The Early Journals and Letters of Fanny Burney: Volume V, 1782-1783: Volume V, 1782-1783 9780773586765

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Th e E a r ly J o u r n a l s and Letters of Fa n n y B u r n e y General Editor Lars E. Troide

Volume I, 1768–1773, edited by Lars E. Troide Volume II, 1774–1777, edited by Lars E. Troide Volume III, The Streatham Years, Part I, 1778–1779, edited by Lars E. Troide and Stewart J. Cooke Volume IV, The Streatham Years, Part II, 1780–1781, edited by Betty Rizzo Volume V, 1782–1783, edited by Lars E. Troide and Stewart J. Cooke

1. Fanny Burney. From a portrait by Edward Francesco Burney, 1782.

T H E E ARL Y JOUR NA LS AN D L E TTE RS OF

FA N N Y BU R N E Y VOLUME V

•

1782–1783

Edited by L ARS E . TRO IDE and S TE WART J . CO OKE

McGILL-QUEEN’S UNIVERSITY PRESS Montreal & Kingston • London • Ithaca 2012

© McGill-Queen’s University Press 2012 isbn 978-0-7735-0542-1 Legal deposit first quarter 2012 Bibliothèque nationale du Québec Printed in Canada on acid-free paper that is 100% ancient forest free (100% post-consumer recycled), processed chlorine free This book has been published with the help of a grant from the Canadian Federation for the Humanities and Social Sciences, through the Aid to Scholarly Publications Program, using funds provided by the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada. McGill-Queen’s University Press acknowledges the support of the Canada Council for the Arts for our publishing program. We also acknowledge the financial support of the Government of Canada through the Canada Book Fund for our publishing activities. Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication Burney, Fanny, 1752–1840 The early journals and letters of Fanny Burney/edited by Lars E. Troide. Includes indexes. Vol. 5 edited by Lars E. Troide and Stewart J. Cooke. Contents: v 5. 1782–1783. isbn 978-0-7735-0542-1 (v. 5) 1. Burney, Fanny, 1752-1840 – Correspondence. 2. Burney, Fanny, 1752–1840 – Diaries. 3. Novelists, English – 18th century – Correspondence. 4. Novelists, English – 18th century – Diaries. i. Troide, Lars E. (Lars Eleon), 1942- ii. Cooke, Stewart J. (Stewart Jon), 1954– iii. Title. pr3316.a4z48 1988

823'.6

c860-948633– rev

Typeset in Baskerville 11/12 by Interscript inc.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS We are especially indebted to the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada, which provided grants supporting the research for this volume, and to the National Endowment for the humanities, Washington, DC, which funded a year’s leave of absence to Professor Troide. Most of the work was carried on in the Burney Centre, McGill University. Permissions to publish the manuscripts in their possession have been provided by the Henry W. and Albert A. Berg Collection of English and American Literature, the New York Public Library, Astor, Lenox and Tilden Foundations; the Osborn Collection, Yale University; the British Library; the John Rylands Library, University of Manchester; Dr Williams’s Library, London, England; the Hyde Collection, Houghton Library, Harvard University; the Rosenbach Museum and Library, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania; the late Professor James L. Clifford; and the late Paula F. Peyraud. Illustrations have been obtained from the Burney Centre; Hester Davenport; and the collection at Parham Park, West Sussex, England. We would like to thank Hilary Havens and Sarah Skoronski for helping to polish the fair copy, Ariel Buckley for proofreading and preparing the index, and Lorna Clark for her brilliant proofreading (once again).

CONTENTS list of illustrations introduction short titles and abbreviations early journals and letters of fanny burney from c.3 January 1782 to late December 1783–early January 1784, Numbers 228–324

viii ix xiii

1

appendices 1. 2. 3. 4.

Undated Items from 1783 Fanny Burney’s Meeting with Mary Delany Elizabeth Meeke’s Letter to Fanny Burney Fanny Burney’s Second Letter to Hester Thrale on 20 July 1781 5. Evelina in Mr Villars’s Study index

471 476 485 486 488 489

L I S T O F I L L U S T R AT I O N S 1. Fanny Burney in her Vandyke gown, 1782. From a portrait by Edward Francesco Burney.

Frontispiece

From the collection at Parham Park, West Sussex, England

2. Samuel Johnson. From the mezzotint by William Doughty, 1779, after the Reynolds portrait of 1778, reproduced in Diary and Letters of Madame d’Arblay, vol. 1, facing p. 154.

257

3. The Rotunda in Ranelagh Gardens. From an engraving by Thomas Bowles, 1751, print in the Burney Centre, McGill University.

262

4. Evelina in Mr Villars’ Study. From a watercolour drawing by Edward Francesco Burney, 1780.

487

By permission of Hester Davenport

INTRODUCTION This fifth volume concludes the Early Journals and Letters of Fanny Burney (1768–1783), under the general editorship of Lars Troide. It is succeeded by the Court Journals and Letters (1786–1791), under the general editorship of Peter Sabor, published by Oxford University Press. There will also be an additional volume covering the period 1784–June 1786, when Burney was being considered for her position at Court as Keeper of the Robes to Queen Charlotte, and a supplementary volume of hitherto unpublished material. The years 1782 and 1783 were years of significant gains and losses for Frances (‘Fanny’) Burney, both personally and professionally. The first loss occurred on 10 January 1782, when her favourite sister Susanna (‘Susan’) was given away in marriage to Molesworth Phillips, a career officer in the Royal Marines who had become a close friend of her brother James (‘Jem’) Burney when they sailed together on Captain Cook’s last voyage of discovery to the South Seas (see EJL iv). In her very first diary entry (to ‘Miss Nobody’, 27 March 1768) she had alluded to Susan as ‘the only one I could wholly, totally confide in’, the one person in the world who ‘never has’ and ‘never will, leave me one secret to tell her’ (EJL i. 2). Now Susan had left the Burney household, and Burney understandably felt forsaken, though over the years she would continue to write her and visit her whenever she could. The  feeling of separation would gradually grow worse, as Molesworth’s behavior towards Susan became increasingly despotic, culminating in his removal of Susan and their children to Ireland and her suffering his extramarital affair with Jane Brabazon. Burney’s letters to Susan in this volume show her treading carefully in her new role of sister-in-law to Molesworth, careful to profess her love and esteem for him and to downplay her regret at her sister’s departure. A second loss would be due to Burney’s widowed friend Hester Lynch Thrale’s falling in love with Gabriel Piozzi, her children’s music master. Starved of real affection in her

x

Introduction

arranged marriage to Henry Thrale, she had become hopelessly enamored of the charming and sympathetic Italian, whom London society condemned as totally unsuitable by virtue of his profession (singer), his nationality, and his religion (Catholic). Burney is terribly distressed as she witnesses Hester’s emotional turmoil, aggravated by the violent opposition of her daughters, especially the eldest, Hester Maria (‘Queeney’). Increasingly Burney finds herself caught between Hester Lynch, whom she gently tries to dissuade, and Queeney, whose condemnation of the match she shares. The following July (1784) Hester marries Piozzi and never forgives Burney for refusing to welcome her new spouse unconditionally. But the third, and greatest, loss to Burney in these years is of her beloved friend and literary advisor, Samuel (‘Daddy’) Crisp. Author of a play, Virginia, produced by Garrick in 1754, Crisp had influenced her to drop her play The Witlings because of the enmity it might create among London’s bluestockings and had given her his encouragement and criticisms of her new novel Cecilia, prior to its publication in July of 1782. Burney loved Crisp as a grandfather and with the other members of her family would periodically visit him at his retreat in Chessington, Surrey, where the rooms of Chessington Hall would echo to the sounds of good fellowship and laughter. But his health had been failing for years, and he finally died at Chessington in April 1783, attended by Burney, Susan, his landlady and friend Sarah Hamilton, his friend Kitty Cooke, and his sister Sophia Gast. For a time Burney was overwhelmed with grief. Burney’s great triumph in this volume is the publication of her second novel, Cecilia, on 12 July 1782. Prior to its appearance, she sent portions of it in manuscript to Crisp, Hester Thrale, Susan and others to elicit their responses. All were enthusiastic, but Crisp, in particular, made some pointed criticisms, which for the most part Burney spiritedly (and fortunately) rejected. Upon its publication the novel was received with, if anything, even greater acclaim than Evelina had been. Later in the month she received an effusive fan letter from no less a personage than Edmund Burke (see p. 87).

Introduction

xi

The instant fame of Cecilia, solidifying Burney’s claim to be a worthy successor of Fielding and Richardson, would soon get the attention of a new admirer, Mary Delany, widow of the Dean of Down, friend of Swift, and a favorite of King George and Queen Charlotte. In January 1783, Burney was summoned to St James’s Place where she met Mrs Delany and her friend the Dowager Duchess of Portland and happily squirmed under their lavish praises of Cecilia, which she carefully recorded at length (see pp. 283–94 and Appendix 2). She took an instant liking to the kind and dignified old lady, who reminded her of her beloved maternal Grandmother Sleepe. The acquisition of Mrs Delany as a friend would ultimately lead to her being recommended to the Queen as a Keeper of the Robes, a position she would take up in July 1786, beginning her five years of life at Court. Gaining Mrs Delany as a friend would ultimately prove to be a mixed blessing, as Burney’s years at Court subjected her to a stifling formal routine, which made serious inroads on her health and happiness. Another mixed blessing would be her introduction to the young clergyman George Owen Cambridge, whom she met sometime in 1782. The advent of Cambridge would cause her to experience true romantic love for the first time in her life, but Cambridge’s refusal either to declare himself or to leave, even after all London was abuzz about his apparent courtship, would torment Burney with anxiety about his true feelings or intentions. This torment is apparent in the state of the manuscripts for 1783; they are far more disorganized and fragmentary than those of the preceding years, as if even in her old age and widowhood, after her happy marriage to General Alexandre d’Arblay, Burney was still conflicted about how to deal with the tumultuous passions and doubts of that year. As Stewart Cooke points out in ‘Sweet Cecilia and Brown George: Editing Volume 5 of Burney’s Early Journals and Letters, 1782– 1783’ (Burney Journal 4 (2000), 28–48), Cambridge’s mind and motives must forever remain opaque. But it may at least be conjectured that his failure to act, one way or another, was due to his simultaneous fascination with, and apprehension of, Burney. On the one hand, he clearly found her company and her conversation stimulating. On the other hand, her

xii

Introduction

keen intelligence, probing insights into human nature, and gift for satire may have also made him fearful. (Also, like Hester Thrale, who complained about it in her diary, he may have often found her simply too hyper-sensitive.) In any case, after both their marriages he remained a close friend and became the patron of her only son Alexander. e d i t o r i a l s y m b o l s a n d a b b r e v i at i o n s In this volume the following editorial symbols and abbreviations are employed: |

[]

[xxxxx 3 lines] [xxxxx 2 words]

A break in the manuscript pages Uncertain readings Text or information supplied by the editor; also insertions or substitutions by Madame d’Arblay, identified as such by a footnote Matter overscored by Madame d’Arblay but recovered Matter overscored by Madame d’Arblay; not recovered

The head-notes use or reproduce the following bibliographic abbreviations and signs: AJ AJLS AL ALS pmks

Autograph journal Autograph journal letter signed Autograph letter Autograph letter signed Postmarks, of which only the essential are abstracted, e.g., 23 IV Madame d’Arblay’s symbol for manuscripts ‘Examined & Amalgamated with others’; also, for manuscripts released for publication in a second category of interest Other symbols of Madame d’Arblay for manuscripts in a second category of interest

The reader is also referred to the editorial principles outlined in EJL i, pp. xxix–xxxiii.

S H O RT T I T L E S A N D A B B R E V I AT I O N S persons CAB CBF CB CB Jr EAB EBB FB FBA GOC HLT HLTP JB SC SEB SBP SJ

Charlotte Ann Burney, 1761–1838 } after 1786 Charlotte Burney Francis

} } }

Charles Burney (Mus.Doc.), 1726–1814 Charles Burney (D.D.), 1757–1817 Elizabeth (Allen) Burney, 1728–96 Esther (Burney) Burney, 1749–1832 Frances Burney, 1752–1840 after 1793 Madame d’Arblay George Owen Cambridge, 1756–1841 Hester Lynch (Salusbury) Thrale, 1741–1821 after 1784 Mrs Piozzi James Burney (Rear-Admiral), 1750–1821 Samuel Crisp, c.1707–83 Susanna Elizabeth Burney, 1755–1800 after 1782 Mrs Phillips Samuel Johnson, 1709–84

works, collections, etc. Standard encyclopedias, biographical dictionaries, peerages, armorials, baronetages, knightages, school and university lists, medical registers, lists of clergy, town and city directories, court registers, army and navy lists, road guides, almanacs, and catalogues of all kinds have been used but will not be cited except for a particular reason. Most frequently consulted were the many editions of Burke, Lodge, and Debrett. In all works London is assumed to be the place of publication unless otherwise indicated. Add. MSS AL Barrett BCEN BD Beinecke

Additional Manuscripts, British Library. Great Britain, War Office. A List of the General and Field Officers as They Rank in the Army, 1740–1841. The Barrett Collection of Burney Papers, British Library, 43 vols., Egerton 3690–3708. The Burney Collection of English Newspapers, British Library (17th–18th Century Burney Collection of Newspapers, Gale Digital Collections). Biography Database 1680–1830 CD-ROM, Romulus Press, 1995–. The Beinecke Rare Books and Manuscripts Library, Yale University.

xiv Berg BL BP CB Mem. Cecilia CJ CJL Clifford Clifford Papers Comyn Delany Corr.

DL DNB ECCO ED EDD EJL English Drama GAO Garrick, Letters GEC, Baronetage GEC, Peerage GM GMO Highfill

Hist. Mus.

Short Titles and Abbreviations The Henry W. and Albert A. Berg Collection of English and American Literature, New York Public Library, Astor, Lenox and Tilden Foundations The British Library. W. H. Hutton, Burford Papers, 1905. Memoirs of Dr. Charles Burney 1726–1769, ed. Slava Klima, Garry Bowers and Kerry S. Grant, Lincoln, Nebraska, 1988. Frances Burney, Cecilia, ed. P. Sabor and M. A. Doody, Oxford, 1988. Journals of the House of Commons. The Court Journals and Letters of Fanny Burney, general ed. P. Sabor, Oxford, 2011–. James L. Clifford, Hester Lynch Piozzi (Mrs. Thrale), 2nd edn., Oxford, 1952. Estate of the late Professor James L. Clifford. Collection of the late John R. G. Comyn, Esq. The Autobiography and Correspondence of Mary Granville, Mrs. Delany: with Interesting Reminiscences of King George the Third and Queen Charlotte, ed. Lady Llanover, 6 vols., 1861–2. Diary and Letters of Madame d’Arblay (1778–1840), ed. Austin Dobson, 6 vols., 1904–5. Dictionary of National Biography. Eighteenth Century Collections Online, Gale Digital Collections. The Early Diary of Frances Burney, 1768–1778, ed. Annie Raine Ellis, 2 vols., 1913. The English Dialect Dictionary, ed. J. Wright, 6 vols., 1898–1905. The Early Journals and Letters of Fanny Burney. English Drama (1280–1915) Online, ChadwyckHealey Literature Collections. Grove Art Online. The Letters of David Garrick, ed. D. M. Little and G. M. Kahrl, 3 vols., Cambridge, Massachusetts, 1963. G. E. Cokayne, The Complete Baronetage, 5 vols., Exeter, 1900–06. G. E. Cokayne, The Complete Peerage, rev. by V. Gibbs et al., 13 vols., 1910–59. The Gentleman’s Magazine, 1731–1880. Grove Music Online P. H. Highfill, Jr, K. A. Burnim, and E. A. Langhans, A Biographical Dictionary of the Actors, Actresses, Musicians, Dancers, Managers and Other Stage Personnel in London, 1660–1800, 16 vols., Carbondale, Illinois, 1973–93. Charles Burney, A General History of Music, from the Earliest Ages to the Present Period, 4 vols., 1776–89.

Short Titles and Abbreviations HP Hyde IGI JL Landed Gentry LCB Life LJ LS 1, 2, [etc.] LSJ MA Manwaring Maxted Mem.

Mercer ODNB OED Osborn PCC Petty Peyraud Piozzi Letters Platnauer PML PRO

xv

The History of Parliament on CD-ROM, Cambridge University Press, 1998. The Hyde Collection, Houghton Library, Harvard University. International Genealogical Index. The Journals and Letters of Fanny Burney (Madame d’Arblay), 1791–1840, ed. Joyce Hemlow et al., 12 vols., Oxford, 1972–84. Bernard Burke, A Genealogical and Heraldic History of the Landed Gentry of Great Britain & Ireland, 2 vols., 1875. The Letters of Dr Charles Burney, ed. Alvaro Ribeiro, SJ, Oxford, 1991– . Boswell’s Life of Johnson, ed. G. B. Hill, rev. by L. F. Powell, 6 vols., Oxford, 1934–64. Journals of the House of Lords. The London Stage 1660–1800, Parts 1 to 5 in 11 vols., Carbondale, Illinois, 1960–8. References are to volume and page in each part. The Letters of Samuel Johnson, ed. B. Redford, Princeton, 1992–4. Major Authors on CD-ROM: Samuel Johnson and James Boswell, Primary Source Media, 1997. G. E. Manwaring, My Friend the Admiral: The Life, Letters, and Journals of Rear-Admiral James Burney, F.R.S., 1931. I. Maxted, The London Book Trades, 1775–1800: A Preliminary Checklist of Members, Folkestone, Kent, 1977. Memoirs of Doctor Burney, Arranged from His Own Manuscripts, from Family Papers, and from Personal Recollections, by his daughter, Madame d’Arblay, 3 vols., 1832. Charles Burney, A General History of Music, ed. F. Mercer, 2 vols., 1935. Oxford Dictionary of National Biography Online. Oxford English Dictionary Online. The James Marshall and Marie-Louise Osborn Collection, Beinecke Rare Books and Manuscripts Library, Yale University. The Prerogative Court of Canterbury. F. C. Petty, Italian Opera in London 1760–1800, Ann Arbor, Michigan, 1980. Collection of the late Paula F. Peyraud The Piozzi Letters, ed. E. A. and L. D. Bloom, 6 vols., Newark, 1989–2002. Collection of H. L. Platnauer, Esq. The Pierpont Morgan Library, New York. The Public Record Office, London.

xvi QL Rees

Riverside Rosenbach Rylands Scholes SJ, Letters Thraliana Tours TSP Vict. Co. Hist. Wallis Wheatley Williams YW

Short Titles and Abbreviations The Queeney Letters, ed. M. of Lansdowne, 1934. The Cyclopaedia; or, Universal Dictionary of Arts, Sciences, and Literature, ed. Abraham Rees, 45 vols., 1802–20. CB contributed the musical articles in this work. The Riverside Shakespeare, 2nd edn. Boston: Houghton, 1997. The Rosenbach Museum and Library, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. The John Rylands University Library of Manchester, England. Percy A. Scholes, The Great Dr. Burney, 2 vols., 1948. The Letters of Samuel Johnson, with Mrs. Thrale’s Genuine Letters to Him, ed. R. W. Chapman, 3 vols., Oxford, 1952. Thraliana: The Diary of Mrs. Hester Lynch Thrale (later Mrs. Piozzi), 1776–1809, ed. K. C. Balderston, 2nd edn., 2 vols., Oxford, 1951. Dr. Burney’s Musical Tours in Europe, ed. Percy A. Scholes, 2 vols., 1959. Mary Hyde, The Thrales of Streatham Park, Cambridge, Massachusetts, 1977. The Victoria History of the Counties of England [with name of county]. P. J. and R. V. Wallis, Eighteenth Century Medics, Newcastle upon Tyne, 1985. H. B. Wheatley and P. Cunningham, London Past and Present: Its History, Associations, and Traditions, 3 vols., 1891. Dr Williams’s Library, London, England. The Yale Edition of Horace Walpole’s Correspondence, ed. W. S. Lewis et al., 48 vols., New Haven, 1937–83.

228

[St Martin’s Street, c.3 January 1782]

To Hester Lynch Thrale ALS (Berg), c.3 Jan. 1782 Double sheet 4to, 3 pp. red wafer Addressed: Mrs. Thrale, / Streatham, / Surry.

How sweet & kind & good you are to write to me thus! — & how I do long to see & thank You! — Your Chesington Letter arrived last Night, & a sweet one it is if it said nothing of this arm business, which, however, you have assured me since is better.1 I grieve about dear Dr. Johnson heartily, but will be sure to keep secret this cruel testimony of his mortality.2 The Ridiculous Distress would make an admirable Tragi-Comedy, in the old style, for the beginning is merely Farcical, & however Tragic may be the 3d or 4th act, the End must necessarily be Farcical again, for if our Lady of the Manor ever does suspect the attack, — Oh me! the Poker will be nothing to the Weapons she will wield! — Susan is extremely gratified indeed by your | kind & frequent mention of her. The Shirleys have taken to all our Family most fondly.3 They came to see me as soon as I came from Chesington, & seem disposed to take us all to their Hearts. But hear the Character of the Head Lady given by

1 FB responds to three letters from HLT (all Berg). The first, begun on 20 Dec., was directed to FB at Chessington and redirected to her in London; the second and third were written on 2 and 3 Jan. In the first HLT complained of ‘an old pain & numbness in the Arm’, but in the third she said it had improved. 2 HLT wrote about SJ on 2 Jan., ‘Lord! how shocking ill he looks’, but ‘cruel testimony of his mortality’ refers to his succumbing to the charms of Sophie Streatfeild, who had laid siege to him. HLT had described the episode as a ‘Tragedy’, to be called ‘Ridiculous Distress’. In the rest of this paragraph FB plays with this idea, alluding to the jealousy that would be felt by EAB, ‘our Lady of the Manor’, should she learn of the ‘attack’. 3 The Revd Walter Shirley and his wife Henrietta-Maria, sister of Molesworth Phillips, whom SEB would marry on 10 Jan.

2

c.3 January 1782

Mrs. Shirley — ‘She is really a very violent, noisy, agreeable Woman.’ — We have still no Day fixed, Susan not being quite fit.4 The Conversationes are flourishing about Town already, — I have been invited to Sir Joshua’s & to Mrs. Chapone’s, but I can go no where at present. How happy am I in your most encouraging presentiment!5 I think, however, nothing of that matter just now, one fidget at a Time is enough in Conscience: & I have never yet had a moment to read what I have written. Adieu, Dearest Madam, — ever & ever is Fondly yours, F.B. Pacchierotti is better. I saw him at the opera Rehearsal last Monday.6 | Miss Reynolds drank Tea here last Sunday. I hear from Charlotte she is under great concern for my Character, in visiting at Chesington, because Mr. Crisp is a Bachelor! — however, she added, he may probably be privately married to Mrs. Hamilton or Miss Kitty Cooke. So here’s some new thing to ponder upon!7

SEB is not yet properly outfitted for marriage. HLT had written (2 Jan.) of Cecilia, ‘I do not feel one Doubt concerning its Success, & my Presentiments are famous’. 6 Pacchierotti was scheduled to sing in Junius Brutus, a new serious opera, on 29 Dec., but the Public Advertiser of 28 Dec. noted a postponement because of his illness. FB evidently saw him at a rehearsal of Ezio on Monday, 31 Dec., and he sang in that opera on 5 Jan. (LS 5 i. 488). 7 CAB had actually communicated this anecdote in a letter to FB of 26 Nov. 1781 (see EJL iv. 518; ED ii. 294). Miss Reynolds would raise the same matter with FB the following Dec. (see below, p. 233). 4 5

229

[St Martin’s Street, 7 January 1782]

To Hester Lynch Thrale ALS (Berg), 7 Jan. 1782 Single sheet 4to, 1 p. pmk PENNY POST PAID MO Addressed: Mrs. Thrale, / Streatham, / Surry.

wafer

Next Thursday [10 Jan.] will you, dearest Madam, dispence with seeing my Father? — or must Capt. Phillips dispence with receiving his Wife?8 — that is the alternative: I don’t hear what is said about your London House & scheme, nothing to me is said but when does Mrs. Thrale come?9 Mrs. Ord says your Windows will want a second cleaning if you don’t make haste, & hopes to see you soon. We are all hustle & hurry. The Shirleys & a prodigious Tribe of Burneys Dine here on Thursday, — mighty disagreeable arrangement for Susan! — but hardly to be avoided. S.S. called here while we were at Mr. Barrys, with a very obliging invitation to Dr. Mrs. & all, — for Monday [14 Jan.]: but I can go no where. Pray when you send me some pretty little bits of sedition10 enclose them, for security, as I am rarely in the way to receive them at once, though nothing, from such a quarter, is more enjoyed by your F.B.

Thursday was the wedding day of SEB and Molesworth Phillips. HLT had rented a house in Harley St, Cavendish Square for 3 months — ‘to go in the 15: of Jan. & out the 15 of April’ (HLT to FB, 13 Dec. 1781, Berg). She speculates that during that time ‘The World will watch me at first, & think I am come o’ husband hunting for myself or my fair Daughter: but when I have behaved prettily for a while, they will change their Mind’ (Thraliana i. 526). 10 Against EAB. 8 9

230

[St Martin’s Street,] 22 January [1782]

To Susanna Burney Phillips ALS (Berg), 22 Jan. 1782 Double sheet 4to, 4 pp. Endorsed (by SBP): Jany 23d 1782

Tuesday, Jan. 22

My dearest Susy, I was very sorry I could not Write to you last night, but the Post came in so late, & the House was so full of folks, & folks not leavable, that I found it impossible. The Letters I have sent according to the directions respecting the X.11 — How perverse & provoking are these Ipswich orders!12 but do you mean to spend only a few Hours in Town? Shabberoon13 que vous êtes! Why what vilainous racketting14 comes of this marrying officers! — Shall I give you a little account of myself? Yes. Well then, — having left you — with the only person in the World I have yet known that could lessen my regret in leaving you at all,15 — I received the condoling intelligence at Home that Mr. Crewe16 was not come to Town, & our Tickets were still our own. Bessy17 wanted me to join her Grosvenor Square party, but I wished violently to avoid making a new acquaintance, &, after proper demurs & schemes, it was at length settled, that Charlotte & I should go into Mrs. Crewe’s18 11 Presumably FB had forwarded letters from SBP, some or parts of which SBP had marked with an X signifying confidentiality. 12 After a honeymoon at Chessington Hall, the Phillipses would depart in early Feb. for Ipswich where Capt. Phillips had been ordered to join a recruiting party (BP, pp. 75–6). 13 i.e., ‘a disreputable person, ragamuffin’ (OED, s.v. ‘shabaroon’). 14 i.e., living a gay life, taking part in social excitement (OED, s.v. ‘racket’ v2 1). 15 i.e., Molesworth Phillips. 16 John Crewe, later B. Crewe (see EJL i. 31 n. 83). The tickets were for the opera. 17 FB’s cousin Elizabeth Warren Burney (EJL i. 200 n. 48). 18 Frances, wife of John Crewe (EJL i. 31 n. 83).

22 January 1782

5

Box, whither my Father promised to | escort us. This was done, & we were properly Devised, — but the 1st Act was just over before we could get my Father to the Theatre. For a few minutes I had the supreme felicity of sitting opposite Lady Perrucca,19 — but alas! felicity supreme is of short duration! — in the beginning of the 2d act enters a Lady — who turns short to scold the Box keeper for not having kept her Box for her. Heavens! thought I, what is all this! — She then advanced. I arose. Charlotte did ditto. She told me she was Lady Payne.20 What of that? thinks I. — I acquainted her we had Mrs. Crewe’s Tickets. ‘The Box, Ma’am, she answered, is mine as well as Mrs. Crewe’s.’ Another Lady followed, — both of them splendid in Jewels. I felt, however, no awe, though much confoundation.21 I assured her I was most ready to relinquish her Box, — which, indeed, I had no right to, — she | made an apology, & accepted the proposal, —but spoke to the Box keeper to shew us another Box. I wished myself 50 Times in any other part of the Globe. How provoking that we should never have heard Lady Payne shared Mrs. Crewe’s Box. — I would as soon have taken her Cap or her Gown, had I known her claim. The Box keeper, however, stood our friend, & shewed us to a much better Box, the Duchess of Buccleughs,22 just

19 Probably Lady Mary Duncan, known as Lady Polly, whom FB elsewhere calls ‘Lady Polly Peruca’ (FB to CBF, 31 Jan.-20 Mar. 1788, Barrett). ‘Parrucca’ is Italian for ‘wig,’ and the facetious name refers both to Lady Mary’s high wig and her infatuation with Pacchierotti (see EJL iv. 110). 20 Probably Frances Lambertine Kolbel (d. 1830), who m. (1767) Ralph Payne (1739–1807), K.B., 1771; cr. (1795) B. Lavington. John Crewe and Sir Ralph Payne would have been well acquainted as Members of Parliament and protégés of the Duke of Grafton. They were both subscribers to CB’s Hist. Mus. (ODNB). 21 This humorous nonce-word is not in OED; this letter is previously unpublished. 22 Lady Elizabeth Montagu (1743–1827), only daughter of the 1st D. of Montagu, m. (1767) Henry Scott (1746–1812), 3rd D. of Buccleuch, 1750.

6

22 January 1782

opposite Ly Clarges. But I was in agonies the whole night lest some new blunder should be made. My father had left us before this affair happened. Lady Payne asked the Box keeper who we were? — That he could not tell. She commissioned him to find out. He stopt my Father, when returning to us, to ask his name, & shewed him to our new Box. You may believe he was vexed enough at this disagreeable accident. But, when he left us next, he was followed by Mr. Jerningham, who went to acquaint him Lady Payne was au desespoir at what had passed, — that she | had no notion who we were, & was ready to sink when she heard, — that she would sooner have left her own Box herself than have suffered us, had she known us, &, in short, that she was never so distressed in her life as at the discovery. Do you think I esteem her the more for this tardy civility? — Yes, as much more as you do! Certainly we had no Title to her Box, but if she feels that in politeness & good nature our then situation called for some forbearance in her actual claim, which she would have shewn, had she not thought us too insignificant to merit it, — why I am very happy to find myself of more consequence than I imagined, or she had supposed. There is nothing half so contemptible as an apology made for the Person, not the thing. And so much for Lady Payne, who is a very fine Woman — O Lord — here comes Posty! God bless you — best Love to Daddy Captain — Kitty — Hammy23 FB

23 Samuel (‘Daddy’) Crisp, Capt. Molesworth Phillips, Papilian Catherine (‘Kitty’) Cooke, and Sarah (‘Hammy’) Hamilton.

231

[St Martin’s Street, February 1782]

To Hester Lynch Thrale ALS (Williams), Feb. 1782 Single sheet 4to, 2 pp. red wax seal Addressed: Mrs Thrale

How vexed am I, dearest Madam, at this account of you,24 — yet how sweet in you to tell me thus all & about you when I cannot come to see & hear! — & I do long so to be with you! — & Yet Copy I have none, — not enough to hang together for a reading worth beginning. & I am doubly sorry, For you are just in the way to make such sort of trash read to most advantage. I now repent my half compliance with Mrs Ord, — yet having failed her on Sunday, & gone to you, I was willing to try on Friday to split the difference, to make use of an elegant phrase, which may serve to soften the rigour of my Literatureship. Oh they do well that play tricks with my dear Mrs Thrale! — to be sure she never smokes them! — to be sure she don’t! I love Mrs. Ord so much the more for having thus taken to you! & indeed she has very seriously.25 And she is quite grateful for your being pleased with it. She, too, has a large party for Friday, b[ut I] | shall run away as soon as I possibly can: I mean if you have given leave for my going at all, which I yet know not. How grieved I am about this Law Business! & how I hate this impracticable Lady!26 — I had rather any thing, 24 In the undated letter (Berg) to which FB replies, HLT writes: ‘My sweetest Burney! I have been a poor Wretch, not a presumptuous one ever since we parted: such a Cough!’ 25 HLT wrote: ‘Dear Mrs Ord called in the Evng of yesterday, She is vastly kind, & has taken to me so naturally & so cordially!’ FB is embarrassed that HLT has probably found out her acceptance of Ord’s Friday night invitation. 26 HLT wrote: ‘Lady Salusbury is inexorable ... but She will not accommodate.... God forbid that I should seek such Squabbles! But tis hard to be cheated & insulted too.’ Following the death of HLT’s uncle Sir Thomas Salusbury (1708–73), his widow, Sarah, née Burroughs (1721–1804), pressed for repayment of the £6,000 that Sir Thomas had paid in 1755 on a mortgage which HLT’s father, John Salusbury (1707–62), had taken on the family property at Bach-y-Graig, Flintshire. Although

8

February 1782

almost, than see you involved in such quarrels: — O that the Salute had but taken place.27 Your Dream is now worth nothing.28 God bless you, my sweetest Mrs. Thrale, & pray be well, — I am all of your Tit’s mind, for I think we are all put to the route when You are sick:29 & nobody — not even she will be, or can be more sorry for the cause than your ever truly affectionate F.B. — Ha, Ha! Ha! Poor Mrs. Nominative!30 Admirable Mrs. Byron.

232

[St Martin’s Street, 11 February 1782]

To Susanna Burney Phillips ALS (Berg), 11 Feb. 1782 Double sheet 4to, 4 pp. pmk 11 FE wafer Addressed: Mrs. Phillips, / at Captain Phillips, / Ipswich, / Suffolk Endorsed (by SBP): Feby 12th

I should, indeed, have been both grieved & gregged,31 my dearest Susy, had you waited for Franks in order to Write to me, & so I shall if ever you do. Why will you talk of having HLT was certain that Sir Thomas had never intended the debt to be repaid and consequently initiated a lawsuit, later this year the court would award Lady Salusbury £8,000, and to forestall an appeal, Lady Salusbury would settle for £7,500 (Clifford, pp. 19, 211, 214–15; QL, p. 60; Thraliana i. 540). 27 Unclear, but at some time a kiss (‘Salute’) may have forestalled or taken the rancour out of the proceedings. 28 FB perhaps refers to HLT’s long-time wish to preserve the beautiful woods at Bach-y-Craig, which she would now have to sell (for lumber) to help pay off the debt to Lady Salusbury (see below, p. 101 n. 32). 29 HLT wrote: ‘For Mercy’s Sake be well says my Tit, for we lead wild Lives whilst you are sick.’ Queeney was referring to quarrels among various visitors in the house, including SJ; Miss Owen; HLT’s physician, Sir Richard Jebb; Mrs Byron; and ‘Mrs Smith’ (see next note). 30 The courtesan Letitia Darby (d. 1825), who was the mistress and fiancée of Sir  John Lade. She went by the name of ‘Mrs Smith’, and was nicknamed ‘Mrs Nominative’ as the nominated bride; they married in 1787. She was notorious for having many lovers, including the highwayman Jack Rann, the D. of York, and the Prince of Wales (see EJL iv. 348). HLT wrote: ‘Mrs Byron turned Mrs Smith out of my House to the Horror & Amusement of them all [the other visitors].’ 31 i.e., annoyed, vexed; an Irish term.

11 February 1782

9

nothing to say, when You have accounts so very, very grateful to me to give both of your Health & your happiness? — I wonder what Balls, Concerts or Conversationes could entertain me more! — How glad you will be, too, to hear we have just had a Letter32 from poor Jem! — he is safe, thank God, though he has had a terrible cruise, wretched weather, much danger, infinite sickness, & no prize! — but he is safe, & that, after such storms as he has weathered, is almost all one has a right to wish. He believes he shall go out again in about a Week. He is now in the Humber, 50 of his men sick with Fevers, from wet, hard watching, & fatigue! — he cannot go without more men, & says he fears when he is equippt, Capt. Conway will claim his ship. However, we know nothing of that with any certainty.33 | I am dreadfully busy, & would not write to any human Being but yourself for any pay, so horribly aches my Hand with Copying.34 — I have just finished that drudgery to the 1st volume, & yesterday I spent in Tavistock Street,35 with the same — Oh how you were wished for by all! — but I hope you will give it a partial & favouring reading yourself, to one whose partiality & favour I am very desirous to obtain:36 — I came off, you will suppose, with flying Colours, for the party was Mr. B. Hetty, 2 aunts & Edward,37 & their approbation costs them little for me, & therefore I dare build Missing. On 2 Nov. 1781, JB had received word of his appointment, dated 1 Nov., to the command of the Latona, a frigate of thirty-eight guns, during the absence of the Hon. Capt. Hugh Seymour-Conway (1759–1801). The Latona sailed on 14 Dec. with orders to cruise in the North Sea between Scotland and Norway, but from 5–27 Jan. it was forced to take shelter on the southern coast of Norway because of inclement weather. From 2–16 Feb., the Latona was anchored in the Humber, after which the weather forced it three times to shelter in Yarmouth Roads. Setting sail for the Downs on 3 Mar., Burney arrived on 6 Mar. with a battered ship and a sickly crew. On 14 Mar. Capt. Conway resumed command. See Manwaring, pp. 162–4; Master’s Log of HMS Latona, 19 Feb. 1781–16 Apr. 1783, ADM 52/2371 (PRO, Kew), information kindly supplied by A. J. Francis, Ministry of Defence, Naval Historical Branch. 34 FB was at this time preparing the fair copy of her second novel. 35 At the home of her elder sister EBB and her brother-in-law Charles Rousseau Burney. 36 i.e., to Capt. Phillips. 37 Charles Rousseau Burney, EBB, her aunts Ann and Rebecca Burney, and her cousin Edward Francesco Burney. 32 33

10

11 February 1782

nothing on it. When they will see the 2d volume I can give no guess myself. I called last Sunday [27 Jan.] upon Lady Hales, & she talked the finest of things of you: Miss Coussmaker38 was not at Home. The new House was shewn me; it is very splendid & elegant. I went also to Mrs. Ord, Miss Streatfield, Mrs. Fitzgerald,39 Miss Jardins,40 & Mrs. Wilkinson,41 — & made a long call upon Mrs. Shirley, who was very kind indeed, & admitted me up 2 pair of stairs, & told me how much more & more she liked my Susy, & was contented with her Brothers choice & his Lot. I have promised to drink Tea | with her as soon as I can. Pacchierotti has called here twice, but I have not seen him once since you went, for since Sunday I have shut myself up from every body, but Mrs. Thrale & Hetty, who will run after me. Here is come for you a fine wedding present, — a white & gold pocket Book, of Miss Coussmaker’s work, & a Heart42 with Hair, set round with Pearls, from Ly Hales. There are 2 Letters43 with the 2 Presents. Will you have them sent, or wait for an opportunity? — My Father wants to know if you will have the Ches. piano Forte? I really think you had better, & Daddy will only suppose Mr. Pohlman44 is keeping it in order. 38 Mary, née Hayward, Lady Hales, and Catherine Coussmaker, her daughter by her first husband (see EJL ii. 219 n. 9, iii. 8 n. 19). They were special friends of SBP. 39 Mary Fitzgerald, wife of John Fitzgerald (EJL ii. 211 n. 30). 40 Joanna (c.1769–1830) and Charlotte Jardine (d. 1792), daughters of Capt. (later Lt-Col.) Alexander Jardine (d. 1799), later Consul-Gen. in Spain (see ODNB). Joanna, an amateur singer ‘with a divine & touching voice’ (CB to FB, 13 Dec. 1788 (Osborn)), became companion to Catherine Woronzow (1783–1856), later Duchess of Pembroke; Charlotte m. (1788) Robert (later Sir Robert) Dallas (1756– 1824) (JL i. 70 n. 16; HP). The Burneys had entertained the Jardines in Feb. 1781 (CAB’s journal, BL Egerton, 3700b, fos. 24–48b). 41 Harriet Ann Ford (b. c.1754), m. John Wilkinson (see EJL i. 144 n. 3). 42 Annotated ‘Locket’ by FBA; i.e., a locket in the shape of a heart. 43 Missing. 44 Johannes Pohlman (fl. 1760–1807), pianoforte and harpsichord maker. In a letter to Thomas Twining, 21 Jan. 1774, CB describes Pohlman’s pianofortes as ‘charming little Instruments, sweet & even in Tone, & capable of great variety of pianissimo & fortmo’ (LCB i. 164). Apparently, SC was not to know that the piano was to go to SBP. (In an ALS to FB, 20 Feb. 1782 (Berg), SC asks: ‘D’ye hear any thing about Piano, & Pohlman?’) The instrument may have been neglected at Chessington, and CB wished it in the hands of someone who would play and care for it. SBP

11 February 1782

11

Charles continues at Highgate,45 & comes home on Saturdays, in as high spirits as if he came from Lord Fife46 or Lord Findlater!47 — I have still Mrs. Crewe’s Ticket, & Mrs. Fitzgerald’s Box at pleasure, but the Pac has not sung since you went; so I have denied myself the opera. They have again had the impertinence to put my name in the news paper, to say that I am not the author of a new Comedy!48 — very necessary: — & that neither is Lady Hawke,49 nor Mrs. Greville!50 — Oh dear! — if they would let me | alone how glad should I be! — God bless you, my beloved Girl, — pray give my kindest Love to Brother Molesworth, — my Father sends his to you both. So do a world of folks, — but none, I believe, quite so vehemently as your own F.B. Poor Charlotte has been dreadfully plagued with the Tooth ache still. My mother is tolerably well, — Mrs. Young51 is in Town, & here present. — but I have hitherto shirked her, & everybody. Pray write soon.

apparently did get it. In 1787 she wrote to FB that Pohlman had come to her house in Mickleham to tune it (SBP to FB, 1 June 1787 (Osborn)). 45 Following his return to London in the summer of 1781 from King’s College, Old Aberdeen, where he took the B.A. and M.A. degrees, CB Jr had obtained a teaching post at Highgate School. See R. S. Walker, ‘Charles Burney’s Theft of Books at Cambridge’, Transactions of the Cambridge Bibliographical Society, iii (1962), 316. 46 James Duff (1729–1809), 2nd E. Fife (Ire.), cr. (1790) B. Duff of Fife (UK); M.P. Lord Fife had befriended CB Jr while the latter was studying at King’s College. 47 James Ogilvy (1750–1811), 7th E. of Findlater, another of CB Jr’s Aberdeen friends. 48 Variety, by Richard Griffith (d. 1788), which would receive its first performance at Drury Lane on 25 Feb. (LS 5 i. 499). ‘The new Comedy at Drury-lane, is certainly not the Production of Mr. Sheridan’s Sister [Alicia Le Fanu, née Sheridan], to whom it has been given; but who the Author is, has not transpired. The Names of Lady Hawke, Mrs. Greville, and Miss Burney, have all been held out to the Public, and ’tis now declared to belong to neither [sic]’ (Public Advertiser, 5 Feb. 1782; cf. Morning Herald, 4 Feb. 1782; ODNB). 49 Cassandra Turner (1746–1813), daughter of Sir Edward Turner, 2nd Bt; m. (1771) Martin Bladen Hawke (1744–1805), 2nd B. Hawke, 1781. See below, p. 24. 50 Frances Greville, FB’s godmother, had a contemporary reputation as a writer; her ‘Ode to Indifference’ (1759) was much admired (EJL i. 31 n. 83, 32 n. 87). 51 Martha Young, EAB’s sister (EJL i. 3 n. 10).

