Complete Works of Frances Burney

by Frances Burney

  “I will with a great deal of pleasure,” answered Mr. Green, “both say and do every thing that is civil that is in my power.”

  “Miss Bowdler, do you allow of all this?” cried Mrs. Rishton. “O, I am obliged to it,” replied she—” for I am but an old wife!” She made no scruple of being left with the two gentlemen, when we came away.

  Mr. Crispen and Mr. Green were to set out the next morning on a trip to Plymouth and Mount Edgecombe, with a family who are here for the season, of the name of Colbourn, consisting of Mr. Colbourn, who was a Bath apothecary, but has had an immense fortune left him, and is now enjoying it, his wife and daughter. They were to return on Thursday.

  Monday and Tuesday Mrs. R. and myself spent in the most comfortable manner possible, — but for Wednesday I must be more particular.

  Mr. Hurrel has an exceeding pretty boat of his own here, with which he makes frequent excursions on the river Ting, and sometimes on the sea. His wife called here on Tuesday evening, to invite us to be of their party on Wednesday, when they intended sailing to Torbay, to see a Fleet under Admiral Spry, which was just come from Portsmouth. We very gladly accepted the offer, and set off the next morning about seven o’clock, our company consisting of Mr and Mrs. Hurrel, Mr. Phips, a boatswain, another sailor, Mr. Hurrel’s servant, and ourselves.

  Mr. Hurrel is quite a poet’s priest; he is fat as Falstaff, unable to use exercise and eke unwilling; his love of ease is surpassed by nothing, but his love of good living, which equals whatever detraction has hitherto devised for a parson’s gluttony. Mrs. Hurrel is an obliging, civil, tiresome woman.

  Our plan was to see the fleet, and if possible, a man o’ war’s inside, and then to land on one of the safest and pleasantest rocks, to dine, as Mr. Hurrel had taken especial care of this particular. But when he came near the ships, the sea grew rough, and having no invitation, we were obliged to give up the thought of entering any of them. There were seven men of war in the bay, and we sailed round them.... They are most noble vessels. I had reason to think myself very fortunate that I was not sea-sick, though I never before was on the sea. We put in at Brixham, a most excellent fishing-town, but very dirty and disagreeable. We made but a short stay, and set sail again. Brixham is about ten miles from Tingmouth by sea.

  The wind was against us, and we were hardly out of the harbour, before we found the sea terribly rough. I own I was not very easy, as our boat, though a large one for the Thames, was very small for the sea; but still I considered myself as the person of the least consequence, whatever our danger. However, it was no sport to me to be danced up and down, and to find the waves higher and rougher every instant, especially when I saw Mr. Hurrel who had hitherto guided us, quit the helm to the Boatswain, and exclaim, “We shall run foul of these rocks!”

  The waves foamed in little white mountains rising above the green surface of the sea; they dashed against the rocks off the coast of Brixham with monstrous fury; and really to own the truth, I felt no inclination to be boat wrecked, however pathetic and moving a Tale our adventure might have made. Mrs. H. grasped my hand, and looked very much frightened; her agreeable husband repeated several times his most comfortable exclamation of, “We shall run foul of the rocks!” There followed a most terrible confusion. I don’t remember or understand sea phrases; but the hurrying, loud, violent manner in which they gave orders to one another, was really frightful. “Is there any danger,” cried Mrs. Hurrel; pray, Boatswain, tell me, is there any danger?”

  “No; I don’t think there is Ma’am.”

  This was the most alarming sound I had heard yet — I don’t think there is! However, I found we were all in equal danger; for the two sailors assured us their swimming would be totally useless, as the fury of the waves would presently swallow them up. Mrs. Hurrel grasped my hand harder than ever. Her husband forgot his cloth, and began to swear, [but always adding,] “God forgive me!” — At length, after being tosst up and down in a most terrible manner for about a quarter of an hour, the Boatswain said we should not reach Tingmouth before midnight; and just then the waves seemed to redouble their violence, and the boat scooped one fairly over us.

  I gave up the ghost; Mrs. Hurrel burst into tears, and cried vehemently, “For the Lord’s sake, for mercy’s sake! Mr. Hurrel, pray let us go back to Brixham, — pray do, — we shall all be drowned! O! pray don’t let me be drowned! [Set me down! set me down!]”....

