soon found I had Mistaken the Motive of the catechism: it was not on account of Mr. Fairly and his visit; it was all for Mrs. Schwellenberg and her no visits; for she soon dropped something of “poor Mrs. Schwellenberg” and her Miserable state, that opened her whole meaning.

The public birthday of my poor royal mistress. How sadly did she pass it; and how was I filled With sorrow for her reflections upon this its first anniversary for these last twenty-eight years in which the king and the nation have not united in its celebration! All now was passed over in silence and obscurity; all observance of the day was prohibited, both abroad and at home. The poor king whose attention to times and dates is unremittingly exact, knew the day, and insisted upon seeing the queen and three of the princesses; but—it was not a good day.