[However he would not go... forced to put away his hat and Mr. Pogenpohl went on conversing with great vivacity....] Dr. King and Mr. Lattice entered into a dispute with him concerning the beaux esprits of his and our nation, and of the arts and literature of both countries. He seems to love his own country with a patriot warmth, yet with the best grace in the world, he gave up to us Philosophy and Poetry, the former with a smile that drolly implied our too great tendency that way. Civil Law, &c he strenuously supported his right to, and indeed his antagonists had not much to urge against him. But with all the fire of youth Dr. King, who is really ill-bred in argument, and Mr. Lattice, who is a plain, common sort of man, both like true John Bulls, fought with better will than justice for Old England, giving it every virtue and every science under the sun.... Dr. King was absolutely ridiculous.... My father has often observed of this man, that he has a knack of talking for three hours upon any given subject, without saying any thing! For my own part, I very frequently after a long argument have endeavoured to recollect what he aimed at, or even what he said, — in vain! for he has no meaning, but continually dives in the dark for one. To regard it in no other light — would any man of common [civility] amuse a foreigner with exaggerated praises of England, given at the expense of his own and of all other nations?
“Our universities, Sir,” said he, “are the only schools [in Europe] for learning; they bring forth geniuses superior to all the world.”
“Are they, then,” said the Russian archly, “all geniuses, Sir?”
“They are the noblest schools in the world,” said the Doctor.
“You think them superior to all others, Sir?” cried Mr. Pogenpohl, naming some one which I have forgot.
“Undoubtedly, Sir. What nation has brought forth such men as our’s? Have we not Lock?”
“Oh, oui! and you have Newton! but then have we not Volfe (sic) and Beraman (sic), — was not he the father of Civil Law? Who have you, Sirs, in that class?”
“Why, as to that—” said the Doctor.
“As to that,” repeated Mr. Lattice, “ I can’t say.”
“But, Sir,” continued the Doctor with a vehemence, which, rude as it was, was merely put on, to give himself imaginary consequence, “but, Sir, are we not superior to all the world in Astronomy? in Natural History? in Poetry? in Philosophy? in Music?”
“La Musiquel” repeated Mr. Pogenpohl, “la Musique!” and flung back, as if he felt the utter impossibility of arguing with a man so imposing, and so very ignorant: for [neither Susan nor I could help laughing.] Give England Music!...
Mr. Lattice then took up the argument. He is, however, really modest, and gave his opinion with diffidence. But his taste is terribly fogrum and old-fashioned. He therefore began an eloge on our English Music and performers. Dr. King, without knowing what he said, joined with him; for I am sure he does not know at all the music of one master, or even of one nation, from another.
“And pray, Sir,” said the Russian, drily, “who are they, your English composers?”
“Who, Sir?” cried the Doctor— “why, why, we have Smith! There’s a great man!”
“But he, Sir,” answered Mr. Pogenpohl, “wrote on Music; I only speak of music for the ear. Only tell me who are your composers.”
Mr. Lattice paused. Dr. King, too bright to consider, named Handel — Ha! Ha! Ha! * * * *
“O, pardonnez-moi, Monsieur; Handel was not an English composer! But you all tell me of your excellent English Music, and yet nobody will name any composer to me.”
“Why, Sir,” after some hesitation said Mr. Lattice, “we have Avison, and Worgan, and Stanley.”...
After this, [both Mr. Lattice and the Russian most furiously attacked me to play; but of course in vain.].... He then made a similar attack upon Sukey, who, after a long defence, sat down.... Sukey had just finished her first movement when Dr. King hastily and eagerly made his bow. He had sat upon thorns some time; and when I made all the speeches I could for my father’s [absence] he told me he was a macaroni; invited company to his house and then went out And, indeed, but for the Russian’s peculiar address and politeness I should have been in an exceeding disagreeable situation, for they came between six and seven and it was half-past nine before they offered to go, and yet no Mr. Burney appeared!....