12

20 February 1782

[In the run of her journals in the Berg Collection FBA inserts the following ALS from HLT to FB, 20 Feb. 1782, 2 single sheets 4to, 4 pp., paginated 1563–66:]

Wednesday Nt going to bed. My dearest Burney How go the Harrels52 on? broke I suppose by now!! Oh they may live like Ld & Lady Newboro53 in Maidstone Goal [sic] before I fling away a light upon such unfeeling Wretches, — but poor Arnott54 I pity — they’ll miss him before they have done — won’t they? May I venture do you think to call a little Company about me on St.Taffy’s day [1 Mar.]55 or will the World in general & the Pepyses in particular feel shocked at my Dissipation and my haste to be married in good Time. They came last Night. & found me alone with Murphy!56 — There was an Epoque!57 The Bishop of Peterboro came in soon after — Queeny was gone to Mrs Davenant’s with Miss Owen & Dr Delap — what Dangers we do go through! but I have not gone out to meet mine half-way at least. Spendthrift characters in Cecilia. Sir Thomas Wynn (1736–1807), of Glynnllivon, Caernarvonshire, 3rd Bt, 1773; cr. (1776) B. Newborough; M.P. He m. (1766) Lady Catherine Percival (1746–82), daughter of John Percival, 2nd E. of Egmont. HLT and SJ had dined with them at Glynnllivon during their tour of Wales in 1774, when HLT described Lady Wynn as an ‘empty woman of quality, insolent, ignorant, and ill bred, without either beauty or fortune to atone for her faults’ (HLT’s journal of her tour in Wales with SJ, 21 Aug. 1774, cited in A. M. Broadley, Doctor Johnson and Mrs. Thrale (London: J. Lane, 1910), p. 200). About their stay in Maidstone Jail for debt, HP cites a letter from John Jones of the Middle Temple to Hugh Ellis, 7 Nov. 1780: ‘Lord Newborough is in Maidstone Jail and detainers lodged against him for large sums. The Caernarvonshire militia have had no pay for some time as his bills are refused, so that it’s thought he will lose everything under Government.’ He was deprived of his local honours and offices in 1781–2 and settled in Tuscany after the death of his wife in June 1782. 54 The brother of Mrs Harrel in Cecilia. 55 i.e., St David’s Day. St David is the patron saint of Wales, and ‘Taffy’ is the English corruption of the Welsh ‘Daffydd’ for David. The word became generic for a Welshman (like ‘Paddy’ for an Irishman). 56 Arthur Murphy, playwright, had been a friend of Henry Thrale since their boyhoods and remained a close friend of HLT. 57 HLT means the beginning of a new stage in her life (in the minds of the Pepyses). See OED, s.v. ‘epoch’ 2. 52 53

20 February 1782

13

Pray come on Fryday sennight [1 Mar.], if you never come again. I was very near you yesterday, but I put a constraint upon myself, — and | press’d forward, for I should only have dirtied the House, & hindered you; & been wished at York by the Padrona di Casa.58 I went to Dear Dr Johnson’s rassegnarlo la solita Servitú;59 but at one o’clock he was not up, & I did not like to disturb him. I am very sorry about him, exceeding sorry. When I parted from you o’Monday [18 Feb.] & found him with Dr Lawrence, I put my Nose into the old Man’s Wig & shouted; — but I got none except Melancholy Answers; so melancholy that I was forced to crack Jokes for fear of crying.60 ‘There is Gout at the Bottom Madam’ says Lawrence, ‘I wish it were at the Bottom’ replyed Sauce Box as loud as she cd bawl, and pointing to the Pedestals.61 ‘He complains of a general Gravedo, cries the Dr but he speaks too good Latin for us.’62 ‘Do you take Care at least that it does not increase long quoth I.’ The word | Gravedo you know makes Gravedinis, & is therefore said to ‘increase long in the Genitive Case’ I thought this a good stupid Scholarlike pun, and Johnson seemed to like that Lawrence was pleased.63 This morning I was with him again, & this Evening Mrs Ord’s Conversation & Piozzi’s cara Voce64 have kept away Care pretty well — Mr Selwin help’d us to be comfortable — my Tit65 went with her Coz66 to Abel’s Concert.67 Good Night sweetest, I am tired & want to go to Bed. ‘Mistress of the house’ (Italian), i.e., EAB. Literally ‘to submit to him the usual servitude’ (Italian), i.e., to pay him my customary respects. 60 Besides illness, SJ was oppressed by the death of his friend Robert Levet the previous month. 61 Meaning SJ’s legs. 62 Gravedo is a loan word from Latin usually meaning a cold in the head. But by ‘general Gravedo’ SJ refers to the root meaning, ‘heaviness’, showing his proficiency in Latin. See SJ’s Latin letter to Lawrence, 21 Jan. 1782 (LSJ iv. 7). 63 HLT also records this pun in Thraliana i. 529. 64 ‘Dear voice’ (Italian). 65 i.e., Queeney Thrale. 66 i.e., Margaret Owen. 67 After the death of John Christian Bach on 1 Jan. 1782, Carl Friedrich Abel continued for a final season the popular Bach-Abel Wednesday night subscription concerts which had begun in 1765. This concert of 20 Feb. was held as usual at the Hanover Square Rooms at 7:30 p.m. (Public Advertiser, 20 Feb. 1782; EJL ii. 226 58 59

14

20 February 1782

I zleepah!68 Good Night once more thro’ the Door at Streathem, for thither Imagination carries Your Affectionate H:L:T. | I expect your Father of course.69

233

[St Martin’s Street, c.22–26 February 1782] To Hester Lynch Thrale70 ALS (Rylands), c.22–26 Feb. 1782 Single sheet 4to, 2 pp. wafer Addressed: Mrs. Thrale, / Harley Street

Sweetest & dearest Madam don’t say You’ll do so no more, for that is worse than any thing: Charlotte would not regard a much harder [sn]ub for what gives me such infinite pleasure, & as to myself — it is surely less mortifying to have the sting after the Honey than without it, — & have it, hèlas! — from Time to Time I must.

n.  37; information courtesy of Prof. Simon McVeigh, Calendar of London Concerts 1750–1800 (electronic database)). 68 i.e., ‘I sleep! indeed!’ HLT often had trouble falling asleep. She seems here to coin a term suggested by the archaic and contemptuous ‘quotha’ (see OED), throwing in a provincial ‘z’ pronunciation of ‘s’. 69 Thursday was CB’s regular day for giving music lessons to HLT’s daughters. 70 This letter is a reply to an undated letter of HLT (Berg). The conclusion of FB’s letter (see below) suggests that HLT had avoided EAB on her last visit to St Martin’s Street and that both FB and CAB had incurred EAB’s wrath because of it. FBA obliterated 2½ lines from the paragraph in which HLT refers to this incident. In the uncensored part, HLT writes: ‘My dearest Burney — I really am excessively hurt to think that my giddy unmeaning Friendship should be a plague to People I am so justly fond of.... Ah my Love! you can’t think how sorry I am about it; do tell your Sister so, & assure her I am in earnest.... but I will serve you so no more.’ FBA also emended part of the first paragraph to read: ‘little Sophy saw your disturbance & sweet Miss Charlotte’s.’ Sophy was HLT’s 10-year-old daughter, who accompanied her. FB seems to fear that HLT means she won’t visit again.

c.22–26 February 1782

15

I much wish the beautiful Greca71 success, & the poor Brecian72 Health, Wealth, & all the good his extraordinary scene with my most generous Hearted friend deserves. I rejoice that old Churles grows so [well].73 I wonder by what comparison his Apartme[nt seems] so faulty, — for all convenience, — & indeed all comfort in life is comparative: however, I am glad, since he can so humbly bear with your accomodations, to infer that he is of opinion he enjoys his own. Merlin was here last Night, & to know in what I | had offended him, I went down stairs: & I find the mischief was all done by Mr Seward, who told him we all laughed at him 71 Jane Maltass (1763–1839), m. (1779) George Baldwin (1744–1826), merchant, diplomat, and writer. Baldwin was the son of William Baldwin, of Southwark, hop merchant, a friend of Henry Thrale. She was the daughter of George Baldwin’s agent, William Maltass. They married at Izmir in Nov. 1779, and Baldwin returned with her to England in 1781. HLT took an interest in the strikingly beautiful young woman, whose bust had been executed for the emperor in Vienna and who was painted in London by Joshua Reynolds, William Pyne, and Richard Cosway: ‘I ... hope to Obtain some favours from the new Ministry for my pretty Greca: could her Husband but gain the Embassy! Oh I should not sleep for Pleasure. This pretty Greek as we call her, was born at Smyrna, & ran away with a Man [Baldwin] whose Family had been some of Mr Thrale’s best Friends in the Borough: between Gratitude to him, and delight in her, for artlessness & Beauty; I have been led to interest myself no little towards protecting her’ (Thraliana i. 530–1). In her letter to FB, HLT writes: ‘The dear Greca came to me the Instant I got home, her Husband has got impossible Happiness in View, & I tremble for her when She sees herself disappointed of what She ought never to expect. I checked their rising hopes all I could, but wrote them two Letters of Solicitation, one to the Bishop, one to Burke, perhaps in looking for a great Thing we may find a good one, as the Compass was discovered by searching for the Longitude.’ Baldwin later served as consul-general to Egypt (1786–96). The Baldwins’ marriage was ‘tempestuous and unhappy’ (ODNB). ‘The beautiful Greca’ died in 1839 leaving a daughter. 72 Gabriel Piozzi, who was born in Quinzano, 19 miles SSW of Brescia. In her letter, HLT writes: ‘My poor Piozzi looks dreadfully still, & is so weak somehow — & his Head so giddy.... he spent the Afternoon here, & went home to Bed like a good Boy at nine o’clock’. 73 The reference is to SJ, and seems to be a pun on churl. HLT writes: ‘I think Johnson has not been better these last seven Years. The Girls slept at Mrs Byron’s last night, to leave him his Apartment; which is incommodious enough he says, but now he is better he can bear it.’ SJ’s presence at Harley St. helps to date FB’s letter. On Thurs., 21 Feb., he writes to HLT: ‘I certainly grow better, I lay this morning with such success, that I called before I rose for dry linen.... I hope to try again this week whether your house is yet so cold’ (LSJ iv. 13). The following Wed., 27 Feb., he writes to Edmund Malone: ‘I have for many weeks been so much out of order, that I have gone out only in a coach to Mrs Thrale’s, where I can use all the freedom that Sickness requires’ (LSJ iv. 14).

16

c.22–26 February 1782

here, — but he had the wit to say he did not thank him for such a disagreeable sort of Compliment, though he does not think it worth while that is to take notice of it to him. So we parted very good friends, & I shall take it much amiss if any one tries to sew dissention between us more. What could provoke Mr. Seward to be so mischievous? Adieu, most Dear Madam, — & pray do come, if you can spare Time, to yr F.B. N.B. — if you could but go first into the Parlour, all would be pretty well taken.74

234

[St Martin’s Street, 25 February 1782]

To Susanna Burney Phillips AL (Diary MSS II, paginated 1551–[54], Berg), 25 Feb. 1782 Double sheet 4to, 4 pp. pmk 25 FE red wafer Addressed: Mrs. Phillips, / at Capt. Phillips’ / Ipswich, / Suffolk. Endorsed (by SBP): Feb. 25th 1782.

Are You quite enragée with me, my dearest Susy? — Indeed I think I am with myself, for not sooner & oftener writing to you; — & every night when I go to Bed, & every morning when I wake, I determine shall be the last I will do either again till I have written to you: — but, helas! — my pens get so fagged, & my Hand so crippled, when I have been up 2 or 3 Hours, that my resolution wavers, & I sin on, till the Time of rest & meditation, & then I repent again. Forgive me, however, my dearest Girl, & pray pay me not in kind; for, as Charlotte would say, kind that would not be, however deserved & just. My work is too long in all conscience for the hurry of my people to have it produced. I have a thousand million of fears for it; the mere Copying, without revising & correcting, would take at least 10 weeks, for I cannot do more than a vol. in a Fortnight, unless I scrawl short Hand, & rough Hand, as badly as the original. Yet my dear Father thinks it will be published 74

By EAB.

25 February 1782

17

in a month! — since you went, I have copied 1 vol. & a ¼ — no more! — O I am sick to think of it! — Yet not a little reviving is my Father’s very high approbation of the first volume, which is all he has seen. I totally forget whether, in my last, I told you I had presented it to him? but I am sure you would never forget, for the pleasure you would have felt for me, had you seen or heard him reading any part of it: — he is quite infatuated with fondness for it, — not only beyond my most sanguine hopes, but almost beyond credibility. Would you ever believe, bigotted as he was to Evelina, that he now says he thinks this a superior design, & superior execution! — & told me, the moment he had done, that he not only liked it better than any thing of mine, but better than anything of ANY body’s, by G — ! — You can never half imagine the delight & astonishment this has given me. It is answering my first wish, & first ambition in life. And though I am certain, & though he thinks himself, it will never be so popular as Evelina, his so warm satisfaction will make me amends for | almost any mortification that may be in store for me. I would to Heaven it were possible for me to have a reading de suite of it with you, my Susy! — more than with any body! — but I could not admit Capt. Phillips, dearly as I love him, — I could not for my life read myself to Mr. Burney, & was obliged to make Hetty. It is too awkward a thing to do to any human Beings but my sisters, & poor auntys, & Kitty Cooke. I have let the first Tome also run the Gauntlet with Mrs. Thrale — & O such flying colours as it came off with! — Pray if you have not written to Ly Hales & Miss Couss. write immediately. They have had the barberity not to invite me for a concert next Monday [4 Mar.] when Pacchierotti is to be with them! I really am much afraid when they send to ask me to a Family supper, I shall be so unlucky as to happen to be engaged! — Since I wrote last, I have done nothing but scribble, except on the following occasions. viz, 2 Ezios.75 S. [23  Feb.] Pacchierotti by appointment at Home. S. Day’s Dinner & Evening at Mrs. Ord’s. S morning [24 Feb.] Call |

75 A pasticcio, first performed the preceding Nov. Since FB’s letter of 11 Feb., there had been performances on 12 and 16 Feb. (LS 5 i. 497–8). Pacchierotti sang the title role.

18

25 February 1782

on Dr. Johnson; & 2 intrusions into my retirement from Mrs. Thrale. My calling on Miss Jardine’s was accidental, so not very good: it was to leave them Tickets for the Pantheon. One thing frets me a good deal, which is that my Book affair had got Wind, & seems almost every where known, not withstanding my earnestness & caution to have it kept snug till the last. Mr. Barry, t’other Day, told me he had heard from Miss Mudge what &c &c he had to expect soon from me. The Hooles76 have both told Charlotte how glad they are in the good news they hear; & Mrs Bogle77 & the Strange’s take it for granted, they say, that I am too busy for visiting! — Mrs. Ord, also, attacked me very openly about it; — & I have seen nobody else. It is easy to guess whence this comes,78 but not easy to stop its course, or to prevent the mischief of long expectation, any more than the great désagrément of being continually interrogated upon the subject. My Father himself told Pac. of his reading & fondness for the 1st Vol. — & Pac. is half wild with joy & eagerness! — he dies, he says, ‘to pry a littel into so great work! —’ He charged me to give You his best & affectionate compliments. God bless you, my Love, — I hope you continue quite well, — I managed for you about the Piano,79 though I did not write, — & Mr. Crisp is forth coming at his call. Remember me most kindly to the dear Capitano: — Tell me how you continue the House-Keeping business? & what you are reading together. I have no Frank. My Fullest kindest Love. Pray don’t you wait for one.

76 John Hoole, the translator of Tasso, and his wife had taken a special liking to CAB, and Ann Mudge was also a member of their circle. Miss Mudge would marry later this year and die in childbirth in 1783 (EJL iv. 318). 77 Marion Bogle, whose husband, John Bogle, would paint a miniature portrait of FB the following year (see below, pp. 198, 362). 78 From CB. 79 See above, p. 10.

25 February 1782

19

[FBA includes the following ALS of SC to FB, 25 Feb. 1782, double sheet 4to, 4 pp., paginated 1567–[70], among her journals in the Berg Collection:]

Ches: Feb. 25 Our own Fannikin I do acquiesce (tis true) but not in calm acquiescence (as Dr Johnson does with Pope)80 that you should remain where you are, instead of Ches — but still I do say, that if You could have returned hither in Suzette’s Chaise safe & warm; your undisturbed, unbroken, assiduous minding your lesson; would have overbalanced the time you gain by being upon the spot to correct Proofs &c [xxxxx 4 lines] for I am not of your other Daddy’s Mind, who would have it sent off to Mr. Payne81 just as it is — You have so much to lose, You cannot take too much Care. — Not that I would have You file & polish & refine, till the original Fire & Spirit of the Composition flies off in Vapour — & that I dare say is what he would guard against; & so should I, if I were not convinc’d, there is no Danger of that kind to be apprehended — that belongs to your half Genius’s — A true, a real, a great one, cannot be otherwise than highly luxuriant, & must be prun’d. — The finest apricots I ever tasted, were the produce of a tree on the side of a house, that had on it at one time (marvellous & almost incredible!) 18 hundred Dozen! & were thinn’d to about seven hundred, from twenty one thousand six hundred! — You may imagine this enormous quantity were mostly not bigger than Peas — what then? — it demonstrates | the monstrous force & Vigour of the Tree. You ‘wish I had never seen the book in the Rough’ 82 — There you are in the wrong. — If ever the hints or Observations of others can be worth listening to, that is the Time; & I have already told You one opinion & piece of advice of mine; the truth & Solidity of which, every day of my Life I am more & more 80 Comparing Pope’s ‘Ode for St Cecilia’s Day’ with Dryden’s, SJ writes: ‘Pope is read with calm acquiescence, Dryden with turbulent delight’ (SJ, ‘Life of Pope’, Lives of the English Poets, ed. G. B. Hill (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1905), iii. 227). 81 Thomas Payne, bookseller, whom the Burneys had chosen to publish Cecilia (see EJL iv. 302). 82 The letter from which SC quotes is missing.

20

25 February 1782

Convinc’d of — whoever You think fit to consult, let their Talents & Taste be ever so great — hear what they say — allow’d! — Agreed! — but never give up, or allow a Little merely on their authority nor unless it perfectly coincides with your own inward feelings — I can say this to my sorrow & to my Cost — but mum!83 — The original Sketches of Works of Genius, tho’ ever so rude, & rough, are Valuable, & curious monuments & well worth preserving. — I am truly glad, You have resolution enough of your own, & are permitted by others, to stand your ground manfully, & sustain the Siege of Visitors, that would overwhelm You with their Numbers, & incessant Attacks. I perfectly concur with your Doctor Daddy in his Selection of particulars so far as he has read; & with his Sentiments in general of the work, & the Plan; which (by what he has already seen) he cannot but have conceived an Idea of. The unreasonable hurry, with which I was oblig’d to gallop over such a Book, has disabled me from making or even forming observations, other than general ones. But by my imperfect recollection of particulers, & what I felt at the time, I think nothing struck me more forcibly than the Fox hall84 Scenes — it is finely — it is powerfully imagin’d! — it is a noble piece of morality | the Variety, the Contrast of the different Characters, quite new, & unhacknied, & yet perfectly in Nature; & the dreadful Catastrophe that concludes the Whole, make it a Masterpiece. What a Subject for that astonishing Lad, Edward, to make a finished drawing; & Bartolozzi a Print of! — The Scene of Foxhall illuminated! the mangled, bleeding Body carried along! — the throng of Spectators crowding after, filled with various expressions of horror, wonder, Eager curiosity, & enquiry, & many other particulars which the perusal of the passage itself 83 In a letter to FB, 27 Apr. 1784 (Barrett), SC’s sister, Sophia Gast, writes of his play Virginia, which was staged in 1754: ‘The then Manager ... would not suffer the too much approved, and greatly admired performance to be acted as in its pristine state, but insisted on many alterations, greatly against the Authors Judgment and Inclination; which, however, he was necessitated to comply with, if he would ever have it brought on the Stage’ (ED ii. 326; BP, p. 86). W. H. Hutton writes: ‘The MS.... shows very considerable alterations, in whole speeches, insertions, alterations of characters to whom the speeches are given, and so on.... It is on the whole much shortened’ (BP, pp. 86–7). 84 i.e., Vauxhall. SC refers to bk. 5, ch. 12, in which Mr Harrel shoots himself.

25 February 1782

21

& his Genius would suggest! — I like Cecilia, much better than Albina;85 which I never was fond of; tho’ not of much Consequence. I long to see Mrs Thrale’s Letter, which I do most faithfully promise to return; & I do hereby summon You to dispatch it to me immediately — To own to You the real truth, it was wholly owing to my impatience to get at it, that I so directly answered your last — Our Thrale is much pleas’d & flatterd by your promise of an account of the impression made [on Hetty]86 [xxxxx 2  words] by the new Heroine — I don’t guess; because I am sure — as to your lovely Greek, I most earnestly recommend to You notwithstanding your 5 Sheets of Paper, to put her down [xxxxx 2 words] while she is strong & warm in your memory & imagination in a finish’d drawing in black & white — I dont mean this merely to satisfy curiosity; but as a wonderful Academy Figure, which may be of powerful use to You hereafter to design from, in some future historical Composition: — such opportunities dont offer every day — perfect Novelty | united to such uncommon Excellence is a prize indeed; don’t let her Slip — but Like Lothario87 — Seize, the golden, glorious opportunity — I am in thorough serious earnest — & seriously for the reason I have Given — Yr loving Daddy S.C. P.S. You say the Book is to be printed Vol. by Vol. as fast as You can get it out — Sure, I hope, You dont mean by that, that it is to come out in single, separate Volumes?88 — I cant bear the thought of it — all publish’d at once! — or Chaos is come again!89 2d P.S. I have not the Conscience to demand long Letters now in return — only send Mrs Thrale, & to Kit.

The heroine’s name in the first draft of the novel. Inserted by FBA. A character in Nicholas Rowe’s The Fair Penitent (1703). Describing his night of love with Calista, he exclaims: ‘I snatch’d the glorious, golden Opportunity’ (1.1). 88 Cecilia was published in 5 vols. on 12 July 1782. 89 Othello 3.3.92. 85 86 87

235

[St Martin’s Street, late February–March 1782] To Susanna Burney Phillips ALS (Diary MSS II, paginated 1555–[62], Berg), late Feb.–Mar. 1782

2 folio sheets, 8 pp.

I thank you most heartily for your two sweet Letters,90 my ever dearest Susy, — & equally for the kindness they contain, & the kindness they accept. And, as I have just now got both a Frank & a subject, I will leave my bothers, & write you & my dear Brother Molesworth a little account of a route91 I have just been at, at the House of Mr. Paradise. You will wonder, perhaps, in this Time of hurry, why I went thither, — but when I tell you Pacchierotti was there, you will not think it surprising. There was a violent crowd of company; Charlotte & I went together; my Father came afterwards: Mrs. Paradise received us very graciously, & led me immediately up to Miss Thrale, who was sitting by the Pac. The Miss Kirwans, you may be sure, were not far off, & so I did pretty well: There was nobody else I knew but Dr. Solander,92 Mr. Coxe93 the Traveller, Sir  Sampson & Lady Gideon (Streatham acquaintances) Mr.  Sastres, & Count Zenobia,94 a noble Venetian, whom I have often met lately at Mrs. Thrales. We were very late, for we had waited cruelly | for the Coach, & Pac. had sung a song out of Artaserse, composed for a Tenor, which we lost, to my infinite regret.95 Afterwards he

Missing. A variant spelling of ‘rout’, or assembly. Dr Daniel Carl Solander, botanist. See EJL i. 172–3 n. 86. The Revd William Coxe (1748–1828), historian and travel writer (ODNB). Count Zenobia or Zenobio (c.1762–1818), a Prince in the Venetian Republic and a Prince of the House of Austria (GM lxxxviii1 (1818), 88). 95 Perhaps the same song for a tenor which FB had heard Pacchierotti sing in St Martin’s Street in Nov. 1778. The opera was Artaserse, libretto by Metastasio and music by Bertoni (EJL iii. 184 and n. 52). 90 91 92 93 94

late February–March 1782

23

sung Dolce Speme,96 set by Bertoni, — less elegantly than by Sacchini, but more expressively for the Words. He sung it delightfully. It was but the 2d Time I have heard him in a Room since his return to England.97 After this, he went into another Room, to try if it would be cooler; & Mrs. Paradise, leaning over the Kirwans & Charlotte, who hardly got a seat all Night for the crowd, said she begged to speak to me. I squeezed my great Person out, & she then said ‘Miss Burney, Lady Say & Seal98 desires the Honour of being introduced to you.’ Her Ladyship stood by her side. She seems pretty near 50, at least turned 40, — her Head was full of Feathers, Flowers, Jewels, & gew gaws, & as high as Lady Archers,99 her Dress was trimmed with Beads, silver, persian, sashes, & all sort of fine fancies; her Face is thin & fiery, & her whole manner spoke a lady all alive. ‘Miss Burney, cried she, with great quickness & a look all curiosity, I am very happy to see you, — I have longed to see you a great while, — I | have read your Performance, & I am quite delighted with it! I think it’s the most elegant Novel I ever read in my life. Such a style! — I am quite surprised at it: I can’t think where you got so much invention.’ You may believe this was a reception not to make me very loquacious! — good Heaven! I did not know which way to turn my Head. ‘I must introduce you, continued her Ladyship, to my sister, — she’ll be quite delighted to see you, — she has written a 96 The aria ‘Dolce speme, idolo mio’ (‘Sweet hope, my idol’) is sung by the title character in the second act of Sacchini’s opera Rinaldo, libretto by G. de Gamerra. This setting is printed in The Favourite Songs in the Opera Rinaldo composed by Sigr Sacchini (London: R. Bremner, n.d. [1780]), pp. 16–21, where it is described as ‘sung by Sigr Paccherotti’ [sic]; see also F. C. Petty, Italian Opera in London 1760– 1800 (Ann Arbor: UMI Research Press, 1980), p. 170. Bertoni did not set Gamerra’s libretto except for ‘Dolce speme’ and perhaps other selected arias. 97 In Aug. 1781, after a year back in Italy (GMO; EJL iv. 205, 481). 98 Elizabeth Turner (1741–1816), eldest daughter of Sir Edward Turner, 2nd Bt; m. (1767) Thomas Twistleton (c.1735–88), 13th B. Saye and Sele. 99 Sarah, née West (1741–1801), m. (1761) the Hon. Andrew Archer (1736– 78), 2nd Lord Archer, B. of Umberslade, 1768. FB had seen her absurdly high headdress from a distance; later, when she saw her at closer range, she remarked ‘her most unnatural cake of white & red’ (see below, p. 263). She was the subject of satirical prints mocking her excessive rouge (see YW xxxiii. 500 and n. 38 and illustration).

24

late February–March 1782

Novel herself! — so you are sister Authoresses! A most elegant thing it is, I assure you, — almost as pretty as yours, — only not quite so elegant. She has written two Novels, — only one is not so pretty as the other. But I shall insist upon your seeing them. One is in Letters, like yours, only yours is prettiest. It’s called the Mausoleum of Julia!’1 What unfeeling things, thought I, are my sisters! I’m sure I never heard them go about thus praising me! Mrs. Paradise then again came forward, & taking my Hand, led me up to her Ladyship’s sister, Lady Hawke, saying aloud, & with a courteous smirk ‘Miss Burney, Ma’am, Authoress of Evelina.’ ‘Yes, cried my friend Lady Say & Seal, who followed me close, it’s the Authoress of Evelina! So you are sister Authoresses!’ | Lady Hawke arose & Curtsied. She is much younger than her sister, & rather pretty; extremely languishing, delicate, & pathetic; apparently accustomed to be reckoned the Genius of her Family, & well contented to be looked upon as a Creature dropt from the Clouds! I was then seated between their Ladyships, & Lady S. & S., drawing as near to me as possible, said, — ‘Well, — & so you wrote this pretty Book! — & pray did your Papa know of it?’ ‘No, Ma’am, not till some months after the Publication.’ ‘So I’ve heard! — it’s surprising! — I can’t think how you invented it! there’s a vast deal of invention in it! And you’ve got so much humour, too! — now my sister has no humour, — her’s is all sentiment, — you can’t think how I was entertained with that old Grandmother2 & her son! —’ I suppose she meant Tom Branghton for the son. ‘Lord, how much pleasure you must have had in writing it! — had not you?’ ‘Y — e — s, Ma’am.’ ‘So has my sister, — she’s never without a Pen in her Hand, — she can’t help writing for her Life, — when Lord

1 Published in 1788 as Julia de Gramont. The final version of the novel is no longer in epistolary form, nor does it contain the passage quoted below (ECCO). 2 Mme Duval.

late February–March 1782

25

Hawke is Travelling about with her, she keeps writing all the way!’ ‘Yes, said Lady Hawke, I really can’t help writing. One has great pleasure in writing the things, — has not one, Miss Burney?’ ‘Y — e — s, Ma’am.’ ‘But your Novel, cried Lady Say & Seal, is in such a style! — so elegant! — I am vastly glad you made it end happily. I hate a Novel that don’t end happy.’ ‘Yes, said Lady Hawke, with a languid smile, I was | vastly glad when she married Lord Orville! I was sadly afraid it would not have been.’ ‘My sister intends, said Lady Say & Seal, to print her Mauseoleum, just for her own friends & acquaintances.’ ‘Yes, said Lady Hawke, I have never printed yet.’ ‘I saw Lady Hawke’s name, quoth I to my first friend, ascribed to the play of ‘Variety’.’3 ‘Did you indeed! cried Lady Say, in an extacy, — sister! — do you know Miss Burney saw your name in the news papers about the Play! —’ ‘Did she? said Lady Hawke, smiling complacently, But I really did not write it: I never writ a Play in my life.’ ‘Well, cried Lady Say, but do pray repeat that sweet part that I am so fond of, — you know what I mean, — Miss Burney must hear it, — out of your Novel, you know!’ Ly H. ‘No, I can’t, — I have forgot it.’ Ly S. ‘O no, — I am sure you have not, — I insist upon it.’ Ly H. ‘But I know you can repeat it yourself, — you have so fine a memory, — I am sure you can repeat it. Ly S. ‘O but I should not do it Justice! — that’s all, I should not do it Justice!’ ‘Lady Hawke then bent forward, & repeated ‘If when he made the declaration of his Love, the sensibility that beamed in his Eyes was felt in his Heart, what pleasing sensations, & soft alarms might not that tender avowal awaken!’ | ‘And from what, Ma’am, cried I, astonished, & imagining I had mistaken them, is this taken?’

3

See above, p. 11 n. 48.

26

late February–March 1782

‘From my sister’s Novel! answered the delighted Lady Say & Seal, expecting my raptures to be equal [to her own]4 it’s in the Mausoleum! — did not you know that! — Well, I can’t think how you can write these sweet Novels! — And it’s all just like that part! — Lord Hawke himself says it’s all Poetry! — For my part, I’m sure I never could write so. I suppose, Miss Burney, you are producing another? A’n’t you?’ ‘No, Ma’am.’ ‘O, I dare say you are! I dare say you are writing one at this very minute!’ Mrs. Paradise now came up to me again, followed by a square man, middle aged, & hum drum, who, I found, was Lord Say & Seal, afterwards from the Kirwans, for though they introduced him to me, I was so confounded by their vehemence & their manners, that I did not hear his Name. ‘Miss Burney, said Mrs. P. —, Authoress of Evelina!’ ‘Yes, cried Lady Say & Seal, starting up, ’tis the Authoress of Evelina!’ ‘Of what?’ cried he. ‘Of Evelina! — You’d never think it! — she looks so young! — to have so much invention, & such an | elegant style! — Well, I could write a Play, I think, but I’m sure I could never write a Novel.’ ‘O yes, You could if you would try; said Lady Hawke, I assure you.’ ‘O no, I could not! answered she, I could not get a style! — that’s the thing, I could not tell how to get a style! — & a Novel’s nothing without a style, you know!’ ‘Why no, said Lady Hawke, that’s true But then you write such charming Letters, you know!’ ‘Letters? repeated Lady S. & S. simpering, — do you think so? — do you know I wrote a long Letter to Mrs. Ray5 just before I came here! — this very afternoon! — quite a long Letter! — I did, I assure you!’ Inserted by FBA. Perhaps Sarah Ray (1722–1814), who with Eliza Maria Fry between 1777 and 1801 ran Russell House, a girls’ school at Streatham attended by HLT’s daughter Cecilia (Piozzi Letters i. 237 n. 2). Her husband was Richard Ray (d. 1795), wood mason, churchwarden of St Leonard’s, Streatham (1786–93), and collector and assessor of taxes at Streatham (see below, p. 300). Lady Saye and Sele had two daughters, the elder Julia Judith and the younger Mary Cassandra (b. 1774), who may have been students at Mrs Ray’s school. 4 5

late February–March 1782

27

Here Mrs. Paradise came forward with another Gentleman, younger, slimmer, & smarter, & saying to me ‘Sir Gregory Page Turner,’6 said to him, ‘Miss Burney, — Authoress of Evelina.’ At which Lady Say & Seal, in fresh transport, again arose, & rapturously again repeated ‘Yes, — she’s Authoress of Evelina! Have you read it?’ ‘No, — is it to be had?’ ‘O dear yes! — it’s been printed these 2 years!7 — You’d never think it! — But it’s the most elegant Novel I ever read in my life! writ in such a style!’ ‘Certainly, said he, very civilly, I have every inducement to get it. Pray where is it to be had? every where, | I suppose?’ ‘O no where, I hope!’ cried I, wishing at that moment it had been never in human ken. My square friend, Lord Say & Seal, then putting his Head forward, said very solemnly, ‘I’ll purchase it.’ Lady Say & Seal then mentioned to me an hundred Novels that I had never heard of, asking my opinion of them, & whether I knew the Authors: Lady Hawke only occasionally & languidly joining in the discourse. And then, Lady S. & S., suddenly arising, begged me not to move, for she should be back again in a minute, & flew to the next Room. I took, however, the first opportunity of Lady Hawke’s casting down her Eyes, & reclining her delicate Head, to make away from this terrible set, — & just as I was got by the Piano Forte, where I hoped Pacchierotti would soon present himself, Mrs. Paradise again came to me, & said, ‘Miss Burney, Lady Say & Seal wishes vastly to cultivate your acquaintance, & begs to know if she may have the Honour of your Company to an Assembly at her House next Friday? And I will do myself the pleasure to call for you, if you will give me leave.’ ‘Her Ladyship does me much honour, but I am unfortunately engaged.’ was my answer, with as much promptness, as if it had been true!8 — FB. |

6 Lady Saye and Sele’s brother, Sir Gregory Page Turner (1748–1805), 3rd Bt, of Battlesden, Beds; first surviving son of Sir Edward Turner, 2nd Bt. 7 Actually four years. 8 FBA later changed the phrase to ‘as I could command’.

236

[St Martin’s Street, late February–March 1782] To Hester Lynch Thrale ALS (Peyraud), late Feb.–Mar. 1782 Double sheet 4to, 3 pp. wafer Addressed: Mrs. Thrale, / Harley Street.

Now, Dearest Madam, do I try most your kindness, or my own Fortitude, in venturing to beg postponing my visit till next Week? — indeed I am so very hard run for Time I cannot avoid it. The summer will come, before even the second vol. is copied; is not that melancholy, — for Mr. Payne, at least? — I won’t say do forgive me, for who suffers most? — I stay not away from you for any thing I can help, or for any thing I like, — on the contrary, I am really sick & tired of my task so that, were I not spurred on by all | Your kind approbations of what I have ventured to shew, I should long to throw the whole behind the Fire.9 And if I did not actually do it, I should at least give over the trial for the present, & lose this season. I entreat earnestly that you would not mention why I stay away to any body but Miss Tit. — who behaved this morning very ill indeed, & made me ready to Laugh at something ‘so dreadful that it was horrid,’ — pray ask her how she could be so unfeeling to take the opportunity | of so pathetic an expression [to] indulge a Titter! May I come, dearest Madam, & see you on Monday morning? — or Tuesday? — & will Miss Thrale be so kind, either of those mornings, to walk with me from Harley Street to call on Miss Gregory?10

9 In her reply (Berg) dated only ‘Fryday’, HLT wrote: ‘Never talk of burning your Book, copy away diligently and be a good Girl: I would not lose a Page of the first volume for all Dr Warton’s Criticism.’ 10 HLT replied: ‘On Tuesday I will send for my sweet Burney, & She will walk with Miss Tit to Portman Square’.

late February–March 1782

29

Do now, my kind Mrs. Thrale, pity, & not scold one who has never yet stayed away from you but from some provoking necessity, & with very sincere regret, — witness her Honest, affectionate, & much tired Hand — FB.

237

[St Martin’s Street, c.4 March 1782]

To Hester Lynch Thrale ALS (Barrett), c.4 Mar. 1782 Single sheet 8vo, 3 pp. wafer Addressed: Mrs. Thrale, / Harley Street, / Cavendish Square

Ever since you left me, Dearest Madam, have I done nothing but repent that I told you I could not see you again this Week: & I have been considering the whole matter over in my own mind, & weighing with myself what can make up for giving up so much pleasure, when on the 13th of next month11 I shall lose all Power of recovering it: & so, — as my 2d vol. is now done, I have taken a private resolution to indulge myself with two visits every Week to Harley Street, while you remain in Town. Don’t tell, though! for I must not let the matter appear so boldly deliberate: yet I do think there comes no good of always purposing to Live, — & Living never! — The engagements I mentioned to you confine me, for this Week, to only Thursday [7 Mar.], — I know | you have a party in the Evening, but I shall come to you about 2 O’Clock? — If your set is so arranged, that I shall make it too large, or too square, or too oval, — or too little, or too great, — I will only mag12 in the Dressing Room, & Drink Tea with the Shirleys,

11 12

13 Apr., when HLT would move back to Streatham. i.e., chatter or talk.

30

c.4 March 1782

— if not, we will have our Warming Pan work in the Morning, & I will help bluefy13 in the Evening. If you were but to stay in Town till June, I could be still steady, — but when I think of losing you, I know so well how insipid all parties will seem to me without you, that my firmness is no longer equal to such self-denial. Adieu, Dearest Madam, & truly, & with the warmest affection, am I Your F.B. If you should have done with the stuff on Wednesday [6 Mar.], you will be so kind as to send it, but pray don’t sit up, nor worry yourself, for I can very well bring it away on Thursday, if I come, myself. 14

238

[St Martin’s Street, 14 March 1782]

To Samuel Crisp AL (Diary MSS II, paginated 1571–[76], Berg), 14 Mar. 1782 Double sheet and single sheet 4to, 6 pp. pmk 15 MR red wafer Addressed: Sam. Crisp Esqr, / at Mrs Hamilton’s, / Chesington, / Kingston, / Surry. Annotated (by FBA): 15th March 1782 F.B.’s Intention in the plan of the Work & in the character of The Delvilles & of Cecilia

Your Letter,15 my dear Daddy, which I have just received, has given me so much uneasiness that I may as well answer it immediately, as I can do nothing for thinking of it. The conflict scene for Cecilia, between the mother & son,16 to which you so warmly object, is the very scene for which I wrote the whole Book! & so entirely does my plan hang upon it, that I must abide by its reception in the World, or put the whole behind the Fire. i.e., play the bluestocking. FB’s coinage does not appear in the OED. The revisions of Cecilia. Missing. Bk. 8, ch. 6, in which Augusta Delvile urges her son Mortimer to give up Cecilia so strenuously that she bursts a blood vessel. 13 14 15 16

14 March 1782

31

You will believe then, with the opinion I have of your judgment, & the anxious desire I have to do nothing quite contrary to your approbation, if I can now be very easy. I would it were in my power to defer the whole publication to another spring, — but I am sure my Father would run crazy if I made such a proposal. Let me not, however, be sentenced without making my defence, & at least explaining to you my own meaning in the part you censure. I meant in Mrs. Delvile to draw a great, but not a perfect character: I meant, on the contrary, to blend upon paper, as I have frequently seen blended in life, noble & rare qualities, with striking & incurable defects. I meant, also, to shew how the greatest | virtues & excellencies, may be totally obscured by the indulgence of violent passions, & the ascendancy of favourite prejudices. This scene has yet been read by no human Creature but yourself & Charlotte, who would not let me rest till I let her go through the Book: upon Charlotte’s opinion you will easily believe I put no great reliance, but yet I mention to you the effect it had on her, because, as you told me about dear Kitty Cooke, the natural feelings of untaught hearers ought never to be slighted, — & Dr. Johnson has told me the same a thousand Times: well — she prefers it to any part of the Book, & cried over it so vehemently, that she could Eat no Dinner, & had a violent Head ache all Day. I would rather, however, have had one good word from you, than all the Tears of the Tender, & all the praises of the civil. The Character of Mrs. Delvile struck you in so favourable a light, that you sunk, as I remember I privately noticed to myself, when you mentioned her, all | the passages to her disadvantage previous to this conflict. Else it would have appeared to you less inconsistent, for the way is paved for it in several places. But indeed you read the whole to cruel disadvantage: the bad writing, the haste, the rough Copy, all were against me. Your anger at Mrs. Delvile’s violence & obduracy is nothing but what I meant to excite; — your thinking it unnatural is all that disturbs me.

32

14 March 1782

Yet, when I look about me in the World, such strange inconsistencies as I see, such astonishing contrariety of opinions, & so bigotted an adherence of all marked Characters to their own way of thinking, I really know not how to give up this point. Another thing gives me some comfort: the part you have selected to like best, Vauxhall, is what I read to you myself, & the whole of the residence of Delvile Castle,17 which I also read to you, I remember well you were pleased with more than with any other part of the Book. I cannot, therefore, but hope the bad Copy, & difficulty of reading, did me as much mischief as the bad & unusual composition. But what are you thinking of, my dear Daddy, when you desire me to send you the 2 last vol.’s immediately? did I not tell you I am still actually | at Work upon the 2d? — & as to sending you again the rough Draught, it would both be soliciting & establishing your disapprobation. I have promised my Father my 2d vol. for Sunday [17 Mar.]. The first volume seems to grow, by recollection, both on him & Mrs. Thrale. It is not to be expressed how fond they are of it, — especially my Father. Mr. Payne now has it. I sent it him last Monday. Have you seen the verses in the news paper18 where they poked me in with all the belles Esprits? — 2 Days ago [12 Mar.] at Mr. Pepys I met them almost all. Mrs. Boscawen,19 Mrs. Chapone, Hannah More, Mrs. Carter, Sophy Streatfield, — Mrs.  Buller,20 famous for Writing Greek notes in Greek

Bk. 6, chs. 3–11. Morning Herald, 12 Mar. 1782. See below, pp. 38–9. Frances Boscawen (1719–1805), daughter of William Evelyn (c.1686–1766), later (c.1718) Glanville, and his 1st wife (m. c.1718) Frances Glanville (1697– 1719). She m. (1742) the Hon. Edward Boscawen (1711–61), Admiral of the Blue, 1758; M.P. She was a noted bluestocking hostess (JL i. 93 n. 10; HP; ODNB). 20 Susannah Buller, née Yarde (1740–1810), m. (1763) Francis Buller (1746– 1800), cr. (1790) Bt. SJ refers to her as ‘a travelled lady, of great spirit, and some consciousness of her own abilities’ (LSJ iii. 249 and n. 10). For a fuller description of her by FB, see below, p. 277. 17 18 19

14 March 1782

33

Books, — Miss Georgiana Shipley,21 (Mrs.  Walsingham’s22 friend,) famous for construing Horace after a year’s studying Latin! — Mr. Wraxal,23 the Northern Historian; Genl Paoli;24 Dr. Cadogan;25 Sr Joshua Reynolds; &c &c. — but the greatest pleasure I received was from meeting Mrs. Garrick again. She had almost forgot me, but was very kind, & looked very well, very sweet, & very elegant. I was also gratified by meeting with the Lady of the late young Lord Lytelton,26 who was made very celebrated by the Book called the Correspondents, which was asserted to be written by her & the old Lord Lyttelton;27 but a very impertinent forgery. She is still pretty, though a little passeé, & very elegant & pleasing in her manners. Mrs. & Miss Ord, Mr. Burrows, & many others were there also. This is but the 2d assembly I have been to this year, though I have been invited to 100. The other was at Mrs. Thrale’s, who first invited a large party about a Week ago [7  Mar.]. There I met again the fair Greek, the Hales, Mr  Jenkinson, Lord & Lady Sandys,28 the Burgoynes, [Mr] Seward, Mr Murphy, Dr Delap, Mrs Byron, & 50 more at least.

21 Georgiana Shipley (1752–1806), an amateur painter who exhibited at the Royal Academy in 1781. She was the niece of William Shipley (1715–1803), painter, founder of the Society of Arts. She m. (1783) Francis Hare-Naylor (1753–1815), of Hurstmonceaux, Sussex (YW xi. 268–9 nn. 10–11; ODNB). 22 Charlotte Boyle-Walsingham, neé Hanbury-Williams (1738–90), m. (1759) the Hon. Robert Boyle (1736–80), later Boyle-Walsingham, naval officer, M.P. 23 Nathaniel William Wraxall, traveller and memoirist (EJL iii. 336 n. 44). FB refers to his Cursory Remarks made in a Tour through some of the Northern Parts of Europe, particularly Copenhagen, Stockholm, and Petersburgh (1775; 3rd edn., 1776). 24 Pasquale Paoli (1725–1807), Corsican general and politician. Boswell’s An Account of Corsica (1768) made Paoli a hero in England, where he found asylum (and a large government pension) after his Corsican forces were defeated by the French in 1769 (ODNB). 25 William Cadogan (1711–97), M.D. (Oxon.), 1755; F.R.C.P.; author of A Dissertation on the Gout (London, 1771) (ODNB). 26 Apphia, née Witts (1743–1840), widow of Thomas (1744–79), 2nd B. Lyttelton, 1773 (see EJL ii. 163 n. 34). 27 George (1709–73), 1st B. Lyttelton, 1756. The Correspondents, an Original Novel, in a Series of Letters had been published in 1775 (see EJL ii. 163 nn. 33–4). 28 Edwin Sandys (1726–97), 2nd B. Sandys of Ombersley, 1770; m. (1769) Anna Maria Colebrooke (1720–1806) (IGI).

