“You see,” she cried, “what a herd of danglers flutter around you; thus it was once with me; your form is elegant; your face, I doubt not, is beautiful; your sentiments are superior to both: regard these vipers then with a proper disdain; they will follow you, will admire, court, caress and flatter you — they will engage your affections — and then they will quit you! It is not that you are less amiable, or that they cease to esteem you; but they are weary of you; novelty must atone in another for every loss they may regret in you: — it is not merit they seek, but variety. I speak from experience!” I could almost have taken my Nun for Mr. Crisp in disguise.
“Tis rather surprising,” said I, “that one who speaks with such rigour of the world, and professes having quitted it from knowing its degeneracy, and who talks of experience in the style of age, should have a voice which is a perpetual reminder of her own youth, and should in all visible respects, be so formed to grace and adorn the world she holds in such contempt.”
“Hold!” cried she, “remember my sacred order; and remember that we nuns can never admit to our conferences that baleful enemy of innocence, flattery! Alas, you learn this from men! Would you but renounce them! what happiness would such a convert give me! —
The Dutchman and the Shepherd soon joined us again. The former was very liberal of his tobaco, and supported his character with much drollery, speaking no English, and but a few Dutch words, and making signs. The Shepherd seemed formed for all the stupidity of a Dutchman more than the man who assumed that dress; but he aimed at something superiour. — ..... The Nun, looking on her veil and habitas a sanction to the utmost liberty of speech.... spoke to them both without the least ceremony.
... All she said to me did honour to the name she assumed — it was sensible and delicate, it was probably very true; it was certainly very well adapted to her apparent character: but when we were joined by men, her exhortations degenerated into railing; which though she might intend the better to support her part, by displaying her indignation against the sex, nevertheless seemed rather suited to the virulency and bitterness of a revengeful woman of the world, than the gentleness and dignity which were expected from the piety, patience, and forbearance of a cloister.
“And what,” said she to the Dutchman, “what can have induced such a savage to venture himself here? Go, seek thy fellow-brutes! the vulgar bestial society thou art used to, is such alone as thou ought to mix with.” He jabbered something in his defence, and seemed inclined to make his court to me.
“Perhaps,” said she, “it may be in the power of this fair creature to reform thee; she may civilize thy gross and barbarous manners.”
The Dutchman bowed, said “yaw” and put his hand on his heart in token of approbation. “Ay,” said the poor Shepherd.... whose eyes had the most marked expression of stupidity (if stupidity can be said to have any expression) that I ever saw, and his words and manner so exactly coincided with his appearance, that he was merely an object for laughter — He served only for such to me at least; for indeed my spirits were not very low, [and I knew there was nobody present but friends of the house. — Refreshments were then brought and everybody was engaged with a partner; Merlin, a delightful Mask, secured Hetty, and the Dutchman my ladyship. Every body was then unmasked, and] when I presently turned hastily round, I saw a young man so very like Mr. Young that at the first glance I thought it was him, but what was my surprise at seeing the Dutchman! I had no idea that he was under fifty, when behold he scarce looked three and twenty. I believe my surprise was very manifest, for Mynheer could not forbear laughing. On his part he paid me many compliments, repeatedly and with much civility congratulating himself on his [choice. “I have been smoaking them all round,” cried he, for he had always a tobaco pipe in his hand—” till at last a happy whiff blew away your mask, and fixed me so fortunately].”....
Nothing could be more droll than the first dance we had after unmasking; the pleasure which appeared in some countenances, and the disappointment pictured in others made the most singular contrast imaginable, and to see the old turned young, and the young old — in short, every face appeared different from what we expected. The old Witch in particular we found was a young officer. The Punch who had made himself as broad as long, was a very young and handsome man; but what most surprised me, was the Shepherd whose own face was so stupid that we could scarcely tell whether he had taken off his mask or not.....
[Tuesday.]
