* * * * * *
Nov. 4.
Returning this morning from Madame Griffardieres, I went through Poland Street, a place I cannot but love, from remembring the happiness I have known there. I passed with great regret by Mrs. Pringle’s windows, but looking at the door saw the name of [Rishman?] on it. I have too much regard for Mrs. Pringle to be indifferent to what is become of her. A woman was at the door. I asked her if she knew where Mrs. Pringle was gone? She did not, but my curiosity was excited, and I waited till a servant came to open the door. I made the same question. Without answering, the servant went and rapt at the parlour door. I was in some confusion, lest Mrs. Pringle might be there, and pondered upon what possible excuse I could make for my long absence, and even felt a sort of guilt in having
* * * * *
Nov. 6.
[I have just heard by chance that Mrs. Pringle is] gone to the East Indies. O that I had sooner known her intention! Nothing should have prevented my seeing her if I had had the least idea of her quitting England. I imagine she is gone to her son Andrew — I would often have given the world to have met her by chance, though I had not dared to seek her — And thus I suppose will close for ever all acquaintance with this agreeable woman and our family. On my side how unwillingly! for I cannot join in the bad opinion mama and Mr. Crisp have so strangely, so causelessly conceived Of her. Her kindness and friendship to us she could have no interest in, it would be ingratitude not to regard her for. Independent of these more serious reasons for regret at her departure, I must also own that since we have droped her acquaintance, we have never made any half so lively and agreeable. But what principally concerns me, is that she has left the kingdom with an idea of our ingratitude. Dear, wise, and good Mr. Crisp has surely been too severe in his judgement. What a misfortune I should deem it to think so ill of mankind as he, the wisest of his race, tries to make me think!
My dear Susette has been very ill, but, thank God, is recovered. She is the most engaging creature living, and has a fund of sense and feeling almost incomparable.
Nov.
Susette and myself are extremely engaged at present in studying a book lately published under M. Diderot’s direction, which he sent to papa, upon Music. It promises to teach us Harmony and the Theory of Music. M. Diderot’s daughter was taught by the method made use of in it, however, I have no expectation of going so deep in the science myself. I am reading — I blush to say for the first time, — Pope’s Works. He is a darling poet of our family. It is with exquisite delight I make myself acquainted with him; [and, in serious truth, I am glad he is new to me.]
I have before mentioned that Miss Barsanti had intentions to go on the stage. According to them, she applied to my father to speak to Mr. Colman concerning her. My father, to oblige her, consented, though unwillingly, having a superiour regard for Mr. Garrick, but Drury Lane Theatre has actresses already in Barsanti’s style. Mr. Colman professed great regard for my fathers recommendation, but deferred till another time settling when to see her.
December 8th.
Mr and Mrs. Young have been in town a few days. They are in a situation that quite afflicts me, how brought on I know not, but I fear by extravagance. Be that as it may, they are at present reduced to a most distressful state. They seem to have almost ruined themselves, and to be quite ignorant in what manner to retrieve their affairs. Mr. Young, whose study and dependance is agriculture, has half undone himself by experiments. His writings upon this subject have been amazingly well received by the public, and in his tours through England he has been caressed and assisted almost universally. Indeed his conversation and appearance must ever secure him welcome and admiration. But, of late, some of his facts have been disputed, and though I believe it to be only by envious and malignant people, yet reports of that kind are fatal to an author, whose sole credit must subsist on his veracity. In short, by slow but sure degrees, his fame has been sported with, and his fortune destroyed. I grieve for him inexpressibly; he truly merits a better fate. Too successful in his early life, he expected a constancy in fortune, that has cruelly disappointed him. His children happily have their mother’s jointure settled upon them. He has some thoughts of going abroad; but his wife is averse to it. He is an enterprising genius, and I sincerely hope will be able to struggle effectually with his bad fortune; but how I know not.
They went with us one night to Mr. Colman’s box; but poor Mr. Young has only forced spirits. Those he does indeed exert in an uncommon manner. She, too, bears herself with more resolution and better temper than I thought her equal to.
