of Norwich, the officiating
clergyman; and, the ceremony over, a cup of caudle was presented by the
earl to his Majesty on one knee, on a large gold waiter, placed on a
crimson velvet cushion. Misfortunes would occur in these interesting
genuflectory ceremonies of royal worship. Bubb Dodington, Lord Melcombe, a
very fat, puffy man, in a most gorgeous Court suit, had to kneel,
Cumberland says, and was so fat and so tight that he could not get up
again. "Kneel, sir, kneel!" cried my lord in waiting to a country mayor
who had to read an address, but who went on with his compliment standing.
"Kneel, sir, kneel!" cries my lord, in dreadful alarm. "I can't!" says the
mayor, turning round; "don't you see I have got a wooden leg?" In the
capital _Burney Diary and Letters_, the home and Court life of good old
King George and good old Queen Charlotte are presented at portentous
length. The king rose every morning at six: and had two hours to himself.
He thought it effeminate to have a carpet in his bedroom. Shortly before
eight, the queen and the royal family were always ready for him, and they
proceeded to the king's chapel in the castle. There were no fires in the
passages: the chapel was scarcely alight; princesses, governesses,
equerries grumbled and caught cold: but cold or hot, it was their duty to
go: and, wet or dry, light or dark, the stout old George was always in his
place to say Amen to the chaplain.

The queen's character is represented in _Burney_ at full length. She was a
sensible, most decorous woman; a very grand lady on state occasions,
simple enough in ordinary life; well read as times went, and giving shrewd
opinions about books; stingy, but not unjust; not generally unkind to her
dependants, but invincible in her notions of etiquette, and quite angry if
her people suffered ill-health in her service. She gave Miss Burney a
shabby pittance, and led the poor young woman a life which well-nigh
killed her. She never thought but that she was doing Burney the greatest
favour, in taking her from freedom, fame, and competence, and killing her
off with languor in that dreary Court. It was not dreary to her. Had she
been servant instead of mistress, her spirit would never have broken down:
she never would have put a pin out of place, or been a moment from her
duty. _She_ was not weak, and she could not pardon those who were. She was
perfectly correct in life, and she hated poor sinners with a rancour such
as virtue somet