Complete Works of Frances Burney

by Frances Burney

  I say if such a pepper com rent as this, would serve for an acknowledgement I should return it regularly by the same post. But you, who are rich in materials, that swarm all round you, make no conscience of screwing up a bankrupt to give you pennyworths for your penny, instead of eighteen pence in the pound —

  I will return Mrs. R[ishton’s] Journal the first safe opportunity; but as to Fanny’s papers, unless I have her positive angry commands, my answer is — I don’t care to part with them — they are a fund of entertainment to me oftner than you think for. — ....

  Adieu yours affectionately,

  S. C.

  [MR. CRISP TO MISS BURNEY.]

  Ches. Aug. 22.

  Dear Fanny,

  You are a good sort of girl enough and I don’t hate you violently. — You kept me in hot water about Jem tho’ for a minute; which small penance (as you love mischief at your heart, and cannot help it) I can forgive since you set matters to rights in three or four lines afterwards. But I see in the papers that a Lieutenant Clarke is to go out next voyage with the command of the “Resolution” — how will Jem like that, instead of his favourite Captain Cooke? Or is it all one to Jem who he goes with, so as he does but once more visit Otaheite and his dear Piece that he left behind there? But I wish him good luck with all my heart, for I have taken a great fancy to him. — I suppose that R[ogue] your father is at Buxton before now. — Have you heard from or about him? Let me know. I wish I had anything from hence, to keep up the ball of correspondence; but in short instead of offering to pay your ballance I can only send you an order for more goods. To say that I, and Ham, and Kate have much missed you, and would much have you again, is, or at least ought to be no news to you — it is true however —

  Adieu,

  Yrs sincerely,

  S. CRISP.

  * * * * * *

  The present Lyon of the times, according to the author of “The Placid Man’s” term, is Omy, the native of Otaheite; and next to him, the present object is Mr. Bruce, a gentleman who has been abroad twelve years, and spent four of them in Abyssinia and other places in Africa, where no Englishman before has gained admission. His adventures are very marvellous. He is expected to publish them, and I hope he will. He is very intimate with the Stranges, and one evening called here with Miss Strange. His figure is almost gigantic! he is the tallest man I ever saw; and exceedingly well made, neither fat or lean in proportion to his amazing height. I cannot say I was charmed with him; for he seems rather arrogant, and to have so large a share of good opinion of himself, as to have nothing left for the rest of the world but contempt. His self-approbation is not that of a fop; on the contrary, he is a very manly character, and looks so dauntless and intrepid, so that I believe he could never in his life know what fear meant.

  September 1st.

  My father received a note last week from Lord Sandwich, to invite him to meet Lord Orford and the Otaheitan at Hinchinbrook, and to pass a week with him there; and also to bring with him his son, the Lieutenant. [This has filled us with hope for some future good to my sailor-brother, who is the capital friend and favourite of Omai, or Omiah, or Omy, or Jack, for my brother says he is called by all those names on board, but chiefly by the last appellation, Jack!]

  * * * * *

  Chesington, Saturday, Sept Willingly, my dearest Susy, do I comply with your request of journalizing to you during my stay at this place. [This dear, dear place where we have all been so happy! Our dearest father is already better; our delightful Daddy is in high spirits at his arrival, and of me his reception was so kind — kind — kind — that it has beaten at my heart ever since. Mrs. Hamilton and Kitty are joyous also. Mrs. Simmons as usual, vulgar and forward; her daughter struggling to be polite, and Mrs. Moore contentedly at the head of stupidity.] —

  I have no adventures to communicate. [Mile. Rosat is just what she was, sensible, reserved, civil, and silent. Mile. Courvoisyois, who is newly arrived at Chesington on a visit to Mlle. Rosat,] seems to be good-natured and agreeable enough; but to have what may be called a merry heart and shallow head! She laughs eternally; neither her own illness nor other people’s can make her grave [even a moment. She].... speaks very good English for a French woman; for so she is as to language, though born in Switzerland —

  One thing which diverts me a good deal, and which is equally at least a diversion to Mile. Rosat, is that not a soul in the house can pronounce Mlle. Courvoisyois’ name, except Mr. Crisp, and he never will, as he always calls her petite méchante. Mrs. Hamilton calls her Miss Creussy; Mrs. Simmons Miss what’s your name; Mrs. Moore calls her Miss Creusevoye; and Kitty, to cut the matter as short as possible, and to save trouble, only says Miss Crewe....

