Complete Works of Frances Burney

by Frances Burney

  Again, “Not even my kitchen is sacred from the Lynn Managers.” Her Lynn visitors follow her into it, and she is “still so awkward and bashfull, (a favorite expression of Martin,) that she cannot order a dinner before them.” She breeds turkeys and poultry, and toils with Martin over ploughed fields to look at his barley. She is often “in a Moil” (as they still say in Norfolk), but “Rishton, Who I believe is the Most Active Creature Alive is never easy to see me Stupyfying myself with domestic employments — if I sit down to the Tambour for half an hour—’ Come Maria you must go with me and see how charmingly Damon (the new pointer, the reigning Favorite) hunts and what good command I have him under — I know of a pheasants Nest about two Miles of you Shall go and see it,’ then away we trail broiling over Cornfields — and When we come to the pit some Unlucky Boy has Stole the Eggs as was the Case the other [day,] then I spend Whole Mornings seeing him Shoot Rooks — grub up trees — and at night for we never come in now till Nine o’Clock — When tea is over and I have settled my Accounts or done some company business — bed-time Comes.”

  There is no certain sign that Fanny was ever again in Norfolk until after she left the Queen, but her brother James visited the Rishtons when he chanced to be on dry land. We find them interested in Dr. Burney’s “History of Music,” and for Jem’s sake, in Captain Cook. Mr. Rishton gives Jem two choice puppies, which some less favoured connexion covets, so that Jem had better not speak of the gift. At a later time, Captain Burney names his only son, (the “Martin Burney” of Charles and Mary Lamb,) after the Norfolk squire Martin Rishton. We find Mr. Rishton in company with Mr. Windham, in the diary of the latter.

  The doctor and Fanny were high in Mr. Rishton’s good graces, but he thought his mother-in-law “very tolerable, and not to be endured.” Indeed, he was hard to please,’and, it may be, that, for long, Maria humoured his fastidious fancies and proneness to cavil at his kinsfolk and her own, far beyond what loyalty demanded. He raised bars about her by being what the French call ‘difficile’ in character, quick to disapprove, and prompt in expecting his wife to share his distastes. He oscillated between setting up fine equipages, and selling his coach-horses to spare expense. Things must be showy, or non-existent. Not long after her marriage, Maria writes that “Rishton has got a phaeton building in London. I dont think it quite Prudent so many Expences but I am become a much better manager and cannot think of throwing Cold Water as I have hitherto on an Amusement he has wished for ever since we married. I must endeavour to save in other Matters, you may believe me when I assure you If he wd permit me that I woud rather go in a Linnen or Stuff gown all my Life than debar him of the vast pleasure indeed it is no merit at all of mine as you well know — Dress was never an Object with me — but one must Conform a little to the manners of the World at least he wishes I shoud.”

  She was childless, and often alone. By degrees her letters lose their wild gaiety — she is, (she writes,) “ so entirely seperated from those I love”— “from a lovd society that I remember with the greatest pleasure notwithstanding the maney rubs we used to meet with, when browsing over my little [fire], and eating good things out of the closet by the fire side.” She is always “very inquisitive to know anything about” the Burneys, “from my My and my Do” [Dr and Mrs. B.] “to the cat and Charlotte’s Sparrow.” To the Burneys, above all to Fanny and to Dr. Burney, she shows (throughout a correspondence with Fanny, lasting until 1821) a devotion and gratitude, which find even passionate expression, increasing as the years go by, although the time had long passed when (as she says) “our connexions and friendships were nearly the same and all subjects were in common.

  She has her Mrs. Coke of Holkham, while Fanny has, for a while, her Mrs. Thrale. Mrs. Coke entreats Fanny, whom she knows only as the author of “Evelina” and “Cecilia,” to choose her a governess, whom she will take from her, unseen. We have dwelt upon this friendship, mainly because it is another proof of the steady warmth of Fanny’s heart; and of that constancy, which was (as she truly said to a lover of her own, later on,) her favourite virtue. Fanny survived her “beloved friend” about twenty years. Maria, who was then a widow, died in 1821.

  1774

  [The diary of this year originally contained passages concerning Dr. Burney, Mr and Mrs. Stanley, and Mr and Mrs. Arthur Young, before the description of the visit to Miss Reid.

  The Crisp letters of the year are enclosed in a quarto sheet of paper, marked No. II, and headed “Parts of Letters of my honoured Mr. Crisp, of the year 1774.” Below, is this note, addressed by Mme. D’Arblay to her son; “I have kept only one whole letter of my own this year. The rest were too trivial for a place in the Rectory — for which I try to select some innocent prog?

