Mr. Crispen was obliged to seat himself at some distance. The first interval he could catch he said to me—” I observe that my sweet friend is not without ambition, for I have taken notice that she always seats herself as high as possible.”
“It is only,” answered I, “because I require some assistance to my heighth.” Tea and coffee were now brought in — Mr. Crispen presented my cup, and then hastily made his exit. I fancy that his reception was such as will by no means speed another visit from him. Miss Bowdler, too, was with us all the morning, and if she is not determined to be blind, must perceive Mr. Rishton’s coldness to her.
Friday, August.
To-day, for the first time, I bathed. Ever since I went to Torbay I have been tormented with a dreadful cold, till within this day or two, and Mr. Rishton very much advised me to sea bathing in order to harden me. The women here are so poor, and this place till lately was so obscure and retired, that they wheel the bathing machine into the sea themselves, and have never heard of. I was terribly frightened, and really thought I should never have recovered from the plunge. I had not breath enough to speak for a minute or two, the shock was beyond expression great; but, after I got back to the machine, I presently felt myself in a glow that was delightful — it is the finest feeling in the world, and will induce me to bathe as often as will be safe.
* * * * *
Sunday, August.
This morning all the world was at church, as the Dean of Exeter preached. He gave us an excellent discourse, which he delivered extremely well. We met all the family as we came out, and Mr. T. Mills joined our party. The morning was lovely, and we took a very pleasant walk. Mr. Rishton proposes going to Ivy Bridge or Staverton in a short time, for a few days, in order to fish. Mr. T. Mills invited himself to be of our party. We had again the pleasure to hear the Dean in the afternoon, who gave us a most admirable sermon on Moral Duties. The singing here is the most extraordinary I ever heard; there is no instrument, but the people attempt to sing in parts, — with such voices! such expression! and such composition! They to-day, in honour I presume of the Dean, performed an Anthem; it was really too much to be borne decently; it was set by a weaver, and so very unlike anything that was ever before imagined, so truly barbarous, that with the addition of the singers trilling and squalling, — no comedy could have afforded more diversion. Mrs. Rishton and I laughed ourselves sick, though we very much endeavoured to be grave. Mr. Rishton was quite offended, and told his wife, that the eyes of the whole congregation were on her; but nothing could restrain us, till the Dean began his prayer; and there is a something commanding in his voice, that immediately gained all our attention.
Monday, August. 30.
This morning, Mr. Rishton being out, his wife and I were studying Italian, when we received a visit from Mr. Crispen.
He was scarce seated, when, turning to me—” Now, did not I behave very well t’other day?” said he, “when the Mills were here? — I told you that when a young lover offered, I would retire, and, really, the eldest Mills took to my little Burney just as — indeed he is a very pretty young man — and I think—” I interrupted him with very warm expostulations — letting him know, as well as I could, that this discourse was quite too ridiculous. Mrs. Rishton got the Peruvienne Letters, and beg’d him to hear her read —
[i773 which when he had done, he insisted on giving me a lesson. I was extremely shy of receiving one, but he would take no denial. “Don’t mind me” said he, “what am I? if it was Mr. Mills, indeed—”
To silence him, I then began. He paid me prodigious compliments, and concluded with modestly saying—” Yes, I will follow you to London, and give you a lesson a day, for three kisses entrance, and two kisses a lesson.”
Really I believe the man is mad, or thinks me a fool, for he has perpetually proposed this payment to himself for different things. I was very grave with him, but he was only the more provoking.
“Why, now,” said he, “you think this is a high price for me — but it would be nothing for Mr. Mills!—”
In short, I believe he has determined to say any and every thing to me that occurs to him.
When he was going he turned to me pathetically—” This was a most imprudent visit! — I feel it here stronger than ever — I must tear myself away!” Seating himself, however, again, the conversation, I know not by what means, between Mrs. R. and him turned on ill-proportioned marriages, on which he talked very sensibly, but concluded with saying—” Had I come into the world thirty-five years later, here I had been fixed!” taking my hand, and then he went on in a strain of complimenting till he took his leave.