[We have been engaged some time to a private dance at the Reverend Mr. Pugh’s, who I have mentioned in my Chronicles. Aunt Becky is to be our chaperon. But I was so ill with a cold this morning that I rose] with a resolution of sending an excuse; but was prevented by Mr. Pugh’s calling. He earnestly beg’d me not to disappoint him, and promised me I should rest as often as I pleased. — He protested he would not upon any account have me fail coming, as he has settled all the partners, and I should break his schemes. “I should be more particularly sorry at your absence, Ma’am,” said he— “as I have engaged you to the most elegant and agreeable man of my whole company — who would be extremely disappointed; and who, I flatter myself, would make the evening very happy to you.” I am never fond of being engaged unseen, as in those cases, two people are frequently disappointed. Mr. Pugh was too urgent to be refused.....
How I have got this violent cold I cannot tell — it affects me in a cough, sore throat, and most dreadful headache, attended with a slight fever. I shall really be an amiable object, for I am pale as possible, and my eyes heavy as lead. How would-a-philosopher or moralist hold me in contempt! to have so many complaints — yet go to a ball! it appears ridiculous to me —
* * * * *
Feb. 7th.
Near a fortnight has elapsed since our dance at Mr. Pugh’s..... I was infinitely better that evening than I had been, and when we set off for South Street, I was in much higher spirits than any of the party, though Hetty was very cheerfull, and also Aunt Rebecca.... Mr. Pugh welcomed us very joyfully — and introduced us to the company who were seated formally at tea. Hetty told me she had fixed her eye on my partner..... “There he is,” said she, “and I can read in his face everything that is clever and agreeable. I hope I shall dance a minuet with him.”.... Tea being over, we marched into a larger room, and minuets were begun. —
“Come, gentlemen,” said Mr. Pugh— “choose hats — I won’t let you choose partners!”.... After all I cannot approve this plan of settling partners unseen — the usual privilege the men have of pleasing themselves I think far preferable, as only one can be dissatisfied then..... Mr. Pugh presented the ladies to the gentlemen —
“This lady,” when he came to me, “is your partner, Captain Bloomfield.”.... Indeed he was very unfortunate — for he did not himself tire the whole evening, and poor little I was fatigued to death after the second dance — I very much admired the lady who danced with Mr. Pugh, who was very pleasing — I had said many things in her praise occasionally to Captain Bloomfield, and I then asked if he knew her?
“I have the honour, Ma’am,” said he, “to be her brother! — Don’t you think,” added he, laughing, “ we are very much alike?”
There was another young lady there who addressed herself so frequently to the Captain, and smiled so tenderly at him, that I could not forbear observing to Hetty that Mr. Pugh was cruel to have given her any other partner; — but when the night was half over, I found this was another sister.
At two o’clock we returned to the parlour to sup. And here Mr. Pugh and Captain Bloomfield seemed to vie with each other which should have least ease and rest himself, or give most to others. I was now scarce able to move, I did however force my feet to go down two or three dances, but with great pain,.... for indeed I was very indifferent;.... yet the spirit which every body supported, as well as the extreme alacrity of Captain Bloomfield, made me ashamed to sit still. I spoke of my distress to Hetty. There was a lady who danced with a relation of ours, Mr. Thomas Burney Holt (which last name he has adopted at
the request of an uncle), and this lady was as alert and lively still as at the beginning of the evening, while Mr. Burney Holt was absolutely wearied. I asked Hetty if she thought I might propose a change of partners? She said certainly. I was pretty well satisfied that Miss Kirk, the young lady, would have no objection, for this poor cousin of ours is very deficient both in good temper and good breeding, which he manifested to all the company by his behaviour to this very lady, for between any dances, when we were all seated, he constantly marched to a distant part of the room and leaning his forehead in his arms appeared to be sleeping —
As to Captain Bloomfield, he could assuredly be no sufferer by an exchange, for Miss Kirk was very pretty and agreeable.... [And after going down one more dance,] which completely finished me, Captain Bloomfield, seeing me fatigued, considerately led me to a seat — just by me sat poor Miss Kirk. “How perverse this is,” said I, to him, “here is a lady who is not at all tired, and there is a gentleman who is; — and here am I knocked up: — and you not at all!” —
“Well?” said he, [with quickness,] “and what do you imply by that!”
