[June.]
I have now to mention a visit from Roscius; he came again last Wednesday before eight o’Clock. I had fortunately been up above an hour. When I went into the study, he was playing with Charlotte. I had, as it is pretty usual with me on seeing him, something of a grin upon my face. “Oh here she comes!” cried he, “and resolved to look as handsome as she can. I shall run away with her next.” My father read to him an article he had been drawing up for a new Dictionary of Arts and Sciences, a sort of English Encyclopedia. Dr. Goldsmith is the Editor, and is to be assisted by many of the best writers. Among others, Dr. Johnson is to take ethics; Sir Joshua Reynolds, painting, and Mr. Garrick, acting. It was Mr. Garrick, who mentioned it to my father some time since, and told him he wished to have his name in the list for the article, music; he wrote to Dr. Goldsmith concerning it, whose answer I will copy by memory:
“To David Garrick, Esq.
“Dear Sir,
“To be thought of by you, obliges me; to be served, still more; I am very happy that Dr. Burney thinks my plan of a Dictionary useful; still more, that he will be so kind, as to adorn it with any thing of his own. I beg you will also accept my gratitude for procuring me so valuable an acquisition. I am, Dear sir,
“Your most affect serv.
Oliver Goldsmith.”
This very civil note Mr. Garrick enclosed in a short one from himself:
“My dear Doctor, “I have just received the enclosed. Dr. Goldsmith will be proud to have your name in the list of the chosen. You shall have the books very soon.
“Yours ever, D. G.”
“My love to your fair ones.”
My father cannot do much in this work, without robbing his History; but he has written the article Musician, which he read to Mr. Garrick, who was pleased to admire it very much. He also read to him an Answer, which he is preparing to some complaints made by French writers, concerning his censure of their Music. When Sukey came down, and he had spoken to her, he said to my father, “And so you have [these young creatures] all about you in a morning?”
“O yes!”
“And so they prattle, — and you rest your understanding?”
This was monstrous!
“Quite the contrary,” cried I, “my father exerts his understanding to keep pace with us!” — He understood me, and getting up in a violent hurry, he came to the table where I was making tea; and with a thousand whimsical gestures, he cried, “O! you quite mistake me; — I meant to make you the greatest compliment in the world! I could not make you a greater! — what I meant was — to say that — that when you were all about him, he could then most delightfully” —
“Repose?” cried Sukey. “Aye,” cried he, “repose, and — and — most delightfully — do this, and that, and the other.”
“Excellent, Mr. Bayes!” cried my father; and indeed he made it as clear as Mr. Bayes could possibly have done, — and with the most affected earnestness, he declaring repeatedly that he meant to pay us an amazing compliment.
* * * * *
[Mr. Rishton is said by Fanny to have had “a husky voice.” There is also something husky in his pen-strokes; his being the final note that ends this letter-writing.
“Mr and Mrs. Rishton hope Miss Burney will excuse not having it in their power to fetch her, as they did not receive her favour until this moment, have sent the whisky, and will make proper apologies on her arrival at Tingmouth.
“Leave y things to the care of Mrs. Tucker at the Oxford Inn, and they will come by the carrier to-morrow.”
TINGMOUTH JOURNAL.
EDITOR’S PREFACE TO THE “TINGMOUTH JOURNAL.”