  Mrs. Simmons, who because she can smoak the folly of her sister Moore, [who is quite silly,] thinks herself a prodigy of wisdom; and I dare say would think herself an immediate descendant from Minerva, if she had ever happened to hear of such a person; for her conceit raises her to the utmost height of her conceptions.... Well; this wise lady held poor [Mlle.] Courvoisyois more cheap than any other person in the house; and I really believe she took a dislike to her, from finding she could not pronounce her name. When she spoke of her, it was generally in this manner, “That Miss What’s her name, there, Miss Fid-Fad, as I call her. There she has been laughing, till she made my head ache ready to split. Yet I gave her a good set-too just now. I suppose she won’t like me, — who cares? Not I, I promise her! I think she’s the greatest fool that ever I see. She should not be a tutoress to my cat.”

  I have almost, though very undesignedly, occasioned a grand fracas in the house, by a ridiculous joke which I sported for the amusement of Miss Simmons and Kitty. We had been laughing at some of poor [Mrs.] Moore’s queer phrases, and then I mentioned some of Kitty’s own. Her Cousin joined in laughing violently; and as I proceeded from one absurd thing to another, I took Miss Simmons herself to task upon some speeches she had made; and in conclusion I told them I intended to write A Treatise upon Politeness for their edification. All this was taken as it was said, in [sport,] and we had much laughing in consequence of my scheme, which I accompanied by a thousand flighty speeches [and capriciosy for you know what my spirits are at dear Liberty Hall, Chesington]. After this, upon all indecorums, real or fanciful, I referred [Miss Simmons and Kitty] to my book for instruction, and it became a sort of standard joke among us, to which we made every thing that passed applicable, and Miss Simmons who enjoyed hearing me run on as she called it, introduced the subject perpetually. Indeed, the chief amusement I have made myself when with the two cousins, has been indulging myself in that kind of rhodomontade discourse, that it will be easy to you to recollect some instances of.... All this did very well among ourselves; but the day after the Simmons’s left us, while we were at dinner, Kitty blundered out, “Good people, I tell you what; — she’s going to write something about Politeness, and that, and it’s to be for all of you, here at Chissy [to mind your manners.]”

  “I’m sure,” cried Mlle. Courvoisyois, “we shall be very much oblige to the lady.”

  “I’ll subscribe to the book with all my heart,” cried Mlle. Rosat. “I beg leave to bespeak the first copy. I am sure it will be a very useful work.”

  “She’s to tell you all what you’re to do,” resumed Kitty, “and how you’re to do this — and all that.”

  “Exceedingly well defined, Kate,” said Mr. Crisp; “but pray, Fannikin, what shall you particularly treat of?”

  “O Sir,” cried I, “all parts of life! it will be a very comprehensive work; and I hope you’ll all have a book.”

  “Pray, what will it cost?” demanded Mrs. Moore, [seriously.]

  “A guinea a volume,” answered I, “and I hope to comprize it in nine volumes.”

  “O lud!” exclaimed she, “I sha’nt give no such money for it.”

  “I will have two copies,” said Mlle. Rosat, “let it cost what it will. I am sure it will be exceeding well executed.”

  “I do’nt doubt
in least? cried Mlle. Courvoisyois, “of politeness of Miss Burney; but I should like to see the book, to see if I should sought the same.”

  “Will it be like Swift’s ‘Polite Conversation’?” said Mr. Crisp.

  “I intend to dedicate it to Miss Notable,” answered I; “it will contain all the newest fashioned regulations. In the first place, you are never again to cough.”

