This applause would have entirely disconcerted her, had it been unexpected; but, as we all imagined, she could not fail meeting with it, we had accustomed her to it, at all rehearsals; so that she seemed very sensible of the reason of the noise, as she calls it, and highly gratified by it. The meaning and energy with which this sweet child spoke was really wonderful; we had all done our best in giving her instructions, and she had profited with a facility and good sense, that at her age I do indeed believe to be unequalled. When the ice was once broken in regard to applause, it was not suffered to be again cemented; but, while behind the scenes, I could not forbear myself leading a clap to every one of Nance’s speeches. I wish I could give you any idea how sweetly she spoke:
“Whisper, ye winds, that Huncamunca’s mine;
Echoes, repeat that Huncamunca’s mine!
The dreadful business of the war is o’er,
And beauty, heavenly beauty crowns my toils!”
But it is impossible; nor do I expect anybody not present to do her the justice she deserves.
At the end of the speech, the drums and trumpets again made a racket; and the King, Queen, and Tom Thumb marched off in triumph. I caught the dear little hero in my arms, and almost devoured her.
“I wasn’t afraid of the people now, cousin Fanny,” cried she, “was I? No, I wasn’t; nor I wasn’t ashamed, neither; was I?”
We gave her all sorts of good things, to keep up her spirits, and she was so well pleased, that she wanted to go on again immediately; — and such was her innocence that without having any notion of connection in the piece she begged me to accompany her directly. “Do now, cousin Fanny; let us, you and I, do our scene now; why won’t you, I say?”.....After this, Lord Grizzle made his appearance. And here Edward did shine indeed! He was dressed very richly, though ridiculously, and was in high spirits. Indeed, I must own I think he excelled them all; clever as Richard, his only possible rival, was. He spoke with such solemnity, such tragic pomposity and energy, and gave us such fine and striking attitudes, while his face preserved the most inviolable gravity, that to enter into the true spirit of burlesque with greater humour or propriety, would be impossible. Among his numerous talents he has, undoubtedly, real abilities for the stage.
But I have neglected to mention the entrance of Glumdalca, from my eagerness to speak of little Nancy. Yet can nothing in the piece be more worthy of mention; for nothing excited greater merriment.
James was dressed in a strait body with long sleeves, made of striped lutestring, lapelled with fur, and ornamented with small bows of green, blue, garnet, and yellow. The back was shaped with red. His coat was pompadour, trimmed with white Persian; his shoes were ornamented with tinsel; he had a fan in his hand, a large hoop on, and a cap made of every thing that could be devised, that was gaudy and extravagant, feathers of an immense height, cut in paper, streamers of ribbons of all colours, and old ear-rings and stone buckles, put in his hair, for jewels. We were obliged to keep the hair-dresser upon his account; for Sir Brilliant’s Tète would by no means do for The Giantess, no; he had the full covering of a modern barber’s block, toupée, chignon, and curls, all put on at once. The height of his head, cap, and feathers, was prodigious; and, to make him still more violent, he had very high-heeled shoes on. His face was very delicately rouged; and his eye-brows very finely arched; so that his face was not to be known. You cannot imagine how impossible it was to look at him, thus transformed, without laughing, — unless you recollect our infinite grinning, when we saw aunt Nanny in Dr. Prattle. Indeed, there was nothing but laughter, whenever he was on the stage.
The second act I had myself the honour of opening, attended by Beckey. My dress was a good sort enough of burlesque of tragedy dresses, but so made up as to be quite indescribable, though of no bad effect. Cleora’s was of muslin and pink gause, and really very pretty — rather too pretty for the purpose. The curtain was drawn up, and the lovesick Huncamunca was discovered reclining upon an easy chair, and weeping, Cleora standing humbly by her side.
“Give me some music; see that it be sad” — was followed by the very sad air of “Two Black-birds sat upon a spray,” in which Beckey was accompanied by the Passage Band, and which gave high diversion to the audience and great benefit to The Princess, who had time to become quite easy, before she spoke any more.