The Teignmouth journal was, originally, no part of this year’s Diary. It was, what Mme. D’Arblay herself called a “Journal Letter,” addressed to that sister, Susan, who, in return, sent her records so full and frank of all that passed in the house of Dr. Burney, that the greater part of them were destroyed by Mme. D’Arblay, on account of their “confidential openness.” This Teignmouth journal may be called Fanny’s first book, privately circulated. It was handed to Mr. Crisp, who loved to dwell long on the writing of these girls. He even had “Allen’s” Geneva journal (1771-2) as well as this, still in his keeping in 1775. We find Maria, in October, 1774, in distress, and even alarm; wishing that her journal had never been out of her own hands. Yet Fanny had kept back from Mr. Crisp what there was in it of “perilous stun.” Mr. Crisp was so charmed with Fanny’s letter on Omai in December, 1774, that, after reading it to those about him who were able to value it, he sent it to his two sisters, a widow (Mrs. Gast), and a spinster, who were living at Burford, in Oxfordshire. Mrs. Gast was a woman of education and refinement. She was delighted with her brother’s “delectable Fanny,” and, in an effusive letter, thanked Mr. Crisp for it, telling him that she had, like himself, “entertained others with it, who had any taste for cleverility” — [a word which we hope that we may never find anywhere again.] Now it happened, that in the beginning of the Omai letter, Fanny had implored Mr. Crisp to return her Teignmouth journal, as “papers which can only furnish entertainment, if any, from the first perusal; but to me, who know all the people, and things mentioned, they may possibly give some pleasure, by rubbing up my memory, when I am a very tabby, before when I shall not think of looking into them. But the return was the condition, so give me my bond.” She also begged that he would return Maria’s journal. Mr. Crisp audaciously replied, that in sending his sisters the letter, “in order to make them understand what those papers were which you reclaim’d with such fury,” he had been obliged to explain that they were “your journal and the Allen’s,” — that his sister (whose letter he copies in part) has, with much warmth, entreated that she may have a sight of his “charming Fanny’s” journal, — and why should she not? — and why not of Allen’s, too; her name being concealed? Thereupon, follows Fanny’s positive denial in the case of her friend, and an expression of great reluctance in her own. “Ever since her marriage,” Maria, “had a thousand, nay a million of times, both by letters, and by word of mouth, conjured Fanny to get her papers from Mr. Crisp, and destroy them at once.” Fanny adds that she had only preserved that part of the journal which Mr. Crisp had never seen, in order that she might give Mrs. Rishton the satisfaction of seeing it burnt before her face, — together with that part which she begs him to send to her. He answers that Mrs. Rishton’s journal shall be given up to Fanny, when he can find some safe way of sending it. This he has not found in July, 1775, although by March he has restored the Teignmouth journal to the writer; but merely in order that she may read it before he sends it to his sisters. She reviews it critically; and “feels a thousand times more repugnance” than before, to letting Mr. Crisp’s sisters see “such folly,” but yields, rather than contest the point with him; yet stipulates that he shall write a line or two to tell them that it was at his desire that they receive her journal; not through her own vanity. She asks him to return the letters which she has written to him, but this he not merely refuses to do, but apparently sends all of them which do not touch upon family affairs to Mrs. Gast, whom Fanny has, so far, never met. The love of Fanny’s letters grows upon Mr. Crisp, and his demands for them increase. He even shows a little jealousy of her spending time in writing to Mr. Hutton, and to Mrs. Brooke, the novelist, when she might have been writing more letters to him. Later on, Fanny meets Mrs. Gast at Chesington, loves her, and is loved by her. There is no more withholding of papers from her. Mr. Crisp even copies with his own feeble fingers, Fanny’s journals, which, after 1776, are mainly addressed to Susan, then passed on to him, and he sends them, (at least in part) to Mrs. Gast, who is to read them to no one but “Molly Lenthal,” her great friend. Dr. Johnson is shown a letter from Mrs. Gast to Fanny, that he may admire, as he does admire, her elegant handwriting. On the death of Mr. Crisp in 1783, Mrs. Gast, as his executrix, became possessor of Fanny’s letters to him. Her cousin, and executrix, Mrs. Frodsham, restored them afterwards to Madame D’Arblay; a fact which
is gratefully recorded in the Memoirs of Dr. Burney.
Two leaves, at least, are missing, so that this journal begins abruptly, thus —
[July]
— . — . — . some repair, and I therefore, was very late before I came in sight of Tingmouth, half a mile from which Mr and Mrs. Rishton walked to meet me.
I was received with the most cordial welcome by my dear Maria, [who]... had been quite uneasy, lest any accident had happened to me. I was very glad to find their company were all gone.
Tingmouth is situated the most beautifully of any town I ever saw, or perhaps in England, ever can see. Mr. Rishton’s house is... on the Den, which is the Mall here. It is a small, neat, thatched and white-washed cottage, neither more nor less. We are not a hundred yards from the sea, in which Mrs. Rishton bathes every morning. There is no end to the variety of delightful walks and rides which this sweet spot affords.