[My dear father returned home] soon after they went. He had been detained greatly against his will at the committee.... He was extremely vexed, and much the more on hearing from us what he had lost in missing the Russian, whose taste in music alone was enough to excite in my father a good opinion of him, and we spoke so much in his praise, that he declared he must see him. He called on Dr. King the next day, and made his apologies and peace, and settled to have the same meeting, if the Doctor’s friends were disengaged, the following Sunday. Mr. Burney and my sister came to ‘meet them....; [also Mr. Daines Barrington and Mr. Hudson and some others.]
* * * * *
Speaking of the death of the Princess Dowager of Wales, which happened two days before, “ This is a very dull week for strangers,” said [the Russian]; “no diversions! no any thing! all shut up! [very dull! is it not so, Mile.?” to little Charlotte, who, blushing, retreated. “Qu’en pensez-vous, Mile.?” to Bessy, who, smiling, advanced. “I don’t know, Sir.”] “She is not, I think,” returned he, “very much regretted by the nation? but I — I — regret her very much! she is great loss to strangers.” [He then began a comic mock flirtation with little Bessy.].... I could gather by what he said, though all en badinage, with what ridicule, perhaps contempt, he had remarked the prejudicial opinions our nation in general entertain of the Russians; the drolly absurd account he gave her of his country, could have no other meaning. “Will you not go to Russia with me?” said he. “Oh! you will admire it beyond expression!”
“No,” cried Bessy, “I should not, I am sure, I should not like your country.”
“No? — Why?”
“Oh, I don’t know but I am sure I should not like it.”
“O, yes, you would; — very much; if you will go with me you will find it charming; you should live in the woods with wild beasts.”
“O, no, I would not”—” O, yes, you would like it vastly! you should always be with a tyger or a lyon or a wolfe or some such fine beast.”
“No, no; I won’t go.”
“O yes; very agreeable! and you should live on high mountains covered with snow, and sit upon ice, and you should eat trees, and sometimes hay, and you should have grass and briers for sauce.”
“O! no; I should not like it at all.”
“O! yes; very good! very excellent! and should have the sea always before you, and the waves should dash against you, and you should dress in tygers’ skin.”— “O, no; indeed, Sir, I won’t go.”
“O, very agreeable! you will much like my country.”
“Ain’t you a French man?”
“A French man! — for why do you think me a French man?”
“I don’t know, Sir; — because you are one.”
“I a French man! — Look at me another time! — Do I look like a French man?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“In what? tell me.”
“Why, I don’t know, Sir — because you don’t look like an English man.”
“No? — Look at me another time! Why don’t I look like an English man?”
“Why — because an English man don’t wear such a thing as this,” taking hold of his shoulder knot. (He is an officer.) “O yes, they do — the English officer wear all the same, only they wear silver, and mine is gold. And don’t you like that?”
“Yes, I like that very well. — But an English man does not wear such a coat as this.”
“O yes — it is only a uniform, all officers wear their uniform. — And now what have I like a French man?”
“Why, this thing, here” — taking hold of a gold tassel hanging to his sword. “O yes — very common. Nothing in that. And now, look at me another time”—” Why, this is not like an
Englishman” — pointing to the scarf round his arm. “O, every officer wear it — it is only for mourning for the Princess of Hesse — and it will be soon for the Princess of Wales.”
Bessy, quite at a loss, broke from him and ran to Dr. King. “Ah, Mlle.” cried he, “vous aimez M. le Docteur mieux que moi, — mais c’est faute de votre bon gout!”
Hetty and I could not help observing to the Doctor on M. Pogenpohl’s complete knowledge of our language.
* * * * * * *
March 6.
[Mama is gone to Lynn; and Susanna and I keep house for my father. We are so happy! for he is so kind!]....
[April 1st.]
A new month, to my great regret is begun. How fast, how imperceptibly does time fly, where the mind is at ease!....
