Royal Visit to Nuneham—A Present from the Queen—Official Exhortations— Embarrassments at Nuneham—A Laborious Sunday—Hairdressing—The Court visits Oxford—Journey thither—Reception by the University—Address and Reply—Kissing Hands—Christchurch—Fatigues of the Suite—Refreshment under Difficulties—A Surprise—The Routine of Court Life—The Equerries— Draughts in the Palace—Early Prayers—Barley-water—The London Season— Mrs. Siddons—Mrs. Schwellenberg’s Apartments—Her Tame Frogs—Her Behaviour to Miss Burney—Cruel Treatment—A Change for the Better— Newspaper Reports—Conversation with the Queen—Miss Burney as Reader— Her Attainments, Tastes, and Powers. A few days after the scene described at the end of our last chapter, the Court set out on a visit to Lord and Lady Harcourt at Nuneham. The arrangement was that the royal party should pass the first day with their host and hostess; spend the second and third in excursions to Oxford and Blenheim respectively, sleeping each night at Nuneham; and return the fourth day to Windsor. Miss Burney was informed that she was to be one of her Majesty’s suite. In making this communication to her, Mrs. Schwellenberg took occasion to say: ‘I tell you once, I shall do for you what I can; you are to have a gown!’ Seeing Fanny draw back in surprise at this abrupt speech, the important old lady added: ‘The Queen will give you a gown; the Queen says you are not rich.’ Offended at the grossness with which the intended gracious present was offered, our inexperienced Court servant declared a wish to decline it. Her superior instantly flew into a passion. ‘Miss Bernar,’ cried she, quite angrily, ‘I tell you once, when the Queen will give you a gown,[76] you must be humble, thankful, when you are Duchess of Ancaster!’ Before the journey to Nuneham took place, Fanny, rather unwisely, expressed her regret that she had some time previously neglected an opportunity of being introduced to the lady whose house she was about to visit; she had met Lord Harcourt, she said, and thought it might have smoothed her way to know something of his Countess also. She was promptly told that she was utterly insignificant—that, going with the Queen, she was sure of civil treatment; but that whether or not she had a servant, or any change of dress, was of no consequence. ‘There is no need,’ said the senior Robe-Keeper, ‘that you should be seen. I shall do everything that I can to assist you to appear for nobody.’