Indeed, happily for me, my spirits were now entirely restored; the seeing the first act, and being so much interested about Nance, made me quite forget myself, and to my great satisfaction I found myself quite forsaken by the horrors. The extreme absurdity and queemess of my part contributed greatly to reviving me, and I was really in high and happy spirits; though I must own I had been fain to drink... before I began.
The scene that followed, went off far beyond my expectations. During Beckey’s song I put myself into all sorts of affected attitudes of rapturous attention, and had the pleasure to find each of them produced a laugh. She then left me, and I had the honour of a scene with the King, in which I exerted myself, to the utmost of my power, in tragic pomp and greatness; and I believe the folks hardly knew me again; for I could hear sundry expressions of surprise from different parts. Indeed, had my extreme terror lasted longer, I should have hated heartily the very thoughts of acting ever after.
The King had not been gone a moment, ere I was visited by Lord Grizzle, who kneeling began,
“Oh! Huncamunca! Huncamunca! Oh!”
to which came the most haughty of all my speeches:
“Ha! doest thou know me! Princess that I am!
That thus of me you dare to make your game?” —
and I do assure you it wanted no energy or imperiousness that I could give it; so that my transition to kindness afterwards in proposing to be married in the Fleet, was [the more] laughable and ridiculous — When we had arranged our plan, and he quitted me to buy a licence, my other lover, Tom Thumb, entered. O, that you all could have heard her say, —
“Where is my Princess? where my Huncamunca?” —
she spoke it with a pathos that was astonishing. The tender Princess easily yields to the eloquence of her little hero, and they are just coming to terms, when the appearance of Glumdalca interrupts them. And this scene occasioned more excess of laughter than any throughout the piece. Glumdalca’s first speech,
“I need not ask if you are Huncamunca;
Your brandy nose proclaims—”
caused almost a roar, and the scornful airs of the two ladies, while deriding the charms of each other, kept it up as long as we continued together. But had you seen little Nancy standing between James and me, and each of us taking a hand, and courting her favour, — you would have laughed yourself sick at her amazed looks at each.
I came off, however, victorious, and we left Glumdalca to mourn her slighted love. Little Nancy who stood listening for some time, heard some of them say, that “this is Tom Thumb’s wedding-day? “Am I married?” cried she, “cousin Fanny.”
“O yes.”
“Who am I married to, then?”
“Why to me, my love.”
“O I’m glad it isn’t to uncle James then, ‘cause he’s such an ugly woman [with that nose on].”
The 3rd act had many alterations, in order to lengthen the part of Cleora. Beckey also...
The battle-scene went off extremely well; but Edward, while fighting with the Giantess, had his forehead, and the side of his eye most terribly wounded.
The whole concluded with great spirit, all the performers dying, and all the audience laughing. The curtain was then drawn, and we all ran into our Green Room; and here we remained till the company went down stairs.
They had refreshments in the dining room. James changed his dress and went to pay his compliments to his acquaintance. Betsy and Beckey, after some hesitation, followed him, but I begged to be excused as I knew none of the party, and had been pertly stared at enough. I would have persuaded Richard to make one among them, but he said he looked so ugly (by means of whiskers, and so forth) that
he could not bear to be seen — While we were waiting at the stair’s head for the company’s retiring, a voice to which I was an utter stranger, and speaking in masquerade manner, called out— “Where’s Miss Fanny? Why won’t Miss Fanny shew herself?” I could not imagine [who that was, but supposed Dr. Wall.]
* * * * *
[VISIT TO GLOUCESTER.]
[Between April and July, 1777.]
* * * * * *
We arrived at Gloucester about 5 o’clock. Dr. Wall handed us out of the coach with one shoe all over mud and the other clean, but without any buckle. He welcomed us very cordially, “but how happened it,” cried he, “that you did not come by water? I have been almost to Tewksbury to meet you, and walked along the shore till I was covered with mud; — and here I would not wait to dress before I came to you; but there are two or three barges gone up the river to meet you Captain Coussmaker returned from Bath yesterday, and he should have gone to escourt you, if you would have fixed your time for coming.”
He then went up to his wife and returned with her compliments, and that she was extremely unhappy she could not wait upon us, but had all her hair combed out, and was waiting for the man to dress it, who had disappointed her ever since two o’clock.
