Complete Works of Frances Burney

by Frances Burney

  Your dear padre is very considerably better, surtout in looks, but by no means re-established; for cold air — too much exertion- -too little — and all sorts of nourishment or beverage that are not precisely adapted to the present state of the poor shattered frame, produce instant pain, uneasiness, restlessness, and suffering. Such, however, is the common condition of convalescence, and therefore I observe it with much more concern than surprise - and Mr. Hay assures me all is as well as can possibly be expected after so long and irksome an illness.

  “The scholarship is at an end —

  So much for that!” pretty cool, my friend!

  Will it make you double your diligence for what is not at an end? hey, mon petit monsieur?

  But I am sorry for your disappointment in the affair you mention, my dear Alex : though your affections were not so far engaged, methinks, but that your amour propre(303) is still more bless(304) than your heart! hey? However, ’tis a real loss, though little more than of an ideal friend, at present. But no idea is so flattering and so sweet, as that which opens to expectation a treasure of such a sort. I am really, therefore, sorry for you, my dear Alex.

  Your determination to give way to no sudden impulse in future is quite right. Nothing is so pleasant as giving way to impulse; nothing so hazardous.

  But this history must double your value for Messrs. Jones Musgrave, Jacobs, Ebden, Theobald, and Whewell. “Cling to those who cling to you!” said the immortal Johnson to your mother, when she uttered something that seemed fastidious relative to a person whose partiality she did not prize.

  Your padre was prevailed upon to go to the play. We were both very well pleased with H. Payne in certain parts; in some instances I even thought him excellent, especially in the natural, gentlemanly, and pensive tones in which he went through the gravedigger’s and other scenes of the last act. But, for the soliloquies, and the grand conference with the mother! oh, there, Garrick rose up to my remembrance with an clat of perfection that mocks all approach of approbation for a successor.

  But you, M. Keanite, permit a little hint against those looks that convey your resentment. They may lead to results that may be unpleasant. It is best to avoid displaying a susceptibility that shows the regret all on your own side! Let the matter die away as though it had never been. Assume your cool air; your “so much for that!” but do not mark a dpit that will rather flatter than vex. At first, it was well; you gave way to Nature and to truth, and made apparent you had been sincere : but there, for your dignity’s sake, let all drop; and be civil as well as cool, if you would keep the upper hand.

  PREPARATIONS FOR LEAVING BATH.

  (Madame d’Arblay to General d’Arblay.) 1817. …..June 18.-I made a morning visit to Mrs. Piozzi, whom I found with +Dr. Minchin, an informed, sensible physician. She was strange, as usual, at first; but animated, as usual, afterwards. The sisters, Mrs. Frances and Mrs Harriet Bowdler, called upon me, and were admitted, for I heard their names in time; and we had much good old talk), Page 397 that is, Frances and I; for Harriet is ever prim and demure and nearly mute before her elder sister.

  June 25.-Fixing the last day of the month for my journey, I set seriously to work to hasten my preparations. What a business it was! You have no conception how difficult, nor how laborious, it is to place so many books, such a quantity of linen, such a wardrobe, and such a mass of curiosities, in so small a compass. How fagged and fatigued I retired to rest every night, you may imagine. Alex vigorously carried heavy loads at a time from the study to the garret, but only where he might combine and arrange and order all for himself. However, he was tolerably useful for great luggages.

  June 26.-We spent the afternoon at Larkhall place, to meet there Maria and Sophy. My dear sister(305) was all spirit and vivacity. Mr. Burney, all tranquil enjoyment — peace, rest, leisure, books, music, drawing, and walking fill up his serene days, and repay the long toils of his meritorious life. And my sister, who happily foresees neither sickness nor ennui, is the spirit and spring of the party.

  June 28.-I devoted all day to leave-taking visits, for so many houses were opened, and claimed long confabulations, from their rarity, that I had not finished my little round till past ten o’clock at night. Yet of these hosts, Mrs. Frances Bowdler, Mrs. Piozzi, Mrs. Morgan, and Mrs. Andr were out. Two of the three latter ladies are now in France, and they have written word, that the distress in their province exceeds all they have left in this country! Madame do Sourches has written a similar melancholy account; and Mrs. Holroyd, who received my longest call this morning, read me a letter from Lady B. with words yet stronger of the sufferings in the Low Countries! O baleful effects of “Bella, horrida bella!” I sat an hour also with Mrs. Harriet Bowdler, in sober chat and old histories. She has not — il s’en faut — the exhilaration and entertainment of her clever sister; but there is all the soft repose of good sense, good humour, urbanity, and kindness. One cannot do better than to cultivate with both; for if, after the spirited Frances, the gentle Harriet seems dull, one may at least say that after the kind Harriet, the satirical Frances seems alarming.