I then proposed an exchange.
“Do you want to get rid of me?” cried he.
I did not know what to say to this. I certainly did not. Nevertheless, I was convinced that only his delicacy prevented his being in raptures at the proposal; — therefore, after a short pause I pressed him much to ask Miss Kirk to dance, declaring myself very sorry to deprive him of that pleasure, —
“But I would rather” said he, “sit with you, than dance with any other lady.”
I cannot say I believed him: — but on my further urging him, he told me he was too sensible of his happiness to fling it away. — As to Miss Kirk, I had made my proposal to her first, never imagining that Captain Bloomfield would object;.... and she frankly and honestly agreed to it. But nothing I could say would induce him: — he certainly thought I should regard it as a reproach on my inactivity; and he chose rather to suffer himself, than make another ashamed.
“And how do you know,” said he, “that the gentleman would agree to quit his partner?”
“O — if that is any objection” cried I, “I will undertake to speak to him — you see he is tired to death already—”
“O, that will pass off,” replied he— “he might be as unwilling to relinquish his partner, as I am mine, for why should not he be contented and happy? — She is very pretty and agreeable; and, as you observed, looks all good humour.”
“O leave him to me,” said I, “I will readily manage him.”
“Nothing” returned he, “shall prevail on me to dance without you, but your really desiring it, and unless it would do you a favour—”
‘ I regarded this as a delicate assent — therefore I answered—” It will do me a favour; — a great one!—”
“But how?” said he: “because you think it will oblige me? or because you wish to get rid of me?”
There was no answering this — and so I made no further attempt: [And then we only conversed, and very agreeably, for the rest of the evening.] At 5 o’clock, or rather more, every one gave up. Late as it was we could not go home, as no carriage was to be found. We therefore returned again to the parlour, where we were entertained with catches and glees by part of the company, namely Mr. Pugh, Captain Bloomfield, Mr. Porter, my cousin, and my sister. Mr. Porter is a clergyman of Woolwich, whose lady I must mention..... I committed a fault from inattention, (chiefly owing to my extreme fatigue) which was, seating myself, after having gone down a dance, without walking it up again: — and Captain Bloomfield either forgot this punctilio also, or did not chuse to remind me of it: however this lady took great offence at it — for while we were seated, she came and addressed herself to Captain Bloomfield, keeping her back towards me, and affecting not to see me; and, not in the gentlest manner, she cried —
“And so you are sit down! — you, who are such a young man give out first and that after going down a dance, tho’ you could not walk it up again!” This reproof I was conscious was meant for me; — the Captain, I believe was rather distressed: the gentle lady’s volubility satisfied herself, however, for she did not wait for any answer. “Had you been really fatigued,” continued she—” you might have shown it by sitting before you had gone down the dance — I must say it was very ill bred! — and I did not expect it from you, Captain Bloomfield! you, who are so polite a man!”
I was sensible the reproof was, to me, just; but nevertheless, it was exceeding gross and illnatured to address this discourse to either of us. — Captain Bloomfield did not once look towards me; he did not even plead my indisposition, but taking the whole affair to himself, with the utmost good humour he said—” But I am sure you are too compassionate not to pity me, when you hear my disaster, for I was unable to dance longer, as I sprained my ancle, — and what then could a poor man do?” I believe she was somewhat calmed by his tranquility; — for she softened her voice, but said, as she left us—” Well, to be sure it might not be your fault — but it was very rude, and I am very sorry you had any share in it!” I was quite shocked and disconcerted at this unexpected lecture. — The Captain very delicately still looked another way, and did not turn towards me — However I spoke to him— “You were in the right,” said I, “not to be angry, for not one word of this was meant for you!”