34

14 March 1782

I wish, my dear Daddy, I had Time to write you some of the Flash that passes upon these occasions: but it is totally impossible. I you will have your parcel deferred so long as till I am ready for you. When that will be I know not, for you see how I daily Fag on. Every body smokes that I am about something, & the moment I put my Head out of Doors, I am sure to be attacked & catechised. Oh that I were but as sure of the success, as of the sale of this Book! but indeed I am now more discomfited & alarmed than I have ever been yet. Adieu, my dear Daddy, — I would I could do better; — but to love you & your most kind sincerity more truly is not possible: never, therefore, spare it, till you cease to love or cease to esteem yr ever affecn [F.B.] | My love to Mrs Ham. & Kitty. We expect Jem Home every Day. Hetty is better, she called on me to Day, with sweet little Nancy.29 I am very soon to read to them all the 2d Volume. Edward does very well. He has not yet heard of the picture you mention, which is not till the 3d. Volume. The Verses I mentioned are about Mrs Montagu, Mrs Thrale, Mrs. Boscawen, Mrs Chapone, Mrs Crewe, Mrs. Greville, Hannah More, Mrs. Cowley, Mrs. Carter, Sophy Streatfield, & your high little Genius. Miss Gregory has been to see me, & I have been to see her, in Mrs. Montagu’s fine new House.30 Susy continues delightfully well. — I forgot to tell you I’m prodigiously in fashion! — ! — so, for Mr. Payne’s sake, the Book can never come out at a better Time.

29 30

EBB’s eldest daughter Hannah Maria, now almost 10 years old. In Portman Square, London.

239

[St Martin’s Street, 16 March 1782]

To Susanna Burney Phillips ALS (Diary MSS II, paginated 1577–[80], Berg), 16 Mar. 1782 Double sheet 4to, 4 pp. red wafer Addressed: Mrs. Phillips, / at Capt. Phillips, / Ipswich, / Suffolk. Endorsed (by SBP): March 19th / 1782.

But that I am myself in continual disgrace about writing, how should I murmur to hear so very, very seldom from my beloved Susy! — yet when your Letters do come, to tell you half the pleasure with which I read them, would almost tempt you, culprit as I am, to let me see them oftener. The serenity of happiness you seem now to enjoy, my ever dearest Girl, makes me ready to cry over your Letters with fullness of content for you; — & were it otherwise, how to forbear repining at your absence I am sure I should not know, — for I miss you here so seriously, so cruelly, so perpetually, that nothing in the World short of your established happiness could make me any mental amends for your loss. The House seems so strange without you! — my Room so unoccupied, & my affairs, & interests, & thoughts, so uncomfortable in wanting your participation! — But I don’t well know what sullen fit of selfishness makes me write all this — so to have done with it, give to your sweet Captain my kindest love, & tell him, let me murmur as I will by fits, I would not, if I could, | change your destination, nor reverse the decree that was given by Mr. Shirley in St. Martin’s Church!31 — & repeat to him, — if you can — what I once told him myself, that never till I knew him, did I see the person to whom I could so chearfully resign my first, longest, best & dearest friend. — so now — let’s have a dance! —32 I had a very agreeable Evening last Tuesday [12 Mar.] at Mr. Pepys, where I met Mrs. Garrick, whom I rejoiced much The Revd Walter Shirley performed the wedding ceremony. Echoing Buckingham’s The Rehearsal (1671), 5.1.98–9: ‘Come, now to serious counsel we’ll advance. / I do agree; but first, let’s have a Dance.’ 31 32

36

16 March 1782

to see. She had all but forgot me, but when I was introduced to her, by her half recollecting & asking who I was, she was extremely kind & obliging. She looks very well, & very elegant. She was chearfully grave, did not speak much, but was followed & addressed by every body. I could not help being quite melancholy myself at sight of her, from remembrance of dear Mr. Garrick. I met there, also, the Lady of the late young Lord Lyttelton, who was Mrs. Peach,33 & who you must remember being made celebrated by the Correspondants, which was a very abominable forgery. She, too, is a very elegant Woman, still pretty, & very delicate & insinuating in her manners. Do you know they have put me again into the newspapers in a Copy of verses made upon Literary Ladies? — where are | introduced Mrs. Carter — Chapone — Cowley — Hannah More — Mrs. Greville, Mrs. Boscawen, Mrs. Thrale, Mrs. Crewe, Sophy Streatfield, & Mrs. Montagu. In such honourable Company, to repine at being placed, would perhaps be impertinent; so I take it quietly enough, but I would to Heaven I could keep clear of the whole! However, my dear Father is so delighted, that though he was half afraid of speaking to me at all about them at first, he carries them constantly in his Pocket, & reads them to every body! I have a great suspicion they were written by Mr. Pepys, as they are just what I have heard him say of all the people, & as every Creature mentioned in them, but Mrs Cowley, Greville & Crewe, were invited to be at his House on the very Day [12 Mar.] they were printed. Mrs. Crewe is come to Town, & I have now lost my Ticket. Yesterday [15 Mar.] I went, with Charlotte & the 2 Kirwans, to a Rehearsal of Rauzini’s new opera.34 I was not at all enchanted, though very well entertained. The music is pretty, & the accompaniments [xxxxx 1 word] & pleasant, — But there is such a struggle for something uncommon, & such queer disappointments of the Ear in the different turn 33 The twice-widowed Lady Lyttelton had first been the wife of Joseph Peach, governor of Calcutta (EJL ii. 163 n. 34). 34 L’Eroe Cinese, music by Venanzio Rauzzini, libretto by Metastasio, first performed at Munich in 1771, but entirely revised for the first London performance, 16 Mar. 1782, at the King’s Theatre. It was sung 9 times that season (LS 5 i. 504 et passim).

16 March 1782

37

given to the passages from what it expects, that it appears to have far more trick than Genius in the Composition. And every song is so very near being Comic, that the least change in the World would make it wholly so.35 Pacchierotti was in better spirits than I have seen him for some Time, & very earnest to help Rauzini, acting | as Maestro for him, & singing like 20 angels: but his songs are so unworthy of him, I think, that I never found out by the symphonies whether they were meant for him, or for Prudom,36 or Lourenzini!37 — & I never was at an opera Rehearsal before without knowing the 1st singers airs long enough before he began them. Yet I really expect this will be the favourite Opera for the season, as there are Scoticisims38 & oddities in it of all sorts to catch popularity. Pacchierotti came & said ‘I have not seen You for a great age, Miss Burni’ — ‘No, quoth I, You never come.’ ‘I beg your pardon, Ma’am, said he, never You are at Home, & then you say never I come!’ — For I have been denied to him, perforce, repeatedly. ‘Well, said I, I am obliged to be a great deal with Mrs. Thrale, but if you will fix a Time, I will be sure to be in the way.’ ‘Ah! said he, always You are to Mrs. Thrale! — well! — I only say, God forgive her! —’ However, he could not fix a positive Time, but next Tuesday, Wednesday, or Friday, he will come, & the Kirwans are to come & watch for him till he does. They are sweet Girls, but this is a most inconvenient arrangement for me at present. Adieu, my Susy, write very soon. The Kirwans were very happy in having heard from you: & so F.B. Chas still at Highgate.

35 Cf. the mostly favorable reviews in the Morning Herald, Morning Post, and Public Advertiser, reprinted in Petty, pp. 187–90. 36 Maria Prudom (d. 1783), singer, actress. CB described her as ‘a young singer with a voice which study and experience, had she been allowed a longer life, might have rendered fit for the place she only supplied occasionally’ (Mercer ii. 890; Highfill). 37 Caterina Lorenzini (fl. 1780–4), singer (Highfill). 38 By this term FB probably refers to the ‘Scots snap’ or ‘catch,’ meaning the ‘cutting short the first of two notes in a melody,’ characteristic of many Scots tunes. CB objected to the proliferation of ‘Scoticisms’ in Italian opera (see Mercer ii. 847, 858–9). The reviewer for the Morning Post, 18 Mar. 1782, noted that Pacchierotti’s air, ‘Rasserena il vago ciglia,’ ‘formed in imitation of the scotch music,’ was ‘honoured with three plaudits from the house’ (quoted in Petty, p. 189).

38

16 March 1782

Jem is just come Home: safe, but successless: I have given him your Letter, & he will write to you soon. Hetty is tol39 all else well. [The following is crosswritten on the address page.]

My Father is to have vol. 2d tomorrow, Sunday [17 Mar.]. Mr. Payne has already vol. 1st of which if he understands 3 words, he does what I expect not from him. But he has it  under consideration, & says he doubts not ’tis a charming thing. — [At this point FBA has inserted a leaf paginated 1581 onto which she has wafered a cutting of the page from the Morning Herald containing the verses mentioned in the letter. She has written in the margins of the cutting:

The manuscript of these lines has been found amongst the Papers of Dr. Burney by his daughter F: d’Arblay, in the year 1822, 30 [sic] years after they had been anonymous to Herself as well as all others. She dated the page Tuesday March 12th 1782. To this, Mrs Barrett added a note on the leaf: The following are the lines alluded to in this letter. They appeared in the Morning Herald for Mch 12. 1782. Some years afterwards Sir W. W Pepys denied having written these lines; and in the year 1822 a MS. copy of them was found among Dr Burney’s papers, with so many erasures, interlineations, and changes, as to give the most direct external evidence that they were the Doctors own composition.] ADVICE to the HERALD. HERALD wherefore thus proclaim, Nought of WOMAN but the shame? Quit — oh quit at least a while, Perdita’s too luscious smile, Wanton Worsley, stilted Dally,40 i.e., ‘tolerable’. ‘Perdita’ was Mary Robinson (1758–1800), discarded mistress of the Prince of Wales. ‘Wanton Worsely’ was Seymour Worsley, wife of Sir Richard Worsley, who had run off with a captain in her husband’s militia and whose divorce trial was in the newspapers (EJL iv. 524). ‘Stilted Dally’ was Grace Dalrymple Eliot (c.1754–1823), divorced by her husband, Dr John Eliot, for adultery with Viscount Valentia. More 39 40

16 March 1782

39

Heroines of each black-guard alley; Better sure record in story, Such as shine their sex’s glory! HERALD! haste, with me proclaim Those of literary fame. Hannah More’s pathetic pen Painting high th’impassion’d scene; Carter’s Piety, and Learning, Little Burney’s quick discerning; Cowley’s neatly pointed wit, Healing those her satires hit. Smiling Streatfield’s iv’ry neck, Nose, and notions — a la Grecque! Let Chapone retain a place, And the mother of her grace, Each art of conversation knowing, High bred, elegant Boscawen: Thrale, in whose expressive eyes, Sits a soul above disguise, Skill’d with wit and sense t’impart, Feelings of a generous heart. Lucan,41 — Leveson,42 — Greville, — Crew; Fertile-minded Montague! Who makes each rising art her care, ‘And brings her knowledge from afar!’43 Whilst her tuneful tongue defends, Authors dead, and absent friends; Bright in genius, pure in fame — HERALD, haste, and these proclaim! commonly known as ‘Dally the Tall’, she was currently pregnant with a child, which she claimed to be by the Prince of Wales; she had briefly succeeded ‘Perdita’ as one of his lovers. See H. Bleackley, Ladies Fair and Frail (New York: Dodd, 1926), pp.  216–19 et passim; ODNB. (Thanks also to Caroline Breashears, University of Virginia, and Donna T. Andrew, University of Guelph.) 41 Margaret, née Smith (c.1740–1814), m. (1760) Sir Charles Bingham, 7th Bt; cr. (1776) B. and (1795) E. of Lucan. 42 Frances, née Boscawen (1746–1801), m. (1773) John Leveson Gower (1740– 92), naval officer and M.P. (C. Aspinall-Oglander, Admiral’s Widow (London: Longman, 1940), p. 79 n. 1; ODNB). 43 Cf. Job 36.3: ‘I will fetch my knowledge from afar, and will ascribe righteousness to my Maker.’

240

St Martin’s Street, late March 1782]

To Hester Lynch Thrale ALS (Rylands), late Mar. 1782 Double sheet 8vo, 3 pp. wafer Addressed: Mrs. Thrale, / Harley Street. Dated by the address, and by the fact that this letter is written in response to an undated letter of HLT (Barrett) in which HLT alludes to the verses in the Morning Herald of 12 Mar. 1782.

A little chear-up from you, my dearest Madam, always new Mans me: & the Belfields, Harrels & Delviles will all profit from it. Even Mr. Meadows will animate, & even Miss Leeson be almost tempted to prate:44 — but if you can make Mrs. O. chat with Mrs. B. who can keep silent when you desire them to come forth?45 To tell the Master of your 4 Italians!46 — how you do delight to plague him! I am sure if you talk to him of Pioz — Manucci47 will not | be the only impostura he will content himself with reckoning among your foreign friends. 44 HLT had written: ‘Tell me how you go on, how the Harrels keep the Bailiffs at bay, how Belfield reconciles his pride & poverty: where young Delville is run to with his arrow in his side — & when a Treaty of Marriage will commence between Miss Leeson & Mr Meadows!’ See below for the characters of the Belfields, Leeson, and Meadows in Cecilia. HLT had evidently not yet read the chapter in which Harrel shoots himself. 45 Referring to an evening they had both spent at the Pepyses, HLT wrote, ‘Was not it pretty to see Mrs Ord chatting so friendly with Mrs By’ (EAB), evidently at HLT’s prodding. 46 HLT wrote: ‘I told Pepys I had had four Italians yesterday.’ CB had nicknamed Pepys HLT’s ‘Master in Chancery’ (EJL iii. 207). 47 Giovanni Tommaso Mannucci (1750–1814), an Italian nobleman whom the Thrales had first met in France in 1775 (Piozzi Letters i. 154 n. 10). By ‘Pioz’ FB of course means Piozzi. Pepys may have regarded Italians in general as ‘frauds’ or ‘impostors’ (Italian impostura, more correctly impostora), or he may have regarded the Italians as rivals for the wealthy and widowed HLT’s attentions. HLT had confided to her diary in Jan. (and may have shared the confidence with FB) her suspicion that Pepys, though married, had a romantic interest in her (‘The first Seduction came from Pepys’), noting that he and his brother Lucas were running about town enquiring what men were in her confidence and how soon she would be married (Thraliana i. 526–7).

late March 1782

41

I feel — when I have Time to think of it, — a little vexed about Mrs. Hinchliffe, lest she should be offended with my carrying you her intelligence.48 Yet I should have thought it treachery not to have done it, & so, when I see, I must tell her. So you are willing to give poor Miss Owen a little more Blue, tired as she was at the Pepys’s — & to make her Eat that leek, too, by turning | it into an Exercise!49 — | God bless you, dearest Madam, — I go on Vol.50 — & always better & more alive for every fresh proof of your kind care for your F.B. [FBA inserts the following ALS from SC, 5 Apr. 1782, Diary MSS II, paginated 1583 Berg, single sheet 4to, pmk 6 AP and annotated by FBA: Mr. Crisp — on his Expectations from Cecilia before publication. The first leaf of the letter with SC’s criticisms is torn away.] [xxxxx 1 word] & true one, & in works of Genius, fancy, imagination ’tis not the long, learned, Argumentations of Criticks Pro & Con, that come with the Compass & Line in their hands to measure right & wrong, that will decide — No, ’tis the genuine unbiass’d uninfluenc’d, inward feelings of Mankind that are the true, infallible Test ultimately of Sterling Merit — In vain comes Voltaire,51 with all the powers It is not clear what this ‘intelligence’ was. HLT wrote: ‘Miss Owen was so tired of the Bluetry tonight — Verses upon Verses ...’ and ‘I wish Povo would translate Bluebeard, or make Miss Owen do it for an Exercise.’ Giovanni Povoleri was Italian master to the younger Thrale girls and had translated Gray’s ‘Elegy’ into Italian (Thraliana i. 514–15 and n. 5). Bluebeard was the infamous serial wife murderer, La Barbe-bleue, in Charles Perrault’s Histoires et contes du temps passé (1697), the ‘Mother Goose tales,’ translated into English by Guy Miège with a revised edition by Robert Samber (1729). In Henry V, Fluellen forces Pistol to eat a leek ‘because, look you, you do not love it, nor your affections, and your appetites, and your digestions doo’s not agree with it’ (5.1.24–6). HLT’s facetious reference to Bluebeard suggests that her male admirers are killing her. 50 i.e., voluntarily, with perhaps a pun on ‘volume’. 51 Voltaire’s ambivalence toward Shakespeare, derived from his neo-classical principles, is apparent throughout his Shakespearean criticism. While conceding that the ‘natural and sublime’ Shakespeare possessed ‘a strong, fruitful Genius’, Voltaire, in letter xviii of Letters concerning the English Nation (C. Davis and A. Lyon, 1733), also thought that Shakespeare ‘had not so much as a single Spark of good Taste, or knew one Rule of the Drama’ (166). See T. Besterman, ed., Voltaire on Shakespeare, Studies on Voltaire and the Eighteenth Century (Geneva, 1967), vi. 44. 48 49

42

5 April 1782

of Wit, Satire, learning & Art, to knock down Shakespear, & turn him into Ridicule — When he has finish’d his Harangue, Shakespeare stands just where he did — like a Rock in the Sea; & the Universal Voice of High & low from their own impressions without attempting to answer him his own way, give him the Lie, & send him about his business. And now Fanny after this severe Flogging I shall give You a Sweetner to make it up with You — after assuring You it comes from the same Sincerity that dictated what I have said already: & I shall do it in the very Words, I made use of to Daddy Burney on Tuesday morning last [2 Apr.] — that I would insure the rapid, & universal Success of this Work for half a Crown — that nothing like it had appeared Since Fielding & Smollet — & that You bid fair for becoming the first Writer of the Age in Compositions of this Kind — I have nothing farther to add, but this piece of Advice — not to let Success intoxicate You, & influence You to remit your Ardor & Industry to be perfect — there have been more Instances than one, where Writers have wrote themselves down, by slovenliness, laziness, & presuming too much on public Favor for what is past! Yr loving Daddy S.C Ches. Friday.

241

[St Martin’s Street, 6 April 1782]

To Samuel Crisp ALS (Diary MSS II, paginated 1585–[6], Berg), 6 April 1782 Single sheet folio, 2 pp. pmk 6 AP wafer Addressed: Saml Crisp, Esqr, / at Mrs. Hamilton’s, / Chesington, / Kingston, / Surry. Annotated (by FBA): , Ap. 6 1782 No 3 on Cecilia before publication — Answer to Criticisms.

Heartily do I thank you, my ever dear Daddy, for your kind & Honourable dealing with me. A Flogging do you call this? believe me, I am, as yet, so far from being intoxicated with success, that I read it with gratitude & Wonder! — for I expected much more severity & when I received your Letter, I was almost sick with painful prognostics of your disapprobation. I shall do the utmost in my power to profit from your criticisms, but I can speak to no particulars till I come to the places themselves. I shall never, however, start myself your objections to my other Daddy, but when ever his & yours are the same naturally, I will not hesitate a moment — meantime, I purpose softening, altering, modifying — in truth, so thinning all you dislike, that I am not without hopes he will have no reason to make the same objections. With respect, however, to the great point of Cecilia’s Fortune52 I have much to urge in my own defence, only now I can spare no Time, & I must frankly confess I shall think I have rather written a Farce than a serious History, if the whole is to end, like the hack Italian Operas, with a Jolly chorus that makes all parties good, & all parties happy! — The people I have ever met with who have been fond of Blood & Family, have all scouted 53 Title when put in any competition with it: How, then, should these proud Delviles think a new [xxxxx 1 word] created Peerage 52 Cecilia inherits £3,000 per annum from her uncle, Dean Beverley. Should she marry, however, her husband must take the Beverley name, else she forfeits the inheritance. 53 i.e., scorned or flouted. The OED cites this sentence.

44

6 April 1782

any equivalent for calling their sons sons, for future Generations, by the name of Beverley? Besides, | I think the Book, in its present conclusion, somewhat original, for the Hero & Heroine are neither plunged in the depths of misery, nor exalted to unhuman happiness, — Is not such a middle state more natural? more according to real life, & less resembling every other Book of Fiction? Besides, my own End will be lost, if I change the conclusion, which was chiefly to point out the absurdity & shortsightedness of those Name-compelling wills, which make it always presumed a Woman marries an Inferior, since he, not she, is to leave his own Family, in order to be incorporated into hers. You find, my dear Daddy, I am prepared to fight a good Battle here, but I have thought the matter much over, & if I am made give up this point, my whole plan is rendered abortive, & the last page of any Novel in Mr. Noble’s54 circulating Library may serve for the last page of mine, since a marriage, a Reconciliation, & some sudden expedient for great Riches, concludes them all alike. In every thing else you have pointed out, I shall either wholly change, or greatly alter. And I will be very diligent to improve & mend the whole. Pray if any thing more occurs to you, write it, & believe me with the truest gratitude & affection Yr F. B. [The following lines are cross-written on the address page.]

Delvile’s plan of going abroad I have quite forgot, but I dou[bt] not it’s absurdity, nor that I shall give it up.

54 Francis Noble (d. 1792), bookseller, kept a circulating library opposite Gray’s Inn Gate, Holborn, at this time. He specialized in juvenile and second-hand books. See Maxted, pp. 162–3.

242

[St Martin’s Street, c.13 April 1782]

To Hester Lynch Thrale ALS (Berg), c.13 Apr. 1782 Single sheet 4to, 1 p. wafer Addressed: Mrs. Thrale, / Streatham. Dated by the fact that HLT returned to Streatham on 13 April.

The sight of your Hand almost made me tremble, with a fear of reproach. — but you are all sweetness & indulgence to me, — I had written the inclosed last Night.55 Your Characters of Sastres — & povo: I don’t know whether to admire most for ability or for truth,56 — but for fear the Master57 should not think you had Italians enough, Pac. Wants extremely to make his Compts & thanks for your extraordinary kind attention to him, — shall he or not? — My Brother is fighting hard with Lord Keppel,58 & well seconded by Genl Burgoyne, & Mr. Coke of Norfolk, — but I fear he [Keppel] is superannuated, for he forgets who he is, — & who spoke of him.59 I don’t mean figuratively, but literally, & he is too ill in Health to live at the Admiralty, because he cannot bear the constant business & application it requires. Do you think this will do for a Missing. ‘Sir R. Jebb asked me three days before I left Town to find for a Friend of his a good Italian Master: I named Sastres & Povo: sending him a Character of each the first said I, is a modest, pleasing, inoffensive character, gentle in his Manners, tho’ acute in his Understanding: ... the other is a Linguist, a Scholar, a Wit; of showy Conversation on many Subjects & with even critical Knowledge not only of his own Language but of ours, in which he has written no inelegant Verses ...’ (HLT to FB, n.d. (Berg)). 57 William Weller Pepys (see above, p. 40 and n. 41). 58 JB was campaigning for his next command. The Hon. Augustus Keppel (1725– 86), naval officer, had been appointed First Lord of the Admiralty in Mar.; the London newspapers reported his acceptance of a peerage on 4 Apr. (BCEN), and he was formally created Visc. Keppel later that month (ODNB). In May, JB would be appointed Captain of HMS Bristol, a man of war of 50 guns (Manwaring, p. 166; Lord Keppel to Gen. Burgoyne, 4 May 1782 (PML); master’s and captain’s logs for HMS Bristol, PRO Adm. 51/137/5, 52/1602/8–9; BP, p. 81). 59 Keppel had been in declining health for years. 55 56

46

c.13 April 1782

first Lord? — God bless you, dearest Madam, Tuesday comes on my 3d Trial, — I don’t ask you to be merciful, for I see it is not your Nature to be other to your F.B.

243

[St Martin’s Street, c.16 April 1782]

To Hester Lynch Thrale AL (Hyde, Osborn), c.16 Apr. 1782 Single sheet 8vo, 2 pp. wafer Addressed: Mrs. Thrale. / Streatham, / Surry. Dated by FB’s reference in the preceding letter to her third trial coming on Tues. (16 Apr.). The sheet has been cut into two fragments; the top fragment is Hyde, the bottom Osborn.

I send you here, Dearest Madam, my third Days trial. I beseech you to let no one either read, or see you read, — stuff of this sort is so easily spread, & so much injured by losing any part of its Novelty, that it is not possible to be too careful. Pacchierotti my Father saw & spoke to yesterday, — I see nobody, — but he is much mortified he cannot possibly have the Honour of waiting upon you next Thursday [18 Apr]. He will try for Thursday Se’night [25 Apr.]. Mrs. Nominative60 has sent me an invite at 3 Weeks distance! — what can one do in such a case? Will you doubt the sincerity when I heartily wish you well entertained? No, no! — yet is not that more true than that I am with all faith & all affection my sweet Mrs. Thrale’s ever devoted F.B. I long to hear more of the Greca. | Thursday will do extremely well for me. You will find in some places the old Copy, but must make it out as well as you can. 60

Letitia Darby, the mistress and fiancée of Sir John Lade (see above, p. 8 n. 30).

c.16 April 1782

47

I know with how generous a pleasure you will tell me any thing you approve, but I wish you would also tell me what Chapter you most disapprove. I would come to you for the 2 last Vols but for the proofs, which I am now correcting of the 1st & which require my being upon the spot.

244

[St Martin’s Street, April 1782]

To Hester Lynch Thrale ALS (Diary MSS II, paginated 1623–[4], Berg), Apr. 1782 Single sheet 4to, 2 pp. red wafer Addressed: Mrs. Thrale.

I have been kept in hot water in defiance of snow61 till I heard from my dearest Tyo, — & if you do like the Book, I am gratified to my Heart’s content, — & if you only say you do, to have it so said is very delightful, for your wish to give me pleasure would give it if you hated all I ever wrote. So You are all for the Heroine & Miss Larolles?62 — Mr. Crisp was for the Heroine & Mrs. Delville. My Father likes the imperious old Gentleman,63 — my mother is all for the Harrels. Susan & Charlotte have not seen a Word. If it does but attract, as dear Dr. J. says, I am happy, be it which way it will. Why do you lament Gosport?64 — he is clever, but an elderly man from the first, & no Rival. Adieu, my sweetest of Friends, — to-morrow I spend with Mrs. Ord, — Friday if there comes a dry Frost, to you will run your own F.B.

61 GM lii (1782), 258, s.v. 1 May, refers to the ‘uncommonly severe’ weather, ‘not in England only, but almost all over Europe.’ 62 A ‘VOLUBLE’ ton miss, ‘flirting, communicative, restless, and familiar’ (Cecilia, bk. 1, ch. 5, p. 40). 63 Albany. 64 A satirical gentleman.

48

April 1782

I have not another word ready. — | pray now don’t get the stuff by Heart, & spout it to my Father before Company & at Dinner! [FBA inserts the following ALS from HLT, 25 Apr. 1782, Diary MSS II, paginated 1587–9, Berg, double sheet 4to, 3 pp., addressed: Miss Burney / St Martins Street / Leicester Fields.]

Thursday I thought to have seen my sweet Fanny in London to day [25 Apr.] instead of her Father here: for I was engaged to meet my fellow executors at Robson’s65 upon Business; but ’tis all put off till tomorrow, & so Mr Johnson & Crutchley come home with me then. How does dear Cecilia do at Delvile Castle? & how does my poor Henrietta66 get Letters to kiss from him? who seems wholly engaged to her best Friend & most dangerous Rival?67 What becomes of Lady Honoria68 without Scandal or Flirtation? And when does Mr Monckton69 bury peevish Lady Margaret,70 & fill us with fresh Confusion? Oh write away sweet Burney! I wish I could help you in the manual part. I think I could submit to be Printer’s Devil71 to get a sight of the next Volume verily. My last word puts me in mind of David Barclay:72 He has sent me the Apology for the Quakers73 & thinks to convert me I believe: I have often been solicited to change my 65 At the chambers of Bateman Robson (c.1719–91), of Lincoln’s Inn, the Thrales’ solicitor, who was one of the witnesses of Henry Thrale’s final will, 17 Mar. 1781. In addition to HLT, the executors of Thrale’s estate were SJ, John Cator, Jeremiah Crutchley, and Henry Smith (TSP, pp. 226–7; GM lxi2 (1791), 973). 66 Henrietta Belfield, who is in love with Mortimer Delvile. 67 Cecilia. 68 Lady Honoria Pemberton, Mortimer Delvile’s cousin, a rattle. 69 Cecilia’s neighbour and false counsellor, who hopes to gain her estate by marrying her. 70 Monckton’s elderly, bad-tempered wife. 71 An errand boy in a printing office. 72 David Barclay, banker and trader, of Lombard Street, the ‘rich Quaker’, who was one of the purchasers of the Thrale brewery (Thraliana i. 494; EJL iv. 350). 73 Apology for the true Christian Divinity, as the same is set forth and preached by the people called in scorn Quakers (London, 1678), by Robert Barclay (1648–90), of Ury, the grandfather of David Barclay. This was the English version of his Theologiae verae Christianae Apologia (Amsterdam, 1676). Barclay had written to HLT, 1 June 1781 (Rylands), that he was sending the trustees a new edition of his grandfather’s work, but ‘pray assure thy venerable Friend Doctor Johnson that I have not the most

April 1782

49

Religion by | Papists — Why do all the People think me foolisher than I am? So Sr: Philip’s Bill is past74 — & I am so glad! Why your Father says that there would have been a Rebellion if his Bill had not past. — A Rebellion! & all about our dear innocent sweet Sir Philip; who while his Humanity is such that he would scruple no Fatigue to save the Life of a Lamb, would have drenched the Nation in Blood without ever foreseeing or ever repenting the Consequences! — Good God! What a World do we live in! & how such Things justly operate to make Johnson & you & all observers of Life, despise us readers of the Punic War, in which perhaps the Agents we learn the Names of in Latin French & English were People not a whit more respectable than Sr Harbord Harbord75 & Sir Philip Jennings Clerke. Miss Sharp will marry the old School Master too!76 Did you ever talk to Baretti or hear him talk of the Tromba Marino77 Man? that the Girl in Venice would absolutely marry for the distant view of converting Thee, or Him to the Principles which I profess’ (cited in Thraliana i. 494 n. 1). 74 In 1778 Sir Philip Jennings Clerke, M.P., had introduced a bill to ‘restrain’ members of the House of Commons from ‘being concerned’ in any government contract unless the contract ‘be made at a public bidding’ (CJ xxxvi. 918). The bill was defeated but became a favourite Opposition point. It was defeated again in the Commons in 1779 and in the Lords in 1780, and rejected again by the Commons in 1781. The resignation of Lord North and Rockingham’s accession to power in Mar. 1782 finally ensured that the bill would become law. On 19 Apr. the Bill was passed in the Commons, and on 17 May it was agreed to with some amendments by the Lords. On 28 May the Lords withdrew their 6th amendment, to which the Commons had objected, and on 19 June the Bill finally received Royal Assent (HP; EJL iii. 241 n. 74, 255 n. 90; CJ xxxviii. 872, 937, 1064; LJ xxxvi. 503–4, 511). 75 Sir Harbord Harbord, formerly Morden (1734–1810), of Gunton Hall and Suffield, Norfolk; M.P.; 2nd Bt, 1770; cr. (1786) B. Suffield. A member of the Parliamentary Committee studying Sir Philip’s Bill, Sir Harbord was ordered on 19 Apr. 1782 to ‘carry the Bill to the Lords, and desire their concurrance.’ On 22 Apr., the honour of carrying the Bill was given to Sir Philip instead (CJ xxxviii. 937, 939; HP). 76 Mary Sharpe, a close friend and companion of Elizabeth Carter, m. (Oct. 1782) the Revd Dr Osmund Beauvoir, formerly headmaster of King’s School, Canterbury. Miss Sharpe was 29, Beauvoir 62 (EJL iv. 136). 77 Properly tromba marina (Italian). In his Dizionario delle lingue italiana ed inglese (new edn., 1798 (ECCO)), Baretti translates the term as ‘speaking trumpet’, defined by OED as ‘a kind of trumpet (chiefly used at sea [hence ‘marina’ in the Italian]), so contrived as to carry the voice to a great distance, or to cause it to be heard above loud noises.’ In his Autobiography and Reminiscences (London, 1887), William P. Frith mentions ‘a very old gentleman ... with a speaking-trumpet under his arm’ (cited in

50

April 1782

Comfort of combing his Beard? | Adieu my Love, I only disturb the Dr & my Tit & they plague me. Adieu & love Your H.L.T. Little Evans78 & Count Zenobio are all the People I have seen god knows When. [FBA inserts the following ALS from HLT, 25 Apr. 1782, Diary MSS II, paginated 1591–3, Berg, double sheet 4to, 3 pp., addressed: Miss Burney / with her Book]

Upon my Honour then my Dear I have not said half of what my heart is full. The Delviles, since I wrote last efface every thing else: when I read the Lady’s Character in my own Dressing Room, I catch myself looking at my Mothers79 Picture every moment — Yours is so like her in many Things. Hobson & Simkens80 are Borough men, & I am confident they were both canvass’d last Year:81 they are not Representations of Life they are the Life itself. Even Mr. Briggs,82 Caricato as he certainly is, won all my Esteem by his Scene with Don Puffendorff,83 whose misty Magnitude was never shewn so despicably Dropsical before — I was happy to see Briggs have the better of him. But poor Henrietta! some harm will come to her I see, & break my Heart, for She has won it & strangely: her innocent Love of a Character superior in Rank & Fortune to herself, shews her Taste, & proves her Merit; while the | Delicacy of her Mind — the Diffidence arising from — — I am just ready to order the Coach in short & fetch her away to Streatham from that most inimitably painted Mother, whom Queeny does so detest. But She has seized Lady Honoria for her Favourite & her saying how Cecilia’s Fortune should patch up the old Fortifications there about West Wood 84 enchanted us both. Oh lovely Burney! ma OED). The ‘Tromba Marino Man’, like Dr Beauvoir, is old and feeble, only good for having his beard combed! 78 The Revd James Evans (EJL iv. 12). 79 Hester Maria Salusbury, née Cotton (1707–73). 80 The fat Mr Hobson and the thin Mr Simkins, two comical tradesmen in Cecilia. 81 To run for Parliament, she jokes. Henry Thrale had lost his seat in 1780 after 15 years as M.P. for the borough of Southwark. 82 Cecilia’s miserly guardian. 83 One of Briggs’s derogatory names for Compton Delvile. See Cecilia, bk. 6, ch. 2, p. 455. 84 See Cecilia, bk. 6, ch. 3, p. 457; bk. 6, ch. 9, p. 505.

25 April 1782

51

che Talento mai!85 I will trust myself no further on a Subject that makes me wild. And so your Father don’t come to day: & | so I must send Daniel86 back with your sweet Manuscript in the Morning. Very well; he shall take the greatest Care of it; I had never one in my Possession that I valued half so much before: Seward only have I said any thing about it to. — — Do you believe that I am steadily set to read Marmontel87 all over again to see whether in Variety of Character, Comprehension of Genius, & elegance of Touch he at all equals this third Volume of my Burney’s. | Here comes Your Father what can make him so late?88 Adieu Ever more & more Your admirer — Can I be more Your Friend! H.L.T. [FBA inserts the following ALS from HLT, 30 Apr. 1782, Diary MSS II, paginated 1595–[6] (Berg), single sheet 4to, 2 pp.]

Tuesday Night My Eyes red with reading & crying — I stop every moment to kiss the Book, & to wish it was my Burney! ’Tis the sweetest Book, the most interesting, the most engaging; oh it beats every other Book, even your own other Vols for Evelina was a Baby to it. — Dear charming Creature! do I stop every six Pages to exclaim: & my Tit is no less delighted than I: She is run out of the room for a Moment, but young Delvile is come, & Queeney returned — so I leave the Pen & seize the M:S:S. Such a Novel! indeed I am seriously & sensibly touched by it, & am proud of her Friendship who so knows the Human heart: — May mine long bear the inspection of so penetrating, so discriminating an Eye! This Letter is written by scraps & Patches, but every Scrap is Admiration, & every Patch ‘But what a talent!’, or ‘Was there ever such a talent!’ (Italian). The Thrales’ butler, formerly butler to Sophia Byron. See Piozzi Letters i. 313. Jean-François Marmontel (1723–99), man of letters. He was the author of two historical romances, Bélisaire (1766) and Les Incas (1777), but HLT was perhaps also re-reading his Contes moraux (1761). 88 For the Thrale daughters’ music lessons. 85 86 87

52

30 April 1782

thanks you for the Pleasure I have received. I will say no more, I cannot say half I think with regard to Praise. [last line of page cut away] |

I am sorry Pacchierotti does not come on Thursday [2 May], for on Thursday sennight [9 May] I am engaged — — In your Book his Praises will be recorded, & by it they will be diffused89 — [xxxxx 2½ lines] The Belfields are my Joy, my Delight: poor Henrietta! how I adore her! how easily was her sweet heart engaged by that noble Friend! But I have not finished my Book yet; ’tis late now, & I pant for Morning: nothing but hoarseness made me leave off at all. My most ingenious, my most admirable Friend Adieu! if I had more Virtue than Cecilia I should half fear the Censures of such an Insight into the deepest Recesses of the Mind; & since I have read this Volume I have seriously thanked Heaven that all the Litter of mine was in Sight — none hoarded in Holes, nor hastily stuffed into Closets. You have long Known the worst of your admiring H:L:T.

245

[St Martin’s Street, May 1782]

To Samuel Crisp ALS (Diary MSS II, paginated 1597–[1600], Berg), May 1782 Double sheet 4to, 4 pp. Annotated (by FBA): 1782 No 5 on Cecilia, while preparing for the Press.

Who in the World has a Daddy so kind as mine? — I cannot, indeed, say half how grateful I am for your solicitude for me. All you say about the annuity & the money appears to me 89 In ‘An Opera Rehearsal’ (Cecilia, bk 1, ch. 8), FB praises ‘the refinement of his taste and masterly originality of his genius,’ and describes ‘the plaintive and beautiful simplicity’ with which he sings an aria, his voice ‘always either sweet or impassioned ... in a tone of softness, pathos, and sensibility’ (pp. 64–5).

May 1782

53

unanswerably right, but, at present, I can make no promises, as I must wait to have this matter first started by my Father, who has never yet touched upon it, but as soon as the subject is begun, I will communicate to him your notice & most kind offer of assistance. 90 Your sending William91 for my trash, my dearest Daddy, has indeed not only obliged but relieved me, for I had a very great secret dread of trusting to the Coach, though | my reluctance to printing without your first seeing the stuff, had conquered it. The 4th Vol. I shall be glad to have again as soon as you possibly can spare it, as I deduct so much, in copying, that I shall transfer much of it to my 5th, which, consequently, I cannot finish without it. The 5th I shall not be in so much haste for. I would have sent you them by Capt. Jem yesterday, but he declined being encumbered with any weight but his own. If I had made a request to you for the sum total of my wishes upon your | reading this trash, it would have been precisely what you have promised voluntarily at the end of your Letter, — to let me have your real opinion, yet not insist, if that opinion is condemnation, upon my forbearing to try that of the Public: which I now must do, — & which my former success makes me hope obtainable. But though I can now do little in consequence of your objections, I may in future profit from remembering them. With regard to the 2d volume, every body has seemed to prefer it to the first, except Mrs. Thrale, who was so fond of the Ton parties in the beginning, & of Miss | Larolles, Mr. Meadows,92 & the Capt.,93 that she lamented not having more of them. Mr. Gosport, too, she is so fond of, that she declares, if I don’t provide for him, — ‘she will have him herself.’ Mrs. Belfield,94 however, has quite enchanted her, — she knows, she says, so many like her in the Borough. 90 SC’s letter is missing, but he had apparently advised FB to have her father invest the money from Cecilia in an annuity. See below, p. 86. 91 William Hardcastle, the Burneys’ manservant. See EJL iii. 26 n. 69. 92 A bored young man. 93 Mr Aresby, a captain in the militia who is known for his malapropisms. 94 Belfield’s doting mother. The embodiment of ambition and folly, she encourages her son to rise in the world above his station.

54

May 1782

Hetty much prefers the 2d vol., because there is so much more incident: Mrs. Thrale is more partial to Character. My Father’s present favourite is the old crazy moralist, [xxxxx 1 word].95 He is quite delighted with him; — & no one else has taken any notice of him. Next to him, he is fondest of Belfield;96 the Tradesman manqué, he says, is new, & may be not uninstructive, & he is much pleased with his various struggles, & the agrémens of his Talents, & the spirit — yet failure of his various flights & experiments &c F.B.

246

[St Martin’s Street, May 1782]

To Hester Lynch Thrale ALS (Williams), May 1782 Double sheet 8vo, 3 pp. Addressed: Mrs. Thrale, / Streatham. Tentatively dated as to year by FB’s reacquaintance with Mrs Garrick, and as to month by HLT’s return to Streatham from Harley St.

Dearest Madam pardon me that I behave so ill! — your sweet Letter97 was not thrown away upon me though I have so long deferred answering it, — but I waited to fix a Time for the Man & Horse, & if Tuesday is convenient, I shall be happy to see them. Not only Mrs. Ord will ride over to visit Streatham, but Mrs. Garrick, who tells me how much she wishes to see more of charming Mrs. Thrale, & intends to visit you soon, & try to coax you to Hampton for a Breakfast or Dinner, — & I could not resist agreeing to be of the Party. I have been, since you went, to 3 conversationes, — to be sure I did | not think of nor miss my Mrs. Thrale! — one was to Mrs. Ord, to bid adieu before her Bath Journey, another to 95 FBA substituted ‘Albany’ for the original obliterated word, not deciphered, which is presumably an earlier name for the character. 96 Young Belfield, who forsakes his father’s draper’s shop and attempts to pass as a fashionable wit. 97 Missing.

May 1782

55

Mrs. Chapone, which has been long in agitation, & the 3d to S: S. — where I never was before, though invited Times innumerable. But now these 3 are past, I will not move again for — — as long as I can help! — Mrs. Ord was so pleased with your running to her on Monday morning! — I had Mrs. Hinchliffe almost to myself at the S: S:’s, where I was also introduced to Me Fite,98 & thought enough of Made a - t elle &c 99 | Every body talked to me so much about you, that I kept shaking Hands with the people out of delight half the Night. But the 2 amiable Prudes, Mrs. Ord & Mrs. Garrick are really in lofe1 with you. Your Bishop2 was at S: S.’s for about 3 minutes; her own,3 all the Evening. The Pac. has not the Worms, Evans says,4 but pray now don’t kill him so unmercifully, — I cannot bear that cruel knell knolling5 work.

