We had a great deal of company last Sunday. Mrs. Sheeles and Mr and Mrs. Mailing, her son and daughter, dined and spent the evening with us. Mrs. Mailing is a sweet woman, with whom we were intimate before her marriage, and who now, to our great regret, lives in the North of England. After dinner Sir Thomas Clarges, a modest young baronet, and Mr. Price, a young man of fashion, called and sat about two hours. The latter is lately returned from his travels and was eager to compare notes with my father. He is a very intelligent sensible and clever young man. He is a kinsman to Mr. Greville.....
But, after tea, we were cheered indeed; for rap-tap-lap, and entered Mr and Mrs. Garrick with their two nieces. Mr. Garrick who has lately been very ill, is delightfully recovered, looks as handsome as ever I saw him, is in charming spirits, and was all animation and good humour.
Mrs. Garrick is the most attentively polite and perfectly well-bred woman in the world; her speech is all softness; her manners, all elegance; her smiles, all sweetness. There is something so peculiarly graceful in her motion, and pleasing in her address, that the most trifling words have weight and power, when spoken by her, to oblige and even delight.
The Miss Garricks resemble, the eldest her aunt, the youngest her uncle, in a striking manner. Softness, modesty, reserve and silence characterise Miss Garrick, while Kitty is all animation, spirit and openness. They are both very fine girls, but the youngest is most handsome, her face is the most expressive I almost ever saw of liveliness and sweetness. —
Dr. King, who has just taken the doctor’s degree, came in and figured away to his own satisfaction before Mr. Garrick, whom he so engrossed, that I thought it quite effrontery in him. I wonder he had the courage to open his mouth; but men of half-understandings have generally (I believe) too little feeling to be overpowered with diffidence. Besides the man is wont to preach, and that has taught him to prose, which he does unmercifully.
Dr. Bever, [a very civil, heavy-headed man of the Law,] who had listened with attentive admiration, [but quite dumb,] to every word Mr. Garrick spoke; but, upon something being advanced relative to the Law, he ventured to [offer some] reply. I really pitied the poor man; for, when Mr. Garrick turned round to him, and every body was silent to hear him; his voice failed him; he hesitated, confounded his own meaning, and was in so much confusion, that he could not make himself understood.
I sat by the youngest Miss Garrick, and had some comfortable [conversation] with her. Mrs. Garrick with much kindness took my hand when she spoke to me, and Mr.
Garrick enquired most particularly after every one of the family.
I never saw in my life such brilliant, piercing eyes as his [Mr. Garrick’s] are. In looking at him, when I have chanced to meet them, I have really not been able to bear their lustre. I remember three lines which I once heard Mrs. Pleydell repeat, (they were her own) upon Mr. Garrick, speaking of his face:
That mouth that might Envy with passion inspire; Those eyes! fraught with genius, with sweetness, with fire, And every thing else that the heart can desire —
This sweet poetess, on the very Sunday that I am writing of, set out for the East Indies.
June 3rd.
Alas! my poor forsaken Journal! how long have I neglected thee, faithful friend that thou hast been to me, I blush at my inconstancy; but I know not how it is, I have lost my gout for writing. I have known the time when I could enjoy nothing without relating it. Now, how many subjects of joy, how very many of sorrow have I met with of late, without the least wish of applying to my old friend for participation, or rather relief? Perhaps I am myself the only one who would not rather be amazed that a humour so particular should have lasted so long. Nevertheless, I shall not discourage the small remains of it which this night prompt me to resume my pen. My dear brother James has returned home in very good health and spirits, to mine and all his family’s sincere satisfaction. As to merchandise, the few ventures he took out with him, he has brought back unchanged! Poor soul, he was never designed for trade —
My dear father has gained more honour by his book, than I dared flatter myself would have attended it. We hear daily of new readers and approvers. Mr. Mason has wrote him a very polite letter upon it, desiring to introduce him to Sir James Gray, one of the most accomplished men of the age, who was so much pleased with my father’s book, as to beg of Mr. Mason to make them acquainted.
Dr. Brookes, husband to the Mrs. Brookes who wrote “Lady Julia Mandeville” and many other books, has also wrote to praise it.
