* * * * * *
March 26th.
Two days after the above-mentioned rencontre, early in the morning, this most entertaining of mortals came. He marched up stairs immediately into the study, where my father was having his hair dressed, surrounded by books and papers innumerable. Charlotte was reading the newspaper, and I was making breakfast. The rest of the family had not quitted their downy pillows.
My father was beginning a laughing sort of apology for his litters, and so forth, but Mr. Garrick interrupted him with— “Aye, now; do be in a little confusion; it will make things comfortable!” He then began to look very gravely at the hair-dresser. He was himself in a most odious scratch wig, which nobody but himself could dare be seen in. He put on a look in the Abel Drugger style of envy and sadness, as he examined the hair-dresser’s progress; and, when he had done, he turned to him with a dejected face, and said, “Pray, Sir, could you touch up this a little?” taking hold of his own frightful scratch.
The man only grinned, and left the room.
He shook hands with me, and told my father he had almost run away with me a day or two before. He then enquired after some books which he had lent my father, and how many he had?
“I have ten of the Memoirs of the French Academy,” said my father.
“And what others?” cried Mr. Garrick.
“I don’t know; do you, Fanny?”
“O, what,” cried Mr. Garrick, archly, “I suppose you don’t chuse to know of any others; O, very well! pray, Sir, make free with me! pray, keep them, if you chuse it.”
“Charles will know, Sir,” said I.
“What, Cherry Nose?” cried he (for so he has named poor Charles on account of his skin being rather of the brightest).... “Why, will he? I am very good friends with Cherry Nose. I enquire sometimes if he would like to go to the play, and Cherry Nose smiles and simpers. But pray, Doctor, when shall we have the History out? Do let me know in time, that I may prepare to blow the trumpet ‘ of Fame.” He then put his stick to his mouth, and in Raree-show-man’s voice, cried, “Here is the only true History, Gentlemen; please to buy, please to buy. Gad, Sir; I shall blow it in the very ear of you scurvy magistrate,” [meaning Sir John Hawkins, who is writing the same History].
He then ran on with great humour upon twenty subjects; but so much of his drollery belongs to his voice, looks and manner, that writing loses it almost all.
My father asked him to breakfast; but he said he was engaged at home with Mr. Boswell and Mr. Twiss. He then took the latter off, as he did also Dr. Arne, very comically; and afterwards, Dr. Johnson, in a little conversation concerning the borrowing a book of him. “David, will you lend me retraça?” (sic). “Yes, Sir.”
“David, you sigh.”
“Sir, you shall have it.”
“Accordingly, the book, finely bound, was sent; but scarce had he received it, when uttering a Latin ejaculation (which Mr. Garrick repeated) in a fit of enthusiasm, — over his head goes poor Petraca, — Russia leather and all!”
He soon after started up, and said, he must run. “Not yet,” cried I. He turned to me, and in mock heroics cried, “Ah! I will make your heart ache! you shall sigh.”
He then went out of the study, followed by my father, and he took a survey of the books in the library. Charlotte and I soon joined them. He called Charlotte his little Dumpling Queen. “See how she follows me with her blushes! and here comes another with her smiles — (to me) ay, I see how it is! all the house in love with me! Here is one (to Charlotte) whose love is in the bud; and here (to me) here it is in blow; and now (to my father) I go to one, whose is full-blown; full-blown, egad!”
He would not be prevailed with to lengthen his visit. We all followed him [instinctively] down stairs; though he ensured us he would not pilfer anything! “Here is a certain maid here,” said he, “whom I love to speak to, because she is cross: Egad! Sir, she does not know the Great Roscius; but I frightened her this morning a little. Child, said I, you don’t know who you have the happiness to speak to! Do you know I am one of the first Geniuses of the Age? Why, child, you would faint away, if you knew who l am!”
In this sportive manner he continued, till the door was shut. He is sensible that we all doat on him; but I believe it is the same thing wherever he goes, except where he has had a personal quarrel, which, I am sorry to hear, is frequently the case with those who have been his best friends. He promised he would often call in the same sort of way, to plague us; we assured him we would freely forgive him if he did. In truth, I desire no better entertainment than his company affords.