I think I never saw a more queerly droll character than Dr. Wall’s. He lives just according to the whim of the moment, he is passionately fond of sports of all sorts and kinds, and would purchase them at any trouble or expence; he says every thing that occurs to him, whether of praise or censure, compliment or ridicule; he means to offend nobody, and never dreams of taking offence himself: and, withall, he has a most absurdly odd face, and wears the most ridiculous wig I ever saw.
He began immediately to talk of the play, and said he could think of nothing else. “ I hope, Miss Fanny,” said he, “you are now quite recovered from the fright of your first appearance in public; though, upon my word, I should never have found it out if they had not told me of it; it appeared so well in character, that I took it for granted that it belonged to the part.”
“It was very fortunate for me,” said I, “that I had so serious and melancholy a part; for I should totally have ruined any other.”
“The character, Ma’am,” returned he, “seemed wrote on purpose for you! Captain Coussmaker says he went to see ‘ The Way to Keep Him’ at Bath, but it was so ill done, that after all of you, he could not sit it, so he came out before it was half over.”
We had then to explain the reasons of our not coming by water. James, in a whisper, asked me where I thought Richard was? I could not possibly guess. “Why,” said he, “he is in the back lane leading to the house, standing in the rain without his great coat, and talking to Mrs. Wall, who is leaning out of the window to answer him, with all her hair about her ears!” Thus, you see, there was no exaggeration — ver prett: n’est-ce pas — of Richard’s favour with this fair lady.
Captain Coussmaker came soon after. Lord Berkeley had promised to spend the evening at Dr. Wall’s, but afterwards sent an excuse, that he was so busy mustering and examining men, that he could not possibly keep his engagement.
Lord Berkeley, you must know, is Colonel of the Militia of Gloucestershire, and makes it his business to keep it upon a footing remarkably respectable. He is so active and vigilant in the direction of the affairs of the corps, that the lowest soldier in the Militia cannot have done more actual business. He is a very handsome man, and looks remarkably sensible, penetrating, and serious.
Mrs. Wall did not make her appearance till tea was half over; for the Doctor insisted that Nancy should make tea, and not wait for Mrs. Brilly, which, or My Ladyships he always calls her. I think you know that Mrs. Wall’s name is Briliana!
As she is in mourning, her dress did not shew to so much advantage as to pay us for waiting so long to see it. And now, if you would have my opinion of Mrs. Wall, from what I saw of her in a visit of three days, take it. I think her very plain, though very smart in dress and appearance; she is clever, but very satirical; she makes it a rule never to look at a woman when she can see a man; she takes it in turn to be very natural and very affected; she spends infinitely more than half her time at her toilette, to which she is an absolute slave; she is exceedingly fond of laughing and making merry, but rather tiresome in pointing out that penchant, not leaving others to discover; and, in short, she has three ruling passions, each of them so strong it would be difficult to say which predominates, and these are Dress, Admiration, and Fun — simple, honest, unrefined Fun. I can believe any thing as to the present [to Richard] from her behaviour and looks: she is forever seeking Richard’s eyes, and when they meet, they smile so significantly, and look with such intelligence at each other! But, indeed, Mrs. Wall does not confine her smiles to him, any more than he does his gallantry to her. Were! Dr. Wall, I should be infinitely miserable to have a wife so apparently addicted to flirting, and seeking objects with whom to coquet from morning to night.
Dr. Wall, though a very indifferent performer, is really very fond of music, and he has so strange and mixed a collection of musical instruments as I never before saw. He brought them all out of a closet in the parlour, which he appropriates to keeping them, one by one; and he drew out some tone, such as it was! from each before he changed. First came a French horn, — then a trumpet, — then a violin, — a bass, — a bassoon, — a Macaroni fiddle, — and, in short, I believe he produced twenty of different kinds. An overture was then attempted, — every body that possibly could, bore a part, — and I really would not wish to hear a much worse performance: and yet this music lasted to supper!
Mr. Coussmaker stayed supper. He is a very pretty sort of young man, but rather too shy and silent, which, though infinitely preferable to forwardness and loquacity, nevertheless may be carried too far, either for the comfort of the owner or pleasure or satisfaction of those with whom he converses. We were, however, very jocose; though, unfortunately for me, I had a very sad head-ach, and could not contribute my mite towards the general cause.