Mrs. Young has been on a visit to us for some days. She and her Caro Sposo — are a very strange couple — she is grown so immoderately fat, that I believe she would at least weigh [ — ] times more than her husband. I wonder he could ever marry her! They have however given over those violent disputes and quarrels with which they used to entertain their friends, not that Mrs. Young has any reason to congratulate herself upon it, quite the contrary, for the extreme violence of her overbearing temper has at length so entirely wearied Mr. Young that he disdains any controversy with her, scarce ever contradicting her, and lives a life of calm, easy contempt.
I had the favour of a short tete-á-téte with him t’other day, mama, etc, being out or engaged. He had taken up Mr. Greville’s “Characters, Maxims, and Reflections,” and asked if it was written by our Mr. Greville. He opened it, and read aloud. “There!” cried he, laughing, “that’s his opinion of the sex! what do you think of that, Miss Fanny?”— “Oh! he gave the reins to his wit there; I am sure he has, nevertheless, a very high opinion of women.”
“Well! but, Gad! what is there against a woman, that she yields to temptation? why, a woman who could resist all possible temptation, must be an animal out of nature! such a one never could exist.”.... He shook his head at me and asked me what made me say Mr. Greville had so high an opinion of women? “His conversation and his connections. It would be very extraordinary if he had not.”
“Why so, why so?”
“His wife is so very superiour and amiable a woman, that—”
“O God! that’s nothing! that does not value a straw. A sex ought not to be judged of by an individual.”
“But we are very apt to judge of others from those we are nearest connected with.”
“But man and wife can never judge fairly of each other; from the moment they are married, they are too prejudiced to know each other. The last character a man is acquainted with, is his wife’s, because he is in extremes; he either loves, or hates her.”— “O! I don’t think that! I believe there are many more who neither love nor hate, than there are who do either.”—” It’s no such thing!” cried the impetuous creature, “you will find no such thing in life, as a medium; all is love or hatred!” I could have said, it is much oftener indifference than either; but I thought it would be too pointed, and dropped the argument. I recommended to him to read the characters of Mrs. Greville and Mrs. Garrick, which are written under the names of Camilla and Flora. He read the former in silence; when he came to the latter, he gave the involuntary preference of immediately reading aloud. Camilla he said was too celestial. He was perfectly enraptured with the description of Flora —
The famous Philidor, so much celebrated for his surprising skill at the game of Chess, is just come to England.... He brought my father a letter of recommendation from the celebrated M. Diderot. He is going to have a new edition, with considerable amendments and additions, of a book upon Chess, which he wrote formerly in England. A plan of his work M. Diderot has drawn up for him; but he had got it most vilely translated,.... my father had the patience, from the good-natured benevolence of his heart, to translate it for him himself. M. Philidor is a well-bred, obliging, and very sociable man; he is also a very good musician.
My father has been honoured with letters from the great Rousseau, M. Diderot, and Padre Martini, three as eminent men, as the age has produced, I believe, upon his book.
I have lately spent several evenings in paying visits with mama and Miss Allen, and have been tolerably [tire
d of] it. I was at Ranelagh with them last week, but I had not the good fortune to see any body I wished. I went there again last Friday with my sister, my aunts, and Mr. Burney, and fortune was equally kind. However, we were very well pleased, the sense of my aunt Anne, the good nature of her sister Rebecca, the obliging disposition of Mr. Burney, and the lively, engaging sweetness of my beloved Hetty formed a party I could not but be happy with.
July 3rd.
We have had a visit from a bridegroom this afternoon. It would not be very easy to guess him — Mr. Hayes! That poor old man has suffered the severest grief from the great loss he sustained by the death of his first wife; he has never ceased to regret her, nor ever will he. Contracted is that mind, which, from his second marriage immediately, doubts his sincerity. But how could a man at his time of life, having no children or near relations, support himself alone, with the most sociable disposition in the universe? His beloved wife never could be restored to him, and he has therefore sought a companion, whose esteem and society may tranquilize the remainder of his days. For my own part, I applaud and honour every body who, having that lively and agonizing sensibility which is tremblingly alive to each emotion of sorrow, can so far subdue the too exquisite refinement of their feelings as to permit themselves to be consoled in affliction. Why should despair find entrance into the short life of man? It is praiseworthy to fly from it, — it is true philosophy as well as practical religion, says, often, my dear father, to accommodate ourselves, without murmuring, to our fortune.