98 Marie-Elisabeth de La Fite, née Bouée (1737–94), recent widow of the Revd John Daniel de La Fite (1719–81), protestant minister at The Hague. Author of Lettres sur divers sujets (The Hague, 1775) and Entretiens, drames et contes moraux (The Hague, 1778), she is mentioned by Hannah More in a letter to Mary Hamilton, June 1782: ‘Pray say something handsome of me to Made de la Fite.... I admire Mad de la Fite, and hope to cultivate her friendship.’ Following her husband’s death, she was brought over from Holland by Jean-André Deluc as Reader to the Queen in French and German and as French governess to Princess Elizabeth (JL i. 165 n. 56; E. and F. Anson, Mary Hamilton (London: John Murray, 1925), p. 107). 99 Referring to Mme. de La Fite’s style of fulsome flattery. FB next met her at Norbury Park in Oct. 1784, when she wrote: ‘Madame La Fite was very civil, but Mrs. Locke had put a curb upon that style of civility with which she thought it necessary to assail me at our first interview at Miss Streatfield’s’ (Berg). 1 In imitation of Mrs Garrick’s Austrian accent. 2 Mrs Hinchliffe’s husband, the Bishop of Peterborough. 3 The Bishop of Chester, Beilby Porteus. HLT wrote in late 1780: ‘Here is Sophy Streatfield again; handsomer than ever, and flushed with new Conquests: the Bishop of Chester feels her Power I am sure, She shewed me a Letter from him that was as tender, and had all the Tokens upon it as strong as ever I remember to have seen ’em’ (Thraliana i. 460–1). In Jan. 1783 FB writes that Streatfeild talked of the Bishop ‘with her usual warmth of passionate admiration’ (see below, p. 256); she was a frequent visitor to the Bishop, both in town and in the country. 4 In an earlier undated letter (Berg), HLT had written: ‘Pacchierotti looks very ill, & I can cure him: he is eaten up by Worms, he is indeed ... — those Animals affect his Voice, his Nerves, his Spirits; they will kill him at last: — make him take Evan’s Powders.’ Charles Evans (fl. 1771–90) was an apothecary at Knightsbridge famous for his powders for purging worms (Wallis; BD; Thraliana i. 29–30, 117–18, 340–1; C. Aspinall-Oglander, Admiral’s Widow (London: Longman, 1940), p. 83). 5 Cf. Macbeth 5.9.16: ‘And so his knell is knoll’d’.

56

May 1782

Is Dr. Johnson with you?6 — Adieu, my ever dearest Madam, I long to see you in peace, but now in much turbulence — from haste, not, thank Heaven, from pain, — is your F.B.

247

[St Martin’s Street,] 31 May–5 June 1782

To Hester Lynch Thrale ALS (Rosenbach), 31 May–5 June 1782 Double sheet 4to, 4 pp. Addressed: Mrs. Thrale / Streatham, / Surry.

Friday, May 31st

How precisely have you forestalled my answer to your enquiry of what says Mrs. Montagu to the Influenza!7 We had a very small party at the Blue Palace,8 — no ladies but Mrs. & Miss Ord, & no Gentlemen but Mr. Langton, Mr. Scott,9 & Lord Monboddo,10 who would talk to me of nothing but Homer, to the no little diversion of Miss Ord & Miss Gregory, & to the no small muscle suffering of myself. I fancy he mistook me for Miss Streatfield, for Mr. Seward, ever studious of mischief & ridicule, gave a long & florid account both of her & of me 6 SJ was at Streatham, 11–18 May, recovering from a violent cough (LSJ iv. 38 n. 2, 46 n. 1). 7 HLT wrote to FB on 30 May (Barrett): ‘You know I always said something would come of the unnatural Weather we had so long together, & now here’s the Influenza.... ’Twill be as well to know what Mrs Montagu says of the Plague’. On the same day she confided to her diary: ‘Now here is an epidemic Disease which the Drs not knowing what to call — call an Influenza; but every body is sick; Colds, Coughs, & oppression of the Breath seize the stoutest’ (Thraliana i. 537). For the London influenza epidemic of 1782, see M. DeLacy, ‘Influenza Research and the Medical Profession in Eighteenth-Century London,’ Albion xxv (1993), 37, and sources there cited (reference courtesy of Professor Betty Rizzo). 8 Montagu House. 9 Possibly Thomas Scott (1723–1816), M.P., who had just m. (31 Jan. 1782) Susanna, née Thrale, Henry Thrale’s sister and widow of Arnold Nesbitt (HP). 10 James Burnett (1714–99), jurist, lord of session as Lord Monboddo (1767); author of Antient Metaphysics (1779–99) and Of the Origin and Progress of Language (1773–92) (ODNB).

31 May–5 June 1782

57

to him at your House, & probably he has so confounded us together, that, should he next meet her, he will ask what set her about writing Evelina. The master11 was not there, so we saw not the House, further than the Bed Room; & the fine Bed was an admirable subject for Lord Monboddo, who talked to me about the Bed, Sofa, Chairs, Nectar & Ambrosia of Juno & Jupiter, as mentioned by our friend Homer, till | to be grave exceeded all power of Face,12 & however by this old Lord’s mistake Miss Streatfield might lose her credit for her Iv’ry Neck, Nose & Notions à la grec,13 — I am at least sure she lost not through me her title to the epithet of smiling Sophy. She called upon me just now, & I am much mistaken if she is greatly enchanted at this new connection of her Brothers.14 She, too, has had the Influenza, & did not look well; pretty she could not help looking. I thought of your making Mrs. Montagu stare at Bath with threatening her with Songs to filthy tunes, when, the other Evening, in taking Mrs. Chapone Home from Mr. Pepys, we were 3 Times in danger of being overturned, in the midst of Tuesday Night’s [28 May] storm, from the pavement being broken up in the streets leading to her House. I quite longed to | quote you upon her, but did not dare. Wednesday, June 5. I wrote thus much, dearest Madam, to send by an opportunity which I missed: your last Note15 I have just received, & I will certainly wait upon you to-morrow. I am by no means surprised that all your House should be sick, for so universal is sickness, you could not have been made of penetrable stuf16 to have escaped it. I will tell you all about us, & our torments to-morrow. S:S. wanted me to go with her to Streatham to Day, but she gave me no warning, & I can at present, arrange nothing in a hurry. I am quite rejoiced in the thought 11 Matthew Montagu, formerly Robinson (1762–1831), 4th B. Rokeby, 1829; nephew and adopted son of Elizabeth Montagu. 12 Cf. Pope, ‘Epistle to Dr Arbuthnot’, line 36. 13 See above, p. 39. 14 Henry Streatfeild (1757–1829), m. (1782) Elizabeth Catherine Ogle (d. 1801), daughter of the Dean of Winchester. See EJL ii. 183 n. 87. 15 Missing. 16 Cf. Hamlet 3.4.36.

58

31 May–5 June 1782

of so soon seeing you again, though only for a Moment, for ever I am, & truly, Dearest Mrs. Thrale’s F.B. | I have been again at Mrs. Montagu’s — but did not again meet my dear Homerical friend. The star of the Evening was Lord Bristol,17 who shone, indeed, with much resplendency. Lord Westcote tried to twinkle with him, but did not succeed. The Ords, Mr. Langton, Mr. Stanhope,18 Mrs. Boscawen, Lord Falmouth,19 Oriental Jones,20 & some others were of the party, but Lord Bristol was the only spouter, the rest, Mrs. Mon. excepted, were mere Audience.

248

[St Martin’s Street, c.June 1782]

To Hester Lynch Thrale AL (Osborn), c.June 1782 Single sheet 8vo, 1 p. Addressed: Mrs. Thrale, / Streatham.

Dearest Madam I have written by the Post, to tell you you should have the stuff to-morrow as early as you please, & beg to have it to be returned on Wednesday. The printer came this morning, & begged more, & I promised it for him on Wednesday Night. I am very sorry to hurry you so, but cannot help it. I am now with my sister,21 who is running it over. 17 The Hon. Frederick Augustus Hervey (1730–1803), 4th E. of Bristol and Bishop of Derry. 18 Edwyn Francis Stanhope (c.1728–1807), Gentleman Usher, 1761–83; Gentleman of His Majesty’s Privy Chamber in Ordinary, 1782 (JL i. 111 n. 8). 19 Mrs Boscawen’s son, George Evelyn Boscawen (1758–1808), 3rd Visc. Falmouth, 1782; army officer. He was the nephew and heir of Hugh Boscawen (1707–82), 2nd Visc. Falmouth. 20 Sir William Jones (1746–94), also called ‘Persian Jones’, oriental scholar and jurist; F.R.S., 1772; Kt, 1783; judge of the high court of Calcutta, 1783–94; pioneer of Sanskrit studies (ODNB). 21 Either EBB or CAB.

c.June 1782

59

God bless you, dearest dear Madam, I shall bring my 5th vol. myself, for very joy, but when I know not!

249

[St Martin’s Street, post 18 June 1782]

To Hester Lynch Thrale AL (Clifford Papers), June 1782 Single half sheet 8vo, 2 pp. The editors date this letter and the next to just after FB’s first meeting with Edmund Burke, which she describes in detail to SBP on 9 July, noting that it took place ‘about 3 Weeks ago’ (below, p. 66).

Will you, Dearest Madam, admit Mrs. Ord, Mr. Ramsay22 & your F.B. to make you a long morning visit next Friday? we purpose taking a Breakfast with you, if not forbid. I have fallen in love since I saw you last, — quite desperately & outrageously in love, & talked only of the Object by whom the passion was inspired ever since I have seen him. I must try to get at the Thral- e na [sic] — & burn some certain scandalous verses upon him, by the first opportunity, for | I am now bent upon considering them as a Lampoon.23 The 2d man in this kingdom is Him by whom I am thus smitten 22 Allan Ramsay (1713–84), portrait painter, son of Allan Ramsay (1684–1758), the poet. HLT describes him as ‘a Man of strong Sense, & hard Manners — & very cultivated Understanding, but without Sensibility, or the Affectation on’t’ (Thraliana ii. 942 n. 1; ODNB). 23 FB refers to Edmund Burke, whom she had just met for the first time at Sir Joshua Reynolds’s house at Richmond (see below, p. 69). She had evidently read the character of Burke, which HLT had written in her diary. HLT claimed to have seen him drunk and heard him talk obscenely and described him and his wife as living among ‘Dirt’ and ‘Cobwebs’ at Beaconsfield. Her verses read in part: Let us list to the Learning that Tongue can display, Let it steal all Reflexion, all Reason away; Lest home to his House we the Patriot pursue, Where Scenes of another Sort rise to our View; Where Meanness usurps sage OEconomy’s Look, And Humour cracks Jokes out of Ribaldry’s Book; Till no longer in Silence, Confession can lurk, That from Chaos and Cobwebs could spring even Burke. (Thraliana i. 475–6)

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— Dr. Johnson I think the First of every kingdom; — but I need not, I think, name Mr. Burke for his next Neighbor — such spirit, such intelligence, — so much energy when serious, so much [pleasa]ntry when sportive, — so manly in his address, so animated in his Conversation, — — so eloquent in Argument, so exhilarating in trifling — ! O, I shall rave about him till I tire You, — Adieu, therefore, Dearest Madam, — I release you till to-morrow, — we are certainly not to stay Dinner.

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[St Martin’s Street, post 18 June 1782]

To Hester Lynch Thrale ALS (Berg), June 1782 Single sheet 4to, 2 pp. Addressed: Mrs. Thrale, / Streatham, / Surry.

How sorry am I, Dearest Madam, to have you thus plagued about your Law suit24 — & how mortified was I on Thursday not to be able to get to Streatham — but pray let me clear Mrs. Crewe from a seeming strangeness that has hurt my kind Mrs. Thrale for my Honour, & that, I must confess, provoked me much, my Father, eager to put in his own claim for his Daughter, hastened to Mrs. Crewe yesterday morning, & demanded, like Dick, the reasons of her conduct, & why she had not dealt with principals? — she protested instantly that Povo:25 had quite mistaken her, that she by no means intended, or even thought of sending you any | message, but merely wished, from regard to Mrs. Thrale, to have her sounded whether she would take it ill if she proposed running away with her little friend: but, far from giving Povo: any commission, she knows not, yet, her own destination for the summer, nor is at all sure she shall go to Crewe-Hall26 this year: but 24 25 26

See above, p. 7; below, p. 101. See above, p. 41 n. 49. The Crewe family mansion in Cheshire, built in 1615–36.

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she appeased my Father’s punctilio, by most seriously assuring him, that though she particularly desired to treat Mrs. Thrale with all the delicacy in her power, she should as soon have thought of sending to Rome as to Streatham for leave to invite his Daughter. So all was amicably explained, & they parted better friends than ever. I had met her last Week at Ranelagh, where, I fancy, this notion came into her Head, for she was extremely gracious, & looked more beautiful than ever. I went with Miss Palmer & her married sister,27 & a party belonging to them, — & I had much talk about Streatham with Sir Philip Clerke, & Count Zenobio, who sputtered in my Face for no short Time [xxxxx 1 word] — but I have had one such Evening since I saw you! — & the very Evening of my quitting you, — little imagining, then, that after Dining with you & Dr. Johnson, I should sup with Mr. Burke! — but so it was, & at the Paymaster’s28 own Apartments! — The World is a very white world with me just now, — do you, dearest madam, but always continue to love me, & happen what may, it can never be wholly Black to your FB

251

[St. Martin’s Street 9 July 1782]

To Susanna Burney Phillips ALS (Berg), 9 July 1782 2 double sheets 4to, 8 pp. Annotated (by FBA): June or May credo — 82

That I could but come to you, Dearest & sweetest Susy, this moment! how cruelly ill you have been! & how cruelly has your illness been timed! — indeed I am quite frightened to think of it. Hetty has communicated to me your correspondence with her,29 — it was too deeply interesting to me for 27 Theophila (‘Offy’) Palmer, who had m. (1781) Robert Lovell Gwatkin (EJL iii. 138 n. 62). 28 See below, p. 89 n. 98. 29 Missing.

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concealment with any kindness. I would congratulate you, my dearest love, if I could but stipulate your future number30 — but yet, to speak the honest truth, I can hardly tell how to be very glad: a little, I must be, because I see you would have been teased till you would have been half vexed & provoked had things been otherwise. I entreat you to write to me quite openly, — particularly tell me when you think will be the Time of confinement, that I may have no engagements to break or disarrange, & no worry to myself & no disappointment to any kind inviters, for nothing in the World, neither pleasure, business, distance nor inconvenience, nor even your own prohibition can keep me from you at that period — my dearest & darling Girl! I should be Heart-broken to be away from you. — | You see, therefore, you may as well invite me handsomely, — your sweet Captain & I will quarrell which shall please you with most tenderness. I will have Papers & Work, that you may not have so much of me as to wish me away, & I am sure I shall never fill up my Time more to my own satisfaction. I earnestly hope, for a thousand reasons, you will be in London, but if that cannot be, we must do the best that can. I much like your account of your apothecary: but how terrible for you to want such help at such a season! — are you of good Heart? — keep up, my sweet Susy, — think of nothing but the delight you will feel in nursing & nourishing the Baby of your beloved Phillips. I am sure you will be the first of mothers, — I am sure of it. I am all for a Girl, for that reason, that you may have the care, Education & management all to your self. Even if you are in London, I intend | to insist upon a fortnight’s lodging under the same Roof with you, — so I am very glad you are upon so oeconomical a plan, & live upon half your income, as I purpose being extremely well, & Eating very heartily. In particular, I look forward to a plate of good bread & butter with my Tea; I bargain, also, for neither liver nor lights;31 I shall also expect not to have raw meat forced upon me; & if I want a second piece of bread at Dinner, I shall not scruple to hint that I have demolished my 30 31

i.e., of children. SBP was pregnant. Lungs.

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first: Also, if I happen to be more hungry one Day than another, I shall not expect you will therefore help me to less food; & if, at Night, your potatoes are no bigger than Walnuts, I shall not long demur in calling for a bit of bread & cheese to fill up chinks. Nor are these all the luxuries to which I look forward. If the Weather should be very cold, I shall not apprehend a sneer for sitting | nearer the fire than if it was hot; if 2 red Coals are all that enlighten a whole Grate full of black, I shall not suppose myself guilty of any heinous offence in endeavouring to poker up a flame that, trebling the number of red, may threaten annihilation to the black: if I find myself in good spirits, I shall not have the fear of wrath before my Eyes because I may happen to simper: if I am grave, & have had cause for gravity, I shall not conclude that you will be gayer than usual: if I ask you a common question, I shall not expect a stern look for an answer; if I make you a common reply, I shall not take it for granted you will pervert my words into an affront: if I talk of some favourite friend, I shall not prepare myself for hearing him or her instantly traduced; nor yet, if I relate something that has made me happy, shall I know my conversation is the fore-runner of | an Head-ache. Should you debar me of these indulgencies, — why at last I am but where I was.32 Grieved & alarmed as I have been by finding Your illness has been so serious, I cannot tell you half how much I was gratified that Capt. Phillips so kindly pressed you to summons me: but let me conjure you, my Susy, never again, upon my account, to be so dainty, — how could my Book, how could any thing upon Earth be of half the value that helping him in taking care of you would be to me? But why did the dear Creature think of coming for me? I could travel extremely well in some Diligence, — & therefore, should any occasion of the same sort tempt you to wish for me in future, only beg him to send me a line, & leave the rest to me. He can by nothing so highly oblige me as by promising me he will take this measure if you should again be ill. 32 FB has been describing the parsimonious and quarrelsome behaviour of her stepmother.

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O my dear Susy, if I was but to tell you how I miss you at Home! — I did not know how singularly our two minds were blended, till you were thus removed: but I want to say something to | You every Hour, — nobody else ever cared so much to hear me, nor do I find any body else to whom I care so much to speak. Dear Hetty, whom so tenderly I love, is so absorbed in family matters of her own, — our good Charlotte, who has the truest affection for me, which warmly I return, means to supply your place, but has not the powers, — our tastes do not naturally accord, our likings, our dislikings, are often dissimiliar, — we don’t admire the same people, we don’t read the same Books, we don’t search the same amusements, we don’t adore the same Pacchierotti, — with you all seemed the same as with myself, — yet Charlotte is an excellent Girl, & if I had her not, I believe I should go matt, like poor Fischer.33 But I ought to love Capt. Phillips dearly, for if I did not, I should owe him no very good will for robbing me of the first, most constant, & sweetest comfort of my life. Well! it can’t be helpt! I would not unmarry you, believe me, for Phillips’ mind is congenial with both ours, & my Heart opened itself to him from my first acquaintance with | him. You enquire what I have yet to do, — a world of stuff, still; — I was much deceived when I parted from Capt. Phillips, — for I have since made abundant revisions & corrections: & I have more still to make. To Day [9 July] the Book has been advertised in all the Papers, with a promise to appear in a few Days,34 — yet the 5th vol. is but begun, for 33 FB compares her lack of common interests with CAB to the incompatibility of the German musician Johann Christian Fischer and his wife Mary, younger daughter of Thomas Gainsborough, from whom he had separated soon after their marriage in 1780 (GMO). CB cited as reasons for the breakup Fischer’s extreme taciturnity and the fact that the couple’s ‘minds were not in tune together’ and their ‘temperaments were dissonant’ (Rees). ‘Poor’ Fischer seems to have claimed to have gone ‘matt’ from the separation, just as FB would go mad if she didn’t have CAB’s companionship. 34 On Friday, 12 July. For example, on 9 July the Public Advertiser carried the announcement: ‘On Friday next will be published, / In Five Volumes, Twelves, Price 12s. 6d. Sewed, / CECILIA; OR, MEMOIRS of an / HEIRESS. / By the AUTHOR OF EVELINA. / Printed for T. Payne and Son, at the Mews Gate; / and T. Cadell, in the Strand.’ On 12 July the same newspaper duly advertised the five volumes of Cecilia as ‘This day are published.’ See A. Ribeiro, ‘The Publication Date of Fanny Burney’s Cecilia,’ Notes and Queries ccxxv (1980), 415–16; see also Morning Chronicle, 9 July 1782.

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Printing, & some is yet unwritten for Copy, as well as much to correct & alter! — However, this is the management of the Booksellers, not mine. I forget if ever I told you that Cadell35 has half the chances with Payne: it was his own desire, upon being shewn, by Payne, the 1st vol. My dear Mrs. Thrale keeps kind & sweet in spite of much vexation & disappointment at my very long absence from her. I shall go to her for a while as soon as I possibly can. I have had several admirable good meetings & visitings from Time to Time, but not an instant to think of them, much more to write them down, when they were over. I will, however, now begin again a Journal for you, & go back briefly, to what has past, — but then, ultimately, you must let it, as in former Times, be my own. Will you agree to this? How anxious I shall be for a long account | how you & P: read the Book! O that I could read it with you! — I shall now never read it again. There is no wading through such stuff by ones self. I have not been able to write about Mr. Burke, for your illness drove me to other subjects, but I shall not forget him, while memory holds her Seat,36 for I am but too enchanted with him, so don’t fancy I mean to shirk my promise. I have called, at last, upon Mrs. Shirley, & she made me come in, though I was driving away upon hearing she was at Dinner, by sending me word she did not care a rush for my seeing her, — & then she made me Eat mackerel with her, & received me with as much kindness, pleasantry, & good humour, as if I had visited her once a Week ever since you went. I hold myself very much obliged to her, indeed, for such candour & good nature & indulgence. Poor Lady Clarges is in a puffy way this hot weather! — she always enquires for you of my Father; so does the Pac: of me. I don’t suppose my Book can yet be ready this fortnight. Is it not tiresome? all the Printers have had the Influenza, & stopt working, — I will open upon my Journal for you with all speed, & send it as I can. I doubt not finding opportunities for sending full as often as for writing. We are not quite easy

35 36

Thomas Cadell (1742–1802), bookseller. Cf. Hamlet 1.5.96.

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about Jem. & Lord K.37 — however, we keep hoping for the best. Adieu, my best Susy, take the utmost care of your Health, & fail not to send for me should you have any relapse, or discomfort, if you love me. F.B. | P.S. We wd not send off the frank till we could fill it handsomely.

252

[St Martin’s Street, 9 July 1782]

To Susanna Burney Phillips AJL incomplete (Diary MSS II, paginated 1601–[10], Berg), 9 July 1782 2 double sheets and 1 single sheet 4to, 8 pp. (2 pages blank) Annotated (by FBA): Journal resumed 1782 Endorsed (by SBP): Fanny. July 9th 82. One double sheet is used as a cover.

At length, my ever dearest Susan, my long neglected Journal, & long promised renewal behold at Your Feet! for thither shall I speed them with all the expedition in my power. So much has passed since I lost you — for I cannot use any other word! — that I hardly know what first to record; but I think ’tis best to begin with what is uppermost in my mind, Mr. Burke. Among the many I have been obliged to shirk this year, for the sake of living almost solely with Cecilia, none have had less patience with my retirement than Miss Palmer, who, bitterly, believing, I intended never to visit her again, has forborne sending me any invitations: but, about 3 Weeks ago, my Father had a Note from Sir Joshua Reynolds, to ask him

37 See above, p. 45 n. 58. JB’s uncertainties about his command were assuaged later this month. On 22 July, CB wrote to FB, SBP, and Molesworth Phillips: ‘[Jem] saw Ld Keppel 2ce & told him he was ready, if he wanted to put to sea wth Ld Howe in an hour’s time — he was sent for to consult abt conveying 10 India men to Madrass’ (LCB i. 345).

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to Dine, at Richmond, & meet the Bishop of St. Asaph:38 & therefore, to make my peace, I scribbled a note to Miss Palmer to this purpose, — After the many kind invitations I have been obliged to refuse, will you, my dear Miss Palmer, should I offer to accompany my Father to-morrow, bid me remember the old Proverb39 Those who will not when they may When they will, they shall have nay? — F.B. This was graciously received, & the next morning Sir Joshua & Miss Palmer called for my Father & me, | accompanied by Lord Corke.40 We had a mighty pleasant ride, Miss Palmer & I made up, though she scolded most violently about my long absence, & attacked me about the Book without mercy. The Book, in short, to my great consternation, I find is talked of & expected all the Town over. My dear Father himself, I do verily believe, mentions it to every body; he is fond of it to enthusiasm, & does not fore-see the danger of raising such general expectation, which fills me with the horrors every time I am tormented with the thought. Lord Corke is ugly & unpleasing; & I had heard so much to his disadvantage, with regard to his behaviour to his lady,41 before I saw him, that he must have been nothing short of an Angel to have appeared to me handsome or attractive. Sir Joshua’s House is delightfully situated, almost at the top of Richmond Hill.42 We walked till near dinner Time upon

38 Jonathan Shipley (1713–88), D.D. (Oxon.), 1748, Bishop of St Asaph, 1769– 88; m. (1743) Anna Maria Mordaunt (1717–1803) (ODNB). 39 This proverb is cited by, among others, the sixteenth-century writer John Heywood as well as Robert Burton in his Anatomy of Melancholy. The sentiment can be dated at least as far back as St Augustine. See Heywood’s Works and Miscellaneous Short Poems, ed. B. A. Milligan (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1956), p. 148, and Burton’s Anatomy of Melancholy, ed. T. C. Faulkner and N. K. Kiessling (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1989), iii. 249. 40 Edmund Boyle (1742–98), 7th E. of Cork, 1764. 41 Anne Courtenay (1741–85), whom Cork had married in 1764 (IGI). Their marriage was dissolved in 1782. Cork was described by Sir Herbert Croft, in The Abbey of Kilkhampton (London, 1780), as a man ‘devoted to the most wretched voluptuousness’ (p. 102). 42 Wick House, built for Reynolds in 1771–2 by Sir William Chambers, was located across the road from the Star and Garter Inn. His niece Mary Palmer, who disliked the house, described it as ‘a house stuck upon the top of a hill, without a bit of garden or ground of any sort near it but what is as public as St James’s Park.’ See D.

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the Terrace, & there met Mr. Richard Burke,43 the Brother of the Orator. Miss Palmer, stopping him, said ‘Are you coming to Dine with us?’ ‘No, he answered, I shall Dine at the Star & Garter.’ ‘How did you come?’ ‘On Horseback.’ ‘What, have you just?’ ‘Ay, sure! cried he, Laughing, up & ride! now’s the Time.’ | And he made a fine flourish with his Hand, & past us. He is just made under secretary at the Treasury.44 He is a Tall & handsome man, & seems to have much dry drollery; but we saw no more of him. After our return to the House, & while Sir Joshua & I were Tête à Tête, my Father & Lord Corke being still walking, & Miss Palmer having, I suppose, some orders to give about the Dinner, the Knight of Plympton was desiring my opinion of the prospect from his Window, & comparing it with Mr. Burkes, as he told me after I had spoken it, — when the Bishop of St. Asaph & his Daughter, Miss Georgiana Shipley,45 were announced. Sir Joshua, to divert himself, in introducing me to the Bishop, said ‘Miss Burney, my lord; — otherwise Evelina.’ The Bishop is a well looking man, & seemed grave, quiet, & sensible. I have heard much more of him, but nothing more appeared. Miss Georgiana, however, was shewy enough for two. She is a very Tall, & rather handsome Girl, but the expression of her Face is, to me, uncommonly & insufferably disagreeable, she has almost a constant smile, — but not of softness, nor of insipidity, but of self-sufficiency, & internal satisfaction. She is very much accomplished, & her fame for Painting & | for scholarship I know you are well acquainted with; I believe her to have very good parts, & much quickness; but she is so conceited, so forward, so full of herself, so earnest to obtain notice, & so happy in her confidence Hudson, Sir Joshua Reynolds: A Personal Study (London: Geoffrey Bles, 1958), pp. 108–12. 43 Richard Burke (1733–94), attorney, brother of Edmund Burke (ODNB). 44 Burke had accepted the Secretaryship of the Treasury early in Apr. See Correspondence of Edmund Burke, ed. T. W. Copeland et al. (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1958–78), iv. 430, 437. 45 Georgiana Shipley was the Shipleys’ 4th daughter.

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of deserving it, that I have not less been charmed with any young lady I have seen for many a Day. I have met with her before, at Mrs. Pepys, but never before was introduced to her.46 Miss Palmer soon joined us; &, in a short Time, entered more Company, — 3 Gentlemen, & one lady; but there was no more ceremony used of introductions. The lady I concluded was Mrs. Burke,47 wife of The Mr. Burke, & I was not mistaken; one of the Gentlemen I recollected to be young Burke, her son, whom I once met at Sir Joshua’s in Town,48 & another of them I knew for Mr. Gibbon:49 but the third, I had never seen before. I had been told that The Burke was not expected, — yet I could conclude this Gentlemen to be no other; — he had just the air, the manner, the appearance, I had prepared myself to look for in him, & there was an evident, a striking superiority in his demeanour, his Eye, his motions, that announced him no common man. | I could not get at Miss Palmer to satisfy my doubts, & we were soon called down stairs to Dinner. Sir Joshua & the unknown stopt to speak with one another upon the stairs; & when they followed us, Sir Joshua, in taking his place at the Table, asked me to sit next him; I willingly complied, ‘And then, he added, Mr. Burke shall sit on the other side of you.’ ‘O no, indeed!’ cried Miss Georgiana, who, also, had placed herself next Sir Joshua, ‘I won’t consent to that, Mr. Burke must sit next me; I won’t agree to part with him. Pray come & sit down quiet, Mr. Burke.’ Mr. Burke, — for Him it was, — smiled & obeyed. ‘I only meant, said Sir Joshua, to have made my peace with Mr. Burke, by giving him that place, because he has been scolding me for not introducing him to Miss Burney. However, I must do it now; — Mr. Burke! — Miss Burney! —’

46 Miss Shipley made a better impression on Horace Walpole, who described her as ‘extremely good-natured, [with] a wild kind of romantic parts ... I have seen prettyish verses of hers’ (YW xi. 269). 47 Jane Mary Nugent (1734–1812), m. (1757) Edmund Burke. 48 FB had met Richard Burke at Sir Joshua’s town residence in July 1780 (EJL iv. 210). 49 Edward Gibbon (1737–94), historian.

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We both half rose, & Mr. Burke said ‘I have been complaining to Sir Joshua that he left me wholly to my own sagacity; — however, it did not, here, deceive me.’ ‘O Lord, then, said Miss Georgiana, looking a little consternated, perhaps you won’t thank me for calling you to this place!’ Nothing was said. And so, — we all began Dinner, | Young Burke making himself my next Neighbour. Captain Phillips knows Mr. Burke; has he, or has he not told you how delightful a Creature he is? — if he has not, pray in my Name, abuse him without mercy, — if he has, pray ask if he will subscribe to my account of him, which here with shall follow, — He is Tall, his figure is noble, his air commanding, his address graceful: his Voice is clear, penetrating, sonorous & powerful; his Language is copious, various, & eloquent; his manners are attractive; his conversation is delightful! — What says Capt. Phillips? — have I chanced to see him in his happiest Hour! or is he all this in common? Since we lost Garrick, I have seen nobody so enchanting; nor to Garrick himself is he in any thing inferior. I can give You, however, very little of what was said, for the conversation was not suivie, Mr. Burke darting from subject to subject with as much rapidity as entertainment: neither is the charm of his discourse more in the matter than the manner; all, therefore, that is related from him, loses half its effect in not being related by him. Such little sketches as I can recollect, take, however. | From the Windows of the Dining Parlour, Sir Joshua directed us to look at a mighty pretty white House, which belonged to Lady Di Beauclerk; ‘I am extremely glad, said Mr. Burke, to see her, at last, so well Housed; poor Woman! the Bowl has long rolled in misery; I rejoice that it has now found its balance. I never, myself, so much enjoyed the sight of happiness in another, as in that Woman, when I first saw her after the Death of her Husband.50 It was really enlivening to behold her placed in that sweet House, released from all her 50 Beauclerk had died in 1780. His ill-tempered abuse of his wife was common knowledge.

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cares, a thousand pound a Year at her own disposal; and — her Husband was Dead! — O it was pleasant; it was delightful to see her enjoyment of her situation!’ ‘But, without considering the circumstances, said Mr. Gibbon, this may appear very strange, though, when they are fairly stated, it is perfectly rational & unavoidable.’ ‘Very true, said Mr. Burke, if the circumstances are not considered, Lady Di may seem highly reprehensible.’ He then, addressing himself particularly to me, as the person least likely to be acquainted with the character of Mr. Beauclerk, drew it himself, in strong & marked expressions, describing the misery he gave his Wife, his singular ill treatment of her, & the necessary relief the death of such a man must give. | He then reminded Sir Joshua of a Day in which they had Dined at Mr. Beauclerks, soon after his marriage with Lord Bolingbroke’s divorced Wife,51 in company with Goldsmith, & told a new story of poor Goldsmith’s eternal blundering. My sweetest Susy — no fu[rther] was I got than this, when dear Pacchierotti came in, & I had hardly left off to receive him, & make some Tea, when your sweet Captain joined us: think if I was not gay & happy, — no sulky madre envying me, nor repressing my enjoyment! & think if I wished not for my Susy! — Oh almost with an earnestness of regret to destroy my happiness. Your most kind invitations have long occupied all my thoughts & powers of contrivance, — & I have a plan in agitation, from which I do entertain hopes of success, — but to stir till the Book is out is impossible, as I have much to52

51 i.e., Lady Diana. Bolingbroke had divorced her for adultery with Beauclerk whom she then married in 1768. Goldsmith had probably blurted out something about the adultery and divorce. 52 The rest of the letter is missing.

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[St Martin’s Street, 13 July 1782]

To Charles Burney ALS fragment (formerly Peyraud, now Rylands), 13 July 1782 Single sheet 4to, 2 pp. pmk 13 JY red wax seal Addressed: Dr. Burney, / at Mrs. Hamilton’s, / Chesington, / Kingston, / Surry. Annotated (by FBA): Cecilia on its first publication. St Martins Street, 13. July, 1782. The first sheet of the letter is missing.

about the , & has sent him one which King53 has under-written for its excellence. I have sent 2 setts54 to Mrs. Susy & one to my aunts. Dr. Johnson & Mrs. Thrale got their’s but yesterday, neither did Sir Richard Jebb, as I waited the Binder’s time. My dear Mrs Thrale spent all this morning [13 July] with me; she came to town merely to see me, & give me the happiness of acquainting me with Dr. Johnson’s highest approbation of all he has read of the Book!55 — I danced about for Joy, & have hardly breathed since for fullness. She says she will write you particulars herself.56 I then informed her of Susan’s longing, & she gave way to it with a very good grace. Nothing can equal the earnest & sweet interest she takes in Capt. James King, R.N. (see EJL iv. 10 n. 32). Of Cecilia. See, e.g., HLT to FB, 31 July 1782 (Berg): ‘One hears of nothing but Cecilia; one likes one part, another prefers another part; but Johnson says, most judiciously, that the grand Merit is in the general Power of the whole’; and Thraliana i. 555: ‘Wyndam & Johnson were talking of Miss Burney’s new Novel — ’Tis far superior to Fielding’s, says Mr Johnson; her Characters are nicer discriminated, and less prominent’. Cf. HLT’s own assessment in Thraliana i. 536: ‘Her new Novel called Cecilia is the Picture of Life such as the Author sees it: while therefore this Mode of Life lasts, her Book will be of value, as the Representation is astonishingly perfect: but as nothing in the Book is derived from Study, so it can have no Principle of duration — Burney’s Cecilia is to Richardson’s Clarissa — what a Camera Obscura in the Window of a London parlour, — is to a view of Venice by the clear Pencil of Cannaletti.’ 56 HLT wrote to CB at Chessington (Platnauer): ‘Mr Hoole is delighted with the pathetick Part of Cecilia as much as Johnson with the Dignity of Sentiment & discrimination of Character’ (letter later dated by FBA as ‘Augst — 82’). 53 54 55

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my success with Dr. Johnson, which has far exceeded not only my but her expectations. I have just had a note from the Pepys, to invite me to Dine & spend the Evening with them on Tuesday [16 July], to meet only Mrs. Chapone, & not one ‘underminer of Existence,’ a phrase from my project chapter,57 by which I find they are already deep in the first volume. I have, however, excused myself, for if I go to Ipswich , I shall have no time to spare, [xxxxx 2 lines] but back into & I should not wish to spend more than a fortnight with her [SBP], as I am impatient to arrange my affairs, but pleasant break into long absence, & give such a chear-up to her spirits, which, at present, seemed depressed by her apprehensions, that I must own I could have no delight equal to instantly hastening to her, & deferring all other considerations to my return. I beg my best love & duty to my Daddy; I am sure he will be glad to hear that Dr. Johnson has pronounced the same praise he gave himself upon the Vauxhall scene, — & so will you upon his being quite enchanted, Mrs. T. says, with the opening, & the Project Chapter, & the general plan of the 3 various Guardians.58 I have seen nobody else who has read a word of it but Pacchierotti, who says Mrs. Hill’s Billy59 affected him so he could not help croying. Mrs. Rishton has never called. 60 Pray give my duty & best wishes to my mother, & kindly remember me to every body, & believe me, most dear Sir, your ever dutifully affectionate F.B. |

Bk. 1, ch. 7, p. 55. Her uncle’s will provides Cecilia with three legal guardians: the spendthrift Harrel, the miser Briggs, and the pompous Delvile, representing ‘high life’, ‘fortune’, and ‘family’, respectively. 59 The carpenter, who is injured while working on the Harrels’ villa and whose wife finds it impossible to collect the £22 Harrel owes him. 60 FB’s stepsister was evidently in town but hadn’t appeared in St Martin’s Street. 57 58

254

[St Martin’s Street, 13 July 1782]

To Susanna Burney Phillips AL (Berg), 13 July 1782 Single sheet 4to, 2 pp. Postdated: 14 [sic] July — 82.

How does my Heart yearn to see you, my dearest Susy! & how sweetly does the prospect of that happiness open to my view! — Your kind & charming Letters would half madden me, had I not such fair hopes — My necessity of staying in town after finishing Cecilia, was imprimis, to send Copies to certain folks with notes, & after that, to settle with Payne & Cadell, as I must own myself worse than portionless, having taken up money of my Father, which made it impossible to propose any expedition till I could honourably make my arrangements. But this morning Your incomparable Captain, with equal spirit & kindness, went himself to Payne, & in consequence of their conversation, Payne has this instant been here, & paid me £100.61 I shall now, therefore, have courage to write immediately to my Father, who is at Chesington.62 Your Letter63 I shall enclose, to speak for itself, & for itself I am sure it will speak, — ’tis the most understanding & irresistible Letter ever written — I have this minute tried its efficacy, for Mrs Thrale called upon me, — on an errand the most delightful in the World, but which I reserve for telling, — & I put it in her Hands, &, in spite of her repeated disappointments, she not only gave way, but gave way with a good grace, & 61 According to CAB’s journal for 15 Jan. 1783 (Berg), FB received £250 from Payne and Cadell for the first edition of Cecilia (ED ii. 307). Both booksellers were slow in paying her the money they owed her. She received £100 from Payne on 13 July, £100 from Cadell between 12 and 16 Aug., and £50 from the two of them on 7 Dec. See below p. 99 n. 27 and p. 188 n. 47; S. Cooke, ‘How Much Was Frances Burney Paid for Cecilia?’, Notes and Queries xxxix (1992), 484–6). 62 CB, EAB, and Dorothy Young had travelled to Chessington on Saturday, 6 July, intending to return on the following Tuesday. EAB fell gravely ill, however, necessitating their remaining at Chessington. See BP, p. 83, and below, p. 83 n. 81. 63 Missing.

13 July 1782

75

desired her kind love to you, & her assurance she never flattered herself with coming before you, but was much obliged to you for putting it in her power to shew | her acquiescence in your superior right. Your hint concerning dowdiness is most agreeable indeed, & hits my fancy wonderfully; &, again, your intimation of unmended goods & chattels affords a most spacious field for œconomy & convenience: one thing only gives me any uneasiness, which is that your too kind Phillips so earnestly insists upon staying for me; now really it is utterly unnecessary, & as you must be deprived of him, it robs me of all pleasure in detaining him. Do, dearest Susy, befriend me in urging him to reason: the Diligence is only from 7 to 7, & I am sure I shall not, from various requisite affairs, be able to leave London before the latter end of next Week! — Here comes your other half, impracticable in nothing but in a determination to devote himself to kind & generous offices for others. Well bestowed is my Susan upon him! God bless you, my love, — almost all difficulties are at an end about my Journey, though I cannot, till I hear from Chesington, fix my Day, but I do most urgently entreat you not to send for, not to look at my Book till I come, as I propose reading it with you for one of the most pleasant & heartfelt satisfactions of my life, & one which will never offer again, as I am sure this will be better stuff than any other I shall ever produce, because longer & therefore more promising to be interesting. Heaven bless you, my stout Girl.

255

[St Martin’s Street, 15 July 1782]

To Elizabeth Weller Pepys ALS (formerly Peyraud, now Rylands), 15 July 1782 Single sheet 4to, 1 p. This letter was sent in response to Mrs Pepys’s reply to FB’s earlier excuse (see above, p. 73).

I know not whether you are most kind, ever dearest madam, about my staying away, or my coming; but certain it is, no

76

15 July 1782

reproaches would half so much quicken me, were I my own agent, as your sweetness of accommodation to my own Times & seasons. I should like extremely to be of your to-morrow party, but dare not promise myself that happiness yet; my Father & mother are still at Chesington, & I will not torment you with reciting the pros & cons that disable me at present from settling whether or not I can wait upon you even to Dinner: but if I have power, I will certainly & joyfully make use of it, &, should my Father not be in Town to make one, I will send & beg a cast64 of Mr. Pepys. Heaven bless you Dearest madam. F.B.

256

[St Martin’s Street, 17 July 1782]

To Charles Burney AL (Berg), 17 July 1782 Double sheet 4to, 4 pp. wafer Addressed: Dr. Burney / Chesington Annotated (by FBA): Meeting at Sir Joshua Reynolds’ after Cecilia’s publication July 1782

Wednesday65 Morng.

I congratulate you, dearest Sir, upon my mother’s again being better, which I heard yesterday in a way I least expected, but as the information came from Mr. Hemmings,66 I hope it may be relied upon. You will already know James was my informant, who much regretted want of time to go on to Chesington, but who was summoned to Town by an Express from the admiralty that did not admit of any delay. The Express, by what I can gather, for James is not very diffuse A ‘lift’ in a conveyance (OED, s.v. ‘cast’ sb I. 7). Corrected by FB from ‘Thursday’. Thomas Hemming, apothecary and surgeon at Kingston, Surrey, who was attending EAB during her illness (EJL iv. 227; BP, pp. 83–4). 64 65 66

17 July 1782

77

in his accounts, belongs to the South Sea voyage, & some enquiries were [to] be made of him relating to some disputed points about that expedition. But pray do not mention the matter at present, as Jem has probably good reasons for being somewhat mysterious & cautious. He has heard nothing more yet of his destination, but has no doubt it will be to the East Indies.67 Miss Palmer & Capt. King called upon me yesterday [16  July] to insist upon my Dining at Sir Joshua’s, to meet Dr. Johnson & Mrs. Cholmondeley; but I had already refused the Pepys, & did not dare, — no answer, however, would satisfy them, & they worked at me with unremitting violence till they forced a promise | from me to come to Tea. I found Mrs. Cholmondeley & her 2 Daughters, Mr. Metcalf,68 Mrs. Reynoldes [sic], Sir Joshua, Miss P: & the dear Dr. Johnson, who had been puffing off my Book till the moment of my arrival. Capt. Phillips also went with me. I had no talk with the Dr. all the Evening, as I was not near him, but I had many kind looks, which were not thrown away upon Miss Reynolds, whose comments were very diverting: however, Mrs. Cholmondely attacked me in all ways, — gayly, & seriously, — with elegance & with absurdity, — with flattery & with threats, — & in as many modes & voices, & with as much variety of look & action, as if she had been performing some highly written part upon the stage. Miss Palmer, who had read night & Day, was the only person who had finished it, for Mrs. Cholmondeley had not yet got it, for her Bookseller had parted with every Copy he had received, & was himself waiting for more before he could supply her; & the circulating library people, Mrs. Reynolds told me, have had it bespoken by old Customers for months to come, & cannot get enough to at all stop people’s mouths. Miss Palmer is mad with | fondness for Young Delvile, & so struck with Albany that he is never a moment out of her 67 The Bristol, convoying a fleet of 14 merchant ships, would leave Spithead on 11 Sept. 1782 in company with the British Channel Fleet. Parting from the Channel Fleet on 1 Oct., the Bristol and its convoy would reach Brazil in late Nov. and then sail from there to the East Indies (Manwaring, pp. 169–73). 68 Philip Metcalfe (1733–1818), of Hawstead, Suffolk, distiller; M.P., 1784–1806; an intimate friend of Reynolds and SJ (HP).