  “Not to cough?” exclaimed every one at once; “but how are you to help it?”

  “As to that? answered I, “I am not very clear about it myself, as I own I am guilty sometimes of doing it; but it is as much a mark of ill breeding, as it is to laugh; which is a thing that Lord Chesterfield has stigmatized.”

  “Lud! well, for my part,” said Mrs. Moore, “I think there’s no fun without it.”

  “Not for to laugh? exclaimed Courvoisyois, with hands uplifted, “well, I declare I did not sought of such a sing.”

  “And pray,” said Mr. Crisp, making a fine affected face, “may you simper?”

  “You may smile Sir,” answered I; “but to laugh is quite abominable; though not quite so bad as sneezing, or blowing the nose.

  “Why, if you do’nt blow it,” cried Kitty, [taking me literally,] “what are you to do with it, don’t you think it nastier to let it run, out of politeness?”

  I pretended to be too much shocked to answer her.

  “But pray, is it permitted,” said Mr. Crisp, very drily, “to breathe?”

  “That is not yet, I believe, quite exploded,” answered I; “but I shall be more exact about it in my book of which I shall send you six copies. I shall only tell you in general, that whatever is natural, plain, or easy, is entirely banished from polite circles.”

  “And all is sentiment and delicacy, hey, Fannikin?”

  “No, Sir; not so,” replied I with due gravity; “sentiments and sensations were the last fashion; they are now done with; they were laughed out of use, just before laughing was abolished. The present ton is refinement; nothing is to be, that has been; all things are to be new polished and highly finished. I shall explain this fully in my book.”

  “Well; for my part,” cried Mrs. Moore, who, I believe, took every word I said seriously; “I don’t desire to read no such tiddling books. I’m very well as I am.”

  It’s well you think so, thought I.

  “Pray, Ma’am,” said Mile. Rosat, “is it within the rules of politeness to pick the teeth?”

  “Provided you have a little glass to look in before you,” answered I, and rose to go up stairs to my father.

  “Pray, Ma’am,” cried she again, “is it polite, when a person talks, if you don’t understand them, to look at another, as if you said, ‘What nonsense she says.’”

  “I should imagine not,” answered I, moving off to the door, as I found these questions were pointed [against poor Kitty.] “Pray, is it polite, Ma’am,” cried Mlle. Rosat again, “to make signs and to whisper?”

  “I suppose not,” cried I, opening the door.

  “And pray” cried Kitty, colouring, “is it pelite to be touchy? and has people any business to suspect and to be suspicious?”

  “O!” cried I, “these are things that don’t come into my cognisance;” — and away I ran.

  My father, however, sent me down again, to ask Mr. Crisp up stairs to play at backgammon. I found them all silent. Mr. Crisp went up immediately, and presently every body went out, but Kitty, Courvoisyois, and me. I told Kitty, who I saw was swelling with anger, that I began to be sorry she had mentioned the Book. “Oh! it does not signify,” cried she, bursting into a violent fit of tears. “I don’t mind, if people will be cross; it’s nothing to me. I’m sure I’m as obliging as I can — and if people don’t like me they must let it alone.”

  We tried to pacify her; Courvoisyois gave her a glass of wine and insisted on her drinking it. “I did not sought, said she, “that Miss Rosat did mean you. I am sure she always says you are very good.”

  “You’re very obliging, Miss Crewe? cried Kitty, sobbing; “but I can see as well as other people; and I know what Miss Rossiter meant” — [N.B. she calls her Rossiter; no one knows why, not even herself.] “because the thing was, that one day my cousin and I were together, and so Rossiter came in, and I’m sure I did nothing more than I do at this moment; my cousin can witness for me; but she went out of the room in a huff; nobody knows for what; and then afterwards she goes and tells my Aunt Hamilton, that when she came into the room, I said ‘ Humph l’ Now, I purtest I never said no such a thing; and so my cousin would say, if she was here; for I should scorn it; and though I a’nt so pelite as Miss Rossiter, I’m sure I always try to be as obliging as I can, and if ever she wants any thing at any time, I’m always ready to go for her.”