The morning after I came they insisted on my accompanying them to the Races, and I had a very civil invitation from Mrs. Phipps, in whose chaise and company Mrs. Rishton and myself went. Mr. Rishton drove Mr. Phipps in his whiskey. [The Phipps’ are newly married, and in great favour with Mr. Rishton and Maria.]
We got a very good place in the stand, where there was a very great deal of company, and the races, being quite new to me, really afforded me a great deal of entertainment. [But I must not omit mentioning that Mrs. R. announced to me that the first person for agreeability, cultivation, pleasantry, and good breeding of their acquaintance was a half name-sake of my dear Daddy Crisp, — i e a Mr. Crispen.]
Mr. Rishton is still more in love with retirement than his wife, if that is possible; there are but two families he approves keeping up acquaintance with: though I find there is at present a great deal of company at Tingmouth, as this is the season for sea-bathing, and as the rural beauties of the place become every year more known, in so much that the price of all provisions, &c., is actually doubled within these three years. The two families honoured with Mr. Rishton’s preference are those of the Phips and the Hurrels, which latter consists of Mr. Hurrel, a clergyman of 1500 per ann his wife and her sister, Miss Davy, who are daughters of Sir John Davy.
In returning from Mrs. Phips we were met by Mr. Crispen. [It seems he] has interested himself very much in my father’s musical plan. He is on the wrong side of an elderly man, but seems to have good health and spirits. He has spent many years abroad, and is perfect master of French and Italian. He is at Tingmouth for the summer season, but I believe Bath is his usual place of residence.
I was also introduced the same morning to Miss Bowdler, a young woman, who [according to Mr. Rishton], bears a rather singular character. She is very sensible and clever, and possesses a great share of wit and poignancy, which spares, [he says,] neither friend or foe. She reckons herself superior, [he also adds,] to the opinion of the world and to all common forms and customs, and therefore lives exactly as she pleases, guarding herself from all real evil, but wholly regardless and indifferent of appearances. She is about six and twenty; a rather pretty little figure, but not at all handsome, though her countenance is very spirited and expressive. She has father, mother, and sisters alive; but yet is come to Tingmouth alone; though at present indeed, she is with a Miss Lockwood, a rich old maid; but she will very soon be entirely at liberty. She and her family are old acquaintances of Mrs. Rishton, and of mama; she is therefore frequently here; but Mr. Rishton, who gave me most of this account of her, cannot endure even the sight of her, a woman, he says, who despises the customs and manners of the country she lives in, must, consequently, conduct herself with impropriety. For my part I own myself of the same sentiment, but, nevertheless, we have not any one of us the most distant shadow of doubt of Miss Bowdler’s being equally innocent with those who have more worldly prudence, at the same time, that her conduct appears to me highly improper: for she finds that the company of gentlemen is more entertaining than that of ladies, and therefore, without any scruples or punctilio, indulges her fancy. She is perpetually at Mr. Crispen’s, notwithstanding a very young man, Mr. Green, lives in the same house; not contented with a call, she very frequently sups with them; and though she does this in the fair face of day, and speaks of it as openly and commonly as I should of visiting my sister, yet I can by no means approve so great a contempt of public opinion. As to Mr. Rishton he almost detests her; but his wife is really attached to her, which is an unfortunate circumstance. I heartily [wish] that she was not here, as she always drives Mr. Rishton away when she appears; for he is delicate, or rather scrupulous, to an uncommon degree in his choice of acquaintance for his wife. Nevertheless, when she offers to entirely give Miss Bowdler up, he does not consent to it, because he knows it would be much against her will, and because if it was not, he would not risque her character to the lash of Miss Bowdler’s tongue.
“After the Races,” said Miss Bowdler, in taking leave, “I shall do myself the honour to wait on Miss Burney.”
“Ay,” cried Mr. Rishton, when she was gone, “they will soon make this as errant a public place as Bristol Hotwells or any other place.”