April 3rd.
A few days since Mrs. Strange called with a very civil message from the King of Abyssinia, importing that he had had so much pleasure from the harpsichord duet he had heard here, that he could not forbear speaking of it in high terms to a friend of his, Mr. Nesbit, a very musical man, whose curiosity he had so much raised to hear it, that Mr. Bruce promised him to endeavour to fix a day with my father for his coming hither.
Accordingly, last Sunday we had another Music Meeting. Our party consisted of Mr. Bruce, Mrs and Miss Strange, Mr. Nesbit, who is a young man infinitely fade, Mr and Miss Bagnall, Dr. Russel, a physician who is but lately returned from Aleppo, where he met with Mr. Bruce, and Mr. Solly, another great traveller who was acquainted with Mr. Bruce at Grand Cairo and Alexandria; he had likewise met with my father at almost every great town in Italy. He is a lively man, full of chat, and foreign shrugs and actions.
Dr. Russel is, I believe, very clever; but he is so nearsighted, that he peers in every body’s face a minute or two before he knows them, and indeed after too; for he never casts his eyes upon the fire, ground, or any thing inanimate. He is so fond of the human face divine, that he looks at nothing else. Sukey and I could hardly keep our countenances from observing his perpetual stare from face to face.
Mr. Bruce was quite the thing; he addressed himself with great gallantry to us all alternately, first going up to my mother, who was talking to Mrs. Strange. “ Madam, I was looking for you, to pay my respects to you.” Soon after he came to my sister— “Mrs. Burney, I hope your finger is better? Miss Strange told me you had hurt it.”
“Mrs. Burney’s fingers,” cried Dr. Russel, “ought to be exempt from pain.”
“Oh!” returned Mr. Bruce, “I [have] prayed to Apollo for her.”
“I don’t doubt, Sir,” said Hetty, “your influence with Apollo!”
“Madam,” answered he, “I ought to have some; for I have made myself a slave to him all my life.” Then, turning to me, “Miss Burney, I hope you intend to begin the Concert to-night? Yes, you must indeed; for perhaps you may not like so well to play after these folks” pointing to Mr. Burney and my sister.
When he found he could make nothing of me, he addressed himself to Sukey, and told her that she must not refuse to play; for that he had dreamt some very great misfortune would happen to him, if she did. After this, he and Mr. Nesbit got together, and sat whispering for some time; and I have since heard from Miss Strange, that the delicate Mr. Nesbit was acquainting Mr. Bruce with an appointment, which a certain Lady of Quality had made with him for the evening, at the Opera the night before! What a thorough coxcomb! even his friend Mr. Bruce held his communication in so ridiculous a light, that he [afterwards] told Mrs. Strange of it laughingly.
Mr. Bagnall was far the most elegant man in the room. Indeed, he must be so almost every where. His daughter is rather improved, and somewhat less reserved and shy than formerly.
Mr. Bruce told us that Dr. Russel was a performer on the violin: “A very fine one too,” added he; “though we used rather to disgrace his talents at Aleppo by making him play English Country-Dances.” The Doctor then mentioned a Concert, at which he had been, in Aleppo I think, which lasted three days, and which was frequent upon occasion of marriages. “Three days!” exclaimed Mr. Bruce, “why matrimony is more formidable there than here!”
The Duet — Mr. Burney’s and my sister’s playing,
were much admired, and the evening passed very agreeably.
April.
Once again I have seen my old friend Mrs. Pringle. We met her by accident. I felt so much ashamed from having so long dropt her acquaintance, as if I had done her an injury. I put my handkerchief up to my mouth and walked quietly on. She saw me — looked earnestly, and presently recollected me—” Miss [Fanny] Burney? — God bless me! I hardly knew you! What an age since I have seen you!” I asked after her health, and her family. She said, in her hearty manner, shaking hands with me, “Well, I am vastly glad to see you, and how does your sister do? has she any family? Well, she was as fine a girl as ever I saw, and I was like a fond parent, for I thought she could not do well enough in the world. And how is little Charlotte?”
“O, she is great Charlotte now,” cried I. She talked on, and— “well, do pray come and see me, and bring Charlotte, I shall be vastly glad to see you, I assure you...”