78

17 July 1782

Head. — Sir Joshua, who is still only in the first Vol: says he foresees Monckton will be the victor, by his deep designing Character; but he seems most diverted by Miss Leeson,69 whose ‘Yes, ma’am,’ ‘no, ma’am,’ ‘I don’t know, & I can’t tell,’ he quoted perpetually. Dr. Johnson supports Hobson at the Head of the tribe, & says it is a very perfect Character; — & Simkins & Miss Larolles are very highly in his favour. Just as I was coming away, & passing him, he took my Hand, &, with sundry kind words, too tender for a third person, he said ‘I have again read Harrel’s Death[, —] it is finely done, — it is very finely do[ne, —]’ with a very emphatic voice & manner. I hear, through Capt. King, that all the Burkes are reading it; & he has negociated another meeting for me with Mrs. Burke, whom I am to call upon to-morrow [18 July], as we do not go to Ipswich till Friday [19 July], for reasons too tiresome to mention. [xxxxx ½ line] You may believe how I was surprised by Jem’s arrival, — I prevailed with him to go with me to supper at Sir Joshua’s, whose House I had accidentally left after Tea, for some orders I wanted to give Peggy,70 — Sir Joshua received him very pleasantly, & Dr. Johnson very good naturedly: & | as his 2 old fellow voyagers, Captns King & Phillips were there, Jem was all jollity & happiness. He is now at the Admiralty. All his things that we had sent him arrived safe. I have now lent Mr. Hutton71 my first Vol. but have not seen him since he has had it. Miss Palmer tells me it is reported about Town I have had £1000 for the Copy!72 Mrs. Cholmondeley told me she understood I had behaved like a poor simple thing again, & had a Father no wiser than myself ! — I wonder what would content the people! — Miss Reynolds has not yet begun, but kept anticipating Compliments, & exclamations of wonder & delight all the Evening. 69 A ‘SUPERCILIOUS’ ton miss, ‘silent, scornful, languid, and affected’ (Cecilia, bk. 1, ch. 5, p. 40). 70 A Burney family servant, not further identified. 71 James Hutton, founder of the Moravian Church in England, an old friend of the Burneys (EJL ii. 26 n. 61). CAB wrote to FB, late July or early Aug. 1782 (Barrett), that ‘Mr Hutton says that he likes it very much, but that old Delville shd be pumped upon with dirty water!’ 72 FB actually received only £250. See above, p. 99 n. 27.

17 July 1782

79

Adieu, Dearest Sir, — pray tell my mother I hope now her long sufferings will terminate in a speedy recovery for I think Mr. Hemmings would not have given a false account to Jem.73 My love to Daddy — Miss Young — Kitty — Mrs. H[am] [xxxxx 2 words]

257

Ipswich, 21 July [1782] With Susanna Burney Phillips to Charles Burney ALS (Barrett), 21 July 1782 Double sheet 4to, 4 pp. pmk 22 JY seal Addressed: Dr. Burney, / At Mrs. Hamilton’s, / Chesington, / Kingston, / Surry. Readdressed: Dr Burney / St. Martins Street / Leicester Fields / London SBP concludes the letter on the 4th page, thanking her father for parting with FB, especially when he might have needed her during the illness of his wife.

Ipswich, July 21st

My dearest Sir, I found our sweet Susan better both in Health & spirits than I expected, but so solitary, & so impatient for our arrival, that my joy in seeing her joy made me forget almost every thing. My memory, however, did not leave me long, for the fear I am wanted at Chesington is a very considerable draw back to my happiness here. I must entreat, dearest Sir, that you will have the kindness to write me a line or two with some account of my poor mother, or else beg that Hetty will, if possible by return of post, as I have now had no intelligence since Thursday [18 July]. I am always a good hoper, as my mother knows of old, & therefore I am most willing to encourage myself in believing she is now somewhat better. I was 73 EAB’s condition worsened again. SC wrote to Sophia Gast on 29 July: ‘She has ... lain struggling between Life and Death, and has been thought actually dying more than once: particularly a week ago [22 July] Mr. Hemming saw her, and said she would not live till morning; for that the Death Sweats were upon her’ (BP, p. 83).

80

21 July 1782

extremely glad that Hetty was able | to return to you so soon, but indeed I was much afflicted to hear from her the comfortless life you were leading, — Capt. Phillips, too, told me he found you looking out of a Window, — dearest Sir! — can you not force yourself to collect papers, rummage memorandums, or do something or any thing to keep your mind from feeding solely upon its apprehensions? — I know too well what must be passing within it, & totally chearless it must feel, when I hear of your being unemployed, — I wish some of Hetty’s Children were with you, — I would almost, — nay quite, rather have you teazed than left wholly to your own reflections. Susy has begun Cecilia, but only read to the 8th Chapter. She takes to it very naturally, & read the project for all the World like Dr. Burney’s Daughter, — I believe she will very much, though very unconsciously, go through the Work with the same sort of feelings & | notions that her Father did. I would, for a few moments, you could but look on, & I am sure your spirits would be recruited by your kindness, in seeing the unaffected happiness, gaiety, & lightness of Heart of this dear Creature, & the worthiness, good-humour, sense, drollery, & kind-heartedness of her excellent help mate. Could I but hear good news from Chesington, I could have no greater happiness myself than I receive from witnessing their mutual comfort, — Mrs. Thrale called upon me on Thursday, & told me of her canvassing Lord Shelburne!74 — was it not sweetly done? I do not write particulars, because she told me she would herself. James was in excellent spirits, mightily pleased with his ship & his situation. I wish much to know if he wrote to you a

74 William Petty, 2nd E. of Shelburne; Prime Minister, 1782–3 (EJL i. 311–12 n. 26). Before visiting FB, HLT wrote to her, n.d. (Berg): ‘I am dying to tell you who came here last Night all of his own Accord, under a Pretence of walking round our Grounds — Ld Shelburne! the prime Minister; Yes Indeed: & I called him in too, Yes Indeed, & he liked me so, & Complimented me so, & rejoyced in getting into my House forsooth, & spoke so prettily about My quitting the Trade ... that I was tempted to ask him for your Father to be Queeney’s Music Master, & so I did ask him; & so he was very well pleased to be asked ... & I verily believe our dear Dr will get the place.’ CB did not obtain any such position. Shelburne had succeeded Lord Rockingham as prime minister upon Rockingham’s death on 1 July. HLT would soon lease Streatham Place to Shelburne for three years (see below, p. 116).

21 July 1782

81

plan concerning Charles which he started the Night before I left Town.75 Adieu, most dear Sir, — pray give my kindest wishes & Love to my poor mother, & send instantly, if she desires it, for your ever & ever most affecte & dutiful F.B.

258

Ipswich, 21 July [1782]

To Hester Lynch Thrale AL (Berg), 21 July 1782 Double sheet 4to, 3 pp. pmk 22 JY wafer Addressed: Mrs. Thrale, / Streatham, / Surry.

Ipswich, July 21st

Here I am, dearest Madam, & I know not when I have been happier, for the thorough conviction, the ocular proof I now have of my Susan’s being established for life to her Heart’s content, gives me more delightful sensations than I could receive from almost any thing in this lower region. Capt. P. is the most pleasant House Mate in the World, & I find we shall never have a quarrel but about my ever going away. Susan is in high, yet constant spirits, & looks charmingly in defiance of influenza & all drawbacks. — poor thing, she has been little used to such serene comfort as she now enjoys! — it makes me tender, like Count Manucci,76 every time I look at her, & we spend almost the whole Day in making thankful comparisons of the past with the present: & | Capt. P., when he listens to us, is seized with such fits of alternate indignation against somebody,77 & rapture that he was the deliverer, that it is impossible not to be diverted by such eager & honest transitions. I have no uneasiness but about my Father, who, I am sure, passes his Time in a manner the most melancholy & comfortless: no reward for his attendance but repining! no return for 75 76 77

No such letter is extant. FB cites a phrase of Mannucci; see HLT to FB, 20 Apr. 1781 (Berg). EAB.

82

21 July 1782

his kindness but impatience! — O what a different lot did he deserve! — so few men that have any Heart, ’twas surely hard for one who has so much to have it placed where it is only to be tortured. Have you been so good as to write to him about Lord Shelburne?78 Susan has just begun Cecilia, which was newer to her than to any body, for she had not seen it even advertised, & therefore never till yesterday afternoon saw the Title, or knew so much as that she was an Heiress: — I would not send it her | as I had hopes of being myself its convoy. Capt. P. & I had a mighty pleasant journey hither, prating away about Susan the whole time as if she was mistress to both. She is really a good sort of person, — & I do often think the first blessings of Human life are mine in a Father, Sister, Friend & Counsellor such as Dr. B., Susan, Mrs. T. & Mr. Crisp. If somebody else had but a better Temper, or even a more just way of thinking or of acting, I suppose I should be too happy, — & therefore if I were brute enough to desire her end, selfishness would there probably bring its own punishment, as some heavier evil would, in all likelihood, succeed. God bless you, dearest Madam, — I have written a very hum drum sort of Letter, but I have dulled myself by composing a studied epistle to Chesington,79 — a task I so rarely perform, that ‘the effort, the effort,’ unhinges me, like Mr. Meadows, for a fortnight: — My best respects to Dr. Johnson, & Love to Miss Tit.

78 79

EAB.

Not in any of HLT’s extant letters to CB. See above, p. 80 n. 74. See the preceding letter to CB, where FB dissembles her true feelings about

259

Ipswich, 25 July [1782]

To Charles Burney ALS (Barrett), 25 July 1782 Double sheet 4to, 3 pp. wafer Addressed: Dr. Burney The bottom part of the second sheet is torn away.

Ipswich, 25th July

How sweet of you, Dearest Sir, to speed to me so much welcome intelligence!80 — I most heartily congratulate you upon my mother’s amendment,81 which I hope soon to hear confirmed. Your account of Sir Joshua’s approbation is the most flattering & gratifying I could possibly receive.82 When I saw him in Town, he had only read half the first Volume: but as far as he had gone, I found was well digested, for he seemed to have it by Heart. I am mightily pleased, also, to have such a supporter for Albany, who is too excentric a Character for popularity, & who I expect will be as generally criticised by one set of people, as Briggs will by another. Those are the two personages for whom I have always had the most apprehension, though for each I have had myself a sneaking | liking that has made me willing to risk them. — I have received by See CB to FB, SBP, and Capt. Phillips, c.22 July 1782 (Hyde) (LCB i. 342–5). ‘I came from Ches. this morning where I left your Mother rather better than she has been for some time: that is, rather more alive than dead. I thought it impossible, & so did all here, that she cd survive the 2d attack — recovery of appetite, sleep, & strength will inevitably be slow — Life, & ease, are the present blessings to be sought’ (LCB i. 343). 82 ‘Sr J. says he never yet read a book in wch the Characters are so supported, & discriminated. He sd something good of them all, separately — but particularly Albany — who has a Methodistical cast, without disgusting or putting one out of humour with religion — .... Hobson he says is an admirable ale-house Philosopher — & young Belfield an excellent expansion of a Truth: that, take a man of Genius from his natural bent, & he never pursues anything else with success — Miss la Rolles & Lady Onoria, he finds so like, & so different! — Monkton not an uncommon worldly Man of the World — &c &c &c’ (LCB i. 343–4). 80 81

84

25 July 1782

the penny Post a very extraordinary anonymous Letter,83 from some Girl of 16, who seriously writes to thank me for the moral & religious Lessons inculcated in Cecilia, & which she professes an intention to make the rule of her own conduct! Mrs. & Miss Hatley,84 Susan’s only friends here, have been to call upon me, & seem sensible & agreeable. We live, if possible, more retired than at Chesington, though by no means so pleasantly, for though we can avoid making acquaintance, we cannot shun seeing Houses, & every thing that belongs to a Country Town is disagreeable. Susan is yet but in the 4th Volume, — I have written Charlotte word the wherefore. Capt. Phillips is all for Morrice,85 — Susan for Lady Honoria & Simkins, — but Delvile is the God of her Idolatry. The marriage Ceremony in the 4th Volume86 has half | destroyed her. Till that Event, Harrel’s death, in the 3d volume, haunted her as if she had herself heard the report of the Pistol. Adieu, Dearest Sir, — Capt. P. & Susy beg their kindest love & duty, & believe me most affectionately & dutifully your FB. [FBA inserts the following AL from SC, late July 1782, Diary MSS II, paginated 1621–[22], Berg, double sheet 4to (second sheet torn away), annotated by FBA: on First reading Cecilia after the Publication. May [sic] 1782 No 7]

My dear Fannikin, I deferr’d a return of my most sincere thanks & acknowledgements, both for your highly agreeable present & your two kind Short notes,87 till I had twice read over, & thoroughly Missing. Probably Mary and Isabella Hatley (d. 1784), wife and daughter of James Hatley (d. 1787), Esq., of Ipswich (World, 6 Aug. 1787; will of Isabella Hatley, PCC, prob. 25 Aug. 1784). 85 An ingratiating, self-confident young lawyer. 86 Bk. 8, ch. 2, pp. 625–8. 87 Missing. 83 84

late July 1782

85

(nay, severely) considered the first — don’t be surpriz’d at so harsh an Adverb — I was resolv’d to put myself in the place of an uninfluence’d, yawning fastidious Reader; that takes up a new Book, with careless indifference expecting from a Novel advertis’d, nothing more than the Usual common Place trash they abound with — this State of mind I endeavour’d at divesting myself, as well as I could, of all remembrance of the Work, & all Partiality for the Author; to do this compleatly, was indeed impossible; but still it was something, to be continually saying to myself, after I had read a Chapter; — how will this go down? — what will the multitude, who care not a straw for Author, or Bookseller, or anything but their own immediate amusement, say of it? — These were my Queries to myself — If I could have given a positive, & certain answer to them; that answer would have determined the fate of the Book, & the Character of the Authors Abilities: for these are the People, — (not a few, nay even a numerous partial set of Friends) that ultimately can, & do decide — the Tribunal of the Inquisition itself is not more inflexible than I endeavour’d to be on this Occasion — every other Mode of proceeding is only delusive, & what is call’d making ones Market at home — What was the Result of these, my Meditations? — to enter into particulars would be endless: but the Sum total amounts to this — a full, unlimited Confirmation of my warm approbation of the Whole Work together; & a positive declaration of the improvements it has receiv’d, beyond all Expectation: — greatly, & judiciously compress’d; long Conversations curtail’d: several incidents much better manag’d; & the Winding up of the bottom beyond all Compare, more happy, more judicious more satisfactory — many particulars, which I did not quite relish, are soften’d off to a degree, that if I do not perfectly assent to, I hardly | know how to condemn, — particularly in the instance of Old Delvile — in whom (without departing from his original Character, which would have been unpardonable) You have found means, fairly accounted for, to melt down some of that senseless, obstinate, inherent Pride, which if still kept up to its heigth [sic] would have render’d miserable, those who ought to have been dearest to him, & have establish’d him (which would have been a great impropriety) without

86

late July 1782

any necessity (Young Delvile’s Father & the excellent Mrs Delvile’s Husband) the most hateful of Beings. These my dear Fannikin, without the least Favour or Affection, are my sincere Sentiments; & if, I know myself, would be such, if I had by Chance met with the Book without any Name to it & at the same time, to evince my Sincerity & that — You may not think I mean Sycophant like, to turn about & recant, in order to swim with the wind & Tide that brings you, (as I hear) Clouds of Incense from every Quarter — to avoid this scandalous Imputation, I do declare that I must adhere to my former Sentiments on some parts of the Work — particularly the loss of Cecilia’s Estate. — But don’t think I pretend to set up against the Public Voice, my trumpery Objection; which even, if well founded, would be a mere dust in the balance — so much at present for Cecilia. Now Fannikin, I must remind You of your promise — which was to come to yr loving Daddy, when You could get loose — look ye Fanny, I don’t mean to cajole You hither, with the expectation of amusement, or entertainment — You & I, know better, than to hum,88 or be humm’d in that manner — if you come here; come to Work — Work hard — Stick to it — this is the harvest time of your Life — your Sun shines hot — lose not a moment then, but make your hay directly — Touch the Yellow Boys89 as Briggs says, — grow Warm90 — make the Booksellers come down handsomely — count the ready — the Chink.91 — do but secure this one point, while it is in your Power, & All things else shall be Added unto thee.92 I talk’d to your Doctor Daddy on the Subject of Disposing of your money; & we both agreed in the project of a well-secur’d Annuity; & in the mean time, till that could be procur’d, that the ready should be Vested in the 3 P Cent Annuities, that it

i.e., humbug; OED cites this sentence. i.e., the gold. See Cecilia, bk. 9, ch. 4, p. 751: ‘can chink the little gold boys?’ i.e., rich (OED, s.v. ‘warm’, a. and sb2, 8). i.e., ready cash (OED, s.v. ‘chink’, sb3, 4). See Cecilia, bk. 9, ch. 4, p. 745: ‘“Has he got the ready?” cried Mr. Briggs, impatiently; “can cast an account? that’s the point; can come down handsomely? eh?”’ 92 Cf. Matthew 6.33 and Luke 12.31: ‘All these things shall be added unto you’. 88 89 90 91

late July 1782

87

might produce something; & he promis’d to advance [to make even money.]93 [Charlotte Barrett inserted her copy of the following ALS from Edmund Burke to FB, 29 July 1782, into the run of MSS in the Berg, Diary MSS II, numbering the pages 1611–[12] (printed Diary and Letters of Madame d’Arblay, 1842–6, ii. 148–9). There is also a draft by Burke in the Pierpont Morgan Library, printed in Burke’s Correspondence, gen. ed. T. W. Copeland (Cambridge, 1958–78), v. 25–6. The following is printed for the first time from the original letter, single sheet folio, 2 pp., sent to FB, which is in the Osborn Collection.]

Madam I should feel myself exceedingly to Blame if I could refuse to myself the Natural Satisfaction and to You the just but poor return of my best thanks for the very great instruction94 and & [sic] Entertainment I have received from the new present you have bestowed on the publick. There are few I believe I may say fairly none at all that will not hold themselves better informed concerning human nature their stock of observation enriched by reading yr Cecilia They certainly will let their Experience in Life and Manners be what it may The arrogance of age must be taught by Youth and Beauty You have crowded into a few small Volumes an indescribable variety of characters most of them well planned well supported and well contrasted with each other if there be any Fault in this respect it is one in which you are in no great danger of being imitated | Justly as your Characters [are drawn,]95 perhaps they are too numerous But I beg pardon I fear it is quite in vain to preach Oecconomy [sic] to those who are come Young to excessive and sudden opulence I might trespass on your delicacy was I to fill my Letter to You with what I fill my Conversation to others I should be troublesome to you alone 93 Inserted in another hand; presumably the first phrase from the missing sheet, or to explain the ‘advance’. The £250 FB received for Cecilia was invested in an annuity yielding her £20 per annum (JL ii. 82). 94 See CB to SBP, 22 Sept. 1782: ‘Burke thanked Fanny for her Instruction, & when I told Johnson this — he sd, “’tis very true, Sir; no Man can read it, without having Ideas awakend in his mind that will mend the heart. When Fanny reasons, & writes from her own feelings, she is exquisite”’ (LCB i. 348). 95 Phrase in the draft and copy, omitted in the sent letter.

88

29 July 1782

if I should tell You all I feel and think on the natural vein of humour the tender pathetick the comprehensive and noble moral and the Sagacious observation that appear quite throughout that extraordinary performance. in an age distinguished by producing extraordinary Women I hardly dare to tell You where my opinion would place you amongst them I respect your Modesty that will not endure the Commendations which your merit forces from every body. I have the honour to be with great gratitude, respect & esteem Madam, Your most obedient & most humble Servt Edm Burke Whitehall. July 29, 1782. My best compliments and congratulations to Doctor Burney on the great honour acquired to his family —

260

Ipswich 4 August [1782]

To Charles Burney ALS (Barrett), 4 Aug. 1782 Double sheet 4to, 3 pp. pmk 5 AU wafer Addressed: Dr. Burney / at Mrs. Hamilton’s, / Chesington / Kingston Surry. Annotated (by FBA):

Ipswich, Augst 4.

My Dearest Sir, I have been a great deal disappointed, in not having some news from Chesington, & I should have been very uneasy, had I not, from Charlotte, been informed that Miss Young herself has written word to Town96 that my mother has less & 96

Both CAB’s and Dorothy Young’s letters are missing.

4 August 1782

89

less Fever every day. I will hope, therefore, that all now is in good train. I have just, & not without much difficulty, settled to leave this place next Thursday [8 Aug.] or Friday, according to which day offers me best companions for my journey. The dear Susy is now very well, but both she & the Capitano had almost set their Hearts upon my staying here until they go to Town themselves, next October. Everything, however, opposes this, — I wish to hasten to Chesington, &, if my mother continues mending, to appease my dear Mrs. Thrale, who has been expecting me at Streatham till she is all but out of patience. But now, dearest Sir, let me call for your congratulations, — You have sent me many encouraging anecdotes concerning Cecilia, — I have now one to give you in return that, Dr. Johnson’s single approbation | excepted, out-weighs them all, & as the chief pleasure I take in this success comes from the kind pleasure you so generously, & sweetly take in it, I cannot but hope I shall communicate as much joy as I feel, when I tell you I have had a Letter from Mr. Burke!97 — & such a Letter!.!. — O, dearest Sir, for elegance of praise no such a one was ever written before. I long to send it you, but have no Frank. Did I not say well when I said Mr. Burke was like You — for who, except You or Him, could, at a Time of Business, disappointment, care & occupation such as His now,98 have found leisure to read with such attention, & to commend with such good nature, a Work so totally foreign to every thing that just now can come Home to his Business & bosom? He is, indeed, a delightful creature, & as sweet in his disposition as he is rare in his abilities. I could not, for some time, believe my own Eyes when I looked at his signature. He sends you his best Compliments. I hope my last letter99 got safe to Chesington, & did no mischief. I shall write again as soon as I get to Town, & beg See above, p. 87. In March, upon the formation of the Rockingham administration, Burke had been appointed Paymaster General with a salary of £4,000 per annum. He resigned his post after Rockingham’s death on 1 July (Burke, Correspondence v. 3–25). 99 Presumably a letter to CB, with an enclosed one to EAB, both of which in fact went missing in the post; see below, p. 92. 97 98

90

4 August 1782

instruction how & when to get to | Chesington, with a hint or two in what manner to comport myself with respect to my lengthened absence.1 This Town is very barren of all subjects for curiosity; yet I have one musical figure to describe, though I cannot give a very accurate account of it. It is a carving over a chimney piece, in an Alehouse, of a man who is seated upon something like a Throne, &, it appears to me to be intended for David; but the Head is broken off, & his Instrument more resembles a Guitar than an Harp: This Alehouse was formerly the Seat of Sir Anthony Wingfield,2 a privy Counsellor of Harry the 8th & one of his Executors. The Room is decorated with the Arms of the nobility of those times, carved entirely round the Wainscoat. I should imagine the House to have been of earlier date than Harry the 8th as, among the monuments in carving, in another Room, there is the Head of a Cardinal: but nobody here can give any account how the House degenerated to this ignoble state. Adieu, Dearest Sir, — I shall hope now very soon to see you, — & am ever & aye most dutifully & most affectionately Your F.B. I shall write to my Daddy to-morrow.

1 EAB did not know that FB was in Ipswich. See CB to FB, SBP, and Capt. Phillips, c.22 July 1782 (Hyde): ‘we have not sd a word of your departure from London — but laid your continuance in it on Cadell’s absence, & backwardness in settling with you’ (LCB i. 343). 2 Sir Anthony Wingfield (d. 1552). Henry VIII appointed him to the Privy Council in 1539, made him an assistant counsellor of his will, and left him £200 (HP; ODNB).

261

Ipswich, 5 August [1782]

To Samuel Crisp AL (Berg), 5 Aug. 1782 Double sheet 4to, 4 pp. pmk IPSWICH 6 AU wafer Addressed: Samuel Crisp Esqr, / at Mrs. Hamilton’s, / Chesington, / Kingston, / Surry. Annotated (by FBA): on Mr. Burke. Meeting with him — Description of his Fascination, & his Letter. No 7

Ipswich Aug. 5.

Thanks, my dear Daddy, for your very kind Letter;3 I need not, I am sure, tell you how highly it gratified me, for the weight which your opinion has with me, I have always rather proved than professed: & from the moment you peeped into my Room at Chesington, with ‘Anniken! Anniken! — may I come in? —’ ‘Yes! —’ — ‘It will do! it will do! — —’ O from the moment I heard those welcome words, from the severest of all my Judges, I took inward courage, my hopes grew comfortable, & lessened my apprehensions very forcibly & expeditiously; though I cannot say they ever gave me a promise of such success as last Tuesday’s [30 July] post brought me, in a Letter from Mr. Burke!!!4 — I have never, I believe, told you of my having, at last, met that Gentleman?5 after wishing fruitlessly to see him these 4 years, & after hearing from Sir Joshua that he had desired the meeting! & expressly asked him to invite us together! No expectation, however, that I had formed of him, either from his works, his speeches, his Character, or his Fame, had prepared me for such a man as I met: — | O, indeed, seeing him as I saw him, in high Health, spirits & good humour, exhilarated, but not intoxicated 3 4 5

See above, pp. 84–7. See above, pp. 87–8. See above, pp. 69–71.

92

5 August 1782

by sudden power, — he seemed all that could be wished or imagined for perfection of agreeability. He has the fire & enthusiasm of Mr. Young,6 the social sweetness & manners of my Father, the humour, spirit & action of Garrick, & the manly superiority to all affectation & trick of my Chesington Daddy, — — — — You will not, I am sure, wonder, if such were the notions he gave me, & such were the folks of whom he reminded me, that his approbation should be so delightful to me: & he has given it me in terms of so much elegance & energy, that, had I never seen, & never heard of him, his praise must have brought with itself its full value. How good you are to take so much thought & trouble about my finances! I am delighted with the plan of the 3 pr. cent, — but I must own I cannot at present set about writing, — I know my own forces, & I must not, by over-rating them, risk the loss of the good will & partiality which, at this Time, seem almost universally granted me. | You know not how much, &, lately, how wholly Cecilia has occupied my mind, some of the latter part having only been written while the press was waiting, — every Character in that Book is now so strongly fixed in my imagination, & the style & manner of the composition is so familiar to me, that though I could with ease write 5 more volumes upon the same subject, & with the same Characters, I could not, as yet, so far divest myself of the hold they now have upon me, as to form or execute any work decently varied from the last. I have, indeed, as you know, another already planned & begun, but I have forgotten even my own intentions for its continuation. I must, therefore, dissipate, & drive Cecilia, Delvile, Harrels, Briggs, & Belfield, out of my Head, before I can pretend to write any thing more, with any hope of producing any thing at all new. I entreat you, meantime, not to whisper to any mortal my ugly scheme, as I mean to go on with it, as soon as my mind, memory & faculties can expel their present possessors, & will find they have again free play. I have just, by a Letter from Charlotte, found that a letter long since to my Father with an enclosed one for my mother, 6 Arthur Young (1741–1820), agriculturalist and brother-in-law of EAB. See EJL i. 3 n. 10; ODNB.

5 August 1782

93

has never been received.7 | I can not imagine how it can have been lost. I wrote again to him yesterday. I hope my dearest Daddy, to see you, & talk all these things over; meantime pray be scrupulously careful of my ugly plan.8 God bless you, my dearest Daddy — Capt. & Susy desire their kind [xxxxx 4 words] those for you [xxxxx 1 word]. Remember me to all particularly to Kitty.

262

[Ipswich,] 8 August [1782]

To Charlotte Ann Burney ALS (Berg), 8 Aug. 1782 Single sheet 4to, 1 p. pmk 8 AU wafer Addressed: Miss Charlotte Burney, / St Martin’s Street, / Leicester Feilds, / London. Docketed: Sister Fanny — Annotated (by FBA): 1784 [sic] This letter is conjecturally placed in 1782. It must have been written before SC’s death (in Apr. 1783). FB’s ‘measure’ being ‘full’ seems to refer to Burke’s letter of praise, which she ‘told’ to SC in her letter to him of 5 Aug. 1782 (above). ‘Susy’ in the postscript seems to be a hasty slip for ‘Hetty’, who may have asked her to write to her husband Charles Rousseau Burney for some unknown reason (but perhaps having to do with praise of Cecilia). The ‘Letter’ is missing.

Three words I have promised my dear Charlotte, — but I will give her Three Lines: — though I have only Time to tell her Three Things, — & even those must come in for a Blessing, — as my measure is full without them. Imprimis. I have told Mr Crisp all about it. —

All three letters are missing. Annotated by FBA: ‘This ugly plan became, afterwards, a part only, of The Picture of Youth, or Camilla; under the character of Eugenia. My beloved & revered Mr Crisp did not live to see its execution!’ 7 8

94

8 August 1782

Secundus. When I see you, I will tell you the same. Thirdus. Till then, I am your faithful slave F.B. P.S. tell Susy I am much obliged for her Letter, and have written to Chas per post.

263

St Martin’s Street, 9 August [1782]

To Susanna Burney Phillips AL (Berg), 9 Aug. 1782 Double sheet 4to, 4 pp. pmk 9 AU wafer Addressed: Mrs. Phillips, / Ipswich, / Suffolk. Annotated (by FBA): 1782

St. Martin’s Street, Aug. 9th

I long to hear from you, my dearest most beloved Susy, & of your safe return, & what you did with Mr. Montgomerymun.9 I was more & more sorry to leave you every step I took, or, rather, was taken, away from you. If every earthly thing besides accorded with all my wishes, I could never be truly happy while separated from you: I feel this more & more, instead of less & less, by the trial of absence, which in friendship, I find, as La Bruyere10 asserts in Love, weakens small, but gives strength to great regard. I will never, however, be parted from you but when I cannot help it, &, with such a resolution, I doubt not being able to contrive frequent meetings, though I cannot, as I wish with my whole Heart, continue & live with 9 Not identified. Possibly a local physician or apothecary consulted by SBP about her pregnancy, but no such person is listed in Wallis. 10 Jean de la Bruyère (1645–96), author of the Caractères (1688). But FB seems to be remembering François, Duc de La Rochefoucauld (1613–80), Maximes (1665): ‘L’absence diminue les médiocres passions, et augmente les grandes, comme le vent éteint les bougies et allume le feu’ ((Paris: Frères Garnier, 1967), p. 70; No. 276 in the definitive 1678 edn.; thanks to Irwin Primer and Don Webb for this suggestion).

9 August 1782

95

you for ever & for-ever. Take care of yourself, dearest Girl, for my sake equally with Phillips’s for how can he value you more? — though I suppose he thinks he does, — because he is a man! — however, I think that though it is not so, it is only because so to be is impossible. I have met with no adventures since I left you [1-2 lines cut from bottom of page] | I thought the poor man11 would construe such diversion into contempt, & therefore I forbore: I could stretch my civility no further, though, for to avoid all conversation I told him I had a Head ache, which was not untrue, though it had been yet more veracious to have added such conversation as his would have given it to me. [xxxxx 7 lines] I found Charlotte alone, & more glad to see me than I ever yet saw her after the longest separations, for she could hardly speak for crying, — I always knew her to be very affectionate, but never before surprised her in such a trick of sensibility, — her kindness gave me much pleasure, & I will try & will hope to make myself more comfort in her society than my cruel loss of you has hitherto given me spirit to attempt. The poor thing has the tooth-ache dreadfully,12 she is much obliged by Capt. P.’s powder.13 I was much disappointed in receiving to Day a Letter14 instead of Mrs. Thrale: she has company at [1 or 2 lines cut from bottom of page] | after which she will herself carry us to Chesington. It is not, at present, at all convenient to me to go to Streatham, I must therefore endeavour to postpone that visit till my return from Chesington; though this sweet Creature is so very kind & so very pressing, that I know not how I shall manage to resist her when she comes. Direct, at all events, your next Letter to Chesington, as there I shall certainly be next Week. Not identified. See CAB to FB (Barrett), late July-early Aug. 1782: ‘I had a Canine Tooth drawn to day, a three fang, & it gave me a sad twang, I wish I may hang if I had not the greatest mind in the world to run away before I had gone thro’ the operation; I am spending all my Book Money on my teeth; but I had rather go without a new Gown than without a Tooth.’ 13 Presumably an analgesic powder that Phillips had sent her. 14 Perhaps the undated note to FB (Berg), beginning ‘I pity my dear’s real sufferings, but Cecilia’s pierce my very heart. I have company in the house & no Time to read’. The ‘sufferings’ then presumably would be CAB’s. 11 12

96

9 August 1782

I have had a Letter15 from my Father, to desire me seriously not to leave Town till the Common is recovered from these furious Rains. How mortifying that I knew not this at Ipswich! I might then have finished this Week with my sweet Susy. I have sent the Letter16 to Capt. King. I know nothing yet of the Burkes: but I hear so much, through intelligence gathered by Charlotte, of the high Honour & Glory of Cecilia at Sir Joshua’s, that I really have not the Brass to go to a House, unexpectedly, where I must so inevit sit attentive to my own applause.17 — If, therefore, the other expedient succeeds not, I shall make no attempt for the present at Whitehall. I have discovered various frauds & villanies, since I left you, in Capt. Phillips: most of which, however, I believe you to be a party in. Imprimis, — The stage from Colchester to London he charged me ½ a Guinea for,18 — well, I have [1-2 lines cut from bottom of page] | Captain! — The Box from Mrs. Shirley’s is safe. The matting went to Edward, who has nearly finished the Picture,19 & is to return the original in a Day or two. The sticking & Plaister shall go by the first Frank. Charlotte has sent to Lord Montacutes,20 & the agreeable answer was — they knew nothing of any such Franks! — we will send, however, again, & to Mrs. Hawkins.21 So much for business. The Lady, I find, is upon the point of being not merely out of all danger, but quite as well as ever, says Daddy Crisp to Charlotte.22 Nothing has yet been done with my £100 from Payne, so Cadell’s delay23 has made his [xxxxx 2-3 words] immaterial. [1-2 lines cut from bottom of page] Missing. The letter is missing, but it probably solicited King’s aid in arranging a meeting with the Burkes. 17 Cf. Pope, ‘Epistle to Arbuthnot’, line 210. 18 Presumably the actual charge was greater. 19 It is unclear what picture is referred to. Later this month Edward Francesco Burney travelled to Chessington to paint portraits of FB, SC, and Mrs Gast. 20 Anthony Joseph Browne (1728–87), 7th Visc. Montagu (or Montacute), 1767. 21 Ann (‘Nancy’) Burney (1749–1819), FB’s cousin, who m. (1781) the Revd John Hawkins (d. 1804). 22 ‘Your Mammy grows better & better every Day now; & from a Condition that we all thought desperate, she is not only so far recover’d, as to be out of danger, but probably will soon be as well as Ever — there’s Chesington Air for You! —’ (SC to CAB, 4 Aug. 1782 (Berg)). 23 i.e., his delay in paying her the £100 installment that he owed her. See above, p. 74 n. 61, and below, p. 99 n. 27. 15 16

264

Chessington, 16 August [1782]

To Susanna Burney Phillips ALS (Berg), 16 Aug. 1782 Double sheet 4to, 4 pp. pmk 19 AU Addressed: Mrs. Phillips, / Ipswich, / Suffolk Endorsed (by SBP): Augst 20th 1782.

Chesington, Aug: 16.

Here I am, my ever dearest Susy, & here as little wanted as I would wish! our honourable Lady is, in fact, in perfect Health; as, whenever occasion makes pleasant, she scarse disguises, though, in general, to obtain more notice & attention, the farce is still played of languor & indisposition. Our Hetty fortunately came to Town on Saturday [10 Aug.], & therefore she received your Letter, & sent me mine & my Fathers at once; & that per Mrs Bilson24 Charlotte sent me on hither. Thanks, my Susy, for both, & I will give now a Journal of my proceedings since my last. Friday [9 Aug.] — nothing happened, — I waited in hopes of seeing Capt. King, but he came not; & I spent the Day in Packing & unpacking, & chatting with the dear good Charlotte. Saturday morning [10 Aug.] — came sweet Etty, & I had a most comfortable long chat with her, — all about my Susan, whom she loves next to me, as I do her next you; — take the me right, & not as a piece of inference which I neither mean nor think. After she had left me, — or before, I believe, came Mrs. Thrale, — all warm kindness, & cordial partiality; much disappointed I could not return with her to Streatham, but, as usual, considerate & | reasonable in listening to my objections. She stayed with me till past 4 o’Clock, & unbosomed 24

Not identified. All four letters are missing.

98

16 August 1782

herself with her accustomed sincerity. My suspicions that some secret vexation had lowered her spirits were right, for she has met with a most provoking & unexpected stroke of fate which makes it necessary for her to drop, probably for-ever, one of her established & favourite friends.25 The moment this dear Creature was gone, came Mrs. Hoole: I was, as to all comers, denied; but she sent me word by Peggy she was sure I was at Home, for she had seen Mrs. Thrale’s Coach drive from the Door! — I was obliged, therefore, to come forth; though how a reception so compulsatory could gratify any one, is past my comprehension. I was very gracious, to make amends, but found I had all power & might in my own Hands; the poor simple Gentlewoman regarded me with the most determined admiration, & most settled reverence; she has lived with my high puffer, Mrs. Reynolds, till she supposes me demi-divine;26 & the fine things she has heard of Cecilia since our last meeting, incline her to give me credit for such wonderful importance, that she now | seems to think herself sufficiently honoured if suffered only to see me, & she concludes she has been well entertained, if only permitted to hear the sound of my voice! I was so tired of her, & so impatient for Dinner, that I sometimes sat whole minutes silent, — all to no purpose, — she was not to be wearied; — again, when I did speak, I said but ‘I hope Mr. Hoole is well, —’ or ‘what a very bad summer is this,’ yet all to no effect! she still looked as delighted as if I had uttered some printable bon-mot, & bowed her Head with as many smiles as if I had made some pointed Compliment. And, when, at last, she took her leave, she seized my Hand, with the air of a most 25 Sir Philip Jennings Clerke, about whom HLT had written in Thraliana on 30 May: ‘’Tis now Sir Philip Jennings Clerke’s turn to torment me; he makes Love to me now quite openly & seriously; says he shall marry me for that his Wife is ill’ (i. 538). She wrote on 22 Aug.: ‘The Persecution I endure from Men ... who want to marry me ... I wish to marry none of them, and Sir Philip’s teizing me completed my Mortification; to see that one can rely on nobody!’ (i. 541). 26 See CAB to FB (Barrett), late July-early Aug. 1782: ‘Mrs Hoole says she shall make up a Bundle & send you in all her shifts & stockings to mend for that she has left them undone to read it [Cecilia] to her son! ... Mrs Reynolds is breathless with admiration! says she never read anything so Beautiful in her Life! “Bless me, said she, if I wasn’t wundering to myself that night at my Brothers how it could be possible that all that party had the honour of sitting near tuu hours in the same room with Miss Burney!”’

16 August 1782

99

desperate innamorato, who fears he is taking a reprehensible liberty, yet cannot restrain his vehement emotions, &, looking tenderly in my Face, said — ‘You must excuse me, — my dear ma’am, — but I do love you! — I can’t help saying so, — my dear ma’am!’ ‘You are very good, ma’am,’ answered I, with a Courtsey that by its distance just saved me from a fond & pre-meditated Embrace, — & then we parted. | This was my only Town Interview, except one with Mr. Payne, in which I expressed some surprise at the behaviour of Cadell, & in which he expressed much contrition in having ever spoke with him, & promised to call upon him immediately, & remonstrate. This expostulation, since my leaving Town, has succeeded, for Payne has himself brought from Cadell a Draught for £100. A thousand thanks, therefore, to my kind & most brotherly Brother Molesworth, & tell him this matter is finally arranged. I find they printed 2000 of Cecilia, as Payne himself owned. This was not fair, as the £50 was jockeyed out of me by surprise, after the Bargain had been settled with my Father,27 & as Evelina had at first, only 500. I shall pursue my Journal, & send you a Frank full next Week, if possible. Mean time write, my dearest dear Susy, & tell me you hold well & you love your F.B. |

27 It appears that the booksellers, after negotiating a payment of £250 with CB, persuaded FB to accept £200 plus a bonus of £50 if the book did well. SC had written to his sister on 23 May 1782: ‘Mr. Payne told me ... that he and his Partner ... did not intend to limit their generosity to the bare price stipulated (£250) if the work answer’d ... but that they intended (privately) to present her with a handsome pair of Gloves over and above — this he whisper’d to me in Confidence as a secret — this I guess will be t’other £50 — a pretty Spill (£300) for a young girl in a few months to get by sitting still in her Chamber by a good Fire!’ (BP, p. 81). However, CB complains in a letter to FB, 6 Nov. 1782: ‘I have long thought & think still that Payne & his Partner are mean Creeters after such a thumping Edition going off so soon, to take your Copy & new arrangements without paying you the poor £50 abt wch they have all along been so shabby, puts me quite out of Charity with them. If they keep you 6 months out of it after publication, according to Mr Cadel’s liberal notion, their saving of Interest will not amount to above 12 or 13 shillings. & can they be so miserably poor in purse or spirit as to think that an object worth disgusting a successful author for? you were too mealy mouthed by far’ (LCB i. 348–9). It appears, then, that FB received only £250 in total for the first edition, not £300 (£100 on 13 July, £100 between 12 and 16 Aug., and £50 on 7 Dec.). CAB confirms this amount in her journal entry for 15 Jan. 1783 (see above, p. 74 n. 61).

265

Chessington, [17 August 1782]

To Hester Lynch Thrale ALS (Berg), 17 Aug. 1782 Double sheet 4to, 4 pp. pmk 17 AU Addressed: Mrs. Thrale, / Streatham, / Surry. Annotated (by FBA): Aug. 17. 1782 Crisp

Chesington,

How welcome did your Letter28 make Yesterday’s Baker, Dearest Madam! — I arrived here safe & sound, after sundry perils by Land & by Water, for the Common is little better than a large & dirty Pond, on Monday [12 Aug.], and I have not been able to leave the House, but for one quarter of an Hour, since I came, so bad has been the Weather, & so impassable are all the Walks. My mother is almost well, & almost good-humoured: she had, indeed, an horrour of Death that makes me a little hope her recovery will teach her to render Life more pleasant. I am in high favour, but Mr. Crisp is very low indeed in the royal estimation; & reason good, — for he sends for me out of the Lady’s Apartment to chat with him, though I was summoned hither merely to attend her. He is, however, very indifferent to the various complaints & hints | of insults from Time to Time offered in return, & though I frequently remonstrate, & though Miss Kitty, without the trouble of much circumlocution, acquaints him how ill his conduct is brooked, he hears her with a determined insensibility, & still pursuing his own way, sends to claim me without ceremony.

28 HLT to FB, 12 Aug. 1782 (Berg). Referring to the inclement weather, HLT had written: ‘God send the Baker & the parson may get safe through’. ‘Baker’s days’ at Chessington were on Tuesdays and Fridays, when the baker from Kingston also delivered any mail coming by there. On Sundays, mail would be brought by the Chessington curate, Thomas Fisher (EJL iv. 16 n. 52).

17 August 1782

101

And so I have been taken in to sit for my Picture.29 Edward Burney came hither with me in the Chaise, &, the very same afternoon, Mr. Crisp made me play Lady Pentweasle30 to him. One comfort is, we are all playing at the same folly, for Mrs. Gast is also sitting for her Brother, & Mr. Crisp for us.31 We are all, therefore, looking our best with all our might. Poor Miss Young has left us, to return to Norfolk; & not once, at least in my hearing, was she thanked for her long & painful attendance. I long much to know if you have had any news from Wales, & whether the Trees will suffice to conclude this hateful & mortifying affair,32 & to permit you to drive it out of your mind, which you cannot even try to do while fearful that even that cherished & venerable Wood may be levelled without serving to fill up the Gulph which these Lawyers have opened. How glad I am you indulged me with that long & comfortable Tête à Tête in St. Martin’s Street, — yet the subject of our discourse still dwells upon my mind with unceasing wonder that so grave, so old, so well bred a man should dare to violate all laws of decency, however little restrained by Honour & Religion, from violating higher duties. Ah, dear Madam, Character, & a regular | course of principled conduct, is not nothing! — there is no dependence upon folks who have had 29 The portrait of FB in her ‘Vandyke gown’, now part of the collection at Parham Park, West Sussex. See the frontispiece. 30 The vain wife of Alderman Pentweazel who sits for her picture in Samuel Foote’s farce Taste (London, 1752). 31 The portrait of Samuel Crisp formerly belonged to Ann Julia Wauchope (1866–1962) of Bushey Heath, Herts. It is illustrated (from a print in the National Portrait Gallery) in J. Hemlow, The History of Fanny Burney (Oxford: Clarendon, 1958), facing p. 16; M. A. Doody, Frances Burney: The Life in the Works (New Brunswick: Rutgers University Press, 1988), following p. 98; and K. Chisholm, Fanny Burney: Her Life (London: Chatto & Windus, 1998), following p. 110. The portrait of Sophia Gast has not been traced. 32 HLT had written: ‘I felt my Heart so lightened by the Conversation I held with my Burney yestermorning, that I came home chearful & easy, though many Carts carrying Timber met me in the Road, & forced me upon unpleasant Reflections. What a World this is at last! & how one’s Feelings depend on one’s Circumstances! had I been saddled with ye Management of the Brewhouse, I had cared little for old Bachygraig by this Time: perhaps should have cut down my Wood myself in two Years more, to make the Copper boil brisk — and the Worts come down kindly.’ She refers to the necessity of cutting down the woods at Bach-y-Graig for lumber to help pay the £7,500 she owed to Lady Salusbury after losing a lawsuit against her; see above, p. 8 n. 28.