  “But where are we to dine?” cried he.

  “O! any where, Mr. Hurrel, any where, so as we do but get a-shore! I don’t mind, I assure-ee!”

  “O! that’s pretty talking,” answered the priest, “but that won’t serve for a meal.”

  However, I believe he [also] had no objection to prolong his days; for when the boatswain said that it blew fresher higher up, he immediately ordered, that we should tack about; and so we returned to Brixham!

  When we landed, I was so very giddy, that I could hardly stand, and was obliged to go into the first house for a glass of water; but I am only amazed that I was not dreadfully sea-sick. How to get home was the next consideration. Mrs. Rishton had promised to meet Mr. R. at Exeter the next day, and was determined rather to walk than disappoint him; but it is sixteen miles from Tingmouth by land; there was no post-chaise to be had; nor could we hear of even horses. We went into the best inn of the place, and Mr. Hurrel ordered dinner. After a thousand enquiries, pro’s and con’s &c we were settled thus: Mrs. R. procured a horse, Mr. Phipps another, on which he accompanied her [back to Teignmouth]; and Mr. Hurrel, his wife and myself, to my great regret, were obliged to stay all night at Brixham.

  But I forgot to mention that a sloop filled with Tingmothians, was obliged to put in at Brixham as well as us, they were a very gay party, who had come out with the same view as ourselves, among them were Miss Lockwood and Miss Bowdler. I was sorry to see the latter in such company, for they behaved in a most ridiculous and improper manner dancing about the town and diverting themselves in a very unmannerly easy and careless style, and though Miss Bowdler herself behaved with propriety yet her party reflected some thing on her and has much added to Mr. Rishton’s aversion to her. But to be brief. We passed a weary evening at Brixham and the next morning at three o’clock we got up and set sail for Tingmouth, intending to breakfast in the boat. But, Oh grief of griefs! the awkward boatswain managed to destroy all the matches; and we were obliged to give [our breakfast] up, to Mr. Hurrel’s very great anger and sorrow.

  I will mention nothing more of our perils, though they were not inconsiderable in my opinion. But however we landed at last, safe and sound, about nine o’clock. The Hurrel’s insisted on my going to breakfast with them; after which I came home, and went to bed for a couple of hours, not having undressed myself at Brixham. But I caught a very bad cold, and know not when I shall part with it.

  Mr and Mrs. Rishton returned from Exeter to dinner, and in the evening Mr. Crispen called, just arrived from Plymouth. He protested he could not rest till he came; that this was his first visit; and that where the thoughts were, there the person must wish itself! — &c. — [all addressed to little me!]

  “But I think,” added he, “that my love expressed no great joy at seeing me? — My heart went pit-a-pat all the way I came.”

  He said he had rode the whole way from Plymouth on horseback, having given the Colbourns the slip: he gave a very high character of the daughter both for accomplishments and propriety of conduct. He declared that he found himself so little fatigued with his journey that he was ready to show his prowess by going on the beach and declaring the Bright Burney, the best of her sex!

  “Except,” said Mr. Rishton, “Miss Colbourn!”

  “Without any exception! I have a very great esteem for Miss Colbourn; and admire her greatly; but here—”

  “But then, Miss Bowdler? what do you do with her,” returned Mr. Rishton.

  “For the little Bowdler I have indeed a most particular regard; but still — still Miss Burney!—”

  Mr. Ri
shton mentioned some more fair Dulcineas, to all which he answered, “O, these are but my diversion! — but Burney is my Home!” Then, turning to me “your little hand... I love you! — I was prepared to love you before I saw you; — but now I find in you a strong resemblance to a sister who was very dear to me, that I must love you more for her sake.”

  The next morning Miss Bowdler called. She seemed in a very angry humour with her old friend Mr. Crispen. I fancy she wishes to be more unique with him than she finds [it] is in her power to be.

  “He is returned quite a young man,” said Mrs. Rishton, “and not at all fatigued.”

  “Yes,” answered she, “but he droops this morning! he must take another journey to Plymouth to recruit. He tells me that Miss Colbourne was all perfection. I only laughed: to me she appears the most affected, conceited thing I ever saw: however, I am glad Perfection is so easily obtained!”