* * * * * *
[From Dr and Miss BURNEY to Mr. CRISP.]
[As this is the only letter that has been found from Dr. Burney to Mr. Crisp, it is thought well to give it, with some portions of Fanny’s letter, omitting what is a mere repetition of her Journal. Some fragments of this letter are also used as notes to the Journal.]
[By Dr. Burney.]
March.
Here Fanny desires me to write the Prologue to I know not what she is going to give you — and with my paw too! — not one straight finger have I on my right hand! However, I want just to give you some signs of life after so long an absence and silence. I have a million of things to say to you about myself and others, but such a hurried shattered worn-out post-horse as I am at present crawls not on the earth. Yet even leisure to attend to bodily health cannot exempt poor mortals from pain! for you, poor soul, I hear are laid up. I would it were [summer] and I’d come and con ailments with you. I know not what effect it would have on your gout, but it would certainly comfort my bowels to chat and philosophize with you. It seems a long life since I saw you, and I have to tell you of my poor book —
at a dead stop now, page 352. But what think you of the King of Abyssinia, who has at length indulged me with two charming drawings of instruments! My dear Daddy, — an Abyssinian lyre now in common use and the Theban Harp, most beautiful indeed, though drawn from a painting in Diospolis at least 3000 years old. A letter of description, too, which I have leave to print. God bless you!
[The letter is continued by Fanny.]
I was a little shocked to find, soon after I sent you my last letter, that Hetty had written to you upon the same subject, the Bastardini, just before. I am afraid between us you must be quite tired of this poor Silver side. You have doubtless heard the story of the pig’s eating half her side, and of its being repaired by a silver kind of machine. You may be sure that she has not escaped the witticisms of our wags upon this score: it is too fair a subject for ridicule to have been suffered to pass untouched. Mr. Bromfield has given her the nickname of Argentini: Mr. Foote has advised her (or threatened to advise her) to go to the Stamp Office to have her side entered, lest she should be prosecuted for secreting silver contrary to law; and my Lord Sandwich has made a catch, in Italian, and in dialogue between her and the Pig, beginning Caro Mio Porco — the Pig answers by a grunt, and it ends by his exclaiming Ah che bel mangiare! Lord S. has shewn it to my father, but he says he will not have it set till she has gone to Italy —
Let me tell you that my father’s excellent correspondent, Mr. Twining, has been in town for a month. He is just gone, which we are all sorry for. He has not only as much humour as learning, but also as much good nature as either. We saw him almost every day, and as he could not be much with my father, whose engagements are now at their height, why he even took the house as he found it, and came to the Little when he could not get the Great. You are sure he was not less our favourite for that: indeed it reminded us of him who is (out of this house) our greatest favourite, and who took the same kind of pot-luck company in those days when he was not so shy of London as at present —
[The letter is finished by Dr. Burney.]
Thanks for Theocritus, I must throw it in the cauldron till an opportunity offers of seeing the passage. My dissertation has been long closed, otherwise it would have done nicely in the section upon ancient Harmony. But a time will come perhaps when I may resume the subject of dispute concerning the question whether the Greeks and Rome knew Counterpoint, or Music in Parts. I am got now to the Olympic and Pythian Games, whose music [will] perhaps furnish some biographical amusement, at least, to my readers, whom I must endeavour to divert when I have not the least chance of instructing them. My first vol will necessarily consist more of the History of Poets and Musicians than of Music; for till frequent specimens can be given how is it possible to reason upon the kind of music that was in use and admired at any distant period of time? “What can we reason but from what we know?”— “answer me that and unyoke.” My paw akes already, so, once more, God bless you! Best remembrance to Madam Ham, and the Cap. —
[This postscript is by Fanny.]
Now if you don’t thank me some how or other, for getting you this, I’ll say you are a very bad man; as haughty as Mr. Bruce, as vain as the Bastardini, and as much an actor as Garrick!
[Mr. CRISP to Miss BURNEY.]
Ches. Mar. 27.