102

17 August 1782

no guide but inclination in early life, & in their latter Days have but reformed from Advice, necessity, or decorum. Adieu, & god bless you, most dear Madam, — I am glad you were always good, — so is my dear Susan & my Father, — & dear, ever dear must you all be to your all F.B.

266

Chessington, 24 August [1782]

To Susanna Burney Phillips AJL (Diary MSS II, paginated 1615–[18], Berg), 24 Aug. 1782 3 double sheets 4to, 11 pp.

Chesington Aug: 24th

My Writing is very irregular, my dearest Susy, but my number of Letters shall be very honest. Sunday, Aug: 11th the last Day I spent in Town, I waited in no little impatience the arrival of Capt. King, — but he came not; — he would not, perhaps, have been so cruel had he known the eagerness with which he was expected, or the joy with which he would have been received. Howsever, as Miss Kitty says, that’s past, so no more of the Burkes for some months at least. I was denied to all folks that came, to save both them & myself all fuss & flummery about Cecilia; but I received a Letter from Mr. Sastres,33 filled with its praise, & very prettily written; — I should perhaps have used a stronger phrase, but that Mr. Burke’s Letter of Letters has now spoilt me. In the Evening Charlotte & I went to my Aunts, & supped with them & Edward, sociably & pleasantly enough; though not so gaily as if I had escaped that violent disappointment about my dear Mr. Burke.

33

Francesco Sastres to FB, 9 Aug. 1782 (Berg).

24 August 1782

103

Monday, Aug: 12. I set out for this ever dear place, accompanied by Edward, who was sent for to Paint Mr. Crisp for my Father. I am sure you will rejoice in this. I was a little dumpish in the Journey, for I seemed leaving my Susan again, & | again for the last person to reconcile me to such a separation. However; I read a Rambler or two, & ‘composed the Harmony of my Temper’34 as well as I could, for the sake of Edward — who was not only faultless of this, but who is, I almost think, faultless of all things. I have thought him more amiable & deserving than ever, since this last sojourn under the same roof with him: &, as it has happened, I have owed to him almost all the comfort I have this Time met with here. We came in a Chaise, which was well loaded with Canvasses, Pencils, & Painting materials: for Mr. Crisp was to be 3 Times Painted, & Mrs. Gast once. My sweet Father came down Gascoign Lane to meet us, in very good spirits, & very good Health. Next came dear Daddy Crisp, looking vastly well, & as usual, high in glee & kindness at the meeting. Then the affectionate Kitty, the good Mrs. Hamilton, the gentle Miss Young, & the enthusiastic Mrs. Gast, whose reception, though not so simple, was as full of worship as Mrs. Hoole’s. This pleasant scene over, I repaired to the Lady of the Manor, — not such was here our performance; she was cold, — I was civil, — she looked artificial. | I felt heartless! — Shabby doings! as Mr. Blakeney35 says, that we cannot live apart from those who love not us, & whom we yet more dislove. Poor Miss Young returned to Town in our Chaise, very melancholy at going & cavilled with to the last moment; nor was she once thanked for all her kind slavery of attendance, nor has one word been said of her care & labour since her departure. But the instant Dinner was over, to my utter surprise, & great consternation, I was called into the Room appropriated 34 The quotation marks may have been added later. SJ mentions ‘harmony’ and ‘temper’ in the Rambler, but never together, and writes ‘compose harmony’ in a discussion of poetic sound (Rambler, No. 88). FB may simply be composing herself a Johnsonian phrase (MA). 35 Edward Blakeney, a foolish old Irishman whom FB had first met at Brighton in 1779. His description of a nobleman’s brutality to his wife and daughter as ‘wretched doings’ and ‘shabby’ became a running joke among the Burneys and the Streatham set. See EJL iii. 401 n. 23, 426.

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for Edward & his Pictures, & informed I was to sit to him for Mr. Crisp! — Remonstrances were unavailing, & declarations of aversion to the design were only ridiculed; both Daddys interfered, &, when I ran off, brought me back between them, & compelled my obedience. And, from that Time to this, nothing has gone forward but Picture sitting; from which, though I feel very uncomfortable in thus exhibiting my pauvre petite personne, I have yet reaped no little benefit from its consequences, which have called me from the Lady of the Manor, & made me, upon various pretences almost live in the | painting Room. I received your sweet Letter36 per Baker, but could not possibly answer by him; for I was then sitting to Edward, & Mr. Crisp would suffer no elopement. I am sorry, — no, I am not sorry, neither, you miss me, but O how often do I wish it possible to transport you hither! — The Friend at whom I hinted was neither Mrs. Byron nor Mr. Crutcheley.37 Mrs. Thrale is not well, nor will be a moment at rest till her Lawsuit is wholly settled.38 I know not exactly when I am to be discharged, but will give you timely notice. I shall be very glad of the errata,39 & I am glad, too, the Hatleys took my abrupt flight so well. Now to the present state of things & people. My Father is all himself, gay, facile, & sweet; he comes to all meals, Writes about toiling, & gives us more of his society than he has done many years. His third volume40 he is not tied down to produce at any stated time, & he has most wisely resolved not to make any promises to the public about it, nor to take in any subscriptions, but to keep free from all | engagements, Write at his leisure, & make this volume as much an amusement, as the 2 former ones were a business. Mr. Crisp seems as well as ever, & continues to make me keep almost constantly in his presence, to the great disatisfaction of the Lady, whose murmurs he is not content with disregarding himself, for he is perpetually at work to prevent 36 37 38 39 40

Missing. See above, p. 98. See above, p. 8 n. 28. See below, p. 108. Hist. Mus. iii, which would be published, together with iv, in 1789.

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their having any effect, also, upon me. Two of his Pictures are nearly finished, & to Day he is to sit for the third: but not a moment will he be quiet if I am not with him, & I can scarce pay my divoirs [sic] to the Lady before I receive a message to attend him in the Painting Room; & if I obey not instantly, he sends a summons of such authority, that the refusal is made appear as if impossible. He is totally indifferent to the satirical strokes uttered, or the ill-will harboured for this behaviour & goes on his own way, fully satisfied, in defiance of all censures, while he secures the victory. He is, however, not withstanding he thus triumphs, more bitter in aversion to the Lady than ever, | & seems to think himself servilely condescending in continuing even a moment in the Room with her. The Lady Herself is almost well; she will not, however, confess as much this Twelve month, for she finds the attendance & distinction of an Invalid the only attendance & distinction she has any chance to meet. The departure of Dolly Young, the infatuated & ever ready Dupe of her caprices, joined to the cavalier defiance of Mr. Crisp, have abated much of her maggots,41 & alltogether, I find her far more supportable than I ever found her before. You well know she never behaves so kindly to any of us as when alone with her, eternal jealousy of our affection & comfort from each other leaving them less power to torment her. I fare with her, therefore, extremely well, &, as Mr. Crisp scruples not taking upon himself my quitting her, I spend but little Time with her. She comes down to all meals but Breakfast, & gloomy, indeed, she at first endured them! but we are now | somewhat gayer, though easy never. She knows not, as usual, how to fill up her Time; she goes out to walk, & returns in 3 minutes, she retires to her own room, & comes back before we recover Breath, she takes up a Book, & throws it down before she has read one paragraph. My Father has bought for her a very pretty Garden Chair, in which he drags her himself every Day; & though she will suffer him, or any one else, to work like a plough man in pulling it without resting, she always finds it too hot or too cold, & only goes to it, with an air of reluctance, as if she was 41

Whims.

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compelled. Oh poor Woman! how odious she does make herself, and how universally is she detested! Mrs. Gast, with all her piety, does not even attempt to defend her, though she sometimes laments that she is thus abhorred by the whole House. She behaves to her herself with the most ceremonious good breeding, but never looks | better pleased than when present at some rebellious confabulation. Mrs. Hamilton continues her usual notable occupations, but smokes what goes forward very drily. She observes how well the Lady can stump about, how strong & stoutly, when alone & fancying herself unnoticed; & she observes how delicate her feebleness when attended to or offered help. She is much struck, also, with her eternal restlessness, & says she thinks she never saw her sit half an Hour in a place since she has known her. She likes neither her Company nor her sight, & is as well pleased as any of the party when she is so good as to walk away. Edward, even Edward joins in the general Compact, & his Room is now the appropriated Apartment for Treason. There we all meet, & there none but Rebels are welcome, & if we had but Capt. Phillips, Jem, & Mr. Rishton, I think the poor lady would not have a single virtue or fair quality unsung. | Edward, however, if the Traitors were all to be surprised, would fare the worst, for his dislike, seconded by superior talents, would be thought most mortifying: he has caricatured her! & that with not more keen severity of exaggeration, than archness of humourous observation. O how many of her numerous admirers would esteem his sketch invaluable!42 Mr. Crisp, however, has seized it, & would not, I suppose, part with it for any thing that could be offered in return. But Kitty Cooke is, of the whole set, the most outrageous: she calls her an old sow, a nasty Toad, an ill natured, indelicate thing, at every opening of discourse, wishes she had died, & half regrets that she ever helped nursing her, every Time we meet.

42

The sketch is missing.

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For me, I do very well; far better than I could possibly have expected, since whatever the World at large may think of her, I know she was never so undisagreeable before. | My Father wrote in the Frank I now send a Week ago, but I had not a minute to Write enough for enclosing.43 I have sate every Day, without any exaggeration, either myself, or, by earnest desire, with Mr. Crisp & Mrs. Gast, since I came: & Edward, who is very shy with them, is so thankful to me for staying & helping to keep them awake, that, besides the pleasure of all their Companies, & my love for them, it is really almost a point of Conscience with me to adhere to them. There is a Woman, Dame Whitney,44 who expects to have a little Bratliken in about a month: a very good sort of Woman, & Kitty & I, the first Time we can steal out, are to go & question her. If she fails, Kitty has the matter kindly at heart for you, & will not rest till she can settle something satisfactory. Cicilian Letters continue still to be received, & Cicilian compliments pour in by all opportunities. Mr. Seward writes to my Father ‘Quelle Diablesse que Mlle vôtre fille! | how she reads into the Deeds of men! & how she has dragged into Day light les ennuies, les excedés, &c! &c! — Her Book indeed, is done en maitre! — Would she but write a Comedy! —’45 ’Tis droll his fixing upon les ennuies! —46 Adieu, my dearest Susy, — my kind love to dear Capitano, — Have you heard any thing of Mr. Twining? I make no conclusion, as I shall write again so soon. I have never heard from Pacchierotti, & think some Letter must be lost.47 |

The enclosure by CB is missing. Mary Whitton (c.1746–1809), wife of Thomas Whitton (c.1739–1814). See JL i. 65 and n. 2; iii. 271 and n. 8. 45 The letter is missing. 46 Seward was himself given to bouts of lassitude. 47 FB had evidently not yet received Pacchierotti’s letter of 28 July 1782 (Osborn), written at Tunbridge Wells. 43 44

267

Chessington, 31 August–[1 September 1782] To Susanna Burney Phillips AL (Barrett), 31 Aug.–1 Sept. 1782 Double sheet 4to, 4 pp. wafer Addressed: Mrs. Phillips, / Ipswich, / Suffolk. Endorsed (by SBP): Septr 3d 1782. According to the following letter, FB finished this letter on Sun., 1 Sept.

Chesington, Aug. 31. My sweet Susy, Your Letter, Errata, & account of poor Mr. Hobson I received Yesterday,48 &, in part, communicated them to the Cabal in the Painting Room, where they met much approbation, being admirably seasoned with the true rebellious sauce which is fitted to the palates of our choicest spirits in the opposition. The hope you give of coming hither yourselves can hardly be more delightful even to me than it is to the Chesington Winter Trio; Mr. Crisp talks of it with the most Eye-sparkling Glee, Kitty is every Hour planning some new accomodation for You, & Mrs. Hamilton sees with rapture the renovation of many a given up Chair, Table & kitchen Utensil. We have, however, nothing yet to tell with any satisfaction about the Nursery; Dame Whittney has desired some Time to consider & consult whether she can take a nurse Child, for if she does, she must give up some other employment. She is so clean, & healthy, & lives so near, that we are unwilling to apply elsewhere, till we have her answer. Our next application will be to Sally Darken,49 & if that fails,

Missing. Possibly Sarah, wife of Joseph Darking, whose son Joseph was christened 26 April 1792 in Lady Huntingdon’s Chapel, Blackfriars Road, Southwark, Surrey (IGI). 48 49

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there is a woman in the proper siteation at Ditton.50 But I am very earnest the little thing should be near this House, that you might see it often, & without fatigue. O how terribly I shall be disappointed if this sweet scheme fails! — Our Painting, alias merry-making Room, is that hight the Chintz.51 Edward has nearly finished us all: but I believe if I am not under written, no one would guess he ever saw me, much less that I sat for the Picture called mine. Never was Portrait so violently flattered. I have taken pains incredible to make him magnify the Features, & darken the Complection, but he is impenetrable in action, though fair & docile in promise. I shall still, however work at him, for it really makes me uneasy to see a Face in which the smallest resemblance of my own can be traced looking almost perfectly handsome. In his 3 Portraits of Mr. Crisp he has succeeded beyond all his former works; they are all different, yet all strikingly like, animated, expressive & handsome. I never saw likenesses more agreeable, yet more just. Mrs. Gast is like à faire rire! — which it is impossible not to do when looking at her Picture, which, however, is by no means flattered. His flattery, as I reproach him eternally, is all for me; not only in the Phiz, but the back Ground, which he has made very beautiful: & as to my Dress, which I have left to himself, he has never been tired of altering & gracing it. It is now the black Vandyke Gown, with slashed lilac sleeves, & | very elegant. My Father is now in Town upon the disagreeable business of Election:52 & since his absence, the Lady, kept in no order, has been so flippant & facetious, & Mr. Crisp, wanting the curb of my Father’s presence, has been so openly disgusted & forbidding, that I have Daily expected a declaration of War. She still, however, means to Court him, though she has not 50 FB probably means Thames Ditton, though Long Ditton and Ditton Marsh are also nearby. 51 i.e., ‘called the Chintz room’, perhaps because covered in chintz wallpaper. See EJL iii. 43: ‘I am very sorry it will be quite impossible for you to have a better Room, as Mrs. Gast comes next Tuesday [14 July], & stays some months. Miss Payne can only have the Chintz Room’. 52 Presumably to the Royal Society, of which CB had been a Fellow since 1773. The last Fellow, John Gunning, had been elected on 25 Apr. 1782, and the next Fellow, Bernt Anker, was elected on 7 Nov. (Record of the Royal Society of London (1940), pp. 425, 430).

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the skill to know how; & he means to be very civil, though his distaste & aversion break out continually & involuntarily. Kitty & I were both quite frightened Yesterday at Dinner, by his looks, dry sneers, & almost groans of weariness: & she resolved upon Giving him a Triming; therefore as soon as the lady retired, she began. ‘Upon my word, Mr. Crisp, you carr. it too fur; to be sure she’s a nasty old Cat, for a Woman of sense, that sees the World, but for all that the poor Doctor can’t help her being such a hobby Horse of Hound’s flesh, & so its quite ungi nerous to an old fri nd not to take up with it sometimes; to be sure, I’m as sorry as you can be that the old sow did not pop off, when she was so nigh it, but there’s no helping them things, for I dare say she’ll live to be an hundred, she takes such a plaguy deal of care of herself, with her handsome Legs, that she’s always a talking of, & shewing, | as if I cared for seeing such things, or her Husband either, an indelicate Beast! Howsever, for all that, the woman behaves very well to you, so none of your sighing, my Lad, nor weeping nor wapping,53 for she’ll live to plague you a great while yet, I can tell you that, with her nasty pole of gray stumps, tiffing54 herself up for a gay young thing: howsever there’s no need to make bad worse, by all them speeches & gruntings, — behaving with that reserve to give her a slap bang upon every thing she says!’ This expostulation, though much resisted when pronounced, produced an excellent effect; & my Daddy for the Evening behaved with more decency than he has ever done since my arrival. But Edward, who seems much pleased with his quarters here, & myself Laugh ourselves quite sick at this good natured, worthy, loveable, blundering, Kitty’s original & most singular conversation. Best love to dear Capitano, — I have no more Franks! |

53 54

Kitty perhaps means ‘barking’ or ‘yelping’ (EDD, s.v. ‘Wap’, v3). Attiring or dressing one’s person, hair, etc. (OED, s.v. ‘tiff’, v1).

268

Streatham, [14] September [1782] To Susanna Burney Phillips

ALS (Berg), 14 Sept. 1782 Double sheet and 2 single sheets 4to, 8 pp. pmk 14 SE wafer Addressed: Mrs. Phillips, / Ipswich, / Suffolk. Endorsed (by SBP): Septr 17th 1782. The third sheet (first single sheet) is misplaced in Diary MSS II, where it is paginated 1619–20. ‘Missent to Cambridge’ is written above the address. The address page also has the following calculation:

25–17–2. 16–15–6 42–12–8 Streatham, Septr Don’t be angry, my dearest Susy, at this Week’s breach of Paper, for I have been so circumstanced as not to have a moment’s Time for writing, & to prove my failure has not proceeded from indolence, I will now very handsomely fill up 2 sheets by way of attonement. And, for the future, I must be content, during our absences, to promise a sheet a Week rather in quantity than precisely in Time; for I am sometimes so suddenly yet wholly occupied by necessary preparations for unexpected visitings & removals, that I literally cannot steal an instant from my Needle. Such has been my situation for this last Week. But I will now go back to Journalising. I told you in my last55 how well we contrived to live, with the assistance of the Painting Room, which, indeed, I hardly ever quitted; for whenever I was called away to my mother, or attempted a retreat myself, Mr. Crisp was certain to shout aloud after me, or send some message that required my

55

FB to SBP, 31 Aug.–1 Sept. 1782.

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immediate attendance. Nothing could be more agreeable to myself, as there was no sport or spirit in any other part of the House; & there, with some nonsence or other, the sport & laugh were continual: & there is something in the ease, air & good humour of Chesington, that, united with early remembrances of gaiety & happiness, constantly give to me a flow of riotous spirits I never but occasionally feel elsewhere. Even the Lady of the Manor herself has no power to damp me there, except in her immediate presence. | Thus gayly in stolen pleasure we went on, seeing only ourselves, & desiring no other sight that was within reach & attainment, till the Sunday [1 Sept.] I last wrote to you. On Monday [2 Sept.] — we were a little interrupted by visitors, in the morning, the Sales’s,56 & the Howards:57 who begged leave to come & see the Pictures. And in the afternoon, at Kitty’s request, I accompanied her to drink Tea with the Torrianos,58 who had all been to see & invite me. The Eldest Miss Torriano,59 who for some years has passed for an old maid, has suddenly revealed that she was privately married, & has produced a Daughter of 10 years of age, who had passed for a Miss Patteson. She is now called Mrs. Campbell. The folks were very hospitable, & good natured, & unentertaining, & the visit did well enough. Old Mr. Torriano & Honoria60 walked half way Home with us, & Edward came to meet us.

56 Presumably Joseph Sales (c.1738–1814), who owned the manor of Berwell near Kingston-upon-Thames from 1774 to 1788, and his wife. His will (PCC, prob. 26 Mar. 1814) mentions his ‘late deceased wife’ and names his current wife, Rebecca Sales (c.1740–1815). Thus, Mrs Sales in 1782 would either be his first wife who predeceased him, or his second wife Rebecca (Vict. Co. Hist. [Surrey] iii. 501; GM lxxxv2 (1815), 379; burial registers, St Sepulchre, Holborn, London; typed index in Society of Genealogists, London, compiled by Dr G. M. Lickfold). 57 Possibly relations of Thomas Howard (1721–83), of nearby Ashtead Park, Surrey, who had succeeded as the 14th E. of Suffolk and the 7th E. Berkshire in 1779. 58 Hillary Torriano (1713–86), of Ruxley, Surrey, m. (1739, at Lisbon) Elizabeth Hardwicke, daughter of Humphrey Hardwicke (d. 1733), the British Vice-Consul at Lisbon (GM iii (1733), 326; lvi2 (1786), 812; IGI; Torriano’s MS Diary, copy in Society of Genealogists). 59 Susanna Torriano (b. 1747) (IGI; Torriano Diary). 60 Honoria Torriano (1763–1831), m. (1787) Henry Thomas Williams (living 1831), London merchant (GM ci2 (1831), 92; Torriano Diary). A brother, Joshua Poole Torriano (b. 1755), subscribed to Camilla (1796).

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We called also at the Sale’s, where we were also muched,61 & tired, & then, with Edward’s help, made our way across the Common in the dark. When we came Home, a new scheme was proposed for the next Day [3 Sept.]; Mrs. Gast, — eager to invent some opportunity of shewing me some kindness, having heard me say I wished to see Mrs. Garrick’s House & Gardens,62 ordered a post-Chaise for herself, Kitty & me, & borrowed Mr. Crisp’s Horse for Edward to escort us. The Lady of the Manor looked extremely glum at the project, but the rest were agreeable, & therefore it was carried. We went first to Hampton Court Palace, which we | saw very comfortably, & where we passed some Hours, but I give you no account of it, as you have been there. When we enquired, however, about Mrs. Garrick, we were told she was at Home, & therefore I begged that scheme might be given up, as I feared being seen & known, by herself or Miss More, & had no ambition to present myself to them with so large a party. We next proceeded to an Inn, &, while Dinner was preparing, & Mrs. Gast & Kitty were resting, Edward & I read Epitaphs in an adjoining Church yard, &, among them, picked up this, Thou standers by First larne to live, & then to die. When we had Eat our Eatage,63 we went to see the House at Hampton which our dear Daddy Crisp formerly inhabited. It is neat, small & elegant, & has a very fine prospect all over Bushy Park. If he had lived there still, how much happiness would have been deducted from our lives by our never knowing Chesington. i.e., made much of (OED, s.v. ‘much’, v. dial.). The property, which Garrick purchased in 1754 and left to his wife in his will, bordered the west side of Bushey Park. Mary Delany, who visited the Garricks in 1770, attributed the ‘prettiness and elegance’ of the house to Mrs Garrick’s good taste. The garden she described as ‘a piece of irregular ground sloping down to the Thames, very well laid out, and planted for shade and shelter’ (Delany Corr. iv. 284). There is a map of the grounds and villa in Garrick, Letters i. facing 213; for his will, see Garrick, Letters iii. 1362–3. 63 FB jokingly uses the term meaning grass reserved for grazing (OED, s.v. ‘eatage’, north. dial.). 61 62

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As it was still early, & the Weather was beautiful, Mrs. Gast insisted upon our going next to Cleremont, the seat of Lord Clive.64 The House is new & elegant, & situated in a very delightful Park; but what gave us most pleasure, was finding some very fine Pictures, chiefly Landscapes, of which we had never heard. We returned Home very late, but so well pleased with our Day’s fare, that Mrs. Gast determined upon having such another frolic, the following Day [4 Sept.]; &, after some little difficulties, which were happily surmounted, we went, the same Party, & in the same manner, the next morning to Windsor. | Here, indeed, I was truly charmed, — the sight of that noble old Castle, built by the great, magnificient, warlike Edward the Third,65 still in high preservation, & impressing the whole mind with ideas of ancient grandeur & power, & recollections of Tales of chivalry & romance, gave me a sort of elevated pleasure, somewhat fantastical, but mighty agreeable. The view from the Terrace, whence 8 counties66 are to be discerned, is the most beautiful I have ever seen in my life, & there was no stirring a step without repeating Ye distant Spires, ye Antique Towers, That crown the Watery glade — &c —67 O it is a delicious place indeed. There are some very charming Pictures there, among which are several of Vandyke68 that I could have looked at till this Time. Mrs. Gast was as young & gay as any of the party, & even went up to the top of 64 Edward Clive (1754–1839), 2nd B. Clive of Plassey (Ire.), 1774, cr. (1794) B. Clive of Walcot (UK) and (1804) E. of Powis. His father, Robert Clive (1725–74), 1st Governor of Bengal, cr. (1762) B. Clive, purchased Claremont Park, Surrey, in 1769 (YW xxxii. 71 n. 24). 65 William the Conqueror had a wooden castle built at Windsor, but Henry II was the first to have stone buildings put up. Edward III, fulfilling a vow to restore the ‘Round Table’ of Arthur, had the Round Tower built and St George’s Chapel enlarged and founded the Order of the Garter in 1348 (N. Pevsner, Berkshire (Harmondsworth, 1966), pp. 266–8). 66 FB presumably means Middlesex, Wiltshire, Berkshire, Hampshire, Oxfordshire, Buckinghamshire, Bedfordshire, and Hertfordshire. 67 FB quotes the first two lines of Gray’s ‘Ode on a Distant Prospect of Eton College’ (1747). 68 Anthony Van Dyck (1599–1641).

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the round Tower with us, where we saw how elegant an apartment Edward assigned for his royal Prisoners John & Bruce.69 She also went with us upon the leads,70 whence the Prospect is the most beautiful & extensive that can be seen or imagined. St. George’s Chapel71 is full of curious old monuments, & the structure & carving though Gothick are extremely pretty. I lost, however, half the pleasure I ought to have received from the Workmanship, & from all the Pictures, by most unfortunately forgetting my Glass. The Royal Dwelling72 is just opposite the Castle, & looks like a very elegant country Gentleman’s seat, but not at all princely. The Family were not there. We returned Home late, & all well, & all well pleased, till the first news we heard was that Mrs. Thrale had been at Chesington! A long story of malignancy in the Lady of the Manor hangs upon this, but not worth paper: she, having it seems, expected the visit; but a far more serious piece of intelligence followed, which has given, does give, & long must give me the utmost concern & sorrow; — my dear Mrs. Thrale — the friend — though not the most dear friend — of my Heart is going Abroad for 3 Years certain!73 This scheme has been sometime in a sort of distant agitation, but it is now brought to a resolution. Much private business belongs to it, relative to her detestable Law-suit, but much private inclination is also Joined with it relative to her long wishing to see Italy. I have determined, therefore, to do all in my power to bear this blow steadily, & the remembrance how very much I 69 John II (1319–64), King of France, and David Bruce (1324–71), King of Scotland as David II. Bruce was a captive in England from 1346 until his release by the treaty of Berwick in 1357. John was captured by Edward the Black Prince at the Battle of Poitiers in 1356 and was a prisoner in England until 1360. 70 The leaded roof or terrace on top of the Round Tower. 71 Located in the west end of St. George’s Hall in Windsor Castle, St. George’s Chapel was begun by Edward IV and completed by Henry VIII. It is the chapel of the Order of the Garter. 72 In 1776, the Royal family took up residence in the Garden House on the south side of the Castle, also known as the Queen’s Lodge or Upper Lodge. See Mark Girouard, Windsor: The Most Romantic Castle (London: Hodder & Stoughton, 1993), 8, 55–6. 73 As part of the economy necessitated by the failure of her lawsuit against Lady Salusbury, HLT planned to let Streatham Place and later take Queeney, Susan, and Sophy to Italy. See Thraliana i. 540–1, 550–1, 560–2.

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suffered when such a one was formerly thought of, makes me suppress all my regret, & drive the subject from my mind by every method in my power; that I may save myself from again experiencing such unavailing concern.74 The thought, indeed, that she wishes to go would reconcile me to a yet longer absence by making me feel that my own sorrow is merely selfish. | Streatham — my other Home, & the place where I have long thought my residence dependent only upon my own pleasure, & where, indeed, I have received such as my Father & You alone could make greater, — is already let, for 3 Years, to Lord Shelburne. If I was to begin with talking of my loss, my strangeness, I had almost said, for these 3 Years, I should never have done, & only make melancholy us both. — so nothing will I say, about the matter. — But that You, — tender & liberal as you are, will be almost my only friend who will not rejoice in this separation, as the most effectual means of keeping me more in London; though you, my Susy, will be perhaps the most sincerely gratified by what additional time it may give me. I was now in all haste to get hither, that I might talk over this affair, & spend this month with her. I stayed therefore, but two Days longer at Chesington: & all did not go well once there. You will be sorry, I am sure, at what I must hint to You of sweet Edward — You know, very well, his former & early partiality — & I have told you how absolutely I saw it was lately conquered: nothing, however, could be more apparent than its revival during this sojourn at Chesington: where it has been remarked by Kitty Cooke, Mrs. Gast, & Ham. to me: though I saw it not ever myself | till about a Week before my departure: when, one Evening, I purposely avoided him, after having almost constantly taken a stroll with him, merely from thinking he wanted more exercise than walking with me could give him. Kitty, however, then came to me, & said ‘Is your Cousin well? he’s leaning his Head against the Chimney, & doing nothing.’ 74 In Mar. 1781 FB had been deeply disappointed by the Thrales’ plan to visit Italy without her, despite repeated promises that she would go with them (EJL iv. 308).

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I then went & inquired if he was ill, he only laughed, but was much embarassed: I advised him to take a long run, & he instantly went out: but at supper, when I asked how many miles he had strolled, he told me he had only been sitting in the mount. All this might be accident, though it was not very like it: however, the next Night I gave him the same advice, with the same effect, for he stirred not from the short Gravel Walk before the House, & was so dejected & so apparently miserable, that every body in the House noticed it. I then walked with him again, the 3d Night, — & then again he was in excellent spirits & seemed very happy. The Day, however, before I left Chesington, he seemed in a state of wretchedness that it was hardly possible to s[ee] without participating: I knew not what to make of it, nor know, indeed, can I, — but Kitty, who had long given me hints upon the subject, took me aside at Night, & said ‘Why your poor Cousin’s quite over head & Ears! he’s a very pretty young fellow, — I’m sure I don’t think the age so much signifies,75 — it’s quite a slap bangum to him your going away — if you’ll believe me, the Tears are in his Eyes, —’ I have no room for further particulars, but I am sorry at my Heart for the sweet Lad, who is more amiable, & worthy, & ingenious than almost any body. The next morning I had settled to go to | Kingston with William; but Kitty, eager to give pleasure to every body, proposed to Edward that he also should accompany me, & Charlotte desired to be of the party: this was agreed to, & so revived him, that all the way he was even jovial in his spirits. But Charlotte writes me word76 it was not the same upon their return, & that he had been utterly dejected from that moment of my departure to his own. I am sure you will be sorry, but such is the World! — Love one another on, Dearest Susy & Phillips, as well now united as if separated, for few indeed come together with such mutual good reason. Your Letter,77 my sweet sister, I have only received here, for it has twice followed me. I am truly grieved you are kept in suspence about Plymouth,

75 76 77

Edward was 22, FB 30. Missing. Missing.

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& fear to hear the suspense is over.78 I would I had some franks to you. Direct your next here. Capt. King has called at last, took the Letter, & said he was extremely sorry he had not been able to call sooner from being out of Town. Adieu, my Susy, & tell me you forgive this long delay from your F.B. Fleming’s Lodgings in Chandois Street are unlet. I should think they would do.79 They are large, convenient, & the situation delightful for us & Hetty.

269

[Streatham], 16 September 1782

To Thomas Lowndes AL (Osborn), 16 Sept. 1782 Double sheet 4to, 1 p. wafer Addressed: Mr. Lowndes / Bookseller / Fleet Street. FB wrote this curt note in response to a letter Lowndes, the publisher of Evelina, had sent to CB, dated 5 Sept. (MS missing; printed DL ii. 481–2). Lowndes, who had paid FB only 20 guineas for her first novel, complained that he had sent her a complimentary copy of Robert Bage’s novel, Mount Henneth (1781), spent £73 for plates to illustrate Evelina, and told EAB that he would be ‘proud’ to receive FB’s next work.

The Author of Evelina is much surprised that Mr. Lowndes should trouble himself to enquire any reason why he did not publish Cecilia: she is certainly neither under engagement nor obligation to Any Bookseller whatever, &

78 FB probably alludes to a possible unwelcome assignment of Capt. Phillips to Plymouth. There were still worries about the ‘Plymouth threat’ the following July (see below, p. 000). 79 For SBP’s lying-in. William Fleming, cabinet maker, No. 4 Chandois (Chandos) Street, Covent Garden, is listed in various London directories from 1779 to 1790 and as a subscriber to Thomas Sheraton, The Cabinet-Maker and Upholsterer’s DrawingBook (London, 1793) (BD).

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is to no one, therefore responsible for chusing & changing as she pleases. Surry, Septr 16th 1782.

270

[St Martin’s Street, 8] October 1782

To Sarah Rose ALS (Berg), 8 Oct. 1782 Double sheet 4to, 3 pp. pmk 8 OC wafer Addressed: Miss Rose, / At Mr. Griffith’s, / Turnham Green. Sarah (called ‘Rosette’) Rose (1759–1821) was daughter of Dr William Rose (1719–86), who kept a private school at Chiswick. After teaching for a time at the Highgate School, CB Jr had become an assistant master in Dr Rose’s school, where he fell in love with Rosette. At the time of this letter, Dr Rose and his daughter had just been informed of the disgrace of CB Jr’s dismissal from Cambridge for stealing books in 1777, and it was still unknown whether he would be accepted as a son-in-law and husband. CB Jr was forgiven, and he married Rosette on 24 June 1783. After Dr Rose’s death, CB Jr succeeded him as headmaster, and moved the school from Chiswick to Hammersmith. Ralph Griffiths (1720–1803), editor of the Monthly Review and CB’s friend, was Rosette’s uncle by marriage and resided at Turnham Green in a mansion called Linden House.

Octr 1782 That I have so long deferred answering the Letter80 with which I have been favoured by Miss Rose, proceeded neither from insensibility to its flattering contents, nor from inattention to its amiable Writer; but from a consciousness that something was yet untold,81 which, when heard, might induce her

80 81

Missing. CB Jr’s dismissal from Cambridge.

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8 October 1782

to repent the frankness with which she had so kindly invited my sisterly confidence.82 That fatal something is now known, and therefore the motive of my silence is over; but before you were informed of so material a circumstance, it seemed to me an impropriety to solicit your friendship. It was the design of my Brother, & the counsel of his friends, that you should be acquainted with the whole of his | unhappy story from himself, but his courage always failed him when any opportunity of communication offered. I blame his delay more than I wonder at it, but you, Madam, are well entitled to return it with nothing but resentment. Yet surely his bitterest Enemies must now think he has suffered enough! — I mean not, however, to intercede for him; your own friends, & your own understanding ought solely to be consulted; & I respect the character of Dr. Rose too much for any private interference. He has behaved, indeed, to my Brother, with a kindness that might soften to him almost any calamity except the loss of his Daughter, & which in justice & in honour cannot fail to secure the strictest observance of his injunctions. I now only write to explain the reason that, notwithstanding the urgent entreaties of my | Brother, I did not write sooner, & to thank you for the sweetness & candour with which you had once purposed to correspond with me; as well as to assure you of the concern with which this whole Family sees itself deprived, without any right to murmur, of an addition to its domestic circle so promising to encrease its happiness. I beg you, therefore, to believe me, though personally unknown to you, with sincere regard. Your most faithful & Obedt servt Frances Burney

82 Rosette had evidently written a letter of overture as FB’s future sister-in-law before the revelation of CB Jr’s disgrace.

271

[St Martin’s Street, 11] October [1782]

To Hester Lynch Thrale ALS (Barrett), 11 Oct. 1782 Double sheet 4to, 4 pp. pmk 11 OC wafer Addressed: Mrs. Thrale, / Brighthelmstone, / Sussex.

Octr

Thanks, ever dearest Madam, for both your sweet & most confidential Letters:83 but what to say about coming to you, further than how much I wish it, I yet know not,84 — poor Susanna has by no means been so rapid in recovering as we hoped,85 — on the contrary, she has had a Fever to frighten us all, & was yesterday so ill that I was cruelly terrified indeed. To Day, however, she is, thank Heaven, considerably better, & if she has no relapse, my earnest wishes to be again under the roof with my dear Mrs. Thrale will yet take place. But now let me tell you what made her so very ill yesterday [10 Oct.]: about Noon there was a violent knocking at the 83 See HLT to FB, 10 Oct. 1782 (Berg), in which HLT enclosed a second letter (missing). She writes: ‘Why here is a Letter that I suppose will be of no use in the World, but I’ll get it franked; for you shall pay no double postage at least: it came to me in the dirty condition you find it’ (meaning the frank). She had departed for Brighton on 7 Oct. (Thraliana i. 546 n. 3). 84 HLT had written: ‘Come as soon as you can be spared, & remember that till you come I have nobody to speak to’ (meaning confidentially, especially about her love for Piozzi). In Sept., she confided to her diary: ‘Now! that little dear discerning Creature Fanny Burney says I’m in love with Piozzi — very likely! he is so amiable, so honourable, so much above his Situation by his Abilities ...’ (Thraliana i. 544). 85 HLT wrote: ‘How is my dear Mrs Phillips? does She live low & keep quiet? & does She think the best Labour that ever anybody had — a slight Business? or did she not wonder at her own Agony, after all She had heard in her Life? I hope She will recover very fast, & send my dear Creature to me, who am to have but five Months more of her Company.’ SBP had just given birth to her first child, Frances, who was not christened until 4 Feb. 1783 (IGI) at St Martin in the Fields, London, with FB standing as godmother. The date of birth, Sun., 6 Oct., is determined by two letters from HLT to FB, dated 20 Oct. and 24 Oct. respectively (Berg). In the first, HLT writes: ‘My sweet Bosom Confidante [FB] is coming to me; her lovely generous Sister’s Fortnight is up this day ...’ In the second, she adds: ‘Mrs Phillips’s three Weeks are out next Monday — Sunday [27 Oct.] I mean.’

122

11 October 1782

Door, &, in 2 Minutes, into the Room scampered Mrs. Meeke, /Bessy Allen,/86 — without any introduction, without waiting to make any enquiry into the state of the family, & without any previous knowledge on our part that she had the smallest design of coming to England! Unthinking, giddy, good humoured & impetuous, she merely asked if any of the family were at Home, &, without waiting any answer, ran up to see herself whom she could find. Susan was in no condition for such hurry, | vehemence, & surprise, & though I hastened her down stairs with all the expedition I could decently use, she was thrown into a palpitation somewhere about the Heart, that brought a violent fever in a very few minutes, This poor little Girl, who is extremely affectionate & goodnatured, so little meant to do any harm, that I have concealed from her this mischief. She cried with joy at sight of us, & was so earnest to pass some Time here, that I gave up to her all the Day I could possibly spare from poor Susy, & kept her till this morning, when Capt. Phillips accompanied her to Chesington: her eagerness to see my mother by no means inducing her to go sooner. Indeed both she & Mrs. Rishton always loved my father & his family a thousand times more than their own Relations. Her plan in coming seems likely to see her English friends, among whom she means to pass the Winter: though, probably, as she will next month be of age, it may be necessary she should shew herself, as she is a Ward in Chancery: but of this I know nothing. Mr. Meeke attended her to Calais, | & then trusted her to a friend. His own affairs prevented his coming further.87 She is extremely improved indeed, since her marriage, & is a very pleasing young Woman, & of an uncommon character & very singular manners: a sort of mixture of the Mrs. Fitzgerald I have described to you, & your favourite Henrietta Belfield, for she is as fond of mischief, as great a Rattle, as perpetual a laugher, & as careless, easy & negligent as Mrs. F: while she is as gentle in her speech,

86 Elizabeth (‘Bessie’) Allen, FB’s stepsister, had eloped in 1777 at the age of 16 with an adventurer, Samuel Meeke. In her letter to FB, 13 Oct. 1782 (Berg), HLT writes: ‘Mrs Phillips had a sad frolick to confound her in the unexpected Sight of Mrs Meeke; ... How charming in Mrs Meeke to love the dear Burneys so.’ 87 Presumably to avoid imprisonment for debts.

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as innocent in her Heart, & as affectionate in her disposition as poor Henrietta. Why is Dr. Pepys so right,88 & why this serrement du coeur?89 Wash away your cares in the sea, Dearest Madam, that, at least, should be large enough to hold them. This Dr. P. will leave even my dear Sir R.90 behind him for sagacity, if he goes on thus. I am rejoiced, however, that you are under his care, & submit to his directions. Need I tell you that I rejoice also at the no security you so well translate,91 & so sweetly point out to me? — | Perhaps you will only fret that I should rejoice at it, but I cannot help it, — for I fear, indeed, you have already, however well convinta del suo onore, given up cool & right judgement to an impetuous generosity, & a too disinterested regard. Pardon me, Dearest Madam — but I know you well, for with whom are you more disinterested, more generous than with your ever devoted F.B.? Friday Night. — Susan is still better, & my hopes are still higher: but I have not yet mentioned them: she will think me gone from the moment I talk of going, so I will wait till I see her a little stronger. She begs you to accept her best Respects.

88 ‘Dr. Pepys protests my Pulse is below 60. & he will have me mend the Blood I have, instead of losing more. I must eat my Dinner & drink Claret he says.... very well says I, my Will is made, the Apoplexy may come if it pleases’ (HLT to FB, 10 Oct. 1782 (Berg)). 89 ‘The French call my Disorder a Serrement de Cour [sic]; it is the only Name for it, and I think intranslateable’ (HLT to FB, 10 Oct. 1782 (Berg)). 90 Sir Richard Jebb. In her letter to FB, 21 Oct. 1782 (Berg), HLT writes: ‘Old Blakeney was right about the two Physicians you see — Jebb had mistaken my Case I believe for I really mend under Pepyses Care.’ 91 FB seems to allude to a passage in the missing letter, which HLT had sent her. HLT was perhaps referring to Piozzi when she wrote ‘convinta del suo onore’ (convinced of his honour). The contents, however, remain unknown.

272

[St Martin’s Street], 15 October [1782]

To Samuel Crisp ALS (Diary MSS II, paginated 1625–[28], Berg), 15 Oct. 1782 Double sheet 4to, 4 pp. red wafer Addressed: S: Crisp Esq., / at Mrs. Hamilton’s, / Chesington, / Kingston, / Surry. Annotated (by FBA): 1782 No 8 General Paoli

Octr 15.