As soon as he was gone, we went to pay a visit to Miss Bowdler; and here again we found Mr. Crispen.
We both remarked that she was most excessively cold in her reception and behaviour. Perhaps Mr. Rishton has infected her; and perhaps Mr. Crispen’s unexpected per severance in his devoirs to me offends her, for she would be his Eloise — a character she, beyond all others, admires — at least her behaviour has that appearance.
Mr. Crispen said I looked like a picture he had seen of lone. I never saw it, and could therefore make no speeches. I told him I had never before been compared to any picture but that of the Goddess of Dullness in the “Dunciad.” His usual strain was renewed. Mrs. Rishton observed that he must make love to me. “Ay,” cried Miss Bowdler, “or to any body!”
“No, no,” cried he, “if I had but been born thirty-five years later — I had certainly fixed here for life!”
“Or else with Miss Colbourne,” cried Mrs. Rishton.
“Never did Miss Colbourne hear such a declaration,” said he, “no, never!”
“Ay, but the little Bowdler!” returned Mrs. R.
“No, nor the little Bowdler neither,” answered he.
“O,” cried she, “I am quite out of the question now.”
“And always,” said he, “in regard to love, always out of the question!—”
“Why, yes,” replied Miss Bowdler, colouring, “ to give him his due, he never talked that nonsense to me.”
Tuesday, Aug. 31st.
We dined at Mr. Hurrel’s, and met there Mr and Mrs. Onslow. The latter is a sister of Mr. Phips. They are the handsomest couple I ever saw. Mrs. Onslow has suffered very much from illness, but must have been quite beautiful. They are well bred and sensible.
I cannot imagine what whim has induced Mr. Rishton, so lively, so entertaining as he is himself, to take a fancy to the Hurrels, who are, Mrs. R. and I both think, most truly stupid and tiresome. Miss Davy, the sister, is a well-bred and conversible old maid, and I much prefer her.
Wednesday, Sept. 1st.
I was never before at the house of a sportsman on this most critical day, and really it is not bad diversion. Mr. Onslow and Mr. T. Mills agreed to be of Mr. Rishton’s company this morning, in shooting. At four o’clock the commotion in the house awoke me. I heard a thousand different noises; the horses prancing, the dogs called, the gentlemen hallooing. Messrs. Onslow and Mills were here before Mr. Rishton was up: the house was in an uproar, and it was by no means light though they were so eager for sport.
They have been out the whole day —
Friday, Sept. 3rd.
They came home at... like drowned rats....
Nothing is now talked or thought of but shooting and game. Mr. R. is just now set off with Mr. T. Mills; dressed such figures! really sportsmen have no regard to even common appearances.
They complain very much of poachers here; for my part, I have no great compassion for their injuries. Mr. H. who is too fat and too lazy to shoot, is also too great a gourmand to deny himself game, and is therefore suspected to be a very great encourager of poachers. They live but next door to us, and came out this morning, as well as Mrs. R. and me, to see the sportsmen set off. Mr. T. Mills very slyly began to entertain them with discoursing on the injuries they received from poachers, and added, “it is not for the birds; we sportsmen do not much value them, but for the pleasure o
f finding them, that we quarrel with poachers” — and (turning to me) “I am sorry to say, for the pleasure of killing them.”
“I had some intention,” said I, “of sending an ‘Ode, on the 31st of August, with the Partridges’ Complaint,’ to every sportsman in the county.”
“I am sure I should have been very happy,” cried he, bowing with an air, “to have received it from you, and to have given it” — Here he stopped, checked, I presume, by conscience from giving any promissory professions
* * * * * *
Sunday, Sept.