* * * * *
But now that I am in a scribbling vein, I cannot forbear mentioning that the reading of Pope’s Letters has made me quite melancholy. He laments with such generous sorrow the misfortunes of his friends that every line I read raises his character higher in my estimation. But it is not possible to find with unconcern that all his best and dearest friends die before him. O great misery of length of days, to preserve life only to know its little value! Pope had but one great end in view to render this world supportable to him. That was Friendship, the peculiar gift of heaven. This did he nobly deserve and obtain; but for how short a time! Jealousy deprived him of the affection he assiduously sought from Mr. Wycherly, and many others; but Death cruel Death was far more cruel. The dearest ties of his heart all yielded to his stroke. The modest Digby, the gentle virtuous Gay, the worthy Arbuthnot, the exiled Atterbury — but why should I enumerate these excellent men, when their very names deject me? But in nothing does Pope equally charm me as in his conduct to his mother: it is truly noble. He gives up all his time, thought, and attention to her ease and comfort. I dare not begin to mention his long friendship with the admirable Swift, because I shall not know where to stop, for the attachment of such eminent men to one another has something in it that almost awes me, and at the same time inexpressibly delights me. I must tear myself from this.....
[Yes my dear journal! yes!] with the more pleasure shall I regard thee thou faithful preserver and repository of my thoughts and actions. Yet I cannot forbear thinking of some lines of my dear Pope’s upon a birthday applicable to my poor dear journal, —
“With added years if life bring nothing new,
But, like a sieve, let every pleasure thro’,
* * * * *
And all we gain, one sad reflection more;
Is this a birthday? ’tis, alas! too clear,
’Tis but the fun’ral of a former year.”
1772
Richard Burney of Worcester. Miss Anne Burney, Mrs. Hawkins.
Miss Ann Burney.
Mrs. Charles Burney.
Signor Celestini.
Miss Rebecca Burney.
Mr. Beckford.
Revd. Mr. Pugh.
Duke of Dorset.
Mr. Hanbury.
Miss Allen.
Lady Dalston.
Mrs. Garrick.
Mrs. Forbes.
Miss Forbes.
Miss — Forbes.
Mr. Crisp.
Dr. Hawkesworth.
Mr. Barretti.
Sir William Hamilton.
Mr. Tacet.
The Abbé Morellet.
Sir William Brown.
Mrs. Lidderdale.
Miss Lidderdale.
Miss Ford, after Mrs. Wilkinson.
Mr. Edwards.
Rev. Stephen Allen.
Miss Sukey Sharpen.
Mrs. Young.
Mr. Barthelemon.
Mynhere Spandau.
Mr. Pawles.
Mr. Bremner.
Dr. Burney.
Miss Barsanti.
Mr. Colman — the elder.
Arthur Young.
Dr. King.
Richard Burney.
Mr. Garrick.
Mrs., aprés Lady Strange. Miss Strange.
Mr aprés Sir Robt. Strange. Miss Pascals.
Mr. Pogenpohl.
Miss Susan Burney.
Miss Charlotte Burney.
<
br /> Miss Eliza Allen, Mrs., Meeke. Mr. Lattice, — the Revd. Honable. Daines Barrington. Mr. Hudson.
James Burney, aprh Admiral. Mrs. Dr. Burney.
Martin Folks, aprh Sir.
Miss Eliz. Burney.
Mr. Sloper.
Capt. Cooke.
Mrs. Burney, senr.
Mr. Rishton.
Dr. Hunter.
Charles, after Dr. Chas. Burney.
Mynhere Bohmen.
Lady Ann Lindsay.
Lady Margaret Fordyce. Mr. Scot.
Dr. Armstrong.
Mr. Charles Burney.
Mr. Burney, senr., Worcester.
[So much of this year’s journal has been cut away, that the following table of its original contents is given. The names absent from Fanny’s pages for 1772, of course, indicate what we have lost.
Mrs. Barthelemon.
Mr. Parsons.
Mr. Daines Barrington.