* * * * * *
I am just returned from Chesington, to which dear place Miss Allen took me — I had not been for almost five years. The country is extremely pleasant at Chesington. The house is situated on very high ground, and has only cottages about it for some miles. A sketch of our party: Mrs. Hamilton is the mistress of the house, which was her brothers, who, having lived too much at his ease, left her in such circumstances as obliged her to take boarders for her maintainance. She is a very good little old woman, hospitable and even-tempered. Mademoiselle Rosat, — who boards with her; she is about... forty, tall and elegant in person and dress, very sensible, extremely well-bred, and when in spirits, droll and humorous. But she has been very unhappy, and her misfortunes have left indelible traces on her mind; which subjects her to extreme low spirits. Yet I think her a great acquisition to Chesington. Miss Cooke, — who I believe is forty, too; but has so much good-nature and love of mirth in her, that she still appears a girl —
My sister Burney, [ — than whom I know few prettier, more lively, or more agreeable.] Miss Barsanti, who is a great favourite of my sister’s, and was by her and Miss Allen invited to Chesington. She is extremely clever and entertaining, possesses amazing power of mimickry, and an uncommon share of humour. Miss Allen, and myself, end the females. Mr. Crisp, whose health is happily restored, — I think I need not give his character. Mr. Featherstone, — brother of Sir Matthew,... a middle-aged gentleman, who, having broken his leg, walks upon crutches. He is equally ugly and cross. Mr. Charles Burney brings up the rear. I would to Heaven my father did!...
Miss Barsanti has great theatrical talents; her voice is entirely lost, but [from distressed circumstances] her mother designs her for the stage, [as she cannot be a concert or opera-singer; and very kindly] my father, [who, as she was his pupil, wishes to serve her,] begged Mr. Crisp would hear her spout, while she was at Chesington. To make her acting less formidable to her, Miss Allen and myself proposed to perform with her, and accordingly we got by heart some scenes from ‘ The Careless Husband,’ in which she chose to be Edging, myself Lady Easy, and Miss Allen Sir Charles. That droll girl has so very great a love of sport and mirth, that there is nothing she will not do to contribute to it. We had no sooner fixed upon this scheme, than we were perplexed about the dressing Sir Charles. We all agreed that it would be ridiculous for that gallant man to appear in petticoats, and Allen had no idea of spoiling sport; she only determined not to exhibit before Mr. Featherstone; as to Mr. Crisp, as he was half author of the project, we knew it would be in vain to attempt excluding him, and Mr. Burney could not be avoided; besides,... his cloaths she intended to borrow; but unluckily, we found upon enquiry, he had no wardrobe with him, the cloaths he wore were all his stock: this quite disconcerted us. Mr. Crisp was so tall and large, it was impossible Allen could wear any thing of his. We were long in great perplexity upon this account; but being unwilling to give up the frolic, Allen at length, though very mad at it, resolved upon the only expedient left, — to borrow cloaths of Mr. Featherstone. I never met a character so little damped by difficulties as her’s; indeed, she seldom sees any, and, when she cannot help it, always surmounts them —
To ask this of him, made his being one of the audience inevitable; but it was the last resource. Accordingly, Allen and Barsanti watched one morning for his coming into the gallery upstairs, from which all the bed-chambers lead, and addressed themselves to him very gravely, to beg the favour of him to lend them a suit of cloaths. The man laughed monstrously, and assumed no small consequence, on their begging him to keep the affair secret, as they intended to surprise the company; for they were obliged to explain the motives of the request. This seemed something like confidence, and flattered him into better temper than we ever saw him in. He led them to his ward-robe, and begged Allen to chuse to her fancy. She fixed upon a suite of dark blue, uncut velvet. I was in a closet at the end of the gallery, not able to compose my countenance sufficiently to join them, till a loud laugh raised my curiosity. I found she had just been begging the favour of a wig; and he produced a most beautiful tye, which he told her his man should dress for her. She then asked for stock, shoes, buckles, ruffles, and stockings, and all with great gravity, assisted by Barsanti, who reminded her of so many things, I thought she would never have been satisfied. Mr. Featherstone enjoyed it prodigiously, sniggering and joking, and resting upon his crutches to laugh. For my own part, the torrent of their ridiculous requests made me every minute march out of the room to [laugh more freely.].... We settled Saturday evening for our performance. Meanwhile, Mr. Featherstone was observed, as he hobbled up and down the garden, to continually burst into horse-laughs, from the diversion of his own thoughts....