Thursday we again went to the Races, with Mrs. Phips, &c.
Friday morning Mr. Crispen called, and said that he should sooner have paid his respects to me but that [he] understood I had been engaged at the Races.
But before I talk any more of other people, let me, my dear Susy, more particularly mention my home. And, first, our dear friend Maria, is just the same I ever knew her, save that she is become more gentle in her manners in general, and less indulges herself in that disposition for whim, which Nature so lavishly gave her; but this restraint is more in actions than words; for her conversation, except in company very formal and old, is as flighty, as ridiculous, as uncommon, lively, comical, and truly entertaining as ever we knew it; and her heart generous, frank, undisguised, admits of no alteration. We are most excessively comfortable together, and have nothing to repine at, but the impossibility of wholly avoiding visits and visitings, though she has almost all her former carelessness of what she does in this particular, to save herself the torment of seeing people she does not care for.
Her adored Rishton improves daily in my opinion, because I think I daily observe in him an encrease of real affection and tenderness for his wife. They are, indeed, most unaffectedly happy in each other; even I who live in the house with them, should find it at present difficult to determine which of them is more affectionately, I might say, passionately attached to the other. Mrs. Rishton’s love has long admitted of no addition, though her happiness certainly has, as time makes her know how peculiarly fortunate her choice has been.
There is a remarkable similarity in their humours; for he is as whimsical and odd as herself; but he is so very [difficult] in his opinion of proper companions and acquaintance for his wife, that he is really miserable whenever she speaks to any but the select few of his option. Though this exceeding scrupulosity, and some other things of this nature, have perhaps their rise from pride, yet he evidently proves that all his thoughts and attentions are directed towards her, and seeking to do her honour. There is a kind of generous impetuosity in his disposition, which often hurries him beyond the bounds which his own cooler judgement would approve; and here again he resembles his wife — that he cannot at all disguise any thing that he feels.
I find myself very happy here. I am treated with the most unbounded confidence by Mr. Rishton himself as well as by his wife, and I am most comfortable in finding that every thing in the family goes on just the same as if I was away, and that I am no restraint either in their affairs or conversation. —
The rest of our family consists of four dogs who are prodigious favourites. Two of them are spaniels, Vigo and Trump...; the third is a Newfoundland dog, excellent for diving, [who]... always goes with Mr. Rishton to swim or bathe: he is named Tingmouth; the fourth is most particularly for Mrs. Rishton, it is called Romeo and is a very faithful old dog, [it is a brown Pomeranian.]...
Mr. R
ishton having some business in London on Saturday, Mrs. R. and myself accompanied him as far as Exeter in his way. But I should mention that before we went Mr. Crispen paid us another visit, in the course of which he was pleased to offer himself for the most devoted of my slaves I but, he said, it was in all humility, and only till I met here with a younger: and then he would resign his pretensions.
He asked Mr. Rishton how long his stay here would be. “It is quite uncertain,” answered he, “according to what news I hear from Stanhoe. Perhaps I may be kept till Christmas: — if we could but keep Miss Burney.”
“O,” cried Mr. Crispen, “if Miss Burney stays, I do! though I intended to go in five or six weeks. She has accepted me for an old lover, though indeed I was in love with her before I saw her by what I heard from the Lamb (a name he has given to Mrs. R), and now—” &c., &c. We agreed to go again to Exeter on Thursday, which day Mr. R. had fixed upon for his return, and on Sunday evening Mrs. R. and myself called in at Mr. Crispen’s to borrow the poem of the Minstrel.
This Mr. Crispen seems attached to the fair sex in the style of the old courtiers. I am told that he has Dulcineas without number, though I am the reigning sovereign at present. Miss Bowdler, who is on the list, and who I take for a very formidable rival, was sitting with him. He insisted on Mrs. Rishton’s coming in, but demanded instantly “have you brought my little flame with you?” We stayed but a few minutes, and in that time Mr. Green entered. Mr. Crispen introduced me to him, and added “you must say every thing that is civil — but nothing that is fond to this young lady — for yesterday I poured forth the effusions of my heart to her.”
Complete Works of Frances Burney Page 470