I drank tea last Saturday with Mrs. Strange. I am very glad to find her journey to Paris deferred till June. An old gentleman was sitting next to her when I went in, whom I thought I had met before, but remembered very imperfectly, and as he did not speak to me I imagined myself mistaken. But at tea-time Dr. Smyth came in. He addressed me by my name, and asked after my father. “God bless me!” cried this gentleman, “why, is this a daughter of Dr. Burney?”
“Yes,” cried Mrs. Strange. “My dear Miss Burney,” cried he, rising and embracing me with great cordiality, “How glad I am to see you! — but why do you wear this great thing over your face? (turning up my hat) why it prevented my knowing you.” Quite unable to recollect who he was, I told him I fancied he was mistaken, and meant my sister. “Oh, no,” cried he—” I know your sister too, I know your married sister, and your sister Charlotte.” I still could not help doubting, though he assured me he was my old acquaintance. “I knew you,” said he, “in Poland Street, but I wonder you should forget me, I thought I was too big to be forgotten!” Seeing me still perplexed he asked my Christian name. When I told him, “O, aye,” cried he, “Miss Fanny! why I knew Miss Fanny very well. I used to meet you at Mrs. Pringle’s, [and with very particular pleasure.]” Then in a moment I recollected Mr. Scot! I was both ashamed and surprised at having forgot him. [But he is much altered.] I was extremely glad of the opportunity of enquiring after my old friends. He told me that Mrs. Pringle was not gone to the East Indies, but to the Isle of Wight to try whether sea bathing would be of service to her youngest boy, who, poor thing, is an absolute ideot. And that Captain Pringle was gone to Newfoundland as engineer under Captain Debieg, who was gone as commanding officer.... I then asked after Mr. Seton. He told me that he had been extremely ill, that he was not gone with his brother-in-law, but that something, he understood, was in agitation for him. This Mr. Scot was sub-preceptor to the King.
We are still without mama. We live in the most serene comfort possible. We have hardly a wish. [My dear Susette is a companion so much to the taste of my heart, she will spoil me for any other.]
April 2d.
Dr. Armstrong called here on Sunday morning. My father was engaged. He was in very good spirits, and very droll. He is a most amazing old man, — [the oldest I know.] I told him I had the honour, at the Haberdashers’ Hall, of seeing the Lord Mayor, for the first time I had seen one. “And how did you like him?”
“Oh! very well.”
“Why, I think,” said he, very gravely, “he is somewhat of the human species; there is some resemblance to mankind in him.”....
But the day after we were happy indeed, for we saw Garrick, the inimitable Garrick, in Bayes! O, he was great beyond measure! Betsy and James, Sue, my aunt and I made up [the party]. I was almost in convulsions [with excess] of laughter, which he kept me in from the moment he entered to the end of the play — never in my life did I see any thing so entertaining, so ridiculous, — so humourous, — so absurd! and I have talked of nothing else — and we have laughed almost as much at the recollection as at the representation. Mr. Young dined with Sue and me to-day. Fortune, I hope, smiles on him again, for he again smiles on the world.
