“A naughty girl! and she won’t let one shut a window but by force.”
Upon returning into the music-room, Miss Thrale sung “In te spero” I was better pleased than I expected to be with hearing her. Her voice is very sweet, and will improve with practice. She has much to do, but nothing to undo; however, “Manca l’anima, e l’anima sempre mancara.” Then I was made to tune up, and sung “poveri affetti” because I thought the words would please Mrs. Thrale, and it is an expressive song. Miss Thrale said I sung like Lady Clarges, Nothing like it, I think. My father said Mr. Skrine thought our faces alike, but that was a bad compliment to me, Mrs and Miss Thrale found out! Mrs. Thrale compared her daughter’s hair and mine together, and said we were alike, — a less compliment in my eyes than that of bearing a resemblance to Lady Clarges. However, from the quarter whence it came, I know it was meant for a much greater. My father then played over some songs from the Olimpiade during which Dr. Johnson came in. He had a book in his hand, and wanted to shew some passage to my father, but seeing him engaged, stopt close to me, who was standing near the piano-forte. He put his arm round me, and smiling very good-humouredly, said “Now you don’t expect that I shall ever love you so well as I do your sister?”—” Oh, no, Sir,” said I—” I have no such hopes — I am not so presumptious.”— “I am glad you are so modest,” said he, laughing, — and so encouraged by his good-humour, (and he kept see-sawing me backwards and forwards in his arms, as if he had taken me for you) that I told him I must make an interest with him through you. He again said he was glad I was so modest, and added—” but I believe you’re a good little creature — I think one should love you, too, if one did but know you!” There’s for you! — I assure you I shall set this little conversation down among my first honours. It put me in good humour and spirits for the rest of the day. After this Mr. Thrale came in, and some very good conversation went about concerning Count Manucci, Mr and Mrs. Pepys, and I dont know who besides, in which Miss Thrale and I had some very lively discourse. She was to meet Mr. Baretti that day, with Mr and Mrs. Thrale at Mr. Caters, I think, and did not seem much delighted by the idea.
When we were to go, Dr. Johnson comically repeated his “Dont expect me to love you so well as your sister,” but added, as I left the room, a very good-natured farewell—” Goodbye, my little love.” — Mr., Mrs and Miss Thrale came out with us, and Mrs. Thrale said she was DETERMINED to become a favourite with that Mr. Crisp, and had sent him a pine-apple and some fruit — No disagreeable compliment — She said if their chaise was but in order she and you might come and pay him a visit while we should be at Chesington — for she did long to see him. “And why can’t you go in the coach?” said Mr. Thrale, “You must have four horses.”
“Why that indeed might be done,” said she. My father seem’d to snap at the proposal, but beg’d she would let us know beforehand, that he might not be out of the way. She promised she would, and that, when you came to her again, she would see if it could not be done. — We then mounted our vehicle and left this sweet place, and sweet company; on my side in much better spirits than when we had arrived there; — indeed I shall never recollect this morning without pleasure — We arrived at dear Chesington exactly at three o’clock.”.... [There they found Mr. Crisp, Mrs. Gast, Mrs. Hamilton, and Kitty Cooke assembled in the parlour.].... “Mr. Crisp looks well, makes few complaints, and is in admirable spirits. My father presented him the fruit-basket, which put him in such good humour with Mrs. Thrale that he did not shrink back at hearing her design of visiting Chesington; on the contrary, as you are to be of the party he seemed to like the thoughts of it marvellous much. I kept back your letter, because I thought two treats too much at one time, and wrote you a hasty scrawl, which I hope the postillion took care to deliver to you. Since this, however, I have given him your epistle, which he took up to his own room to browse upon —
SUNDAY. My father had your letter from the parson — I was in such a hurry for it that I persuaded Kitty to walk with me to meet him. — He asked us if we were going to fetch a walk! Surely Fielding never drew a more poor creature than this man among his country parsons! — Mr. Crisp went to Church with us in the evening, where we were join’d by Mr. Toriano and his youngest sister. They came here afterwards to tea. He is a simplicity youth; does not deserve the name of Macartney; she is as heavy as lead,... Mr.