  “We shall hear Fanny’s opinion of her to-night,” said Mrs. Rishton, “for she drinks tea here.”

  “Well, much good may it do you! — they extol her painting too — but I’d lay my life all the landscapes she has taken this journey are from Green: — however, Crispen can afford to lavish away a multitude of compliments without feeling their loss: but novelty is all in all for him.”

  She said much more to the same purpose, and made me very angry with her, as Mr. Crispen deserves more consideration from her, and seems her first-rate favourite. In the evening the Colbourns came. The father... is a worthy kind of man, but full of that parade and bluster which constitute that sort of man [whom] we call purse proud. The mother is an insipid, good sort of woman. The daughter is a very smart girl, somewhat affected and not too diffident of her accomplishments; but extremely civil and obliging, and very well behaved.

  I don’t know when I shall come to the present time; but Patienzaf Saturday morning Mrs. Rishton and I walked out [to] avoid a very disagreeable scene at home; for the day before Mr. Rishton came home in great haste and pertubation, and calling his wife told her that he had broke Romeo’s leg! This was occasioned by the poor dog’s running after sheep, for which he has often been, in vain, very severely beat; but now he and one of the spaniels got a poor sheep quite down and began to tear her to pieces. Mr. R. rode up to them, and catching Romeo at first by the leg, to prevent his biting, began to flog him violently, till he found that by the twist, he had broke his leg short off! He was beyond measure concerned, and gave a man a crown to carry him home gently in his arms; and the next morning had a surgeon to set the poor animal’s leg, — which not chusing to see we sauntered before the door till it was done: in which time Mr. Crispen went by on horseback. “Are these my ladies?” cried he, “ and how does my love? I did not see her all yesterday — the day was heavy! I felt something wanting! — and how fares it with the Lamb?”

  “I wish you would come and hear me read Italian,” cried she, “now do, Mr. Crispen, I want help extremely.”

  “And does my little Burney speak it? or learn it?”

  “O yes,” answered Mrs. R.

  “Then I’ll come! — the sound of her voice—”

  “Well,” returned she, “I never heard anything so genteel! upon my word, Mr. Crispen, there’s no bearing all this—”

  “Nay — you know I always loved the sound of yours,” cried he, as he rode off.

  In the evening, however, he came; but as Mr. Rishton was at home, we had no Italian: for he is too far advanced in that language to profit by such lessons as we want. Mr. Crispen brought with him some drawings on cards of Mr. Green’s performance. Two of them were views of Tingmouth, and he made a great fuss about them, asking me how I would bribe him for a sight? I told him that I had nothing at all to offer. —

  “Why, now” said he, “methinks two drawings deserve two kisses — and — if—”

  “No, no, no,” cried I, “not that!” much surprised at his modest request. [But he only spoke in sport I am sure.]

  He brought one view for Mrs. Rishton which Mr. Green had sent her as a present; saying “I wish it was for my little Burney!”

  The drawings were extremely pretty. One of them I was admiring very much — it was a night piece — for its coolness— “O,” cried Mr. Crispen, “that is if! you would like a cool lover, then? I am too passionate for you?”

  When we had examined these cards, “Come,” said Mr. Rishton, “won’t you sit down, Mr. Crispen — there’s a chair by Miss Burney!”

  “That is where I mean to sit,” answered he. Poor Romeo’s misfortune then came on the carpet, and Mr. Crispen gave Mr. R. some very good and very free advice, on restraining his passions, and keeping them more under command; — and Mr.

  R. who is quite afflicted for the dog, took it very candidly and sensibly; indeed, they both did themselves honour. But, however, nothing could engage the old gentleman long from his gallantry to me. He turned towards me with a mournful air: “I don’t know how it is but my little Burney and I don’t hit it off well together! I take all possible pains, — but I cannot please her! — Well, I can’t help it! — I can only say, you would not have used me thus forty years ago!”

  Thank God I could not, thought I. But, really, I scarce knew what to say, and indeed have seldom made any other answer than laughing; but I took the first opportunity of his being engaged in conversation with Mr. Rishton to move off and seat myself in the window. He perceived it immediately, and with a reproachful voice, called out, “Now is this decent, Miss Burney? are you afraid of only sitting by me?” Then rising and getting his hat, “Well, I shall go to my little Colbourn — she will not use me thus!”