  But my longest visit was to the excellent Mrs. Ogle, who is the oldest acquaintance with whom I have any present connection in the world. It was at her house I first saw Mrs,

  Chapone, who was her relation; I visited her, with my dear father, my mother-in-law, and my sisters; though from circumstances we lost sight of each other, and met no more till I had that happy encounter with her at Cheltenham, when I brought her to the good and dear king. My respect for her age, her virtues, and this old connection, induced me to stay with her till it was too late to present myself elsewhere. I merely therefore called at the door of Madame de Sommery to inquire whether they Could receive me sans cremonie for half an hour in the evening. This was agreed to , and Alex accompanied or rather preceded me to Madame de Sommery, who had her two jolies daughters, Stephanie and Pulchrie, at work by her side, the tea-table spread l’Anglaise, and four of your thtre(306)I upon the table, with Alex just beginning “Lido” as I entered. I was never so pleased with them before, though they have always charmed me; but in this private, comfortable style they were all ten times more easy, engaging, and lively than I had ever yet seen them.

  INSTALLED AT ILFRACOMBE.

  (Madame d’Arblay to General d’Arblay.) Ilfracombe, Devonshire, June 31,(sic) 1817. . . .This very day of our arrival, before Alex had had time to search out Mr. Jacob, somebody called out to him in the street, “Ah, d’Arblay!” who proved to be his man. They strolled about the town, and then Jacob desired to be brought to me. Unluckily, I was unpacking, and denied. He has appointed Alex for a lesson to-morrow. May he put him a little en train!

  July 5. — I must now give you some account of this place. We are lodged on the harbour. The mistress of our apartments is widow to some master of a vessel that traded at Ilfracombe, with Ireland chiefly. She has three or four children: the eldest, but twelve years old, is the servant of the lodgers, and as adroit as if she were thirty. Our situation is a very amusing one; for the quay is narrow, and there are vessels just on its level, so close that even children walk into them all day long. When the sea is up, the scene is gay, busy, and interesting; but on its ebb the sands here are not clean and inviting, but dark and muddy, and the contrary of odoriferous. But the entrance and departure of vessels, the lading, unlading, and the management of ships and boats, offer constantly something new to an eye accustomed only to land views and occupations.

  A CAPTURED SPANISH SHIP.

  But chiefly I wish for you for the amusement you would find from a Spanish vessel, which is close to the quay, immediately opposite to our apartments, and on a level with the parlour of the house. It has been brought in under suspicion of piracy, or smuggling, or aiding the slave trade. What the circumstances of the accusation are I know not - but the captain is to be tried at Exeter on the ensuing western circuit. Meantime, his goods are all sequestered, and he has himself dismissed all his sailors and crew to rejoin him when the trial is
over. He is upon his parole, and has liberty to go whithersoever he will; but he makes no use of the permission, as he chooses not to leave his cargo solely under the inspection of the excisemen and custom officers here, who have everything under lock and key and seal. He is a good-looking man, and, while not condemned, all are willing to take his word for his innocence. Should that be proved, what compensation will be sufficient for repairing his confinement? He has retained with him only his physician, his own servant his cook, and a boy, with another lad, who is an American. I see him all day long, walking his quarter-deck, and ruminating upon his situation, with an air of philosophy that shows strong character. His physician, who is called here the “ doctor,” and is very popular, is his interpreter; he speaks English and French, has a spirited, handsome face, and manners the most courteous, though with a look darkly shrewd and Spanish.

  THE SPANISH CAPTAIN’S COOK.