Crisp made her [play] which she did in such a manner as not much to alarm me, who came next, tho’ I dont enjoy mes aises much in playing to Mr. Crisp. He is very fond of Tornate, [Sirene] and has made me chaunt it three times to him, and as I don’t hate the song myself (tho”tis the most difficult I ever attempted, by the way) I am not very sorry he takes to it. He is fond of my father’s third Duet of the second set, too, — which we play like anything!....
[MR. CRISP TO MISS BURNEY.]
[A portion of a letter dated “Ches — Wednesday, June 21, 1779,” is given to show Mr. Crisp’s feelings for his country which was then threatened by France and Spain.]
Churrlotte, and your Favorite, Edward, are now here; the latter goes back to-morrow, and will probably be the bearer of this letter to Town; Master Doctor, I understand, will in two or three days bring down Suzette in his hand; and I shall be made as happy with them both as crazy health, old age, and a dismal prospect of Affairs will admit of — to tell you the truth, this last Object is ever uppermost in my Mind — it infects the very little sleep I do get; and even when my thoughts are otherwise engag’d, the melancholy impression it first occasion’d, remains, without my immediately remembring why I am sad — Oh Fanny, I fear I have liv’d a few years too long! — for I declare I had much rather be under Ground, than stay behind, to see the insolent Bourbon trampling under foot this once happy Island —
— Faction has undone this Country — for my own part, I have often lean’d to an opinion, and am now fix’d in it, that an arbitrary Government mildly administred (as France is and has been of late years, since Science, Philosophy, and the arts have taken such Root and softned Manners) is upon the whole the most permanent and Eligible of all Forms — at present, the prevailing Fashion in Europe seems to be for the great Powers to join together to swallow up the Lesser, and then divide the Spoil — witness Russia, Prussia, and the Empire sharing Poland among themselves — France and Spain threatning Portugal and Holland unless they will join them to destroy England — even the Empire abetting them — France and Spain, first by their uniting in their infernal Family Compact, and next by succeeding in their plan of separating us from America, now fully feel their own strength, and see their way plainly before them — to weaken England, and annex it to France, &c — Perhaps England may be comfortable as a Province, when the pitiless storm is over — but [here Mr. C. breaks into blank verse of the same quality as that of his “Virginia”]
“Oh Patriots, Patriots! — Oh, Richmond, Shelburne, Rockingham, Fox, Barré, Burke, Townshend, Hartley, Sawbridge, Wilkes, &c., &c., &c.! —
Ha! Dogs!—”
[A PART OF A LETTER FROM SUSAN TO FRANCES BURNEY.] [Chesington] Wednesday, August 25th [1779]
Heartily glad was I to see him — [her father] — for during his absence we have heard so many dismal pieces of false intelligence, and so many terrible prognostications of horrid events, even when these have been discovered not to be true, I have been on tenter-hooks to see him here again — I hope never to be absent from him again when horrid reports prevail of actual invasions, &c. — You are, thank Heav’n, happily placed, — I mean comparison-speakings and things of that sort....
Hetty has recover’d extremely, and had it not been for vile Public news we should have spent this last week charmingly, — but two days after she [Hetty] came, a report reach’d us from Kingston that the French and Spaniards were landed — Mr. Crisp, who spends his life in perpetual apprehension of terrible national calamities, went to Kingston the next morning, and came back with a countenance calculated to terrify and crush temerity itself. He could eat no dinner — and seem’d
struck by such a consternation that the most impenetrable creature must have felt something at seeing him. Troops of French and Spaniards were landed at Falmouth, whilst the combined Fleets were throwing Bombs into Plymouth, He supposed they would march to London and pass thro’ Kingston — Destruction and Desolation would attend their steps — in short everything that could be apprehended he was prepared to expect. — I dreaded the effect of all this upon our dear Hetty.... However she does behave charmingly.
* * * * * *
This day and the next we spent really very miserably. — Poor Mr. Crisp could neither eat, sleep, nor talk — Sunday, we received intelligence from my father, who was at Mr. Chamier’s, which produced a Revolution in our minds — for we found that the French had not yet attempted to land, or attack any part of the Kingdom, and that tho’ much was to be dreaded, there yet remained something to hope. After tea we took a comfortable walk, which made up for our late dismalities. — In this we met a kind of an adventure, — which for want of something better I will recount to you. Our Party consisted of Mr. Crisp, young Toriano, my sister Hetty, Kitty [Cooke], Charlotte, and your Slave. We had walk’d several fields from the house when we saw at a little distance two or three gypsies — My sister said we should have our fortunes told. “Lend me your ring then,” said I, “and we will exchange characters.”