  “I’m sure I always hear her say so, Miss Cooke,” cried [Mile.] Courvoisyois, “I sink you are certainly of a mistake.”

  I was very glad she spoke, as I could not; for the account of the cause of the disagreement was told so very ridiculously, that it required a painful effort to forbear laughing violently; it was all I could do to be decent. However, after some time we consoled her, and made her dry up her tears, which she did, all the while protesting that “she would not say such a thing as Humph for the world” and that “nobody was further from it.”

  They are now upon very good terms again. Poor Kitty has as honest and worthy a heart as any human being, and cannot bear to be thought ill of. Yet I can never cease to be astonished, that she can have lived so many years under the same roof with such a man as Mr. Crisp, and yet be so very unformed, [really] vulgar. I often wish it was possible to set down, as they occur, the strange speeches which she makes, as I am sure they would highly divert you[r own quaint fancy, though not so quaint as your humble servant’s.]

  Thursday, Goose-Day.

  [How I wish you were here, my Susette! I have returned to all my old original rattling spirits, that used to divert you so much at this dear old Liberty Hall, Chesington, — our beloved Mr. Crisp, chieftain — ]

  * * * * *

  [Newton House] St. Martin’s Street, Leicester Fields.

  Oct. 18th.

  My father, very much recovered, and myself left Chesington ten days ago.... We came immediately to this house, which we propose calling Newton House, or The Observatory, or something that sounds grand. By the way Sir Isaac’s identical observatory is still subsisting, and we show it, to all our visitors, as our principal Lyon. I am very much pleased with the Mansion.

  * * * * *

  The first opera [of the season] was performed last Tuesday. The morning before Mrs. Brooke called here, and very civilly invited my mother, Susy, and me to go with her to the opera next day. We were very desirous to hear the new singer Rauzzini, of whom my father has said so much in his German Tour; and we agreed to wait upon Mrs. Brooke about seven. Accordingly we went. Her house in Market Lane, by means of divers turnings and windings, has a passage to the Opera House. We intended to have sat in her box and have seen only her; but when we went, we found she was up stairs with Mrs. Yates! and when she came down she immediately asked us to go up stairs with her. This we declined; but she would not be refused, and we were obliged to follow her.... We were led up a noble stair-case, that brought us to a most magnificent apartment, which is the same that belonged to the famous Heideger and since his time has always been the property of the head manager of the Opera. Here we saw Mrs. Yates, seated like a stage queen, surrounded with gay courtiers and dressed with the utmost elegance and brilliancy. What most provoked me was, [that though our visit was only to Mrs. Brooke,.... yet,]... as we entered the room, our names were announced in an audible voice. All I can comfort myself with is, that it was only at the Opera-House that we met, and that of late years Mrs. Yates has had no harm said of her —

  Mrs. Yates, to a very fine figure joins a very handsome face, though not now in her premiére jeunesse; but the expression of her face is infinitely haughty and hard. With an over done civility, as soon as our names were spo
ken, she rose from her seat hastily, and rather rushed towards, than meerly advanced to meet us; but I doubt not it was meant as the very pink of politeness. As to poor Mr. Yates, he presumed not to take the liberty in his own house to act any other part than that of waiter, in which capacity he arranged the chairs. We were not absolutely seated, when the door was opened by an officer. Mrs. Yates again started from her seat, and flew to receive him, crying, “General Cholmondeley, I am happy to see you!” Then turning to her Jerry, “Mr. Yates, pray, get the General a chair.” Mr. Yates obeyed, and then we rose to go to the Opera. We were to sit in a box by ourselves.

  [An account of Omai, which is given in a letter to Mr. Crisp, is so much more full than that in the Diary, that it has been thought advisable to print the letter rather than that passage; especially as it has not been published in the “Memoirs of Dr.

  Burney.” The notice of Omai in that book (p. 28, vol i.) is compiled from this letter, and from this Diary, with some additional details from memory.]

  [Miss BURNEY TO MR. CRISP.]