After supper Dr. Wall gave about sentimental toasts. We were all mighty stupid at them, and he was obliged to help every body. When my turn came I told him, that not being able to think of a sentiment I would give a good wish, and then I drank A Fair Day to the Review To-morrow. Dr. Wall pretended to misunderstand me, and gave it out—” Miss Fanny Burney’s Good Wishes, and a Fair Review, — that is to say, added he, All Miss Fanny Burney’s Wishes, — for I dare say they are all good.”
When he called upon Mr. Coussmaker, he, too, said he really could not recollect one. “No?” cried Dr. Wall, “what don’t you recollect any thing about full pay? — O ’tis a most excellent sentimental toast!” Nancy, Betsey, and Beckey were all equally at a loss, — I know not what bewitched all our memories, but not a soul could recollect one when called upon. “Well,” cried Dr. Wall, “don’t suppose, gentlemen, that the ladies have no sentiments, — the only thing is, they are ashamed to own them, — that’s all.”
Provoking enough, — but he says any thing: for example, looking hard at Betsy, “Pray,” said he, “did ever any body take notice of your eyes?”— “My eyes, Sir? — Why?”—” Because they a’n’t fellows, — one is brown, and one grey,” — and, indeed, it is very true. And when he was helping Edward to some duck, he bid him cut it very small, for he was afraid his mouth would hardly hold it. When he called upon Edward for his toast, “Come, Sir,” cried he, “what do you gentlemen of the Royal Academy give for sentiments? — a model of Venus? — or what? — You that study from Nature must certainly be very sentimental.”
The next morning, before we were dressed, Dr. Wall serenaded us with sundry instruments, one after another, [upon the stair-case.] When we came down to breakfast, Mrs. Wall having slightly enquired how we did, said, “Pray do you know why Dickey does not come?” for so she jocosely calls our cousin Richard. All the gentlemen, you must know slept at some inn, as Dr. Wall could only accommodate the females with beds.
Soon after we were seated a party ente
red who were invited to spend the day, consisting of Miss Holcomb, a most frightful and disagreeable woman, Miss Hayward, an old maid, she is deaf, and should have been Mrs. Hayward many years ago, her brother, a fat-headed man, and Miss Wall, sister of the Doctor, who is ugly, but agreeable. Our three youths and Mr. Gale strolled in soon after. Richard seated himself, with his usual ease, at Mrs. Wall’s elbow, while she made breakfast; and her company was not the more attended to for his vicinity.
We had but just done when the Militia began to be drawn forth upon the College Green, where Dr. Wall lives, and Lord Berkeley, who resides next door but one to the Doctor, appeared before the window. We all flew to put on our hats, and then went in a body to the door, to see the ceremony of preparing the men for marching to the field. Here we were joined by Captain Coussmaker, Captain Snell, Captain Miers, and heaven knows who — for Dr. Wall is acquainted with all the corps, — who are all men of fortune and family. We were also joined by a Mr. Davis, a young man, a neighbour of the Doctor, celebrated for flightiness, freedom, gallantry and rioting. He is handsome and agreeable, though I should like him much better were he less forward; for not content with renewing an intimate acquaintance with Betsy and Beckey, he began one with me, upon the same free terms at once! [Imagine how that’s a mode to my royal favour.] We went to the review in two coaches; in one the same party that travelled to Gloucester, and in the other Miss Holcomb, &c. But Mrs. Wall — stayed at home, lest she should miss a hairdresser she wanted to have to herself against the Ball! Richard, Harry Davis and Mr. Gale walked, for the field of action is but just out of the city —
Our coach was so placed as to give us the best view we could have, from one spot, of the show. James and Edward immediately got out, as did all the men who came in carriages. When the salute was to be given to Lord Berkeley, most of the ladies also alighted: so did all our party, myself excepted, and as I was by no means well, and had silk shoes, and the day was cold, and the ground damp,.... I determined to content myself with what I could see from the coach: and away went all the rest except Edward —
Complete Works of Frances Burney Page 497