Mr. Mathias.
Mr. Hudson.
Mr. Breydone.
Mr. George Garrick.
Mrs. Arne.
Mr. Hayes.
Anna Maria Burney (Bourdois).
* * * * *
Mr. Stanley.
Sir John Turner.
Mrs. Stanley.
Miss Arland.
Mr. Fitzgerald.
Miss Fitzgerald.
Mr. Nollikens.
Made. Le Chantre.
Mdlle. Le Chantre.]
* * * * *
[3rd January.]
Mr. Young called here lately; I saw him with sorrow. He is not well, and appears almost overcome with the horrors of his situation. In fact he is almost destitute. I fancy he is himself undetermined yet what plan to persue. This is a dreadful trial for him; yet I am persuaded he will still find some means of extricating himself from his distresses: at least, if genius, spirit, and enterprize can avail. In defiance of the gloom his misfortunes have cast over him, some starts of his former, his native vivacity break out. Dr. King has lately published a book, entitled, “The Rites, &c of the Greek Church.” Mr. Young took it up, and opening at the Preface— “God, so! what’s here?” cried he, and read aloud that he had undertaken this work to relieve his mind from ‘ a most severe affliction occasioned by the loss of a virtuous and affectionate — But it would be impertinent to obtrude my private misfortunes on the public.’”
“He means his wife,” said I.
“It would serve as well for his mistress,” answered he.
“For my own part,” added I (very good-naturedly) “it appears ridiculous ostentation to me, as I am almost certain he had very little regard for her, and he was never in his life more gay than since her death; for I have heard well-authenticated particulars of her marriage; and therefore it seems mere—”
“Well, God so!” cried he, “I honour a man who dares to be singular; I like to see a man’s oddities in his works.”
“But, I think,” said I, “you are no friend to affectation; which to us who know him, this appears. — Are you affected?”
“Affected!” exclaimed he with all his wonted impetuosity, “I had rather be a murderer!”
Jan 26th.
Mr. Garrick is this moment gone. Unfortunately my father was out, and mama not come downstairs; yet to my great satisfaction he came in. Dick ran to him, as the door was opened, — we were all seated at breakfast “What, my bright-eyed beauty!” cried he; and then flinging himself back in a theatrical posture, “and here ye all are — one — two — three — four — beauties all.” He then came in and with a great deal of humour played with Dick. How many pities that he has no children; for he is extremely, nay passionately fond of them. “Well, but, Madam, so your father is out. Why I can never see him. He calls upon me — I call upon him, but we never meet. Can he come to dine with me to-day? can he?” I could not possibly tell. “Well don’t let him send or make any fuss — if he can come he shall find beef and pudding: but I must have him on Tuesday. Some of his friends are to be with me: and I must have him then.” I could not venture to promise.
“I have not had a moment to myself till this morning, I can’t tell when.”
* * * * * *
February 3rd.
It is amazing to me how such a man as Dr. King can have ingratiated himself into the good graces and acquaintance of the first men of the nation, which he really has done. It would be curious to discover by what methods he has so raised himself above his possible expectations; at least, above what his friends could conceive he formed! When he left Lynn, about nine years since, he knew — nobody, I was going to say; and now he is acquainted with all the men of letters in England! He is chaplain to the British factory at St. Petersburg, and perhaps he owes his happy connections to having being abroad, though, at least in my opinion, he has not much the appearance of a travelled gentleman.
He appointed to bring a Russian gentleman and an English clergyman, both fond of music, to my father yesterday, for a conversatione;.... but unfortunately my father was obliged by a sudden summons to attend a committee for the purpose of settling a benefit for decayed musicians. Mama was too indifferent to quit her room; [and they found only Susanna, Charlotte, Bessy, Dick, and myself to receive them.] Dr. King with an attempted politeness introduced them, “Mr. Pogenpohl, justement arrive de Russia? and Mr. Lattice, who I found was just returned from Denmark. Never was an introduction less requisite than to the first. With the [well-bred] address [of an elegant man of the world] he made his own compliments in French. I did not dare return mine in the same language; but I found he extremely well understood English, and spoke it, for a foreigner, amazingly; though as he found I perfectly understood him in French, he rather chose the whole evening to speak it, while poor Fanny Bull, as my father calls me, always answered in English.