  That Fanny was writing something, besides letters, early in this year seems to be shown by the following passage, which we find in a letter dated Feb. 7: —

  [MARIA RISHTON TO FANNY BURNEY.]

  And so Mr. Cartwright has made Miss Burney a new riding habit — and she is riding away on her pretty nag Grub — at least one wd imagine so by my not having received a single line. “Are you sure, James, Miss Burney did not give me any letter or parcel?”

  “No indeed, ma’am.”

  “Well then she is a false perfidious girl, and so much for her.”]

  [FROM MR. CRISP.]

  Chesington, Jan the 1st.

  A happy new year to the Fannikin! and I think I begin it well; and as an instance of my sincerity, I own to you, I answer your letter so soon, just as your over grateful people profess their acknowledgements for benefits received — in hopes of more — your letter, when it came, was an excellent one; but you are devilish long-winded, Fan, pray mend that fault — * * * *’s history is something singular, and highly entertaining — you sum up the whole with this question —

  “Is each man perjur’d, and each Nymph betray’d?”

  You don’t state the matter right; but in the light you consider it, the plain, positive answer, is, — Yes.

  Now, you are young, artless, open, sincere, unexperienced, unhackney’d in the Ways of Men; consequently you have high notions of Generosity, Fidelity, disinterestedness, Constancy and all the sublime train of Sentimental Visions, that get into girls’ heads, and are so apt to turn them inside out — No wonder therefore, that you rail at men, and pull the poor devils to pieces at such a rate — Now I must endeavour to set you right, and persuade you to see things as they really are, in Truth and in Nature; then you will be more favorable, and no longer think them monsters, wretches, etc. — be assured, my Fanny, they are just what they were design’d to be — Animals of Prey — all men are cats, all young girls mice — morsels — dainty bits — Now to suppose when the mouse comes from her hole, that the generous, sentimental Grimalkin will not seize her, is contrary to all Nature and Experience, and even to the design and Order of Providence — for depend on it, whatever is, is right; and however strange such a doctrine may seem, the constant, universal, and invariable, innate Disposition and Practice of all mankind from the beginning of things, and in all ages, must have been originally meant and intended; and tho’ particulars, and individuals, are the sufferers, I have no doubt, but that the general order and design of Providence is carried on by these irregularities and misfortunes — Teeth and claws were given to tygers; and nimble heels, and quick ears to the roebuck, by him who gave all to all — I don’t mean by this to justify particular instances of treachery, ingratitude, breach of hospitality, etc., which are ever to be detested, and their authors should be banished from society; but barely to inculcate and if possible immoveably to fix in your mind this position, that in the commerce between the two sexes, a sense of what is right and wrong is too feeble a restraint to have the least dependence on; in many cases, the incitement is so violent, and uncontroulable, that even a long-try’d virtue snaps in two like a thread at the first attack — such is human nature — the only Security is flight, or Bars and Bolts and Walls.

  * * * * * *

  [M
iss BURNEY TO MR. CRISP.]

  7th Feb.

  Did you draw me into a correspondence, my dear Daddy, with no other view than that of mortifying me by this entire breach of it? I take it for granted that you were heartily tired, and repented of your scheme. Though I allow this to be very natural, I cannot forbear noticing that it seems of necessity for men to be capricious and fickle, even about trifles. However, I acknowledge that if I had had any head I must have foreseen this blow, but as I never had none it has almost stunned me. Yet I will frankly own, that even while I received your letters they appeared to me too flattering to last long. But, if by any chance, I have been so unfortunate as to offend you, — though I can hardly suppose it — I entreat you my dear Sir, not to punish me with silent resentment. I would rather receive from you the severest lecture you could pen, because while I might flatter myself with even meriting your notice I should indulge hopes of regaining your kindness; — and, if you will so far favour me, I will gladly kiss the rod.

  But if, after all, I have only wearied you, do not think me so weak as to wish to teaze you into writing — I could not forbear sending this remonstrance, but will not trouble you again unless you should again desire it — which I only fear you should now do out of compliment, or compassion. However, I will not further pester you, but only subscribe myself, My dear Daddy,

  Your ever affectionate and obliged

  FRANCES BURNEY.

  If you should write, I conjure you to let it be with frankness.

  [Addressed— “Samuel Crisp, Esq., at Mrs. Hamilton’s Chesington, near Kingston-upon-Thames, Surrey.” Numbered 2, i.e., of this year.]

  [Miss BURNEY TO MR. CRISP.]