On Saturday morning, rehearsing our parts, we found them so short that we wished to add another scene; and, as there is a good deal of drollery in the quarelling scene between Sir Charles Easy and Lady Graveairs, we fixed upon that, Miss Allen to continue as Sir Charles, and Barsanti to change her cap or so, and appear as Lady Graveairs —
While they studdied their parts, Kitty Cooke and myself, as we frequently did, walked out, visiting all the cottages within a mile of Chesington. Upon our return to dinner, Barsanti told us she found the new scene too long to get in time....
Miss Allen and I, being both sorry, after some deliberation, agreed to perform it ourselves, and accordingly, after dinner, we hurried up-stairs, and made all possible expedition in getting our parts, resolving not to act till after supper. While we were studdying ourselves with great diligence, Miss Barsanti ran upstairs, and told us that Mr. Crisp had informed all the company of our intention, and that they were very eager for our performance, and declared they would never forgive us, if we disappointed them. This flurried me violently, insomuch that my memory failed me, and I forgot my old part, without seeming to learn my new one. I can, in general, get by heart with the utmost facility; but I was really so much fidgetted, that my head seemed to turn round, and I scarse knew what I was about. They, too, were flurried; but my excessive worry seemed to lessen theirs. I must own it was quite ridiculous; but I could not command myself, [and would fain have been off....; but] my repentance came too late.
We three retired after supper, and I could not forbear being highly diverted at seeing Allen dress herself in Mr. Feather stone’s cloths. They fitted her horribly; the back preposterously broad; the sleeves too wide; the cuffs hiding all her hand; yet the coat hardly long enough; neither was the wig large enough to hide her ha
ir; and, in short, she appeared the most dapper, ill-shaped, ridiculous figure I ever saw; yet her face looked remarkably well —
My repentance every moment encreased; but in vain; they insisted upon no further delay; and accordingly we descended — As we came down, the servants were all in the hall; and the first object that struck us, was Mr. Featherstone’s man, staring in speechless astonishment at the [young] figure in his [old] master’s clothes.
Unfortunately for me, I was to appear first, and alone. I was pushed on; they clapped violently. I was fool enough to run off quite overset, and unable to speak. I was really in an [agony] of fear and shame! and, when at last Allen and Barsanti persuaded me to go on again, the former in the lively warmth of her temper called to the audience not to clap again; for it was very impertinent. I had lost all power of speaking steadily, and almost of being understood; and as to action, I had not the presence of mind to attempt it. Surely only Mr. Crisp could excite such extreme terror in me. My soliloquy at length over, Edging entered with great spirit, and spoke very well. I was almost breathless the whole scene; and O! how glad when it was over! Sir Charles’s appearance raised outrageous mirth. Horse laughs were echoed from side to side, and nothing else could be heard. She required all her resolution to stand it. Hetty was almost in convulsions. Mr. Crisp hollowed. Mr. Featherstone absolutely wept with excessive laughing; and even Mamselle Rosat leaned her elbows on her lap, and could not support herself upright. What rendered her appearance more ridiculous was that, being wholly unused to acting, she forgot her audience, and acted as often with her back to them as her face; and her back was really quite too absurd, [the full breadth of her height.]
I had soon after to make my appearance as Lady Graveairs. To be sure, I was in proper spirits for the part; however, a few exceptionable speeches I had insisted on omitting, and I was greatly recovered, compared to my former appearance. Barsanti, at a sudden thought, went on and made an apology, “that the gentlewoman who was to have performed Lady Graveairs, being taken ill, her place was to be supplied by the performer of Lady Easy.” To be sure it was rather in the barn style.
Complete Works of Frances Burney Page 461