I never saw a Russian before. Contrary to all my former ideas, I shall ever, in future, annex politeness and good breeding to the thought of one. This gentleman appears about 22 my age exactly, genteel in his person, and agreeable in his face. His manners [are polished,] his conversation [is] lively, entertaining, and sensible. I made my father’s apologies as well as I could, and acquainted them that I expected him home soon. Mr. Lattice looked a good sort of half-stupid man enough. The Russian seated himself next to me, and immediately entered into conversation. It is amazing with what ease and facility foreigners in general converse with strangers. Poor Mr. Lattice was in the room near half an hour, before he ventured [to utter] a word.
Dr. King, by way of joke, said he was very sorry to hear mama was so shabby. “So shabby!” said the Russian with a smile,... “I had always understood that word in a [very mean] sense!”
“Why,” cried the Dr., “I don’t know whether Mrs. Burney taught me that word, or I her.” Presently after, some other such word being used, the Russian drolly said, “cela vaut autant que shabby!”.... They extremely admired the beautiful Dick, whom I called Mal-cheek — I suppose I spell the word terribly, — it is Russ for boy, as Dr. King had told me. M. Pogenpohl laughed heartily at my speaking it. I told him I was too proud of knowing a Russ word, not to publish it. “But did Dr. King,” cried he, “teach you only that word? — O fie! — that can give you no idea of the softness of our language.”
“M. Pogenpohl,” said the Dr., “will teach you much better than me, — but did not I tell you some other word? Did not I?”
“No indeed.” The Russian then ran on most fluently, repeating Russ expressions and words of soft sounds, — and, if I may trust his manner, soft meaning! I observed Dr. King laughed, so I did not dare repeat them after him, though he stop’ed for that purpose, and said sallimani or some such word, several times over, and appealed seriously to me to judge if it was not a more pleasing word than Malcheek? “O,” cried I, “I shall never remember so much at once. I have not a head for so much — I have not a head for so much.”
“Mais si mademoiselle veut bien me donner l’honneur de repeter mes lecons.” — Dr. King, by way of wit, I suppose, then am
used himself with saying some Russ too; — what it meant, I know not; but M. Pogenpohl exclaimed “O fie!” — which at the same time raised my good opinion of him, and lessened it of the Doctor, who was inexcusable if he said any thing reprehensible, even in an unknown language. The Russian [was too well bred] though I must confess, there was so much archness in his look that I did not chuse to ask the meaning of what he said. He told me he had been five months in England. “But when I first came,” said he, “I learnt nothing: I spoke only French with my sisters; — afterwards, Lord Morris, (I believe you would call him in—”
[Here four lines have been cut out. Fanny is next found speaking.]
“though,” said I, “they may talk so much as to save you the trouble of speaking, if you only desire to learn the language, indeed, the ladies may be very proper!”
* * * * * *
When tea was over, I began to be uneasy at my father’s not returning. Dr. King I saw looked displeased; but the politeness and liveliness of the Russian, who was too well bred to appear dissatisfied, soon dissipated my anxiety. He.... never once seemed to have any thing wanting or any end unanswered in his visit: while Dr. King looked at his watch, listened attentively to every rap at the door, started whenever the parlour-door opened, and was in visible concern the whole evening. Music was now proposed, Mr. Pogenpohl had often heard Bach, of Berlin, and by his conversation shewed so fine a taste and so good a judgement of the art, that neither Susan nor I could be induced to touch a note. Indeed we never do, though Mr. Pogenpohl’s great love of music made me more than ever regret my deficiency. We, however, persuaded Mr. Lattice to play, which he did, in a horrible old-fashioned style; insomuch that I did not dare to meet the Russian’s eyes, I was so sure it must be ridiculous to him —
Complete Works of Frances Burney Page 463