[“And you,” cried he, “have too much sweetness, I am sure, to think of it any more.” Soon after we came home.
Mr. Pugh has since proposed bringing Captain Bloomfield to a music party at our house, and also has earnestly invited us to another dance at Woolwich with aunt Rebecca, where Captain Bloomfield, he said, would be very happy to dance again with Miss Fanny. But we did not go.
* * * * * *
About this time we received the following note from the Masquerade Dutchman.]
“The Dutchman presents his compliments to the Miss Burneys, and takes the liberty to enclose three tickets for the Chelsea Assembly hoping the Miss Burneys will have the goodness to find a chaperon. The Dutchman will do himself the honour to wait upon the Miss Burneys this evening, with the Doctor’s permission, to know whether he may exist again or not.”
[This was a rather more serious case of love at first sight than would be inferred from what is left in the manuscript. The letter, answered with so much decision, was the second sent by “Mynheer Dutchman,” as he is called in the notes of Mme. D’Arblay. Perhaps (as she loved euphony) she did not care to write that his name was Tomkin. So we gather from Maria Allen, who, writing to Fanny four years later, jests thus upon her presumed admirers of 1770 and 1772: “And so Miss Fanny Burney has mounted her little bay nag Grub, and is riding away tantivi — upon my word ma’am, very pretty usage — pray let me know the meaning of all this at your peril or you may depend I shall dispatch a note to the Tomkin, the Bloomfield; nay, I don’t know whether I shall not touch up the poganpole (M. Pogenpohl, in the Diary 4, 1772), and tell them what pretty freaks you have taken into your pretty noddle.” Fanny had been long in writing to Maria, who at once suspects that she was writing a novel, as was the case about that time (1774). In a letter to Mr. Crisp (of the 10th of May, 1775), with reference to an offer of marriage which Dr. Burney and Mr. Crisp advised her to accept (the suitor being pressing, and having a good income), she writes: “Had marriage from prudence and convenience been my desire — I believe I have had it quite as much in my power two or three times as now — particularly there was a certain youth not quite so hasty to be sure, as Mr. Barlow, but not far otherwise, who took much pains for cultivating our acquaintance. I happened to dance with him at a private masquerade at Mr. Lalauze’s, and he called two or three times afterwards, and wrote two notes, with most pressing requests, through a third person, that he might be introduced to my father, and know whether he might exist again, or not. However, after the answer received, written by myself to the second note, I heard of him no more.”]
I never coloured so in my life, for papa was in the room, a
nd Hetty read the note out aloud, and then, laughing, flung it to me to answer, saying she knew she had nothing to do with it; and wishing me joy of my first serious conquest. I was so very much surprised I could not speak. Papa said it was coming to the point very quick indeed, and he must either be a very bold man, or a young man Who knew nothing of the world. But he said I must return the tickets, but might let him come to tea, as he deserved civility, by naming him (papa), and then we might see more how to judge him. I was quite frightened at this — but very glad papa and Hetty both left me to answer the note for myself, for as they thought him serious I determined to be so too.....
I wrote the following answer, and sent it off without shewing it to papa, to put an end to the whole at once.
“Miss Burneys present their compliments to the Dutchman, and as they cannot go to the Chelsea Assembly, they beg leave to return the three tickets with many thanks.
“They are very sorry it will not be in their power to have the pleasure of seeing him this evening, having been some time pre-engaged. February 19th. Wed: Morn.”
This note will, I doubt not, be the last I shall have to answer from this gentleman — indeed it is the first also that I have answered: nevertheless, I fancy he will condescend to exist still —
My dear James has been gone some time — he went on board the Greenwich East India man, he was in very good spirits, and we have all great hopes that he will have a happy and prosperous voyage.
Complete Works of Frances Burney Page 457