“Pho, Pho,” said Mr. Crisp, “don’t let us lose our time — it will soon be too late to walk.” At this moment however a gypsey girl with a pipe in her mouth started up from behind a hedge. — She was very young, and very pretty — Mr. Crisp’s objections vanish’d in a pig’s wink, “ Can you tell fortunes?” said he. “That I can,” answer’d our gypsy very quick — and approached us. She told Hetty she would tell her her fortune — for a twelve-penny piece, however she took sixpence — and accordingly took her aside and told her a great deal of comical nonsense — another female, who was her mother we found, came up to us at the same time, and insisted upon telling us our fortunes though we all discouraged her as much as possible, and as she was ugly Mr. Crisp said the girl should tell us what we wish’d to know. — But the old lady was not to be so put off, and she began with himself— “Aye,” said she, “yonder old gentleman will be a long liver—”
“Why that’s the best thing you can tell me I think,” said he, laughing. “ He will be prosperous in his fortunes, tho’ two mankind wish him ill — and if he’ll come here and pay me a twelve-penny piece I’ll tell him their names and their places of abode.” Such intelligence tempted not Mr. Crisp, who only laugh’d at her — but she went on—” He never did harm to mankind, but he has been wronged himself — and was once cruelly cheated.”—” There you’re out, my dear,” said Mr. Crisp, so drily, we were all ready to die with laughing — and the old gypsey then attack’d Mr. Toriano, and told him of ladies that were in love with him, and I know not what besides, to induce him to have his fortune regularly told for a 12 penny piece — but the poor youth’s lips quiver’d and turn’d pale — and when she said “He was a GAY MAN among the Ladies,” he look’d just as Charlotte and I might have been expected to do had she accused us of having had an intrigue with some man — so shock’d, confounded, abashed, and foolishly resentful. “ If you can tell fortunes no better than that”... said he, indignantly... but did not pursue his threat. The woman then told poor Kitty “she would never have any more husbands than she had now.”
“I hope you don’t expect to be paid for telling me that,” said she, colourings but laughing at the same time. “You’ve had many suitors,” said the woman, “but one gentleman wishes you well yet — You too (to me) have had many suitors, and will have many proffers — but you’ve fixed your heart on one alone” — My sister had now done with the girl in the corner, and Mr. Crisp then admired her at his leisure— ‘tho her complexion look’d Egyptian her eyes and features were so remarkably beautiful that one could scarce look at her without surprise. — All her features were elegantly formed, and her eyes and whole countenance were animated with an expression that was in the highest degree attractive and captivating — her shape and height too seem’d very good — and there was nothing to remind one of coarseness or vulgarity about her — her face was oval — her nose Grecian and beautiful — her mouth small, and her teeth white, regular, lovely — Her eyes hazle, brilliant and charming. Indeed I scarce ever saw so handsome a creature. “ Upon my word,” said Mr. Crisp, staring at her and laughing, “she’s a good pretty girl, and would be very handsome if she was not so tan’d.”
“You bin the first that ever told me so,” said she, but with an archness that did not support the truth of her words. “See what white teeth she has,” said he. “Aye, Sir, de Blackmoor have white teeth.”
“I dare say her skin is naturally fair too — let’s see your arms.”
“White as a Blackmoor” said she laughing and throwing aside her Cloak which hid them — then turning quick to him, “Sir,” said she, “my mother long’d for charcoal” — In this comical manner she answer’d all his compliments — but he was so captivated that I thought he never would have quitted the spot where they were. She told Charlotte her fortune and would fain have persuaded me to have heard mine, but I was then grown quite tired of standing, and so were all the rest I believe, unless it was Mr. Crisp, and so I came away without —
[SUSAN TO FRANCES BURNEY.]
[Mrs. Thrale’s Owyhee Court-Dress.]
Friday, January 19, 1781.