[Here may be given a fragment of a letter to Fanny Burney from Maria Allen, who was still abroad. It is numbered 13 — Nos. II and 12 are wanting. They, and parts of Maria’s journal about that time, must have contained perilous stuff indeed, as we find her here in secret correspondence with Mr. Rishton, and imploring Fanny to burn, as soon as she has read it, a copy of a letter from him, as “I don’t think I act perfectly right to Rishton in going so far — As for Hetty’s seeing it I own it would give me pain as she then must be acquainted with so great a weakness in favour of a Man whom she is prejudiced against. And As I have hitherto Concealed it from her — I should be loth now [to] incur her Contempt or her Raillery — I know I deliver him into the hands of his Enemies in Sending you his letter. I hope Susey will remember a little of her former good opinion — but my dear dear Girls Spare me when you write — think that you speak of him on whom all my happiness in this Life depends and in whom I wish to see no faults, you will call me infatuated I know — I am not happy at the figure I make in your Eyes — but don’t O! don’t mistake me. I don’t wish you to disguise a single sentiment of your hearts on the Contents of the letter, you would ill-merit the faith I put in you if you was Capable of flattering me at the expense of your sincerity — I only wish you would not be guided by prejudice — put yourselves a few minutes in my place — you know my heart has never once Ceased to Beat in his favor even when I thought him most unworthy — that the fear of seeing him had a great Share in my leaving England — you will not wonder that left to myself — my whole soul pleading for him that I perhaps too easily forgave him — but indeed I was so happy at his return — that had I followed the dictates of my own heart I should have wrote him a very different Answer from what I did. I Wrote 3 letters before I coud pen one severe and indifferent enough but at last Compleated a Master peace if you was to see the 2nd letter he wrote me you woud see it did not make him vain — but you must excuse my transcribing any more of Our letters — when I return you shall see them — I write to Susey the same Post therefore you will suppress this letter, as hers will be a suite to the present Time. If ever I am his Wife I will inform Hetty of what has past — but wish at present she may be kept in Ignorance. I am quite of your opinion about Crisp — don’t let a hint transpire you may let him see all the Journal I send except the last Cahier where I mention our Affairs — I will finish this with transcribing A paragraph in his second letter — in answer to what I mentioned About the letter I wrote him—’ you tell me the remembrance of the first letter you sent me to Heacham has embitter’d many hours of your Life & Cost you many tears. — I grant you — such a step might have disagreeable Reflections — But pray! what reason had you for such Uneasiness? did my Character ever give you room to Imagine I shoud expose you because you Loved me? Tis thoroughly unnatural — I defy the world to bring an Instance of my behaving unworthy the Character of a Gentleman — (unless you Accuse me) your letter was immediately destroyed — & had I vainly boasted of such honours who would have believed me. Men of that stamp never gain Credit, but on the Contrary universal contempt — you cou’d not have Chosen a Man more unlikely to do you a Wilfull Injury than myself — on every Account, nor was you ignorant of my Character and Disposition when you wrote — or if I know you you had saved yourself the pain.’ I think those the sentiments of a Man of honour and such I hope to find him. Don’t be surprised at the beginning & call out before Mama do you remember the Memoirs of Mrs. Williams.” This fragment of a letter bears a London postmark of Ap. 6.]
Monday.
[We — Susan and I — had a long visit to-day from the Genius, — as he is called — of the elder branch of the Burney race, — Richard Burney of Worcester, Junior, a young man of very uncommon talents and parts, and of the utmost sweetness of disposition. But, unluckily for his fortitude of mind or modesty of character, he is so handsome, and so lively and amusing, from never-failing spirits, that he is quite spoilt so that he seems at times to be made up of self admiration; yet, at others, he laughs at his own foppery as cordially as his
most sarcastic censurers; and then he will take himself off in his high airs as drolly and gaily, as he takes off, with incomparable mimicry, the airs of his neighbours.] He gave us a very entertaining account of his life in the country, and suffered us to laugh at his affectation with the utmost good-nature, and flung out occasions for it as frequently as possible, even joining in our mirth, and seeming happy to be smoaked. What a strange character! But I will recollect some of his conversation:
[Here there is a gap, and when Richard is found speaking, it is of some person to whose name we have no clue.]
He told me he had been.... in the country — his coming to town was the finest thing in the world, he improved more in those few... than he had done for years in.... “I suppose in his drawing!”
“... no, no, — not so — No — as for drawing [dancing] and music, all these things were quite out of the question; but then he understood the cut of a coat!- Knew the size of a bag,.... his shoes. And then he got the finest easy carriage — [Gad so!] you can’t conceive any thing like it; his [arms] would fall with such ease! — his bow was so extremely genteel! — and then — nothing disturbs him; — if the whole is in confusion, he is as calm and careless as ever.”
“O! he’s a fine fellow!” (Then he rose and took him off with inimitable humour, still pretending to admire him — though, in fact, he must be a mere copy of himself.) “Then his tooth picks,” continued he, “are in the most exact order: — he has three different sizes, for different times — and he amuses himself with picking his teeth half the day—”
Complete Works of Frances Burney Page 464