Enter Beaufort.
Beaufort. Your Ladyship’s most obedient.
Cecilia. Mr. Beaufort, I am quite ashamed to see you! Yet the disappointment I occasioned you was as involuntary on my part as it could possibly be disagreeable on yours. Your brother, I hope, prevented your waiting long?
Beaufort. That you meant he should is sufficient reparation for my loss of time; but what must be the disappointment that an apology from you would not soften?
Lady Smatter. [Reading.] O lovely, charming, beauteous maid, — I wish this song was not so difficult to get by heart, — but I am always beginning one line for another. After all, study is a most fatiguing thing! O how little does the world suspect, when we are figuring in all the brilliancy of conversation, the private hardships, & secret labours of a belle esprit!
Enter a Servant.
Servant. Mr. Codger, my lady.
Enter Mr. Codger.
Lady Smatter. Mr. Codger, your servant. I hope I see you well?
Codger. Your Ladyship’s most humble. Not so well, indeed, as I could wish, yet, perhaps, better than I deserve to be.
Lady Smatter. How is my friend Jack?
Codger. I can’t directly say, madam; I have not seen him these two hours, & poor Jack is but a harum-scarum young man; many things may have happened to him in the space of two hours.
Lady Smatter. And what, my good sir, can you apprehend?
Codger. To enumerate all the casualties I apprehend might, perhaps, be tedious, I will, therefore, only mention the heads. In the first place, he may be thrown from his horse; in the second place, he may be run over while on foot; in the third place —
Lady Smatter. O pray place him no more in situations so horrible. Have you heard lately from our friends in the north?
Codger. Not very lately, madam: the last letter I received was dated the 16th of February, & that, you know, madam, was five weeks last Thursday.
Lady Smatter. I hope you had good news?
Codger. Why, madam, yes; at least, none bad. My sister Deborah acquainted me with many curious little pieces of history that have happened in her neighbourhood: would it be agreeable to your Ladyship to hear them?
Lady Smatter. O no, I would not take up so much of your time.
Codger. I cannot, madam, employ my time more agreeably. Let me see, — in the first place — no, that was not first, — let me recollect!
Beaufort. Pray, sir, was any mention made of Tom?
Codger. Yes; but don’t be impatient; I shall speak of him in his turn.
Beaufort. I beg your pardon, sir, but I enquired from hearing he was not well.
Codger. I shall explain whence that report arose in a few minutes; in the mean time, I must beg you not to interrupt me, for I am trying to arrange a chain of anecdotes for the satisfaction of Lady Smatter.
Lady Smatter. Bless me, Mr. Codger, I did not mean to give you so much trouble.
Codger. It will be no trouble in the world, if your Ladyship will, for a while, forbear speaking to me, though the loss upon the occasion will be all mine.
[He retires to the side scene.
Lady Smatter. What a formal old fogrum the man grows! Beaufort, have you seen this song?
Beaufort. I believe not, madam.
Lady Smatter. O, it’s the prettiest thing! But I don’t think you have a true taste for poetry; I never observed you to be enraptured, lost in ecstasy, or hurried as it were out of yourself, when I have been reading to you. But my enthusiasm for poetry may, perhaps, carry me too far; come now, my dear Miss Stanley, be sincere with me, don’t you think I indulge this propensity too much?
Cecilia. I should be sorry to have your Ladyship suppose me quite insensible to the elegance of literary pursuits, though I neither claim any title, nor profess any ability to judge of them.
Lady Smatter. O you’ll do very well in a few years. But, as you observe, I own I think there is something rather elegant in a taste for these sort of amusements: otherwise, indeed, I should not have taken so much pains to acquire it, for, to confess the truth, I had from nature quite an aversion to reading, — I remember the time when the very sight of a book was disgustful to me!
Codger. [Coming forward.] I believe, madam, I can now satisfy your enquiries.
Lady Smatter. What enquiries?
Codger. Those your Ladyship made in relation to my letter from our friends in Yorkshire. In the first place, my sister Deborah writes me word that the new barn which, you may remember, was begun last summer, is pretty nearly finished. And here, in my pocket book, I have gotten the dimensions of it. It is 15 feet by —
Lady Smatter. O, for heaven’s sake, Mr. Codger, don’t trouble yourself to be so circumstantial.