* * * * *
Yesterday was the Queen’s birthday, and soon after breakfast a note came here, directed to Mrs. Burney, or Miss Susan.... ’twas from Mrs. Thrale to say that the Owyhee savage was to be seen at Mrs. Davenant’s, Red Lyon Square, before two, and no longer, adding that if Miss Susan, or the Captain, had any curiosity to view this wondrous sight, Mrs. Thrale would be very happy to see them or any of the rest of the family — I accompanied my mother to Red Lion Square, and Mrs. Davenant came for us in Mrs. Thrale’s carriage. We found Mrs. Thrale at her toilette, in high beauty and spirits. She received me with even more than her usual sweetness — but seem’d to long to be wicked,.... I wish she may know that secrecy with regard to P[hillips] is at present and is likely to be for some time very necessary for him, and every way desirable to me — for setting all other motives aside, it would be a hateful thing to me to be talked of as engaged for an age before I may change my name, and to be subject to a thousand disagreeable conjectures. After we had been a little while above, we went into the drawing-room while Mrs. Thrale put on her gown — but had not been absent five minutes before your friend Sam came to tell me Mrs. Thrale beg’d me to come upstairs. Well, I ran up in some trepidation — Mrs. Thrale had two maids in the room, and I believe particularised me in this manner more from a desire of shewing me great kindness than from any intention of saying anything to me. However, as she was regretting your not seeing her in this her glory, she said, “Aye, but your seeing me is almost the same thing. I think I shall step in your place by and bye, I can tell you, for I believe ’tis you chiefly that stand between Fanny and me,” I felt foolish, and admired her dress, and then asked if the other ladies might not come up — they were accordingly summon’d, and Mrs. Thrale, immediately on seeing Miss Streatfield, said, “Well, now Susan Burney and I have settled our secrets you may come up, for ’tis a very particular thing I must tell you, that Miss Susan Burney and I scarce know one another, and yet are prodigiously intimate” — and after this said something more to make me look silly, and Miss Streatfield said she was in the dark. Miss Streatfield looks sadly — and indeed has a terrible cold. Mrs. Thrale’s dress is magnificent and not heavy — part of the trimming is composed of greb feathers made up in bells for tassels, which are remarkably elegant —
[The following sheet of a letter is of earlier date than four of Susan’s “journal letters” which have gone before it, but, in its tender humility, its “incomparable, partial sweetness,” it appears to be in its fittest place as the end to what is here given from the p
en of its charming writer, “the peculiar darling of the whole house of Dr. Burney, as well as of his heart.”]
[SUSAN TO FRANCES BURNEY, AT CHESINGTON.]
[January, 1779.]
I cannot thank you sufficiently, my dearest Fanny, for your charming paquet, but it is cruel in you to say you expect a genteel return for it, — unless I am to understand the epithet in the same light as when it is used in speaking of a lady’s shape — for I really believe the less my letter contained the more worthy it would be of being called genteel. I have not even the description of my disappointment at a ball to give you, or, which would be yet more afflictive, those occasioned by a hair-dresser..... — I have been writing away like a mad creature — or like a creature without sense, which is nearly the same thing, to Miss E. Kirwan, but I find nothing worthy writing to you — rien ne me vient — the thing is, I believe, that she gives me credit for a great deal more than I deserve, et on a toujours le plus d’esprit avec ceux qui nous en croyent: for esprit substitute folie or any other word which signifies but its shadow, and you will mend the phrase. — Indeed, my dear Fanny, your letters are so excellent that nothing but the extreme longing they excite in me for more could make me attempt answering them; especially from this place, where there are no subjects for the dear narratory style which helps one out admirably when one is distressed for ideas. But don’t now imagine I’m proud — no, my sweet Fanny I am too proud, at least, of having such a sister to suffer at acknowledging her superiority, and I have too high a sense of her merit and her talents to be humbled at it. But the reason that somewhat represses the glee I should otherwise feel in writing to you is that I grudge the time I take you up in reading such vile trash as I am obliged to send you if I write at all. — I know you love me,.... and will be very glad to see me, as I hope you will do next week, — but to read long, tiresome, uninteresting letters — and not to wish them over; — not to yawn; — not to silently wish the time and paper had been spared which have been expended on them; — do you love me enough for that?....
Complete Works of Frances Burney Page 505