  But the person who would most entertain you is the cook, who appears the man of most weight in the little coterie; for he lets no one interfere with his manoeuvres. All is performed for the table in full sight, a pale(307) being lighted with a burning fierce fire upon the deck, where he officiates. He wears a complete white dress, and has a pail of water by his side, in Page 400 which he washes everything he dresses, and his Own hand, to boot, with great attention. He begins his pot au feu soon after seven every morning, and I watch the operation from my window; it is entirely French, except that he puts in more meat, and has it cut, apparently, into pounds; for I see it all carved into square morsels, seemingly of that weight, which he inserts bit by bit, with whole bowls, delicately cleaned, washed and prepared, of cabbages, chicory, turnips, carrots celery, and small herbs. Then some thick slices of ship ham and another bowl of onions and garlic; salt by a handful, and pepper by a wooden spoon full. This is left for many hours; and in the interval he prepares a porridge of potatoes well mashed, and barley well boiled, with some other ingredient that, when it is poured into a pan, bubbles up like a syllabub. But before he begins, he employs the two lads to wash all the ship.

  To see all this is the poor captain’s only diversion; but the cook never heeds him while at his professional operations; he even motions to him to get out of the way if he approaches too near, and is so intent upon his grand business that he shakes his head without answering, when the captain speaks to him, with an air that says, “Are you crazy to try to take off my attention?” And when the doctor, who often advances to make some observation, and to look on, tries to be heard, he waves his hand in disdain, to silence him. Yet, when all is done, and he has taken off his white dress, he becomes all obsequiousness, respectfully standing out of the way, or diligently flying forward to execute any command.

  SHIPS IN DISTRESS.

  July 6.-Alex and I went to church this morning, and heard a tolerable sermon. In the evening there was a storm, that towards night grew tremendous. The woman of the house called us to see two ships in distress. We went to the top of the house for a view of the sea, which was indeed frightful. One ship was endeavouring to gain the harbour; the other, to steer further into the main ocean; but both appeared to be nearly swamped by the violence of the winds and waves. People mounted to the lighthouse with lights; for at this season the lantern is not illuminated; and a boat was sent out to endeavour to assist, and take any spare hands or passengers, if such there were, from the vessel; but the sea was so boisterous Page 401 that they could not reach the ship, and were nearly lost in the attempt. Alex ran up to the lighthouse, to see what was doing; but was glad to return, as he could with difficulty keep his feet, and was on the point of being lifted off them down the precipice into the sea. I never was so horrified as when, from the top of the house, I perceived his danger. Thank God, he felt it in time, and came back in safety. It requires use to sustain the feet in such a hurricane, upon a rock perpendicularly standing in the ocean.

  YOUNG D’ARBLAY’s TUTOR.

  July 7.-We have heard that one of the vessels got off; but no tidings whatsoever have been received of the other. It is suspected to be a passage vessel from Bristol to Ireland. I have had Mr. Jacob to tea; I could not yet arrange a dinner, and he was impatient for an introduction. I like him extremely: he has everything in his favour that can be imagined; sound judgment without positiveness, brilliant talents without conceit, authority with gentleness, and consummate knowledge of science with modesty. What a blessing that such a character should preside over these inexperienced youths! Mr. Jacob has aided us to remove. Time is a plaything to the diligent and obliging, though a thief to the idle and capricious; the first find it, in the midst of every obstacle, for what they wish, while the latter lose it, though surrounded by every resource, for all that they want. I had such success that I now write from my new dwelling, which I will describe to-morrow.

  July 9.-Quelle joie! this morning I receive a welcome to my new habitation, to make it cheer me from the beginning. ’Tis begun June 28th, and finished July 2nd. How propos is what I had just written of time in the hands of the diligent and obliging! yet how it is you can bestow so much upon me is my admiration.

  I have not mentioned a letter I have received from Mrs. Frances Bowdler. She tells me of the marriage of Miss —— to a Prussian gentleman, and expresses some vexation at it, but adds, “Perhaps I ought not to say this to you,” meaning on account of the objection to a foreigner; and then elegantly adds, “but one person’s having gained the great prize in the lottery does not warrant another to throw his whole wealth into the wheel.” Not very bad English that GENERAL D’ARBLAY’S ILL-HEALTH.