Codger. The trouble, madam, is inconsiderable, or, if it were otherwise, for the information of your Ladyship I would most readily go through with it. It is 15 feet by 30. And pray does your Ladyship remember the old dog kennel at the parsonage house?
Lady Smatter. No, sir; I never look at dog kennels.
Codger. Well, madam, my sister Deborah writes me word —
Enter Servant.
Servant. Mr. Dabler, my lady.
Enter Mr. Dabler.
Lady Smatter. Mr. Dabler, you are the man in the world I most wished to see.
Dabler. Your Ladyship is beneficence itself!
Lady Smatter. A visit from you, Mr. Dabler, is the greatest of favours, since your time is not only precious to yourself, but to the world.
Dabler. It is, indeed, precious to myself, madam, when I devote it to the service of your Ladyship. Miss Stanley, may I hope you are as well as you look? If so, your health must indeed be in a state of perfection; if not, never before did sickness wear so fair a mask.
Lady Smaller. Tis a thousand pities, Mr. Dabler, to throw away such poetical thoughts & imagery in common conversation.
Dabler. Why, ma’am, the truth is, something a little out of the usual path is expected from a man whom the world has been pleased to style a poet; — though I protest I never knew why!
Lady Smaller. How true is it that modesty, as Pope, or Swift, I forget which, has it, is the constant attendant upon merit!
Dabler. If merit, madam, were but the constant attendant upon modesty, then, indeed, I might hope to attain no little share! Faith, I’ll set that down. [He takes out his tablets.]
Codger. And so, madam, my sister Deborah writes me word —
Lady Smaller. O dear, Mr. Codger, I merely wanted to know if all our friends were well.
Codger. Nay, if your Ladyship does not want to hear about the dog kennel —
Lady Smaller. Not in the least! I hate kennels, & dogs too.
Codger. As you please, madam! [Aside.] She has given me the trouble of ten minutes recollection, & now she won’t hear me!
Lady Smaller. Mr. Dabler, I believe I’ve had the pleasure of seeing something of yours this morning.
Dabler. Of mine? You alarm me beyond measure!
Lady Smaller. Nay, nay, ’tis in print, so don’t be frightened.
Dabler. Your Ladyship relieves me: but, really, people are so little delicate in taking copies of my foolish manuscripts that I protest I go into no house without the fear of meeting something of my own. But what may it be?
Lady Smatter. Why I’ll repeat it.
O sweetest, softest, gentlest maid —
Dabler. No, ma’am, no; — you mistake, —
O lovely, beauteous, charming maid, —
is it not so?
Lady Smatter. Yes, yes, that’s it. O what a vile memory is mine! After all my studying to make such a mistake! I declare I forget as fast as I learn. I shall begin to fancy myself a wit by & by.
Dabler. Then will your Ladyship for the first time be the last to learn something. [Aside.] ‘Gad, I’ll put that into an epigram!
Lady Smatter. I was reading, the other day, that the memory of a poet should be short, that his works may be original.
Dabler. Heavens, madam, where did you meet with tha
t?
Lady Smatter. I can’t exactly say, but either in Pope or Swift.
Dabler. O curse it, how unlucky!
Lady Smatter. Why so?
Dabler. Why, madam, ’tis my own thought! I’ve just finished an epigram upon that very subject! I protest I shall grow more and more sick of books every day, for I can never look into any, but I’m sure of popping upon something of my own.
Lady Smatter. Well but, dear sir, pray let’s hear your epigram.
Dabler. Why, — if your Ladyship insists upon it — [Reads.]
Ye gentle Gods, O hear me plead,
And kindly grant this little loan;
Make me forget whate’er I read
That what I write may be my own.
Lady Smatter. O charming! Very clever indeed.
Beaufort. But pray, sir, if such is your wish, why should you read at all?
Dabler. Why, sir, one must read; one’s reputation requires it; for it would be cruelly confusing to be asked after such or such an author, & never to have looked into him. especially to a person who passes for having some little knowledge in these matters.
Beaufort. [Aside.] What a shallow coxcomb!
Lady Smatter. You must positively let me have a copy of that epigram, Mr. Dabler. Don’t you think it charming, Mr. Codger?