This morning we heard Mr. Onslow preach. He says he always travels with a brace of sermons, that he may be ready to give occasional assistance to his brother clergymen when requested. I did not at all admire him, as he seems to be conceited; and indeed the Dean has at present made me difficult. After service the two youngest Mills and Mr. Onslow called in, to settle their next shooting party with Mr. Rishton. It is amazing what a laborious business this is: they go out before breakfast; after two or three hours’ shooting they get what they can at any farm-house; then toil till three or four o’clock, when sometimes they return home; but, if they have any prospect of more sport, they take pot-luck at any cottage, and stay out till eight or nine o’clock. The weather makes no alteration in their pursuits; a sportsman defies wind, rain, and all inclemencies of either heat or cold. As to Mr. Rishton, he seems bent on being proof against every thing; he seeks all kinds of manly exercises, and grows sun-burnt, strong, and hardy.
We went to dinner at Star-Cross, a little town about eight miles off; Mrs. Rishton, as usual, driving me in the whiskey, and Mr. Rishton and the man on horseback. We dined at an Inn in a room which overlooked the river Ex. We were very unfortunate in the evening, and were overtaken by rain, wind and darkness; and, as these roads are very narrow, very steep, and very craggy, we should really have been in a very dangerous situation after it grew too dark for Mrs. R. to see to drive, had not her husband made the man lead his horse, while in the midst of the wet and dirt, he led the whiskey himself [by hand.] On these occasions he is very uncommonly good-natured and attentive [to female fears and cowardice.]
Thursday, Sept. [9].
* * * * * *
Mr. Tom Mills breakfasted with us this morning at 6 o’clock, and then set out with Mr. Rishton on a shooting party. Mrs. R. and I went in the whiskey to Dawlish a mighty pretty village on the sea coast. We had the Hurrels with us in the evening. That stupid couple, to whom Mr. Rishton has taken a most unaccountable liking, ennui both his wife and me to death. Her good nature is so tiresome and officious that I would prefer even a bad temper, with a little portion of understanding.
We have seen Mrs. Phips but seldom since her sister-inlaw Mrs. Onslow has been here. She is a sweet woman and has pretty blue eyes, like my dear Susan’s.
[Sept. 15.]
I must give you this last week all in a lump, for I have no time for daily dottings.
We have been to Staverton — with Mr. Tom Mills.... It was a very agreeable excursion. We slept at Ashburnham, and went in the whiskey many miles round. The county of Devonshire is inexhaustible in the variety of its rural beauties. Hills, vallies, rivers, plains, woods, lanes, meadows — everything beyond all description, romantic and beautiful. The river Dart, which is the boundary of the Staverton manor, is the most rapid clear and delightful one I ever saw. There are walks along the banks that are delicious. The whole manor belongs to the Miss Folkes and their married sisters. The richness of the land is astonishing, plenty and abundance reign partout — but I have neither time or talents to describe this most charming country. There are places about Tingmouth which do altogether exceed every other, as all the prospects have some view of the sea, which is so noble an object that it enlivens and beautifies all others.
Thursday, Sept. 16.
We leave Tingmouth to-morrow.
It will not be without regret that I shall quit this incomparable county —
Mr. Crispen went yesterday. We have seen very little of him lately; Mr. Rishton’s extreme coldness has been too visible to be unnoticed. We were not returned from Staverton when he went, and so took no leave of him; by which means I dare say I lost an abundance of fine speeches: though I believe he thought himself laughed at by Mrs. Rishton as well as slighted by her husband, — for of late he has contented himself with insisting on my never marrying, without his consent, and on my letting him give me away — this he has been vehement about.... [And he earnestly and very seriously solicited me to write to him, that he might prepare himself for his office, &c. Honestly, my dear Susan, I have never been able to quite understand him; but when he lets alone his gallantry he is full of information and very agreeable.]