  Queen Square,

  9th Feb.

  My dearest Sir,

  The sight of your hand, once again directed to me, really made me jump. I am a thousand times more comfortable, too, in knowing that you wrote before my foolish scrawl could reach you, for which I now beg your pardon, though I can only now urge in my excuse that the readiness of your first answers quite spoiled me. I cannot imagine how you can contrive to laugh with so much gravity, as when you are pleased to speak of my letters — however, though my swallow is not quite so deep as you apprehend, yet while I can at any rate procure answers, I neither can or will forbear writing.

  I dare not — perhaps indeed can not — pursue your —

  Coquetry, I must acknowledge, is almost universal, and I know fewer girls exempt from that passion than from any other — it seems irresistible — I was going to add something of vanity and love of pleasure, but there is no sort of occasion to make concessions to you, who are so little inclined to overrate our merits. I will therefore only say, that though I readily allow you a general superiority over us in most other particulars, yet in constancy, gratitude, and virtue, I regard you as unworthy all competition or comparison. The flights and failings of women are oftener from some defect in the head than the hearty which is just reversed by you — so that where we are weak you are wicked — now which is least justifiable?

  * * * * *

  February 20th.

  What will become of the world, if my Annals are thus irregular? Almost two months have [elapsed without] my recording one anecdote! I am really shocked for posterity! But for my pen, all the adventures of this noble family might sink to oblivion! I am amazed when I consider the greatness of my importance, the dignity of my task, and the novelty of my pursuits! I should be the Eighth Wonder of the World, if the world had not already, and too prematurely, nominated so many persons to that honour!

  * * * * *

  [Thursday mama took us with her to Miss Reid, the celebrated paintress, to meet Mrs. Brooke, the celebrated authoress of Lady Julia Mandeville.’] Miss Reid is shrewd and clever, where she has any opportunity given her to make it known; but she is so very deaf, that it is a fatigue to attempt [conversing] with her. She is most exceeding ugly, and of a very melancholy, or rather discontented, humour. Mrs. Brooke is very short and fat, and squints; but has the art of showing agreeable ugliness. She is very well bred, and expresses herself with much modesty upon all subjects; which in an authoress, a woman of known understanding, is extremely pleasing.

  The rest of the party consisted of Miss Beatson, a niece of Miss Reid’s, Mr. Strange, and Dr. Shebbeare. Miss Beatson is [a very young and very fine girl,] not absolutely handsome, yet infinitely attractive; she is sensible, smart, quick, and comical; and has not only an understanding which seems already to be mature, but a most astonishing genius for drawing, though never taught. She groupes figures of children in the most ingenious, playful, and beautiful variety of attitudes and employments, in a manner surpassing all credibility, but what the eye itself obtains: in truth, she is a very wonderful girl.

  Dr. Shebbeare, who was once put actually in the pillory for a libel, is well known for political and other writings. He absolutely ruined our evening; for he is the most morose, rude, gross, and ill-mannered man I was ever in company with. He aims perpetually at wit, though he constantly stops short at rudeness. He reminded me of Swift’s lines:

  “Thinks raillery consists in railing,

  Will tell aloud your greatest failing.”

  For he did, to the utmost of his power, cut up every body on their most favourite subject; though what most excited his spleen was Woman, to whom he professes a fixed aversion; and next to her his greatest disgust is against the Scotch; and these two subjects he wore thread-bare; though indeed they were pretty much fatigued, before he attacked them; and all the satire which he levelled at them, consisted of trite and hackneyed abuse. The only novelty which they owed to him was from the extraordinary coarseness of language he made use of. But I shall recollect as much of the conversation as I can, and make the parties speak for themselves. I will begin with Mr. Strange’s entrance, which was soon after ours. After his compliments were paid to the fair sex he turned to the Growler. —

  “Well, Dr. Shebbeare, and how do you do?”

  Dr. Shebbeare. — Do? why, as you see, pestered by a parcel of women.

  Mrs. Brooke. — Women and the Scotch always fare ill with Dr. Shebbeare.

  Dr. Shebbeare. — Because they are the two greatest evils upon earth. The best woman that ever I knew is not worth the worst man. And as to the Scotch — there is but one thing in which they are clever and can excell the English, and that is they can use both hands at once to scratch themselves — the English never think of using more than one.

  Miss Reid. — Ay, Dr., you only abuse us because you are sorry that you are not our countryman.

  Dr. Shebbeare. — What, envy, hey? Why its true enough that they get every thing into their own hands; and when once they come they take care never to return, no, no!