Codger. Madam, I never take any thing in at first hearing; if Mr. Dabler will let me have it in my own hand, I will give your Ladyship my opinion of it, after I have read it over two or three times.
Dabler. Sir, it is much at your service; but I must insist upon it that you don’t get it by heart.
Codger. Bless me, sir, I should not do that in half a year! I have no turn for such sort of things.
Lady Smatter. I know not in what Mr. Dabler most excels, epigrams, sonnets, odes or elegies.
Dabler. Dear ma’am, mere nonsense! But I believe your Ladyship forgets my little lampoons?
Lady Smatter. O no, that I never can! There you are indeed perfect.
Dabler. Your Ladyship far over-rates my poor abilities; — my writings are mere trifles, & I believe the world would be never the worse if they were all committed to the flames.
Beaufort. [Aside.] I would I could try the experiment!
Lady Smatter. Your talents are really universal.
Dabler. O ma’am, you quite overpower me! But now you are pleased to mention the word universal, — did your Ladyship ever meet with my little attempt in the epic way?
Lady Smatter. O no, you sly creature! But I shall now suspect you of every thing.
Dabler. Your Ladyship is but too partial. I have, indeed, some little facility in stringing rhymes, but I should suppose there’s nothing very extraordinary in that: everybody, I believe, has some little talent, — mine happens to be for poetry, but it’s all a chance! Nobody can choose for himself, & really, to be candid, I don’t know if some other things are not of equal consequence.
Lady Smarter. There, Mr. Dabler, I must indeed differ from you! What in the universe can be put in competition with poetry?
Dabler. Your Ladyship’s enthusiasm for the fine arts —
Enter a Servant.
Servant. Mrs. Sapient, madam.
Lady Smatter. Lord, how tiresome! She’ll talk us to death!
Enter Mrs. Sapient.
Dear Mrs. Sapient, this is vastly good of you!
Dabler. Your arrival, madam, is particularly critical at this time, for we are engaged in a literary controversy; & to whom can we so properly apply to enlighten our doubts by the sun beams of her counsel, as to Mrs. Sapient?
Lady Smatter. What a sweet speech! [Aside.] I wonder how he could make it to that stupid woman!
Mrs. Sapient. You do me too much honour, sir. But what is the subject I have been so unfortunate as to interrupt? For though I shall be ashamed to offer my sentiments before such a company as this, I yet have rather a peculiar way of thinking upon this subject.
Dabler. As how, ma’am?
Mrs. Sapient. Why, sir, it seems to me that a proper degree of courage is preferable to a superfluous excess of modesty.
Dabler. Excellent! Extremely right, madam. The present question is upon poetry. We were considering whether, impartially speaking, some other things are not of equal importance?
Mrs. Sapient. I am unwilling, sir, to decide upon so delicate a point; yet, were I to offer my humble opinion, it would be, that though to me nothing is more delightful than poetry, I yet fancy there may be other things of greater utility in common life.
Dabler. Pray, Mr. Codger, what is your opinion?
Codger. Sir, I am so intently employed in considering this epigram, that I cannot, just now, maturely weigh your question; & indeed, sir, to acknowledge the truth, I could have excused your interrupting me.
Dabler. Sir, you do my foolish epigram much honour. [Aside.] That man has twice the sense one would suppose from his look. I’ll show him my new sonnet.
Mrs. Sapient. How much was I surprised, Mr. Beaufort, at seeing Mr. Censor this morning in a milliner’s shop!
Cecilia. I rejoice to hear you had such a companion; & yet, perhaps, I ought rather to regret it, since the sting of his raillery might but inflame your disappointment & vexation.
Beaufort. The sting of a professed satirist only proves poisonous to fresh subjects; those who have often felt it are merely tickled by the wound.
Dabler. [Aside.] How the deuce shall I introduce the sonnet? [To the company.] Pray, ladies & gentlemen, you who so often visit the muses, is there any thing new in the poetical way?
Lady Smatter. Who, Mr. Dabler, can so properly answer that question as you, — you, to whom all their haunts are open?
Dabler. O dear ma’am, such compositions as mine are the merest baubles in the world! I dare say there are people who would even be ashamed to set their names to them.