Miss Bowdler, who goes to Bath to-day, called this morning. We have all parted upon very civil terms, though I am sure her penetration is too great to have suffered Mr. Rishton’s dislike of her to escape her —
We spent yesterday between packing and leave taking. We only found time to go down to the beach, to take a last view of the sea. Mr. Rishton was in monstrous spirits all day. I am afraid he was grown somewhat tired of Tingmouth, where he has been six months. Mrs. R. and I went to sit with the Hurrels and Miss Davy in the evening. Lady Davy, who is a great fright in every sense of that word, was there.
They took a very affectionate leave of us. We then went to Mrs. Phips.
I wish it may happen, that I may ever see Mrs. Phips again, [and the very clever Miss Bowdler.]
[No account remains of the journey eastward. The Rishtons took Fanny to London, and left her, and Romeo, (whom she was to nurse,) in Queen’s Square. The further movements, and something of the after-life of Maria and her husband will be told at the end of this year’s diary.]
Queen Square, Oct.
Mr. Garrick, to my great confusion, has again surprised the house, before we were up; but really my father keeps such late hours at night, that I have not resolution to rise before eight in the morning. My father himself was only on the stairs, when this early, industrious, active, charming man came. I dressed myself immediately; but found he was going, as I entered the study. He stopped short, and with his accustomed drollery, exclaimed, “Why now, why are you come down, now, to keep me? But this will never do! (looking at his watch) upon my word, young ladies, this will never do! You must never marry at this rate! — to keep such late hours. — No, I shall keep all the young men from you!” He invited my father in Lord Shelbourne’s name to go with him to dine at his lordship’s, as he has a fine statue lately come from Italy, which has a musical instrument, and which he wishes to shew my father.
My father asked him for his box for us at night, to see the Mask of Alfred, which is revived. But he insisted upon our going to the front-boxes. “You shall have my box,” said he, “another time that you please; but you will see nothing of the new scenes up there. Now, you shall have my box to see me, or the old new play that is coming out, with all my heart.”
“O! dont say that,” cried I; “dont say to see you; you don’t know what you promise.” He laughed; but I determined not to let such an offer be made with impunity.
He took much notice, as usual, of Charlotte; he seems indeed to love all that belong to my father, of whom he is really very fond. Nay, as he went out, he said, with a very comical face to me, “I like you! I like you all! I like your looks! I like your manner!” [And then, opening his arms with an air of heroics, he cried, “I am tempted to run away with you all, one after another.” We all longed to say, Pray, do!] —
Dr. Hawkesworth dined here the same day; his wife and Miss Kinnaird were to have accompanied him; but were disappointed. I was very sorry at not seeing Miss Kinnaird, who is a sweet girl. I find that she is sister to Lord Kinnaird, a young Scotch nobleman, just come of age. Dr. Hawkesworth looks very ill; he has had very bad health lately. Indeed I believe that the abuse so illiberally cast on him, since he obtained £6,000 by writing the Voyages round the World, has really affected his health, by preying upon his mind.
It is a terrible alternative, that an author must either starve and be esteemed, or be vilified and get money.
Seeing in the papers on Thursday Abel Drugger by Mr. Garrick, I prevailed with my dear father to write him a note, which he did very drolly, claiming his promise, but begging for only two places. He sent immediately this answer:
“My dear Dr., “I had rather have your family in my front boxes, than all the Lords and Commons.
“Yours ever,
“D. G.”
* * * * * *
Never could I have imagined such a metamorphose as I saw; the extreme meanness, the vulgarity, the low wit, the vacancy of countenance, the appearance of unlicked nature in all his motions. In short, never was character so well entered into, yet so opposite to his own.
We have had a visit from Miss Ford and her companion Miss Mills. She lent us her box yesterday to see Miss Barsanti in the part of Charlotte Rusport in the West Indian. She did it with great ease, sprightliness, and propriety, and looked exceedingly well. I am very glad, that she has succeeded in so genteel a part. [But how unfortunate the loss of voice that drove her from a concert-singer to the stage!]
* * * * * *
Nov. 9th, 3 in the morning.
Complete Works of Frances Burney Page 473