Thanks, my dear Daddy, for your kind & wise counsel,92 which I shall follow implicitly, & I shall most earnestly charge Mr. Payne, when I see him, to say nothing of corrections or of the author, in his advertisements. Dr. Johnson, after a long mental calculation, which his consummate knowledge both of figures & Books enabled him to do very accurately, assured me that the Booksellers of Cecilia must, from the 1st Edition, supposing it at the 2000, make £500. This is surely a profit immense, to come so early as from July to October. Mr. Payne had, I am certain, by [xxxxx 1-2 words], which [xxxxx 2 words] conversation, intentions to do the genteel thing against the 2nd Edition, for which he requested of me a new . I fancy Mr. Cadell has dissuaded him, as he said no more about the matter. The little, therefore, I shall do will be merely on my own account, for they, as you well say, have by no means any claim upon me. I believe, however, as you do, that Mr. Payne has | been drawn in. 93 I am very sorry you could not come to Streatham at the Time Mrs. Thrale hoped to see you, for when shall we be Missing. Clearly, FB blames Cadell for the booksellers’ failure to pay her extra for the second edition. She was not to forget what she considered Cadell’s shabby treatment of her. Years later, when his son Thomas Cadell ‘the younger’ tried to enlist the ‘Influence’ of CB Jr ‘towards obtaining for them [T. Cadell Jun. & W. Davies in the Strand] jointly with Mr Payne, the first Offer of the Copyright’ of Camilla (Cadell and Davies to CB Jr, 30 June 1795 (Berg)), it was Thomas Payne, the younger, to whom she finally sold the novel for £1000 (JL iii. 111 n. 5). 92 93

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likely to meet there again? You would have been much pleased, I am sure, by meeting with General Paoli, who spent the Day there, & was extremely communicative & agreeable. I had seen him in large Companies, but was never made known to him before; yet he conversed with me as if well acquainted not only with myself, but my connections, — enquiring of me when I had last seen Mrs. Montagu, & calling Sir Joshua Reynolds, when he spoke of him, my friend. He is a very pleasing man, Tall & genteel in his person, remarkably well bred, & very mild & soft in his manners. I will try to give you a little specimen of his conversation, because I know you love to hear particulars of all out of the way Persons. His English is blundering, but not unpretty. Speaking of his first acquaintance with Mr. Boswell; ‘He came, he said, to my Country, & he fetched me some Letter of recommending him;94 but I | was [xxxxx 1 word] of the belief he might be an impostor, & I supposed, in my mente, he was an Espy; for I look away from him, and, in a moment, I look to him again, & I behold his Tablets! — Oh! he was to the work of writing down all I say! — Indeed I was angry! But soon I discover he was no imposter, & no Espy, & I find I was myself the monster he was come to discern. O, — is a very good man; I love him, indeed; — so chearful! so gay! so pleasant! — but, at the first, Oh! I was indeed angry.’ After this, he told us a story of an expectation he had had of being robbed, & of the protection he found from a very large Dog, he is very fond of. ‘I walk out, he said, in the Night; I go towards the Field; — I behold a man; — Oh! ugly one! — I proceed, — he follow, — I go on, — he address me, You have one Dog, he says, — Yes, say I to him, — Is a fierce Dog, he says, is he fiery? — Yes, reply I, he can bite! — I would not attack in the Night, says he, a House to have such Dog in it. — Then I conclude he was a breaker; so I turn to him; — Oh 94 Boswell first met Paoli on 21 Oct. 1765 at Sollacarò, where he presented him with letters of introduction from Count Antonio Rivarola, the Sardinian Consul at Leghorn, and from Jean-Jacques Rousseau. Boswell relates that their interview was ‘for a while very severe upon me’ until ‘his reserve wore off and he began to speak more.’ He describes Paoli as ‘tall, strong, and well made; of a fair complexion, a sensible, free and open countenance, and a manly and noble carriage.’ See Boswell on the Grand Tour: Italy, Corsica, and France 1765–1766, ed. F. Brady and F. A. Pottle (London: Heinemann, 1955), p. 171.

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15 October1782

very rough! not gentle, — & I say, very fierce, He shall destroy You, if You are Ten!’ | Afterwards, speaking of the Irish Giant95 who is now shewn in Town, he said ‘He is so large, I am as a Baby! I look at him, — Oh! I find myself so little as a Child! — indeed my indignation it rises, when I see him hold up his Hand so high; — I am as nothing! & I find myself in the power of a man who fetches from me half a Crown! —’ This Language, which is all spoke very pompously by him, sounds comical from himself, though I know not how it may read. Adieu, my dear & kind Daddy, & believe me your ever obliged & ever affectionate FB

273

St Martin’s Street, 16 October [1782]

To Hester Lynch Thrale ALS (Berg), 16 Oct. 1782 Double sheet 4to, 3 pp. pmk 16 OC red seal Addressed: Mrs. Thrale, / Brighton, / Sussex.

St. Martin’s Street, Oct. 16.

I do now, indeed, Dearest Madam, begin to think I shall yet get to you, for my dear Susan has suddenly taken to mending with a rapidity almost equal to what she used in being taken ill. — How could you suppose I should think about expence? — Nothing short of getting into Jail, would, I believe, deter or startle me, when the Time seems only a moment that I shall have power to spend with my best loved friend.

95 Charles Byrne (1761–83), the 8 ft. 4 in. Irish giant, who died the following year, reputedly from ‘excessive drinking’ and chagrin over the loss of a £700 bank note (GM liii1 (1783), 541). His skeleton is exhibited at the Royal College of Physicians.

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The conversation with Mr. S—96 is very curious, &, hitherto, his notions of your abilities have been not higher than they are just: but you told him, you say, none of your schemes, — ah, dearest Madam! would he — could he have pronounced you so infallible if you had? —97 Indeed I ought to be with you, for the more I think of you & your affairs in absence, still the less & less I feel satisfied or happy: — & sometimes, in a selfish mood, I bitterly blame myself for my incautious impetuosity in seeking | a trust that has made me uneasy & restless from the moment I obtained it: — but every time I have had a Letter or a conversation, the smallest hope that my sweet Mrs. Thrale has relieved her loaded mind by confiding in her most faithful F.B., has again made me rejoice that we can now rêver together. I wish inconceivably to be with you, but can yet fix no Time, though I have now good hope. Susan is as generous as Mrs. Thrale herself, & will not desire to detain me from the Time I can myself be easy in quitting her. S:S: called here Yesterday, & spent the morning with me. She was full of prattle & good humour, enquired after you in her usual manner, but without any minuteness of curiosity. She is only in Town for a few Days, & goes next Week to spend a fortnight at the Bishop of Chester’s. Pacchierotti has been ill again, & is gone to Sir Thomas Clarges’s till the Opera opens.98 Pray have you Miss Saunders99 & Miss 96 Presumably Charles Selwin (or Selwyn), banker, who was one of the few close friends to remain loyal to HLT after her marriage to Piozzi. HLT had written to FB, 13 Oct. (Berg): ‘The Post is safe, shall I venture to write you my Yesterday’s Conversation with Mr S.....? I had told him how I managed with my Exect to persuade them, or rather to make them persuade me to give up the Trade. He listened attentively & said, Thou art, my Dear, a very singular Character: & hast a Power over others I never saw equalled but once — I will not however dignifie this Quality with the name of Prudence, nor will I degrade it by the name of Cunning —— it is an Adroitness peculiar to thyself, & I am persuaded that whatever Point thou hast a mind to carry — will surely be carried’. 97 ‘I told him none of my Schemes but that I meant to go abroad in the Spring, which Resolution he praised’ (HLT to FB, 13 Oct. 1782 (Berg)). FB alludes to HLT’s love for Piozzi, of which HLT had told her in confidence. 98 The opera season opened on 2 Nov. with Bertoni’s Il Convito. Pacchierotti first sang in the pasticcio Medonte on 14 Nov. (LS 5 i. 566, 569). 99 Martha Saunders (1756–85), daughter of the Revd Dr Erasmus Saunders (c.1717–75), prebendary of Rochester (1756), vicar of St Martin-in-the-Fields (1757). Of Miss Saunders’s marriage (30 July 1784) to Martin Whish (1743–1826),

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16 October 1782

Ansthruther1 at Brighton? Adieu, most dear Madam, ever & ever most devotedly yours is F.B.| Simon2 enquires after you every Day with all possible respect & regard. I have never seen the news-paper you mention.3 Mr. Payne has called to ask me if I have any directions to give for the second Edition of Cecilia, as it is going again to the Press immediately. Why what a bobble-Headed booby is Mr. W. to confound Me de Genlis with Me de Berni?4 — |

274

[St Martin’s Street, 19 October 1782]

To Hester Lynch Thrale ALS (Berg), 19 Oct. 1782 Double sheet 4to, 2 pp. pmk 19 OC wafer Addressed: Mrs. Thrale, / Brighton, / Sussex.

Sweet & most kind are your Letters, dearest Madam, as far as they regard me, — but how melancholy, how disturbed, how inquiet for Yourself! — Nothing, I will hope, has happened with respect to your Letters,5 nothing could a commissioner of the Excise, HLTP wrote: ‘Miss Saunders is married to Riches & to Splendours’ (QL, p. 177; IGI; GM xlvi (1776), 47; liv2 (1784), 636; lv1 (1785), 404). 1 Perhaps Janet Anstruther (1764–98), daughter of Sir Robert Anstruther (1733–1818), 3rd Bt, 1763. She m. (1797) Thomas Andrew Strange (1756–1841), cr. (1798) Kt, son of Sir Robert Strange (A. W. Anstruther, History of the Family of Anstruther (Edinburgh, 1923), pp. 105–6, 115). 2 Not further identified. 3 There is no mention of a newspaper in HLT’s extant letters from this time. 4 See HLT to FB, 13 Oct. 1782 (Berg): ‘how comical in Whitbread to ask me how long the famous Miss Burney was in writing that sad story of the under:Ground Duchess!’. She refers to Samuel Whitbread, the brewer, and to Mme de Genlis’ ‘Histoire de la Duchesse de C**’, contained in her Adèle et Théodore, ou lettres sur l’éducation (1782). See below, p. 178 n. 13. 5 HLT had written on 18 Oct. (Houghton): ‘I found my Bureau wrench’d open: the Money safe — but all that was dearer to me at the mercy of whoever read it, . . . Queeney — to whom only I could speak of such a Thing — says its a Bore to be sure, to be plagued about Locks & Keys.’ HLT is presumably worried about her letters from Piozzi.

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happen without discovery, as so many of your people are continually to & fro, & would inevitably have detected any foul play. Pray, therefore, be not uneasy; but pray secure yourself from a similar fright, either by strong Boxes, or strong Flames, — for no fright can give you equal torture. You may well not get ground rapidly:6 dear Soul! what a Head & an Heart full of antidotes to medicine retard & enfeeble all its powers! You tell me, in one line, your friends are ill, & in the next that they will do well;7 — I think, therefore, only of the next with respect to them, but with respect to you, Dearest Madam, I think only of the first, for it shews me the agitated state of your mind. I would to Heaven I could | console or assist you! — I am happy, however, that you have changed your Bleeding system, & are under regular care. Susan, though very slowly, continues to mend. You must give me some notion, that I may mention it to my Father, of how long you purpose to stay at Brighthelmstone, before I can renew my application to him. I mean to Travel in the Diligence, if there is one, or otherwise the Coach. I shall feel safer so than in a Chaise quite alone. Besides, I don’t know why I should ‘lose twopence’, any more than a man worth 100.000. Adieu, Dearest Madam, & pray send me a calmer Letter, for much will it delight & gratify your truly simpathising F.B. |

6 ‘Ah Burney! perhaps I am not distracted, but I am really very near it.... the Dr wonders I get Ground no faster: yet I do get Ground, Bark & Steel were more wanted by me than Bleeding & purging I believe, & nothing ever could kill your poor H:’ (Houghton). 7 ‘P_____ is ill, so is dear Sir P._____; I cry sometimes, and pray for ever: more for the last than the first indeed, for he will go to heaven without my help, Excellent, honourable Creature as he is! They will both do well however, & I need not to think about them’ (Houghton). HLT is referring to Piozzi and to Sir Philip Jennings Clerke.

275

[St Martin’s Street], 24 October [1782]

To Hester Lynch Thrale ALS (Berg), 24 Oct. 1782 Single sheet 4to, 1 p. pmk 24 OC red wafer Addressed: Mrs. Thrale, / Brighton, / Sussex.

Now are you indeed my own Mrs. Thrale, Dubbed mine unalterably, & past even your own power to lessen my affection, or the true pleasure & happiness I feel from it.8 I shall be with you on Saturday [26 Oct.] to Dinner, — the moment I read your Letter,9 I harangued my dear Susan, & took my measures. I shall come to the Ship,10 in the post Coach, — may somebody be there at the usual Hour of arrival to meet me, & help me on, Bag & Baggage, to your House?11 — Adieu only till Saturday, ever dearest Madam, — & neither Time nor Chance, I am sure of it, can ever rob me of the delight I feel in signing myself my sweetest Mrs. Thrale’s most true & most affectionate F.B Thursday, Oct. 24.

8 FB had been offended by HLT’s offer of money in her letter of 21 Oct.: ‘Accept the enclosed my Angel, & say nothing of it to any living Creature. it will save us a world of Diddle daddle, in paying Subscriptions Expences &c.’ (Berg). In her next letter, 23 Oct., presumably in response to FB’s refusal (missing), HLT writes: ‘Far from being angry, I admire the Dignity I have offended, & desire but to embrace the ‘little Morsel of a Lady’ whose Soul is so superior to common Mortals’ (Berg). 9 HLT to FB, 21 Oct. 1782. 10 The Old Ship Hotel, Brighton. See EJL iii. 277 n. 50. 11 At 64 West Street. See EJL iii. 271 n. 27.

276

Brighton, [29 Oct. 1782]

To Susanna Burney Phillips ALS (Berg), 29 Oct. 1782 Double sheet 4to, 3 pp. pmk BRIGHTHELMSTONE 30 OC wafer Addressed: Mrs. Phillips, / at Mrs. Hamilton’s, / Chesington, / Kingston, / Surry. Endorsed (by SBP): Novr 1st 1782.

Brighthelmstone,

Tuesday, Oct. 28.12 The excessive & ceaseless hurry I have been in since my arrival, in seeing Company, or preparing for Engagements made previous to my coming, have put it wholly out of my power to write till to Day [29 Oct.], though I have even passionately longed to thank my beloved Susy for such speedy & welcome intelligence.13 It was only too kind of you to write yourself, especially when my little Rival namesake was with you. Fifty interruptions since I began this, which I meant for the opening of my Journal put it out of my power to go on to Night — but you bid me send any thing rather than not write. However, this Night at Bed Time I will begin a better Letter for the latter end of the Week: I will send it ready for parson Smug14 on Sunday: Mean time I can assure you faithfully I am quite well again — wonderfully well, indeed, for I never was better. The Journey did me good, & the sea air always agrees with me. The dear Capt.’s Cakes were most acceptable, & I have still | some for sharp-set moments upon occasions of late Dinners, — for we commonly sit not down till 5 o’Clock. I am very busy indeed, in Cap & Tippit15 manufacturing, & am so FB has mistaken the date. Tuesday was 29 Oct. Missing. Thomas Fisher, the Chessington curate who took the mail to and from Kingston on Sundays. See EJL iv. 16 n. 52. 15 Tippet, i.e., hood. 12 13 14

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visited & muched16 here, you would suppose me some thing dropt from the skies. Even if Richardson or Fielding could rise from the Grave, I should bid fair for supplanting them in the popular Eye, for being a fair female, I am accounted quelque chose extraordinaire, as dear Kitty says. Much love to all, & tell me if ever again you will bid me write when my Time allows only for telling you how ever & ever most tenderly I am your F.B. Mrs. Thrale says you have written her a sweet letter, & a sweet lady you are. | no time to do justice to the Capt’s seal.

277

Brighton, [2 November 1782] To Susanna Burney Phillips AJL (Diary MSS II, paginated 1629–[32], Berg), 2 Nov. 1782 Double sheet 4to, 4 pp. pmk BRIGHTHELMSTONE 2 NO green wafer Addressed: Mrs. Phillips, / at Mrs. Hamilton’s, / Chesington, Kingston, / Surry. Endorsed (by SBP): Novr 3d [1]782

Brighthelmstone

In pursuance of my promise, I will now begin a longer Letter to my sweetest Susan, & go on as I can steal Time. My Journey was incidentless; but the moment I came into Brighthelmstone, I was met by Mrs. Thrale, who had most eagerly been waiting for me a long while, & therefore I dismounted, & walked Home with her. It would be very superfluous to tell you how she received me, for you cannot but know, from her impatient Letters, what I had reason to expect of kindness & welcome, — & far was I indeed from finding my expectation too sanguine. I was however too much tired to chuse appearing at Dinner, & therefore Eat my 16

Made much of.

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Eat up stairs, & was then decorated a little, & came forth to Tea. Mr. Harry Cotton & Mr. Swinerton17 were both here. Mrs. Thrale said they almost lived with her, & therefore were not to be avoided, but declared she had refused a flaming party of Blues, for fear I should think, if I met them just after my Journey, she was playing Mrs. Harrel! — Dr. Johnson received me, too, with his usual goodness, & with a salute so loud, that the 2 young Beaus, Cotton & Swinerton, have never done laughing about it. Miss Thrale had less than her usual coldness, that less soon wore away to all customary intimacy. Susan & Sophy were well, & we had a very comfortable Evening. Mrs. Thrale spent 2 or 3 Hours in my Room talking over all her affairs, & then we wished each other bon repos, and — retired. Grandissima Conclusion! O — but let me not forget that a fine Note came from Mr. Pepys, who is here with his family, saying he was | pressé de vivre, & entreating to see Mrs. & Miss T., Dr. Johnson, & Cecilia at his House the next Day. I hate mightily this method of naming me from my Heroines, of whose Honour I think I am more jealous than of my own. Sunday [27 Oct.]. — I could not get my trumperies unpacked time enough for Church: but at Noon we all walked out with the Beaus & Mr. Selwyn, who called to propose the party. We strolled by the Steyne, & the sea side, & met Belles & Beaus, but none I knew, except Miss Benson & Miss Dickins.18 The Pepys came to visit me, in form, but I was Dressing; in the Evening, however, Mrs. & Miss T. took me to them. Dr. Johnson would not go: he told me it was my Day & I should be Crowned, for Mr. Pepys was wild about Cecilia. ‘However, he added, do not hear too much of it, but when he has talked about it for an Hour, or so, tell him to have done. There is no other way.’ A mighty easy way, this! — however, ’tis what he literally practices for himself. We found at Mr. Pepys nobody but his wife, his Brother, Dr. Pepys, & Dr. Pepys’ Lady, Countess of Rothes. Mr. Pepys received me with such distinction, that it 17 Henry Cotton and Thomas Swinnerton, two young men who were unsuccessfully courting Queeney Thrale. See EJL iv. 377, 410. 18 Sarah Dickins (c.1764–1848), later (1785) Mrs Sawyer. See EJL iii. 380 n. 90.

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was very evident how much the Book, with the most flattering opinion of it, was in his Head; however, he behaved very pretty, & only mentioned it by allusions; most particularly made upon the Character of Meadows, which he took various opportunities of pronouncing to be the best hit possible upon the present race of fine Gentlemen. He asked me whether I had met with Mrs. Chapone lately; & when I said no, told me | he had 2 Letters from her, all about me; which he must communicate to me. We did not stay with them long, but called upon Miss Benson, & proceeded to the Rooms.19 Mr. Pepys was very unwilling to part with us, & wanted to frighten me from going, by saying ‘And has Miss Burney courage to venture to the Rooms? I wonder she dares!’ I did not seem to understand him, though to mistake him was impossible. However, I thought of him again when I was at the Rooms, for most violent was the staring & whispering as I passed & repassed: in so much, that I shall by no means be in any haste to go again to them. Susan & Sophy Thrale who were with their Aunt Mrs. Scot,20 told Queeny, upon our return, that they heard nothing said which ever way they turned but ‘That’s she! — That’s the famous Miss Burney! —’ I shall certainly escape going any more, if it is in my power. Lady Shelley21 & Lady Poole,22 were there, & were very civil, & looked very pretty. There was also a Mr. Coxe,23 Brother to the Writer, a very cultivated man, a great scholar, a poet, a Critic, & very soft-mannered & obliging. He is, however, somewhat stiff & affected, & rather too plaintive in his Voice. He spoke the highest of praises of Cecilia, to Mrs. Thrale but was too delicate to hint at it to me. Monday [28 Oct.]. I

19 The Assembly Rooms at either the Castle Inn or the Old Ship Hotel. See EJL iii. 277 n.50. 20 Susanna, née Thrale (d. 1789), Henry Thrale’s sister and widow of Arnold Nesbitt, m. (31 Jan. 1782) Thomas Scott (1723–1816), M.P. 21 Elizabeth, Lady Shelley, née Woodcock (1748–1808). See EJL iii. 391 n. 10. 22 Charlotte, Lady Poole, née White (1749–86). See EJL iii. 396 n. 18. 23 Peter Coxe (1753–1844), son of Dr William Coxe, physician to the King’s household in the reign of George II. HLT copied verses by him in Thraliana i. 518. In 1823 he published The Social Day, a Poem, in Four Cantos (DNB; Alumni Carthusiani, ed. B. Marsh and F. A. Crisp (1913), p. 138). His brother was the Revd William Coxe. See above, 22 n. 93.

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was visited by Miss Benson & Mrs. Hatsel,24 a new acquaintance of Mrs. Thrale’s, & a very soft, well bred, & amiable Woman. Afterwards came Mr. Pepys, & I had | a long Tête à Tête with him. The moment we were alone, ‘Miss Burney, he said, I would not distress you last night, before any company, but upon my Word I cannot now forbear thanking You for the very great entertainment You have given me. And I am happy to find the entertainment has been universal, not confined to your particular friends: on the contrary, the whole summer no other subject has been talked of. I hear of nothing else go whither I will: — but the harrying scene at the End! — O ’tis the greatest, finest, noblest! — it was quite too much for me, — it demolished me, I may fairly say.25 How you can make us laugh & cry at your will! — And how delightful must it be to you to find the satisfaction & pleasure you give so widely spread! — You may wander about England, as Tacitus did among his soldiers, incog : & hear nothing uttered but your own praise.’26 There, my dear Susy, — this was a very pretty dose, was it not? He understands the art of flattery very well. But I am most glad he fixed upon the conclusion to applaud most, as that part has fewest friends.27 God bless you, my love, & pray let me hear soon & frequently from you. Love & compts to all.

24 Elizabeth Hatsell, née Ekins (1735–1804), m. (1778) as her 2nd husband John Hatsell (1733–1820), Chief Clerk of the House of Commons (1768–97). See GM xlviii (1778), 45; lxxiv2 (1804), 1176; Correspondence of Edmund Burke, ed. T. W. Copeland et al. (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1958–78), vi. 209; A. R. Ingpen, The Middle Temple Bench Book (London: Chiswick, 1912), p. 272; IGI. 25 Pepys refers to Cecilia’s frantic pursuit of Mortimer Delvile through the streets of London, ending in her collapse; he finds her delirious and seemingly at death’s door (Cecilia, bk. 10, chs. 7–10). 26 It was the Roman general Germanicus Caesar (15 BC-AD 19) who went incognito among his soldiers, as recounted by Tacitus, Annals ii.13 (thanks to Christopher Mayo for the reference, and also to Allison Muri, Katie Skeen, Toni Michael, Jack Kolb and Stephen Massil for responding to the editors’ query). 27 FB refers not to Cecilia’s melodramatic flight but to the ‘middle state’ of the novel’s conclusion where ‘the Hero & Heroine are neither plunged in the depths of misery, nor exalted to unhuman happiness’ (see above, p. 44).

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[Brighton, 3–4 November 1782] To Susanna Burney Phillips AJL (Diary MSS II, paginated 1633–[36], Berg), 3–4 Nov. 1782 Double sheet 4to, 4 pp. red wafer Addressed: Mrs. Phillips. Endorsed (by SBP): Novr 5th

Mr. Pepys had but just left me, when Mrs. Thrale sent Susan with a particular request to see me in her Dressing Room; where I found her with a milliner.28 ‘O Miss Burney, she cried, I could not help promising Mrs. Cockran that she should have a sight of you, she has begged it so hard.’ You may believe I stared; & the Woman, whose Eyes almost looked ready to Eat me, eagerly came up to me, exclaiming ‘O ma’am, you don’t know what a favour this is to see you! I have longed for it so long! It is quite a comfort to me, indeed! — O ma’am, how clever you must be! — all the ladies I deal with are quite distracted about Cecilia, & I got it myself, — O ma’am how sensible you must be: — it does my Heart good to see you!’ Did you ever hear the like? ’twas impossible not to laugh, & Mrs. Thrale has done nothing else ever since. At Dinner we had Dr. Delap & Mr. Selwyn, who accompanied us in the Evening to a Ball: as did also Dr. Johnson! to the universal amazement of all who saw him there. But he said he had found it so dull being quite alone the preceding Evening, that he determined upon going with us, ‘for, he said, it cannot be worse than being alone.’ Strange that he should think so! I am sure I am | not of his mind. Mr. H. Cotton & Mr. Swinerton, of course, joined us immediately. We had hardly been seated 5 minutes, before Mr. Selwyn came to me, from some other Company he had joined, & said ‘I think you don’t chuse Dancing, ma’am?’ 28

Not traced.

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‘No’; I answered. ‘There is a Gentleman, he added who is very ambitious of the honour of Dancing with you; but I told him I believed you would not Dance.’ I assured him he was right; but enquired who he was, & heard it was Mr. Barton,29 a young man I never saw before, & a son of Mrs. Hatsel, by a former marriage. There was, indeed, no need of my Dancing by way of attracting attention, as I saw, again, so much staring, I scarce knew which way to look, & every glance I met was followed by a whisper from the Glancer to his or her party. It was not, indeed, quite so bad as on Sunday, as the Dancers were something to look at besides me; but I was so very much watched, & almost pointed at, that I have resolved to go no more, neither to Balls nor Rooms, if I can possibly avoid it. Lady Shelley, who spied us out, sent us an invitation to her party, & we all paraded to the top of the Room, which in these places is the Post of Honour. There we found also Mrs. Hatsel, Mrs. Dickens,30 & Miss Benson, & we all drank Tea together. Dr. Johnson was joined by a friend of his own, Mr. Metcalf, & did | tolerably well. Mrs. Hatsel took the first opportunity she could seize of whispering me thanks & compliments upon Cecilia, & told me that Mr. Hatsel had been so bewitched with it he never let the Book be a moment out of his Hand. Mr. Hatsel is Clerk of the House of Commons. Mrs. Thrale brought him up to me afterwards, & a formal introduction passed between us. He seems a sensible, well bred, agreeable man. There are two Mr. Bartons, the wife’s sons, & they both drank Tea with us; but I liked neither of them as well as either of the Elders. I saw but little of Dr. Delap, & I believe he is gone back to Lewes, where he lives.

29 Mrs Hatsell m. 1 (1758) Major Newton Barton (c.1707–68). They had two sons, John (1759–1803), B.A. (Oxon.), 1780; M.A. (Oxon.), 1784, who took holy orders; and Charles William Newton (1762–1808), B.A. (Oxon.), 1783, who became secretary to 1st Visc. Sidmouth (IGI; GM lxxiii1 (1803), 285; lxxviii1 (1808), 564). FB met them both at this ball (see below). 30 Sarah, née Scrase (b. 1743, living 1797), m. Anthony Dickins. See EJL iii. 380 n. 89.

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Tuesday [29 Oct.]. We had a large party at Home in the Evening, consisting of Lady Shelley, Mr. & Mrs. Hatsel, Mrs. & Miss Dickens, Miss Benson, H. Cotton, Mr. Swinerton, Mr.  Pepys, & Mr. Coxe. Mr. Selwyn is gone away to Town upon Business. I was presently engaged by Mr. Pepys, & he was joined by Mr. Coxe, & he by Miss Benson. Poor Miss Dickens was also in our Circle, but if I had not made her some sport by occasional ridiculous whispers, she would certainly have gone to sleep, as no one else noticed her, & as not a word was said in which she had any chance of taking any interest. Mr. Pepys led the conversation, & it was all upon criticism & poetry, & such subjects as she had no chance to care for but I kept her awake, by applying to her from Time to Time, to give us an Epigram of Martial, — a quotation | from Ovid, — a few lines — of Homer, — & such sort of impracticable requests, which served to divert her lassitude & ennuit [sic] of all else that was said. The Conversation, however, grew so very Bookish, I was ashamed of being one in it, & not without reason, as every body, out of that party, told me afterwards they had been afraid of approaching me, I was so well engaged; & the odd Dr. Delap told me the next morning that Lady Shelley had complained she could not venture to speak with me, I was surrounded by so many, & all prostrate! — This is just the sort of stuff I wish to avoid, & as far as I can, I do avoid; but wholly it is not possible. Mr. Coxe repeated several of his own Compositions in verse, & in such melting strains, I thought he would have wept over them! When I got from that set, Mr. Hatsel said to me ‘Pray, Miss Burney, what was all that poetry you have been repeating? I was quite grieved to be out of the way of hearing it.’ — ‘Not me, sir, it was only Mr. Coxe.’ ‘And what was the Poem?’ — ‘Some thing of his own, sir.’ — O, how he stared & looked! — I saw he longed to say wicked things, but I would not encourage him, for the Poems were pretty, though the man was conceited. |

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[Brighton, 11 November 1782] To Susanna Burney Phillips AJL (Diary MSS II, paginated 1637–[40], Berg), 11 Nov. 1782 Double sheet 4to, 4pp. pmk 11 NO BRIGHT / HELMSTONE blue wafer Addressed: Mrs. Phillips, / at Mrs. Hamiltons / Chessington, / Surry. Endorsed (by SBP): Novr 14th

Poor Mr. Pepys had, however, real cause to bemoan my escape; for the little set was broken up by my retreat, & he joined Dr. Johnson, with whom he entered into an argument upon some lines of Gray, & upon Pope’s definition of Wit, in which he was so roughly confuted, & so severely ridiculed, that he was hurt & piqued beyond all power of disguise, & in the midst of the discourse, suddenly turned from him, & wishing Mrs. Thrale good night, very abruptly withdrew. Dr. Johnson was certainly right & most right with respect to the argument, & to reason, but his opposition was so warm, & his wit so satirical & exulting, that I was really quite grieved to see how unamiable he appeared, & how greatly he made himself dreaded by all, & by many abhorred. What pity that he will not curb the vehemence of his love of victory & superiority! The sum of the dispute was this. Wit being talked of, Mr. Pepys repeated True wit is Nature to advantage Dress’d, What oft was thought, but ne’er so well expressed.31 That, Sir, cried Dr. Johnson, is a definition both false & foolish. Let Wit be Dressed how it will, it will equally be wit, & neither the more nor the less for any advantage Dress can give it. Mr. P. But sir, may not Wit be so ill expressed, & so obscure, by a bad speaker, as to be lost? Dr. J. The fault, then, Sir, must be with the Hearer. If a man cannot distinguish wit from Words, he little deserves to hear it.

31

Essay on Criticism, lines 297–8.

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Mr. P. But Sir, what Pope means — | Dr. J. Sir what Pope means, if he means what he says, is both false & foolish. In the first place, what oft was thought, is all the worse for being often thought, because to be wit, it ought to be newly thought. — Mr. P. But, Sir, ’tis the expression makes it new — Dr. J. How can the Expression make it new? it may make it clear, or may make it elegant; but How new? You are confounding words with things. Mr. P. But, Sir, if one man says a thing very ill, may not another man say it so much better that — Dr. J. That other man, Sir, deserves but small praise for the amendment; he is but the Taylor to the other man’s thoughts. Mr. P. True, Sir, he may be but the Taylor, — but then the difference is as great as between a man in a gold lace suit, & a man in a Blanket. Dr. J. Just so, Sir, I thank you for that! the difference is precisely such, since it consists neither in the gold lace suit nor the blanket, but in the man by whom they are worn. This was the summary; the various contemptuous sarcasms intermixed would fill, & very unpleasantly, a quire. Wednesday [30 Oct.]. I went into the sea, & had a most delightful plunge. We walked, after Breakfast, up New market Hill, by the Steyne side, with our 2 Beaus, but we were caught in the Rain, & took shelter in Thomas’s shop.32 We had been there but a short Time, before a grave looking man came in, & began a violent scold to the shop man for not sending him Cecilia, — the man said he had sent a set, but it was imperfect, & they made a | long ado about it. I was luckily looking at the Backs of some Books, with my Face quite out of sight, & you may believe I did not hastily turn round. Miss Thrale made malicious noises to draw me to look, & Harry Cotton with much glee told her he wished they would keep up the subject. I had avoided the shop till this accident drove me in, because I had been told by Mr. Pepys the Company who Daily spend half the morning there had wondered at not seeing me. There is no standing such universal

32

See EJL iii. 379 n. 82.

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scrutiny, & though it may be flattering & pleasant to recollect, it is most furiously embarrassing to experience. In the Evening we all went to Mrs. Hatsel’s, where there was a large party: The Countess Rothes, Lady Shelley, Lady Warren,33 formerly Miss Clavering, Miss Benson, Mrs. & Miss Dickens, H: Cotton, Mr. Swinerton, 2 Mr. Bartons, the Hatsels, Mrs. & Miss Thrale. Dr. John was not invited. We had a very good Evening, but that I had a vile cold, & could not quit the fire a moment. Lady Warren is immensely tall, & extremely beautiful; she is now but just 19, though she has been married 2 or 3 years. She is giddy, gay, chatty, good humoured, & a little affected; she hazards all that occurs to her, seems to think the World at her feet, & is so young & gay & handsome that she is not much mistaken. She is, in short, an inferior Lady Honoria Pemberton: somewhat beneath her in parts & understanding, but strongly in that class of Character. I had no conversation with her myself, but her voice is loud & deep, & all she said was for the whole Room. | Take a trait or two; which I think will divert my Daddy Crisp. Marriages being talked of, I’ll tell you, cried she, a story, — that is, it sha’n’t be a story, but a Fact. A Lady of my acquaintance, who had £50.000 fortune, ran away to Scotland with a Gentleman she liked vastly; so she was a little doubtful of him, & had a mind to try him: so when they stopt to Dine, & change Horses, & all that, she said, Now as I have a great regard for you, I dare say you have for me, so I will tell you a secret; I have got no fortune at all, in reality, but only £5000, for all the rest is a mere pretence; but if you like me for myself & not for my fortune, you won’t mind that. So the Gentleman said O I don’t regard it at all, & you are the same charming angel that ever you was, & all those sort of things that people say to one; & then he went out to see about the Chaise. So he did not come back; but when Dinner was ready, the lady said pray where is he? — Lord ma’am, says they, why that Gentleman has been gone ever so long! — so she came 33 Caroline, née Clavering (c.1763–1839), daughter of Lt-Gen. Sir John Clavering, m. (1780) Sir John Borlase Warren (1753–1822), naval officer, cr. (1775) Bt; K.B., 1794 (HP).

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back by herself, — & now she’s married to somebody else, & has her £50.000 Fortune all safe.’ How do you like that the people say to one? — every body has grinned about it ever since. I must reserve another trait for my next. Adieu, my dearest Girl, my kind love to Capitano, Daddy, Kitty, Mrs. Ham. &, if she will let me be so facetious, Mrs. Gast. Pray write soon, & read to them all that you think will divert them, & tell them I give leave with pleasure, for dearly I love them all. [The following is crosswritten on the address page:] I have just recd yours my sweet Susy; & I will send you [xxxxx 1 word] full soon — Directed to my Father [xxxxx 1-2 words] you, so open & fear not. [xxxxx 1-2 words] will be [xxxxx 1-2 words] started at [xxxxx 1-2 words] of this Letter. open the next packet to Dr. B.

280

[Brighton, November 1782]

To Susanna Burney Phillips AJL (Diary MSS II, paginated 1641–[58], Berg), Nov. 1782 5 double sheets 4to, 20 pp. The cover is missing. This appears to be the ‘next packet’ referred to above which FB says she would direct under cover to CB. It covers the period 30 Oct.–10 Nov. Her letters to CB of 3 and 8 Nov., sent separately, are interpolated below in their proper chronological position.

Now again for the fair Lady Warren. She was extremely smitten with Mrs. Thrale, & talked to her almost incessantly, though they had never before met: but in the end of the Evening; when Mrs. T. mentioned that she was going the next morning to make a visit at Lewes, ‘O Lord, cried her Ladyship, I have a great mind to beg a favour of you then!’ ‘Pray do, ma’am, said Mrs. Thrale, I shall think it an Honour to grant it.’ — ‘O, Lord, but it’s such an odd thing, — it’s quite an odd request, — but it is for a place in your Coach.’ ‘My Coach shall be very much at your Ladyship’s

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service, — I beg you will make what use of it you please.’ — ‘Why you must know it is to carry a little Dog for me to Lewes. It belongs to Dr. Poole,34 & he’ll quite break his Heart if I don’t send it him, so I will part with it at once, before I grow too fond of it.’ This was, indeed, an odd request to a new acquaintance, & to a Welsh woman, as Mrs. Thrale said afterwards: the look of her Eye the moment she heard it made Lady Warren colour violently; but she answered with great good humour — ‘suppose your Ladyship was to do me the honour to go too, & so carry your little Dog yourself?’ Lady Warren evidently understood her, & began many apologies, but said she was engaged herself to spend the morning at Lady Dashwood’s.35 ‘I had hoped, said Mrs. Thrale, your Ladyship had meant your little Boy, for I should have been very proud to have been trusted with him; but I suppose you could not spare him so long.’ She has one Child, of 10 Weeks old, of which she is doatingly fond.36 ‘O lord no, she answered eagerly, Not for half an Hour! — I shall never trust him away from me till he is 8 years old, & then | I shall send him to sea. He shall be true Blue, — I bring him up very stout. He sucked a Hare Bone for Dinner to day.’ ‘A Hare Bone for a Child of 10 Weeks old!’

34 Edward Poole (d. by 10 Oct. 1795), M.D., of Lewes. He was uncle of the Revd Henry Poole (1745–1821), of The Hooke, near Lewes, who succeeded his cousin, Sir Ferdinando Poole (c.1731–1804) (whose wife, Lady Poole, FB mentions meeting above, p. 134) as 5th Bt in 1804 (Margaret Ellen Poole, Pedigree of Poole of Poole, p.p. (c.1900), copy in Society of Genealogists, London). Edward Poole owned two lodging-houses in Brighton, ‘the Property of the late Dr. Poole,’ ‘to be Sold by Auction’ on 13 Oct. 1795 (St James’s Chronicle, 10 Oct. 1795) and subscribed for four copies of The Fallen Cottage: A Poem, by T. C. Rickman (London, 1786) (BD). 35 Helen Mary, née Graham (d. 1796), m. (1780) Sir Henry Watkin Dashwood (1745–1828), 3rd Bt, of Kirtlington Park, Oxon., M.P. (HP). 36 GM lii (1782), 405 announced the birth of a ‘son and heir’ on 12 Aug. GEC, Baronetage v. 184 states that ‘the 1st’ son was born 12 Aug. 1783 at Little Marlow, Bucks (the family seat), but GM does not record such a birth. Unless two boys were born coincidentally on the exact same day a year apart, the child here mentioned was presumably the first son identified by GEC as George John Borlase Warren, who became an ensign in the Coldstream Guards and was slain at the landing of the troops at Aboukir on 8 March 1801.

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‘O he liked it vastly. He Laughed & crowed the whole Time. I often have veal stewed into good Broth for him.’ Her Husband is Sir John Borlaese Warren, in the Navy.37 Mrs. Thrale soon saw that though she was careless & unthinking, she did not mean to be insolent, so that she afterwards very gracefully offered to carry the Dog, & assured her nobody would more carefully perform her commission. She thought, however, better of the matter than to send him, & she told Mrs. Hatsel she found she was ‘in a scrape.’ My own Chat was all with Mrs. Hatsel or Lady Rothes, with whom I never spoke before, — though I have often seen her. The talk was by no means writable, but very pleasant; Lady Rothes is sociable, lively, sensible, gentle & amiable. She, Lady Shelley & Mrs. Hatsel, are all of the same cast, but Lady Rothes in understanding seems to have the advantage. In manners it would be hard to say which excelled. My friend, the Mr. Barton who wanted to Dance with me, wanted also to discourse a few, but he did not hit my fancy, so I soon shirked. Thursday [31 Oct.]. A note came this morning to invite us all, except Dr. Johnson, to Lady Rothes’s. Dr. Johnson has tortured poor Mr. Pepys so much, that I fancy her Ladyship omitted him in compliment to her Brother in Law. She mentions me in the civilest terms, — &, as I like her much, I will hide my blushes, & recollect them. — ‘May I flatter myself that Miss Burney will do me the favour to accompany You? I shall be much obliged, & particularly happy to cultivate so charming an acquaintance.’ There’s a Countess | for you! does not she deserve being a Earl ? for such in fact she is, being Countess in her own right, & giving her own name to her Children, who, though sons & daughters of Mr. Evelyn & Dr. Pepys, — for she has been twice married,38 — are called the Eldest Lord

37 38

A captain at this time, he was promoted to admiral in 1810. Her first husband (m. 1766) was George Raymond Evelyn (d. 1770).

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Lesley,39 & the rest the Honble Mr. Lesleys,40 & Lady Harriet & Lady Mary.41 At Noon Mr. Pepys called, & found only me, & sate with me till Dressing Time. He brought me a book I was very glad to see, he has collected into one volume all the political works of Mr. Burke, & has marked in the margin all the passages that will be entertaining or instructive to non-politicians. They are indeed charming, — eloquent, spirited, rational, yet sentimental. He told me he had 2 long Letters from Mrs. Chapone to shew me, all about me, & mine, but he had them not in his pocket. At Lady Rothes we met only her Doctor, & Mr. & Mrs. Pepys. The talk was all literary, but not pedantic, & the Evening was very agreeable. Friday [1 Nov.]. We spent at Home, with only our 2 young Beaus.42 I was quite glad of not going out, for though the places have done very well, & been very lively, when We have assembled at them, I have been heartily tired of such perpetual preparation, Dressings, & visiting. Saturday [2 Nov.]. We went to Lady Shelley’s: Dr. Johnson, again, excepted in the invitation! He is almost constantly omitted, either from too much respect, or too much fear. I am sorry for it, as he hates being alone, & as, though he scolds the others, he is well enough satisfied himself, &, having given vent to all his own occasional anger or ill-humour, he is ready to begin again, & is never aware | that those who have so been ‘downed’ by him, never can much covet so triumphant a visitor! In contests of Wit, the Victor is as ill off in future consequences, as the Vanquished in present ridicule. At Lady Shelley’s we met Mr. & Mrs. Hatsel, & Miss Benson, & our own 2 Beaus. Sir John Shelley was at Home, but I have

39 George William Evelyn, later Evelyn-Leslie (1768–1817), styled Lord Leslie; 13th E. of Rothes, 1810. 40 The Hon. Charles Leslie (1774–1833) succeeded his father, Sir Lucas Pepys, as 2nd Bt, 1830. A brother, Henry, was born in Sept. 1783; FB seems to refer to another brother who died in infancy, mentioned by Burke’s Peerage. 41 Lady Harriet Leslie (1777–1839), m. (1804) William Courtenay (1777–1859), 20th E. of Devon, 1835. Lady Mary seems to be the daughter mentioned by Burke’s Peerage who died in infancy. 42 i.e., Harry Cotton and Thomas Swinnerton.

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nothing to add to my former account of him. We had again a very good Evening, but I have forgot all particulars. Sunday, Novr 3d. In the morning my very gracious new friend Lady Rothes came to visit me. She had sent me abundant very elegant apologies before; & the Evening we again spent at her House: where we met Mr. & Mrs. Pepys & Mr. Coxe, & were accompanied by Mr. Swinerton. Harry Cotton left Brighthelmstone in the morning. The parties diminish almost Hourly. The Dickens are gone: so is Lady Warren. Again I have nothing to tell, but that we talked very pretty, & did very well, though somewhat too studied was the discourse, by the addition of Mr. Coxe, for my real taste.

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To Charles Burney ALS (Berg), 3 Nov. 1782 Double sheet 4to, 3 pp. Annotated (by FBA):

Brighton Novr 3d

I long most impatiently, Dearest Sir, to know something of all your proceedings, & I have not had a line all this Week from either Susy or Charlotte. Charles & Miss Rose have both written,43 & all there seems smooth & comfortable. We do here very toll:44 the place is still pretty full: but we go little into public, & twice that I have been has quite satisfied me for the season, for I seem as much a shew to all the folks as Omiah45 could be, & they stare with as much curiosity, as they would at him; though they whisper with rather more caution. 43 44 45

Missing. i.e., tolerably. Omai (c.1753–c.1780) of Tahiti. See EJL ii. 40 and passim.

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We have scarce any of our joint acquaintance here, except Mr. Pepys, & he is hardly ever content out of our House, except when he meets us in some other. Your old scholar, Lady De Ferrers,46 is here, with her Lord & family; & we have an appointment to meet her to morrow at Breakfast, at Mr. Swinerton’s, by way of trial if further acquaintance will be desireable. We have mixed very much with one new Family since we came, from which I have received much pleasure, & uncommon civilities, Mr. & Mrs. Hatsel, a sensible, agreeable & well bred Couple: & I never see them without thinking of Dick,47 because he is Clerk of the House of Commons: & if | our Dick could rise to the same, he need not desire a more brilliant or pleasant situation; for Mr. Hatsel’s Table is open to all the first people here, he seems more caressed & sought than any man in the place. I see a good deal also of Miss Benson & begin to like her a little better, for her hardness wears off upon intimacy, or, at least, one is less hurt by being more accustomed to it. Dr. Johnson has his Health wonderfully well. He does not, however, spend his time very agreeably, for he is dreaded too much to get any conversation, except by accident, & he has had no invitation since my arrival, but to one Dinner, at single speech Hamilton’s.48 He has therefore passed most of his Evenings alone, & much to his dissatisfaction. He does, however, so miserably maul the few who have ventured to encounter him, that there is little wonder they wave the Ceremony of any meetings they can avoid. Poor Mr. Pepys was so torn to pieces by him the other Night, in a party at Home, that he suddenly seized his Hat, & abruptly walked out of the Room in the middle of the discourse. They have, nevertheless, seen one another since, &, though there has been more | battling, he grows used to it, now, & bears it more patiently. I hope my mother continues well,

46 Charlotte Ellerker (1754–1802), m. (1777) George Townshend (1753–1811), B. Ferrers, cr. (1784) E. of Leicester; 2nd M. Townshend, 1807. See EJL i. 259 n. 9. 47 Richard Thomas Burney (1768–1808), who was studying in Geneva at this time. FB seems to have thought that the clever and extroverted Dick would shine in that position. 48 William Gerard Hamilton (1729–96), M.P. See EJL iii. 359 n. 19.