Dear Fanny
With a right hand half lame, and a left wholly in flame, two painful useless knees, and a neck that I can’t move about, I take a pen to thank you for your account of the Sovereign of Abyssinnia, and the other Dramatis Personae of your letter. My only way of showing my approbation in my present condition is to cry out, — more, more! — I am delighted with Foote’s scheme of entering the Bastardini’s ribs at the stamp office — I think it an excellent hit The name of Argentini has not much merit or fancy in it, but the catch is a happy thought, in duet, and if well carried thro’, must be clever; and in true character for such a jolly, clever d — g as Lord S — . His name puts me in mind of poor Jem; — whom I long to hear of — is he not aboard the Cerberus, and is not the Cerberus ordered to America? Have there not been some removals and advancements lately among the officers of that ship? What a cruel thing it is, that that r[ogue] your father should be reduc’d to a level with crook-finger’d Jack! I wish he had the same facility of picking people’s pockets; and if he did not exercise his talents among the great (who are to the full as great pick-pockets as either of them) let him be hang’d for a fool. I long as much, or more than he can do for us to spend some time together; as I am more hungry by far than he can be, who has a thousand various dainties to feed upon, continually in his way. I don’t at all love your King Bruce, but give him some credit for distinguishing the aforesaid Rogue from the herd; I wish he would minutely publish his travels, and then I should not care if I never saw his Man-Mountain-ship — is there any talk that he intends it? I am prepared to love very much your Mr. Twining — by the description of him he should be one after my own heart. More, More! the horse-leach hath two daughters, saying Give, Give! these are the very words of King Solomon; and I am their eldest son....
My love to your Mammy.... My sister has again wrote about the Journal, and does not care to be refus’d; so do, prythee send it her.. —
Adieu, I am in pain all over.
Your affectionate Daddy S. C.
[Miss BURNEY to Mr. CRISP, endorsed by him “April 14.”]
You enquire so much after Jem that I am tempted to send you one of his letters to me, in which he gives a good and satisfactory account of his captain and fellow lieutenant. He corresponds with me with tolerable regularity. Where he at present is I am not certain, but I fancy still at Portsmouth. It is true that there have been many removals among the officers of his ship, in so much that only the First Lieutenant remains the same as when Jem went on board. The Cerberus is ordered to carry the three General officers, viz., General Burgoigne, General Cleveland, and another to America, but we have no certain information at pr
esent when they will sail. Jem in his last letter tells me that he is quite in the dark about it himself. There is much talk of an intended South Sea expedition: now you must [know] that there is nothing that Jem so earnestly desires as to be of the party; and my father has made great interest at the Admiralty to procure him that pleasure; and as it is not to be undertaken till Capt. Cooke’s return, it is just possible that Jem may be returned [himself] in time from America. This intended expedition is to be the last: they are to carry Omai back, and to give him a month for liking, at the end of which, if he does not again relish his old home, or finds himself not well treated, he is to have it in his power to return hither again.
We made a visit yesterday morning to Miss Davies. She told us her law-suit was not yet decided, for the managers did every thing in their power to delay and procrastinate. Her mother; Miss Dumpty her sister (for so Lady Edgcumbe calls her, because she is short, crooked, and squat), and herself drank tea with us while Mr. Twining was in town, and we invited him to meet them. As he had never heard her sing we were in hopes of being able to procure him that gratification, which he very much wished for. My father made an attack by saying he wished she would try the power of music upon his rheumatism, which had withstood every thing hitherto; but the medicinal power of a song from her he dared believe would prove very efficacious. Miss Davies looked down, and was silent for a minute, upon which my father repeated his request. She then, in a hesitating voice, said— “I should be very ready to — but you know, Sir, how I am situated.” Nobody spoke; every body looked disappointed; and she proceeded to explain herself by saying that her articles were so strict that she dared not infringe them, but if my father and us females would give her our companies at her house, she would try to tire us; for she supposed that she might at least be allowed to practice a little at home. Poor Mr. Twining looked very blank. I was sorry she did not include him in the invitation — Mr. Twining was, however, much pleased with her, and agreed that she was a sensible, well bred, and engaging girl. She has a very good house in Pall Mall, opposite to Charlton House, where she lives [with her mother and sister] with great reputation and honour —
Complete Works of Frances Burney Page 483