Beaufort. [Aside.] I hope there is but one person who would not!
Mrs. Sapient. How much more amiable in my eyes is genius when joined with diffidence than with conceit!
Codger. [Returning the epigram.] Sir, I give you my thanks: & I think, sir, your wish is somewhat uncommon.
Dabler. I am much pleased, sir, that you approve of it. [Aside.] This man does not want understanding, with all his formality. He’ll be prodigiously struck with my sonnet.
Mrs. Sapient. What, is that something new of Mr. Dabler’s? Surely, sir, you must write night & day.
Dabler. O dear no, ma’am, for I compose with a facility that is really surprising, yet, sometimes, to be sure, I have been pretty hard worked; in the charade season I protest I hardly slept a wink! I spent whole days in looking over dictionaries for words of double meaning: & really I made some not amiss. But ’twas too easy; I soon grew sick of it. Yet I never quite gave it up till, accidentally, I heard a house maid say to a scullion, “My first is yourself; my second holds good cheer; & my third is my own office;” — &, ‘Gad, the word was scrub-bing!
Codger. With respect, sir, to that point concerning which you consulted me, I am inclined to think —
Dabler. Sir!
Codger. You were speaking to me, sir, respecting the utility of poetry; I am inclined to think —
Dabler. O, apropos, now I think of it, I have a little sonnet here that is quite pat to the subject, & —
Codger. What subject, good sir?
Dabler. What subject? — why — this subject, you know.
Codger. As yet, sir, we are talking of no subject; I was going —
Dabler. Well but — ha! ha! — it puts me so in mind of this little sonnet we were speaking of, that —
Codger. But, sir, you have not heard what I was going to say. —
Dabler. True, sir, true; — I’ll put the poem away for the present, — unless, indeed, you very much wish to see it?
Codger. Another time will do as well, sir. I don’t rightly comprehend what I read before company.
Dabler. Dear sir, such trifles as these are hardly worth your serious study; however, if you’ll promise not
to take a copy, I think I’ll venture to trust you with the manuscript, — but you must be sure not to show it a single soul, — & pray take great care of it.
Codger. Good sir, I don’t mean to take it at all.
Dabler. Sir!
Codger. I have no time for reading; & I hold that these sort of things only turn one’s head from matters of more importance.
Dabler. O very well, sir, — if you don’t want to see it — [Aside.] What a tasteless old dolt! Curse me if I shall hardly be civil to him when I meet him next!
Codger. Notwithstanding which, sir, if I should find an odd hour or two in the course of the winter, I will let you know, & you may send it to me.
Dabler. Dear sir, you do me a vast favour! [Aside.] The fellow’s a perfect driveller!
Lady Smatter. I declare, Mr. Codger, had we known you were so indifferent to the charms of poetry, we should never have admitted you of our party.
Codger. Madam, I was only moved to enter it in order to oblige your Ladyship; but I shall hardly attend it above once more, — or twice at the utmost.
Enter Jack.
Jack. [To Lady Smatter.] Ma’am, your servant. Where’s Miss Stanley? I’m so out of breath I can hardly speak. Miss Stanley, I’m come on purpose to tell you some news.
Cecilia. It ought to be of some importance by your haste.
Beaufort. Not a whit the more for that! His haste indicates nothing, for it accompanies him in everything.
Jack. Nay, if you won’t hear me at once, I’m gone!
Codger. And pray, son Jack, whither may you be going?
Jack. Lord, sir, to an hundred places at least. I shall be all over the town in less than half an hour.
Codger. Nevertheless it is well known you have no manner of business over any part of it. I am much afraid, son Jack, you will be a blockhead all your life.
Lady Smatter. For shame, Mr. Codger! Jack, you were voted into our Esprit Party last meeting; & if you come tonight, you will be admitted.
Jack. I’ll come with the greatest pleasure, ma’am, if I can but get away from Will. Scamper, but we are upon a frolic tonight, so it’s ten to one if I can make off.
Mrs. Sapient. If I might take the liberty, sir, to offer my advice upon this occasion, I should say that useful friends were more improving than frivolous companions, for, in my opinion, it is pity to waste time.
Complete Works of Frances Burney Page 360