  However, he altered his mind, and brought a chair and placed himself before me; and the subject was changed to Miss Bowdler and the Brixham party.

  Miss Bowdler might have blushed to have heard the bene volence with which he spoke of her. He lamented in very affectionate terms that she had been unfortunately mixed with so giddy and imprudent a party, and recommended it very strongly to Mrs. Rishton to make it known as much as she could, that Miss Bowdler was an exception [to the general set,] when the company was named. He regretted her being alone here and hoped Mrs. Rishton would extend her friendship to protect her, and be as much with her as possible, after Miss Lockwood’s departure. He spoke of her in very high terms and said he owed her so much [regard and respect] that he would himself be always with her, but that he knew the people here would only sneer about it.... It seems, in a bad illness which Mr. Crispen had, she was his constant nurse.

  Mr. Rishton very openly blamed her for mixing with the Brixham party. Mr. Crispen could hardly justify her. “I would not,” said he, “have had a daughter of mine there — or my little Burney, for the whole world!”

  Then again he renewed his discourse to me, and begged me to remember an old proverb — that “Love burns slowest in old veins —

  But when once entered, long remains.”

  “Indeed,” said I, “I did not come to Tingmouth at all prepared for such fine speeches!”

  “Fine speeches!” exclaimed he— “ah! that is always the way you answer old bachelors!”

  Now, to tell you my private opinion, my dear Susy, I am inclined to think that this gallantry is the effect of the man’s taking me for a fool; — because I have been so much surprised at it that I have hardly ever had a word of answer ready. You, who know how wise I am, must allow the injustice of such an inference! But I cannot write or recollect half the fine things he says. But don’t let all this make you think him a fool. He is much of a gentleman, has an easy and polite address, is very sensible and agreeable in conversation, and remarkably mild, candid, and benevolent in his opinions and judgements: but he has lived so long abroad that I suppose he thinks it necessary to talk nonsense to we fair sex.

  Monday, Aug.

  We are just going to Tingmouth Races, which, indeed, are to be held in sight of our house. We hope for very good sport, — a great deal of company are arrived on the Den.

  August. 19th.

&
nbsp; I have not had a moment for writing this age — I never had less, as Mrs. R. and myself are almost inseparable. The Races, however, must by no means pass unrecorded.

  Miss Lockwood and Miss Bowdler invited themselves to accompany us to the Race ground: Mr. Crispen also called in and joined us. Mr. Rishton was not at all pleased, and the half hour which we spent before we set out, he sat almost totally silent. Mr. Crispen addressed himself to me with his usual particularity, which really put me quite out of countenance, as I dreaded Miss Bowdler’s opinion, and feared she would rank me with Miss Colbourne. I seated myself quietly at a distance, but Mr. Crispen, determined to torment me, drew his chair quite close to mine, and in so particular a manner that I could not keep my place but got up and seated myself next to Mrs. R. on the window.

  I then wished that I had not, for everybody (except Mr. R.) laughed: I felt my face on fire. “Do you run away from me,” cried Mr. Crispen, “to take shelter under the Lamb?” But it was in vain, for he immediately moved after me, and continued, in the same style, to complain of me. I endeavoured to change the subject, and made some enquiries concerning the Races; but nothing would do. “Ah!” cried he, “would that your heart was to be run for! What an effort would I make!”

  “Yes,” cried Miss Bowdler (not very delicately), “you would break your wind on the occasion, I doubt not.”

  “What will they do,” said I, “with the poor pig after the Races?” (one was to be run for).

  “O that my heart,” cried Mr. Crispen, “could be as easily cured!”

  “Never fear,” said Miss Bowdler, “it has stood a good many shocks!”

  “Were it now to be opened,” answered he, “you would find Burney engraved on it in large characters.”

  “O yes,” cried she, “and you would find a great many pretty misses there besides!”

  “Ay,” said Mrs. R., “there would be Miss Colbourne.”

  “But Burney,” [cried he emphatically,] “is my sum total. I own, I avow it publicly, I make no secret of it!”