  (Madame d’Arblay to Mrs. Broome.) Ilfracombe, Post Office, July 23, 1817. …..I have letters very frequently from Paris, all assuring me M. d’A. is re-establishing upon the whole; yet all letting me see, by collateral accounts, anecdotes, or expressions, that he is constantly in the hands of his physician, and that a difficulty of breathing attacks him from time to time, as it did before his journey: with a lassitude, a weakness, and a restlessness which make him there, as here they made him since his illness, unfit for company, and incapable, but by starts and for moments to have any enjoyment of mixed society! I do not therefore, feel comfortable about him, though, thank heaven, not alarmed. And at all events I am glad he tries the change of air. Change of scene also was advised for him by all * but he is too kind to find that beneficial when we are separated; and he writes me frequent avowals of seizures of dejection and sadness that reduce him to a state of great suffering. The parting, while he was in a situation so discouraging, was very cruel but Alexander had, and has, no chance of taking a tolerable degree without a friend constantly at hand to remind him of the passage of time. He never thinks of it: every day seems a day by itself, which he may fill up at pleasure, but which opens to him no prospect of the day that will succeed! So little reflection on the future, with so good capacity for judging the present, were never before united.

  PARTICULARS OF ILFRACOMBE.

  We are very well lodged for pleasantness, and for excellent people. We have a constant view of the sea from our drawing room, which is large and handsome - our bedrooms also are good; but our minor accommodations, our attendance, dinner equipage, cooking, etc., would very ill have contented my general had he been here. The best men, the most moderate and temperate, are difficult, nay, dainty, compared with women. When he comes, if I am so happy as to see him return while we are here, I must endeavour to ameliorate these matters. Ilfracombe is a long, narrow town, consisting of only one regular street, though here and there small groups of houses hang upon its skirts, and it is not destitute of lanes and alleys. Page 403

  The town part or side Is ugly, ill paved and ill looking: but the backs of the habitations offer, on one side the street, prospects of fine hills, and on the other, noble openings to the sea. The town is built upon a declivity, of which the church is at the summit, and the harbour makes the termination. It was in the harbour, that is upon the quay, that we were at first lodged; and our apartments were by no means without
interest or amusement; but just as we were comfortably settled in them, we were told the ebbs and flows, etc., of the tides left occasionally, or brought, odours not the most salubrious. To this representation I thought it right to yield so implicitly, that I sought a new abode, and changed my quarters instantly.

  YOUNG D’ARBLAY’s AVERSION TO STUDY.

  (Madame d’Arblay to General d’Arblay.) Friday, September 12, 1817. I have so much to say to my dearest friend, that I open my new sheet at the moment of finishing the old one, though I shall not send it for a week - and let me begin by quieting your poor nerves relative to La Chapelle, in assuring you I neglect no possible means to follow, substantially and effectually, your injunctions, though I dare not tell him that you would never pardon the smallest infraction of our new treaty. He is not capable, mon ami, of an exactitude of that undeviating character. To force further solemn promises from so forgetful, so unreflecting, yet so undesigning and well-meaning a young creature, is to plunge him and ourselves into the culpability of which we accuse him. To attempt in that manner to couper court,(308) etc., instead of frightening him into right, would harden him into desperation. His disgust to his forced study is still so vehement, that it requires all I can devise of exhortation, persuasion, menace, and soothing, tour tour, to deter him from relinquishing all effort! The times, mon ami, are “out of joint:” we must not by exigeance precipitate him to his ruin, but try patiently and prudently, every possible means, to rescue him from the effects of his own wilful blindness and unthinking, idle eccentricity. If we succeed, how will he bless us when his maturer judgment opens his eyes to the evils he will have escaped! but if we fail why should we lie down and die because he might have obtained fame and riches, yet obstinately preferred obscurity with a mere competence? Put not Your recovery and your happiness upon such a cast! My own struggles to support the disappointment for which I am forced to prepare myself, in the midst of all my persevering, unremitting efforts to avert it, are sufficiently severe; but the manner in which I see your agitation threaten your health, makes his failure but secondary to my apprehensions! Oh, mon ami, ought we not rather to unite in comforting each other by sustaining ourselves? Should we not have done so mutually, if the contagious fever at Cambridge had carried him off? And what is the mortification of a bad degree and a lessened ambition, with all the mundane humiliation belonging to it, compared with the total earthly loss of so dear an object, who may be good and happy in a small circle, if he misses, by his own fault, mounting into a larger? Take courage, my dearest ami, and relieve me from the double crush that else may wholly destroy mine. Let us both, while we yet venture to hope for the best, prepare for the worst. Nothing on my part shall be wanting to save this blow; but should his perversity make it inevitable, we must unite our utmost strength, not alone to console each other, but to snatch from that “sombre dcouragement”(309) you so well foresee, the wilful, but ever fondly-loved dupe of his own insouciance. . . .(310)