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pray tell her my Watch49 has been very much admired. Adieu, most dear Sir, Your ever & ever & ever affectionate & dutiful F.B. [FB’s Journal for 1782 resumes.]

Monday, Nov. 4th. This was a grand & busy Day. Mr. Swinerton has been some Time arranging a meeting for all our House with Lady De Ferrars, who you may remember as Charlotte Ellerker, & her Lord & sisters:50 & this morning it took place, by mutual appointment, at his Lodgings, where we met to Breakfast. Dr. Johnson, — who already knew Lord De Ferrars, & Mrs. & Miss Thrale & myself arrived first, & then came the Lord & Lady, & Miss Ellerker, & her youngest sister, Hariet. Lord De Ferrars is very ugly, but extremely well bred, gentle, unassuming, sensible & pleasing. His Lady is by no means equally elegant with himself, though she is not coarse, but she is much improved since we knew her in former days, & seems good humoured, lively & rather agreeable. Miss Ellerker is in nothing altered, — for she is haughty, stiff, distant & displeasing.51 Hariet, poor Thing, is not grown | even an Inch, though now 19 or 20:52 but she is very civil, & seems simple & unpretending. I happened to be standing by Dr. Johnson when all the Ladies came in; Lord De Ferrars was some time later; — but, as I dread him before strangers, from the staring attention he attracts both for himself & all with whom he talks, I endeavoured to change my Ground. However, he kept prating a flashy sort of comical nonsense, that detained me some minutes whether I would or not: but when we were all taking Presumably a gift from EAB to FB. Lady Ferrers had two surviving sisters, both unmarried, Elizabeth (1751– 1831) and Harriet (1759–1842). Arabella (1755–82), wife of Thomas Onslow, had died the previous April. See EJL i. 259 n. 9. 51 FB, meeting the three sisters in 1773, had dismissed them all as ‘stiff’, ‘vain’, and ‘affected’ (EJL i. 259). 52 She was 23. 49 50

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places at the Breakfast Table, I made another effort to escape. It proved vain, he drew his Chair next to mine, & went rattling on a humourous sort of comparison he was drawing of himself to me, — not one word of which could I enjoy, or can I remember, from the hurry I was in to get out of his way: &, in short, I felt so awkward from being thus marked out, that I was reduced to whisper a request to Mr. Swinerton to put a chair between us, for which I presently made a space: for I have often known him stop all conversation with me, when he has ceased to have me for his next neighbour. Mr.  Swinerton, who is an extremely good natured young man, & so intimate here that I made no scruple with him, instantly complied, & placed himself between us. But no sooner was this done, than Dr. Johnson, half seriously, & very loudly, took him to task. ‘How now, sir! — what do you mean by this? — would you separate me from Miss Burney? —’ Mr. Swinerton, a little startled, began some apologies, & Mrs. Thrale winked at him to give up the place; but he was willing to oblige me, though he grew more & more frightened every minute; & coloured violently, | as the Doctor continued his remonstrance, which he did, with rather unmerciful raillery, upon his taking advantage of being in his own House to thus supplant him, & crow: but when he had borne it for about 10 minutes, his face became so hot with the fear of hearing something worse, that he ran from the field, & took a Chair between Lady De Ferrars & Mrs. Thrale. I think I shall take warning by this failure to trust only to my own expedients for avoiding his public notice in future; however, it stopt here, for Lord De Ferrars came in, & took the disputed place, without knowing of the contest, & all was quiet. All that passed afterwards, was too general & too common to be recollected. I walked out afterwards up New Market Hill with Mrs. Thrale, & Mr. Swinerton this young man is very sweet tempered, & good & soft-Hearted, — but alas! he is also softHeaded: — I believe he proposes making proposals to Miss Thrale, but he has no prospect, I am sure, of success. We met, upon the New Market Hill, a large troop of Horse, & a pack of Hounds, returning from Hunting: among the

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Gentlemen, one stopt Mr. Swinerton, who we are told is the Object here at this Time; Mr. Kaye,53 of the Yorkshire militia, a Baronet’s son & a very Tall, handsome, & agreeable looking young man, &, as Mr. Swinerton, & all the folks, say it is he for whom all the Belles here are sighing. I was glad to see he seemed quite free from the non-chalant impertinence of the times. By the way, I have never told you, & I ought, how close to the truth Meadows’ Character still continues, — it seems more general than ever, & all the young | men who seem to hope for any notice, uniformly practice it. I must make no more resolutions, however, about where I will or will not go, for I find it wholly out of my power to avoid, except occasionally, doing as the rest of the House does. Mrs. Thrale, after our walk, chose to go to Thomas’s, & I was forced, therefore, to risk going again too. I believe, however, I am now more known, & shall therefore be less likely to find myself in such an awkward situation as before; for the world will never be so gross as to talk about the Book when they know the author to be by. Lady De Ferrars & the Miss Ellerkers were all in the shop. Mrs. Thrale joined them, & Lady De Ferrars very civilly made a place for me between herself & her sister: — & then, she said ‘Miss Burney, the first quarrel I ever had with Lord De Ferrars was owing to you.’ ‘I am very sorry, ma’am, for that, — —’ ‘Why he was always coming to tear Cecilia out of my Hands; he would not let me alone a moment; he was always in such a hurry for it himself, — we were quarreling for it all Day long till I sent for a set of my own, & determined upon keeping that all to myself. But I never saw anything like him; he never was at ease without having it in his Hand.’ When we had sate & had our chat out here, Lady De Ferrars proposed our all walking, & we took a stroll first along the shore, & afterwards upon the Steyne, for full 2 Hours. Mrs. Thrale walked with Lady De Ferrars, & myself between the 2 misses. Ah Susy! need I now say how undoubtedly ‘fashionable’ I am at 53 John Kaye (c.1763–1827), natural son of Sir John Lister Kaye (1725–89), 5th Bt, of Denby Grange, Yorks. He married a daughter of the 5th E. of Stamford in 1800. Assuming the additional surname of Lister in 1806, he was cr. Bt in 1812.

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Brighthelmstone? that Miss Ellerker should chuse, upon the public Walk, to keep me to herself, is a far greater proof of it than any other; — No, — I have | one other yet greater, — of which in its turn. Miss Ellerker now chatted away pretty copiously, but she cannot be agreeable, smile as she may, & she must be stiff & haughty, however undesignedly. ’Tis in some Natures never to be otherwise, & hers is of that happy stamp. Hariet, however, has nothing of this, on the contrary, it was easy to see that she thought herself nothing & your F.B. demi-divine, I could not but observe the extremest delight in her Eyes & her Grins at every glance — she was thinking evidently of the Book, though too modest to mention it, & seemed in romantic rapture at sight of its author, — she wanted to give place to me — repeatedly entreated me to wear her Clogs, to make use of her stick, & never quitted my side an instant. Miss Ellerker meant to be as civil, but could not tell how, though she said ‘I assure you, Miss Burney, without ceremony, I always take up that Book once a Day, for I am always sure to find something new in it, & something to do one good.’ We talked also of Millico,54 & the opera — &c. At Dinner, we had Mr. Swinerton & Mr. Selwyn, who is just returned. Miss Thrale, who had met with Miss Benson, brought me a long message from her: that I had used her very ill, & could make her no reparation; for she had been reading my Book till she was so blind with crying, she had disfigured herself in such a manner she could not Dress, & must give up going to the Ball in the Evening, though it was the last. And though she had not yet near come to the end, she was so knocked up with blubbering, she must give up every engagement in order to go on with it, being quite unfit for anything else: but she desired Miss Thrale to tell me she thought it very unwarrantable in me to put her Nerves in such a state. | ‘Ay, cried Dr. Johnson, some people want to make out some credit to me from that little Rogue’s Book: I was told by a Gentleman this morning that it was a very fine Book, if it was

54

Giuseppe Millico (1737–1802), singer and composer. See EJL i. 221 n. 2.

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all her own. — It is all her own, said I, for me, I am sure, for I never saw one Word of it before it was printed.’ This Gentleman, I have good reason to believe is Mr. Metcalf; Capt. Phillips I dare say remembers that he supped with us at Sir Joshua Reynolds the Evening that James came from Portsmouth.55 He is much with Dr. Johnson, but seems to have taken an unaccountable dislike to Mrs. Thrale, to whom he never speaks. I have seen him but once or twice myself, & as he is dry, & I am shy, very little passed between us. I have, however, a piece of intelligence for you that I have always forgot putting in, & that will not more divert You, than delight Capt. Phillips, to whom I plan solely to address it, & therefore reserve it for his private perusal: Will you not, my dear Captain, be charmed to hear that it is quite the ton here to be of your advoice [sic] about my Phiz. & my Figure? — O it is comical to excess to see how the people’s rage for something marvellous leads them to talk of me just as Edward has painted me! His Picture of me ought to live at this place, where every body would confess its justice. The Day after our first appearance at the Rooms on Sunday Evening [27 Oct.], Mrs. Thrale came into my Chamber & said ‘I have a secret to tell you, — You know I told you you might set up for a Beauty when you fail for a Wit, & now it’s done for you at once, for Harry Cotton comes & tells me how all the men admired you at the Rooms. | ‘This is a secret indeed!’ quoth I — but the truth is, that the people, hearing I am an Author, & seeing me neither as wrinkled as Mrs. Montagu, as old as Mrs. Carter, as fat as Miss More, nor as deformed as Mrs. Chapone, know not where to stop in their personal preference; because these are the only folks with whom they make my personal comparisons. However, I assure you I have good reason to believe, from divers circumstances, that the man of men here, Mr. Kaye himself, has led the way in this surprising discovery: for such I think he deserves a premium as being the most extraordinary person for skill & novelty in the science of phisiognomy now existing, — Captain Phillips excepted. Methinks I have some friends among the Captains, for he also, is an officer in the W. Regiment of heavy Dragoons. — Thus much, my dear 55

See above, p. 77.

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Capitano, quite in private, — I beg our secret may not transpire, — & I now proceed with less wonderful communications, & such as the vulgar Ears of less enlightened mortals may not only hear, — but comprehend. At Tea we had more company, Mrs. Scot, formerly Mrs. Nesbit, Miss Shuky Plumb,56 & Mr. Coxe, — who very solemnly complained to Mrs. Thrale that he had never been properly introduced to Miss Burney, so that he could tell her how much he admired Cecilia. — Mrs. Thrale, rather too saucily, I fear, told him that I heard so much of nothing else, that I could very well excuse the ceremony. When all our Company was gone, late as it was, it was settled we should go to the Ball, the last for the season being this night. My own objections about going not being strong enough to combat the ado my mentioning them would have occasioned, I joined in the party without demur. We all went but Dr. Johnson. | The Ball was half over, & all the Company seated at Tea. Mr. Wade57 came to receive us all, as usual, & we had a Table procured for us, & went to Tea ourselves, for something to do. When this repast was over, the Company returned to their recreation. The Room was very thin, & almost half the Ladies Danced with one another, though there were men enough present, I believe, had they chosen such exertion: but the Meadows’s at Balls are in Crowds. Miss Thrale took it in her Head to Dance with little Sophy, though she had refused Mr. Swinerton, who went to Cards in another Room. She had better have let alone such a caprice, for she Danced very ill & most people thought she could get no other partner. Some of the Ladies were in riding Habits, & they made admirable Men. ’Tis tonnish to be so much undressed at the last Ball. None of our usual friends, the Shelleys, Hatsels, Dickens, or Pepys, were here, & we therefore made no party, but Mrs. Thrale & I stood at the top of the Room to look on the Dancing, &, as we were thus disengaged she was seized with a violent desire to make one among them, & I felt myself an 56 57

HLT’s niece Susanna Plumbe. See EJL iv. 240. William Wade, the Master of Ceremonies. See EJL iii. 385 n. 96.

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equal inclination. She proposed as so many women Danced together, that we two should, & nothing should I have liked so well; but I begged her to give up the scheme, as that would have occasioned more fuss & observation than our Dancing with all the men that ever were born. While we were debating this matter, a Gentleman suddenly said to me ‘Did you walk far this morning, Miss Burney?’ And, looking at him, I saw Mr. Metcalf, whose graciousness rather surprised me, for he only made to Mrs. Thrale a cold & distant Bow: &, it seems, he declares, aloud & around, his aversion to literary Ladies. That he can endure, & even seek me, is, I presume, only from the general perverseness of mankind, because he sees I | have always turned from him: not, however, from disliking him, for he is a shrewd, sensible, keen & very clever man, but merely from a dryness on his own side that has excited retaliation. ‘Yes, I answered, we walked a good way.’ ‘Dr. Johnson, said he, told me, in the morning, you were no Walker, but I informed him, then, I had had the pleasure of seeing you upon the Newmarket Hill.’ — ‘O, he does not know, cried I, whether I am a Walker or not, — he does not see me Walk, because he never walks himself.’ — ‘He has asked me, said he, to go with him to Chichester, to see the Cathedral, & I told him I would certainly go, if he pleased; but why I cannot imagine, for how shall a blind man see a cathedral?’58 — ‘I believe, quoth I, his blindness is as much the effect of absence as of infirmity, for he sees wonderfully at Times.’— ‘Why he has assured me he cannot see the Colour of any man’s Eyes? & does not know what Eyes any of his acquaintance have.’ ‘I am sure, however, cried I, he can see the Colour of a lady’s Topknot, for he very often finds fault with it.’ ‘Is that possible? —’ ‘Yes, indeed, & I was much astonished at it, at first when I knew him, for I had concluded that the utmost of his sight would only reach to tell him whether he saw 58 The two men made a three-day excursion to Arundel, Chichester, Cowdrey, and Petworth, 8–10 Nov. Of the cathedral, SJ wrote in his diary: ‘Fr[iday]. With Mr Metcalfe to Arundel, and Chichester.... Chichester Cathedral beautiful, the quire elegant — pews in body’ (Life iv. 506).

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a Cap or a Wig.’ — ‘Will he be here to-night? —’ ‘No, sir. He has been once or twice, & I fancy he is satisfied.’ ‘I think our Balls conclude to night; & when we look at our Dancing, we need not be surprised; Ladies with Ladies seems being very hard run, & near to an end.’ — ‘O yes, ’tis a certain symptom of an approaching dissolution.’ quoth I, most aptly. — Ha: Here he was called away by some Gentleman; & Mrs. Thrale, who had stood quietly by my side all the Time, began a most comical abuse of him for his spite, as she called it, in so strangely spearing her, & seeming determined not to exchange a Word with her. And it is really very odd. | We were then joined by my new friend, Mr. Barton, who ran from the Dance to tell me how surprised he was to see us, as it was so late, & we had been given quite up. He was then desired to return to his partner, & Mr. Metcalf came again. ‘Miss Burney, he said, shall you Dance?’ ‘No, sir, not to Night.’ ‘A Gentleman, he added, has desired me to speak to you for him.’ Now, Susanna, for the grand moment, — the height, the Zenith of my glory in the Ton Meridian! — I again said I did not mean to Dance, — &, to silence all objection, he expressively said ‘’Tis Captain Kaye who sends me.’ Is not this magnificent? Pray congratulate me. I was, really, very much surprised, but repeated my refusal, with all customary civilities to soften it. He was leaving me with this answer when this most flashy young officer, chusing to trust his cause to himself came forward, & desired to be introduced to me; Mr. Metcalf performed that ceremony, & he then, with as much respect & deference as if soliciting a Countess, said ‘May I flatter myself you will do me the Honour of Dancing with me?’ I thanked him, & said the same thing over again. He looked much disappointed, & very unwilling to give up his plan. ‘If you have not, he said, any particular dislike to Dancing, — it will be doing not only me, but the whole Room much honour, if you will make one in the set.’ ‘You do me much honour, sir, I answered, but I must beg you to excuse me.’ ‘I hope not; cried he, I hope out of charity you will Dance, as it is the last Ball, & the Company is so thin.’

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‘O, it will do very well without me; Mr. Wade himself says he dies to-night a very respectable Death.’ | ‘And will you not have the goodness to help it on a little in its last stage?’ ‘No, said I, laughing, why should we wish it to be kept lingering?’ ‘Lingering? repeated he, looking round at the Dancers, no, surely it is not quite so desperate: & if You will but join it, you will give it new existence.’ I was a little off my guard at this unexpected earnestness, so different to the ton of the Day, I began hardly to know what to answer, my real objection being such as I could by no means publish, though his urgency & his politeness joined would have made me give up any other. ‘This is a very quiet Dance, he continued; there is nothing fatiguing in it; — Perhaps you don’t like it?’ ‘O yes, — Very well, — I have no objection to the Dance. —’ ‘If there is any other you like better — or perhaps you will permit me to call a cotillon?’ That, you know, would just have done for me! ‘O by no means, — I really don’t mean Dancing at all.’ ‘Do you dislike it so much?’ ‘O no, — but only to-night I have quite set my Heart against it.’ ‘No, I hope You have not been so cruel, — & at the last Ball, — & when so few are engaged, — the Ladies, you see, are half of them Dancing with one another, — this is the Time for the Men to plume themselves! & feel important, & walk to & fro, — & hold up their Heads, & look Tall, — &, in short, grow, if possible, greater puppies than ever.’ I am sure, thought I, you are no puppy, to take all this pains for so small a matter. I only laughed, & he still continued pleading, being bent, I believe, upon victory, as much as if heading his troop in the Field. | ‘One Dance, at least, he said; — the very floor vibrates, — will not that have some effect? & the whole Company will be flattered by your compliance.’ ‘You are very good, said I, — but I cannot, really, dance to night, for I have already refused a person. —’ I meant Mrs. Thrale, & wanted her to hear & help me, but she took no notice. Even this, however, did not do, — for he

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very eagerly said ‘May I speak to that person? will you permit me?’ ‘O no — upon no account.’ Afraid then to name her, as the thing was too ludicrous for so entire a stranger. ‘But if that, cried he, is your objection, — if you are so good as even to think of wavering, I am sure I shall get that person’s consent, if you will permit me to speak to him. I shall think it the highest honour, — & you know not how much you will oblige the Company.’ There was hardly any bearing this & it required not only all my resolution to be firm, but the new assistance of the very consequence he gave to me, which only served to make me still more afraid of the notice I should meet with. I very seriously, therefore, repeated my refusal, & begged him to spare himself any further useless trouble. He then Bowed & left me: but not before Mrs. Thrale turned to him, & said ‘I cannot imagine, sir, how she can have resisted such solicitation!’ I hope this made him some amends. I was sorry to seem so obstinate, but he was just the man to make every body enquire whom he danced with; & any one who wished for general attention, could do no better than to be his Partner. The ever mischievous Mrs. Thrale, calling to Mr. Selwyn, who stood by us, said ‘Why here’s a man in love, quite downright in love with Miss Burney, if ever I saw one!’ ‘He is quite mortified, at least, he answered, I never saw a man look more mortified.’ ‘Well, he did not deserve it, said she, he knew how to beg, & he ought not to have been so served.’ I begged her to be silent, for Mr. Metcalf returned to me; — ‘Were you too much tired, he said, with your walk this morning, to try at a Dance?’ I excused myself as well as I could, & we presently went into the Card Room, to vary the scene. When we returned to the Ball Room, I was very glad to see my new Captain had just taken out Lady Anne Lindsay, who is here with Lady Margaret Fordyce,59 & who Dances remarkably well, & was every Way a more suitable Partner for him. He was to leave the Town, with his Regiment, the next day.

59 Lady Anne Lindsay (1750–1825) and her sister Lady Margaret Fordyce (1753– 1814). See EJL i. 200 n. 49, ii. 85 n. 61.

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Tuesday [5 Nov.]. Miss Benson called this morning, &, Mrs. Hatsel came to take leave, which we are all sorry for. Miss Benson very humourously reproached me for making her lose the Ball the preceding Evening, & Mrs. Hatsel declared she could not go for the same reason, as Miss Benson was reading aloud to her, though she had gone through the whole Book before. ‘But as to Mr. Hatsel, she added, he is madder about it than all of us; & especially the last volume: he never takes it up but he is obliged to run out of the Room, it affects him so much: yet he is hardly ever at ease when it is out of his Hand. O, he does so admire it! —’ ‘Ay, so does every body, said Miss Benson, except me, — & I am quite in a rage about it, — I feel nothing but resentment for having been so abominably tortured.’ | ‘Ah, poor Miss Benson, said Mrs. Hatsel, she could hardly read 2 Words following, — now a sentence, now a sob; — no wonder we could not get to the Ball! But I am told Miss Thrale used all the Gentlemen very ill, & Danced with her sister.’ ‘But Miss Burney, said Mrs. Thrale, used them worse, for she refused the handsomest, & tallest, & gayest, & flashiest man in the Room, — ay, the man that all the Girls are dying for — though he all but knelt to her: I never did see a man so earnest not to be denied.’ ‘And who was this?’ said Miss Benson: ‘Mr. Kaye.’ ‘O, Mr. Kaye, said Mrs. Hatsel, — nay, then, I should not have wondered if he had quite knelt to Miss Burney, after what I have heard that he has said of her.’ I was just going to desire Mrs. Thrale would not make it so much her business to publish this grand transaction, but something interrupted us, & when our visitors were gone, she took me out to Walk with her. We met Lady De Ferrars & Miss Ellerker in our ramble, & the very moment the Ball was mentioned, this dear & Queer Creature called out ‘Ay, there was a sad ado, Ladies dancing with Ladies, & all sort of odd things, — & that handsome & fine Mr. Kaye broke his Heart, almost, to Dance with Miss Burney, — but she refused him, & so, in despair, he took out Lady Anne Lindsay.’ This was really too ridiculous, — boasting about Him for me! I was quite vexed at her, but she has promised now to have done. |

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In the Evening Lady De Ferrars & Miss Ellerker came here. Our parties dwindle now very much; Mr. & Mrs. Pepys are gone, as well as the Hatsels. So is Mr. Coxe. Wednesday [6 Nov.]. Dr. Delap called to Day, & brought a play with him, for Mrs. Thrale & me to read; & he has most vehemently repeatedly begged me to write a critique upon it. I will not, however, undertake any such thing, which I not only do not hold myself equal to, but which would be a most disagreeable & thankless task. I shall, nevertheless, mark such places & passages as I think would be obviously mended by some change, for he is so very earnest, it would be either ill-nature or treachery to refuse him.60 At night we had Dr. Pepys & Lady Rothes, & were very sociable & pleasant. Thursday [7 Nov.]. Mr. Metcalfe called upon Dr. Johnson, & took him out for an Airing. Mr. Hamilton is gone, & Mr. Metcalfe is now the only person out of this House that voluntarily communicates with the Doctor! He has been in a terrible severe humour of late, & has really frightened all the people till they almost run from him. To me only I think he is now kind! — for Mrs. Thrale fares worse than any body! — ’Tis very strange, & very melancholy, that he will not a little more accommodate his manners & language to those of other people. He likes Mr. Metcalfe, however, & so do I, for he is very clever & entertaining, when he pleases; Capt. Phillips will remember that was not the case when we saw him at Sir Joshua’s.61 He has, however, all the de quoi. Poor Dr. Delap confessed to us that the reason he now | came so seldom, though he formerly almost lived with us when at this place, was his being too unwell to cope with Dr. Johnson! And the 60 The play was The Captives, a tragedy, eventually performed at Drury Lane in March 1786. The third (and final) night brought the author £138 13s. 6d. in receipts. Thomas Cadell published the play on 22 Mar. (Morning Chronicle, 22 Mar 1786). John Philip Kemble tells an anecdote about the play in a letter to Edmond Malone, Mar. 1786: ‘The Captives were set at liberty last night, amidst roars of laughter. I see the doctor publishes it this week ... Cadell bought this sublime piece before it appeared, for fifty pounds, agreeing to make it a hundred on its third representation. It has been played three times, and I dare say old Sanctimony will have no remorse in taking the other fifty’ (Sir James Prior, Life of Edmond Malone (1860), p. 126). See LS 5 ii. 868–70. 61 See above, p. 77.

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other Day Mr. Selwyn, having refused an invitation from Mr. Hamilton to meet the Doctor, because he preferred being here upon a Day when he was out, suddenly rose at the Time he was expected to return, & said he must run away, for fear the Doctor should call him to an account! — Mr. Swinerton is gone. We have no Beau now of our own but Mr. Selwyn. Friday [8 Nov.]. We strolled all morning, & spent the Evening with Lady Shelley, where we only met Miss Benson, Dr. Delap, & Mr. Selwyn. Sir John was so ridiculous in his puffs & vapouring about his family & himself, that I am sure he, at least, has never read Cecilia; — if he had, either the Character of old Delvile must have checked his own, or his resentment to see family pride so severely handled would have extended to the Author who had dared treat upon such a subject. He is, however, very civil to me, &, as it is the ton to do here, he, among the rest, has discovered a new excellence: — Dr. Delap, in his dry manner, said here the other morning ‘Sir John Shelly told me he had met yesterday with Miss Burney; but he neither said she talked well, nor wrote well, — he only said she walked well, — he never, he said, saw any woman walk so well!’ Comique enough! — but this is a mere specimen by the by of the various new discoveries made in the polite World of my endowments, — discoveries which would make you grin amain, if I had room to write them. — It is not modesty stops me, for they are far too sublime for vanity, & consequently for shame. |

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[Brighton,] 8 November [1782]

To Charles Burney ALS (Berg), 8 Nov. 1782 Double sheet 4to, 4 pp. wafer Addressed: Dr Burney, / St. Martin’s Street / London. Annotated (by FBA): Brighton 1782

Novr 8

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How good, sweet & most kind is my beloved Father, & how happy am I made by his Letter!62 — That You will never tire of hearing Cecilia commended, is the first happiness of my Life. But there is a certain levity mixt with her noble qualities in Mrs Thrale that would, I do really believe, make her tired if it were her own;63 for her excess of fondness & regard for me can only by yours & my sister’s be equalled. Dr. Johnson does me the highest honour upon every occasion: &, like you, dearest Sir, never wearies of either hearing or saying or spreading kind things upon this subject:64 Mr. Medcalf,65 an exceedingly clever & shrewd man, who is now here, had a suspicion the Doctor himself had half written the Book; & gave him to understand that he thought so, when they were alone together; saying ‘It is a very fine book indeed — but is it her own?’ ‘It is, answered he, for any thing I know, for I never saw a word of it till I saw it in print.’ And then, as I have since been told, he launched out into the warmest praises. Our meeting with Lord & Lady De Ferrers was a very quiet one; les Ellerkers, Eldest & Youngest, were of the party, & they have since been visiting here; & this Night we are to go to them. I think Lady De Ferrers & Hariet Ellerker much improved, but the eldest miss is quite as stiff, cold, & Effected as ever, probably more so, except from particular favour, but as to me, I assure you, Sir! I am so high in fashion here, that it is almost tonnish to be wondrous civil to me! O! I receive such honours & distinctions as are astonishing! And if Mrs. Thrale | were a whit less fond of me than she is, she would be as sick of hearing of me, as of hearing of my book. Lady de F. enquired very much after you. She told me she had had but one quarrel with her Lord, & that was upon my account, for that he had torn Cecilia out of her Hands, from CB to FB, 6 Nov. 1782 (LCB i. 348–52). CB had written: ‘why shd Mrs T. be tired of hearing it [Cecilia] commended? — I hardly think if it was her own, she would’ (LCB i. 350). 64 ‘I love him [SJ] more than ever for speaking so plainly & favourably of our Ciceley’ (LCB i. 349–50). 65 i.e., Philip Metcalfe. FB writes ‘Metcalf’ or ‘Metcalfe’ elsewhere. The letter has been retraced because of the faded ink, and the ‘d’ in ‘Medcalf’ probably should have been a ‘t’; the editors leave it so because the original ‘t’ (we presume) cannot actually be seen. 62 63

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impatience; & never let her read it with any peace or comfort, from contending to get it himself, till she sent for a set of her own. Miss Ellerker, too, said she could assure me, without ceremony, that the Book was always in her own Room; that she took up one of the Volumes every Day, & always found some thing both new & useful. Lord De F. — who said not a word upon the subject, was, however, far more pleasing & agreeable, I think, than any of those Ladies. Miss Benson arrived on Monday, at the last volume; & cried & roared so vehemently, that she could not make her appearance, & was forced to give up going to the last Ball: & Mrs. Hatsel, to whom she was reading aloud, although she had once before gone through it to herself, gave up the Ball also, to stay with her to finish it.66 As to Mr. Hatsel, they tell me the last volume is his favourite; yet that he can never take it up without running abruptly out of the Room, to blow his Nose! Miss Benson, comically enough, said she thought I had | taken a most unwarrantable liberty with every body’s Nerves to write in such a manner. The Hatsels are gone, so are the Pepys, — O what fine things flowed from the master! Lady Rothes & the Doctor remain, & we see them often. Dr. Pepys told Mrs. Thrale he liked this same Cecilia beyond any thing he had ever read, & thought it had only one fault, — which was — having too little love in it! — Dr. Delap is now here; he has written another play, brought it for Mrs. Thrale & me to read. I confess I think it but a very weak composition — however, he is promised that it shall come out. Our Dear Doctor Johnson keeps his health amazingly, with me, has good humour; But, to own the truth, with scarce any body else. I am quite sorry to see how unmercifully he attacks & riots the people. He has raised such general alarm, that he is now omitted in all cards of invitation sent to the rest of us. What pity that he will never curb himself! nor restrain his tongue upon every occasion from such bitter or cruel speeches as eternally come from 66 Cf. Thomas Twining to CB, 18 Sept. 1782 (BL Add. MS 39929, fos. 299–303): ‘I know two amiable sisters in Colr, sensible & accomplished women, who were found blubbering at such a rate one morning! — the tale [Cecilia] had drawn them on ’till near the hour of an engagemt to dinner, which they were actually obliged to put off, because there was not time to recover their red eyes & swelled noses.’

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him! He is now gone, with Mr. Medcalf, to Chichester to see the Cathedral. Mr. Medcalf is extremely well with him, the only man in the place, except Mr. Hamilton, that ever, by choice, speaks to him. Poor Mr. Pepys has been shook by him | almost to Death: & Mr. Coxe, a Brother of the Writer, had so rough a speech from him, the other Day, that he declares it has made him nervous ever since. Dr. Delap confesses himself afraid of coming as usual to the House; & Mr. Selwyn, having yesterday declined meeting him at Mrs. Hamilton’s, ran away before his return Home, in the utmost terror of being severely reprimanded for this refusal! — Thanks, Dearest Sir, for your account of the Opera House, & the new singers,67 which was very interesting to me: but I am much mortified at such a picture of the Galleries. What shall we poor Canaille do? — I am vastly glad you have seen the Pach — & I think Miss Bull’s68 one of the prettiest I ever heard.69 I would Lady M. Duncan was here, she might then be infected with a curiosity to see me, & — — O, I need add no more! — the consequence is plain.70 I beg my love & duty to my Mother, & would answer her little Letter,71 but I have no Frank. Adieu, most dear Sir, I will scribble again in a few Days. F.B.

67 ‘Well, but the Opera House is so improved that I thought myself in Italy — There is so much symmetry & Elegance in the Whole building, that it seems to me, though in little, compared with the Italian Theatres, to be equal in beauty to any one I ever saw on the Continent’ (LCB i. 352). The second leaf of CB’s letter, which presumably contained a description of the new singers and the galleries, is cut away. For accounts of the reconstruction of the opera house’s interior, see LS 5 i. 542–3; W. Taylor, A Concise Statement of Transactions and Circumstances respecting the King’s Theatre, in the Haymarket (1791); D. Nalbach, The King’s Theatre, 1704–1867: London’s First Italian Opera House (1972) (sources cited in LCB i. 352 n. 21). 68 Elizabeth Bull (c.1750–1809), elder daughter of Richard Bull (1721–1805) of Ongar, Essex. See LCB i. 350 n. 14, 352 n. 19. 69 ‘Miss B. said “she was sure you cd never have acquired so much knowledge of the world & of Characters in the short life you had lived in your present form & figure — it must have been during a preexistent state”’ (LCB i. 350). 70 ‘Ly Mary — to whom it was, I believe the 1st Bk she ever read since the Bible — I found well acquainted with several of yr Characters, — particularly your Meadowses & Harrels —’ (LCB i. 350). Lady Mary Duncan’s fanatical devotion to Pachierotti was the talk of the town, and she presumably would have inflicted the same kind of adulation on FB. 71 Missing.

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[FB’s Journal for 1782 resumes.]

Saturday [9 Nov.]. We had Miss Benson & Mr. Selwyn, & a very good chatty quiet Day. Miss Benson has given me a little commission to do for her with Dr. Delap, concerning some Books belonging to Louisa Harris,72 on purpose, she says, to make me call upon her when I return to Town. I like the office very well, for her hardness & disagreeableness wear off more & more, & there is so much of that rare quality, sound sense, in her composition, that it makes amends for much deficiency in her address & manner. Sunday, Nov. 10th brings in a new person. The Honourable Miss Monckton,73 who is here with her Mother, the Dowager Ly Galloway, has sent various messages of her earnest desire to be acquainted with Mrs. Thrale & your humble servant to command, — Dr. Johnson she already knew; for she is one of those who stand foremost in collecting all extraordinary or curious people to her London Conversations, which, like those of Mrs. Vesey, mix the Rank & the Literature, & exclude all beside: well, — after divers intimations of this sort, it was at last settled that Lady De Ferrars should bring her here this Evening. |

283

[Brighton and St Martin’s Street, November 1782] To Susanna Burney Phillips AJL (Diary MSS II, paginated 1659–[66], Berg), Nov. 1782 2 double sheets 4to, 8 pp. This AJL covers the period 10–20 Nov. FB’s letter to CB, 14 Nov. 1782, is inserted below in its proper chronological position.

Louisa Margaret Harris (1753–1826). See EJL ii. 130. The Hon. Mary Monckton (1748–1840), daughter of John Monckton (1695– 1751), cr. (1727) Visc. Galway, and his second wife Jane, née Westenra (d. 1788) (GM lviii1 (1788), 467). She m. (1786) as his second wife Edmund Boyle (1742– 98), 7th E. of Cork. HLT quotes Gen. Paoli’s description of Miss Monckton: ‘so gentle so chearful so graceful’ (HLT to FB, 10 May 1783 (Berg)). 72 73

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To proceed with Sunday [10 Nov.]. I was, for my own private part, mighty well pleased that an Honourable Miss Monckton should be so courteous as to covet knowing me, because my Book has not made Mr. Monckton very Honourable, though he is said to be the son of a Noble family. I would not have taken her name if I had then known her, but some Names I must have, &, though I resolutely exclude All with whom I have even the smallest acquaintance, if I also exclude all with whom I may have acquaintence, what is left? In the Evening they came, Lady De Ferrars, Miss Monckton, & Miss Ellerker. Miss Monckton is between 30 & 40, very short, very fat, but handsome, splendidly & fantastically Dressed, rouged not unbecomingly, yet evidently, & palpably desirous of gaining notice & admiration. She has an easy levity in her air, manner, voice, & discourse, that speak all within to be comfortable, & her rage of seeing any thing curious, may be satisfied, if she pleases, by looking in a mirror. I can give you no account of the Conversation, as it was broken & not entertaining. Miss Monckton went early, having another engagement, but the other Ladies stayed very late. She told us, however, one story extremely well worth recording, & so like some air of Mr. Meadows, that I saw, by their looks, all the Company thought of him when it was told. The Duke of Devonshire74 was standing near a very fine Glass lustre in a corner of a Room, at an assembly, & in a House of people who, Miss Monckton said, were by no means in a style of life to hold | expence as immaterial; — but, by carelessly lolling back, he threw the Lustre down, & it was broke: he shewed not, however, the smallest concern or confusion at the accident, but coolly said ‘I wonder how I did that!’ — He then removed to the opposite corner, &, to shew, I suppose, he had forgotten what he had done, bent his Head in the same manner, & down came the opposite lustre! — He looked at it very calmly, &, with a philosophical dryness, merely said ‘This is singular enough! —’ & walked to another part of the Room, without either distress or apology! 74 William Cavendish (1748–1811), 5th D. of Devonshire. FB described him in 1776 as ‘ugly, tidy, & grave. He looks like a very mean shop keeper’s Journey man’ (EJL ii. 204).

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After Miss Monckton was gone, Lady De Ferrars drew a Chair next mine, & began talking of Cecilia: ‘We have plagued my Lord, said she, to Death about it, because he always says that old Delvile was in the right not to give up a good family name; — but I was never so glad as when I found the old Gentleman’s own name was my Lord De Ferrars, for he, you know, is a Compton,75 — so I told him I was sure it was himself, & he owned that if he had been a Delvile, he should have done the same with a Beverley.’ Is not this triumph for me, my dearest Susy? — pray let my Daddy Crisp hear it, & knock under: Mr. Bewley, too, shall be told it, who has made the same objection with my Daddy, to the improbability of relinquishing a fortune for a Name. Neither my Daddy, my Father, nor Mr. Bewley are here judges to oppose to Lord De Ferrars, who, being a man of Rank, & having a cherished name himself, is more fit to decide upon this question than | wit, understanding, judgment, & general knowledge, can make any others, who have not the power to so well feel the temptation of family pride in exciting such obstacles to reason & happiness. I never meant to vindicate old Delvile, whom I detested & made detestable, but I always asserted that, his Character & situation considered, he did nothing that such a man would hesitate in doing. Mrs. Thrale has, since, met Lord De Ferrars, & talked over all the Book to him, & he told her that he thought its great merit was the reasonableness of the Delvilian Distress with respect to changing their Name! I felt, however, a little ashamed, when Lady De Ferrars told me her Lord’s Name, which he has, with his Title, in right of his mother,76 but as I had tied it to a family celebrated for its antiquity, I saw they were none of them displeased. Lord De Ferrars told Mrs. Thrale himself that he is descended from Elfrida,77 & has the Castle of Tamworth, originally built by 75 His mother was Lady Charlotte Compton (d. 1770), daughter of James Compton, 5th E. of Northampton. She was suo jure both Baroness Ferrers and Baroness Compton, titles inherited from her by Lord Ferrers (see below). 76 Ferrers did not adopt the family surname of Compton, but rather inherited the title. 77 Aelfthryth (d. c.1000), daughter of Ordgar, ealdorman of Devon and Cornwall, m. (964) as her 2nd husband King Edgar (943/4–975). She was the mother of King Aethelred ‘the Unready’ (c.967–1016) (ODNB).

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her, now in his possession.78 So here is Delvilian ancestry with great exactness. I always told my dear Daddy that his reasoning against the Delvile prejudice, however unanswerable for truth, by no means disproved the existence of such prejudice, as all these very high born & long genealogists agree; — Mrs. Thrale herself says that her own mother79 would have acted precisely as Mrs. Delvile acted. And Mrs. Thrale’s Father80 was descended from Adam of Saltzburg. ‘I assure you, however, continued her Ladyship, my Lord was so fond of the Book he could never part with it, & so much interested in the story he could think of nothing else, — he cried, violently too, I assure you, — so I hope | that will give you a good idea of his Heart.’ Mrs. Thrale & Miss Ellerker then joined in the conversation, & much discussion followed about family names, & family honour; Lady De Ferrars said ‘This is very rude, I confess, to talk so of the Book before Miss Burney, — but when once one has begun, there is no dropping the subject.’ I was glad, however, when it was dropt, as I think it as little my business to vindicate as to censure my Characters; & therefore, from caring to do neither, I am always at a loss & uncomfortable when they are mentioned. Mr. Metcalfe left Brighton this Day. Monday [11 Nov.], was very quiet, spent with only Mr. Selwyn. Tuesday [12 Nov.]. We went in a party to Breakfast with Dr. Delap at Lewes, by his earnest desire. Mr. Selwyn accompanied us. The Doctor again urged his request that I would write a criticism upon his new play; but I assured him, very 78 The fortified castle at Tamworth was actually built by Aethelflaed (d. 918), ruler of the Mercians (ODNB). The Ferrers family acquired Tamworth Castle in 1423, and it remained in their hands until 1814. In Jan. 1779 Horace Walpole wrote to William Cole that Lord Ferrers, who ‘has a violent passion for ancestry’, was about to begin extensive repairs to the Castle. See YW ii. 135, 146; H. Wood, Borough by Prescription: A History of the Municipality of Tamworth (Birmingham: Tamworth, 1958), pp. 27–43. 79 Hester Maria Salusbury. 80 John Salusbury (1707–62). See Thraliana i. 274–6, where HLT gives a detailed (and highly suspect) genealogy of her family, starting with ‘Adam of Saltsburg son of Abraham, Duke and Prince of Bavaria’, who she claims ‘followed William the Norman to the Conquest of England’, and ‘obtained a Grant from the Conqueror, of lands in Lancashire; where he built him a House & called it Saltsbury Court’. See also Thraliana ii. 678 and Clifford, p. 4.

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truly, I was too ignorant of stage Business & stage effects to undertake offering any help or advice to him: yet I pointed out several lines that I thought wanted alteration, & proposed a change in 2 or 3 scenes, for he would not let me rest without either praising what I did not like, or giving explicit reasons why I did not praise. Mrs. Thrale has promised him an Epilogue.81 I had hoped to have made up my Brighton Journal for this packet, but I find that hope was ill-founded, — You have here, however, so much, you can scarce wish for more: & next week you shall have my Exit from that place, & my Entrance into this,82 — Read all you like to your set; they have a right to hear of my honours, since they contributed so much to procuring me them, by the aid they afforded me in opportunities of writing Cecilia. | Tuesday. I am now so much in arrears, that I must be more brief in my accounts. We spent this Evening at Lady De Ferrars, where Dr. Johnson accompanied us, for the first Time he has been invited of our parties since my arrival! The Company was select, but dull, — Miss Monckton, Sir Henry Dashwood, Mr. Manners,83 son of Lord Robert, Mr. Musgrave,84 a buckish kind of young man of Fashion, the 2 Miss Ellerkers, & ourselves. Miss Monckton only confirmed my first notions of her, & the rest gave me no notions worth mentioning. One anecdote, however, struck me enough in all-conscience to make me remember it. Late in the Evening the morning Herald85 was brought by, just arrived from Town. Lord De Ferrars just took it into his Hand, & then, with a significant smile, whispered something to Mrs. Thrale, & put it in her Hand. She took it, & Lady De Ferrars insisted upon her reading aloud. 81 Both the prologue and epilogue of the play would be supplied by Thomas Vaughan (LS 5 ii. 869). 82 FB appears to have taken the packet with her from Brighton to St Martin’s Street. For the departure from Brighton, see below, p. 176. The remainder of this paragraph is squeezed into the bottom of the page and may have been added later by FBA. 83 Robert Manners (1758–1823), of Bloxholm, Lincs., first son of Lord Robert Manners (c.1718–82). Like his father he was a career army officer and would attain the rank of general; also like his father he would become a longtime member of parliament, 1784–1820 (HP). 84 Not identified. 85 The edition of 12 Nov. 1782.

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I was then engaged in some little tattle with Harriet Ellerker, — & did not, at first, listen; but what was my surprise to hear presently, Cecilia’s a charming young woman!86 — &, in a few instants, followed the speech, in verse, supposed to be made by Miss Larolles; — I was quite petrified with astonishment. The grinning little Harriet grinned more joyously than ever, — Sir Henry Dashwood, who was at Cards, turned quite round from the Table, stopt the Game, & never took his Eyes off me till the reading was over; Mr. Manners, who is himself strongly of the Meadows Class, now looked at Mrs. Thrale to help attention, & then at me to see how I took the verses, his Eyes constantly upon her at the beginning, & upon me at the end of every line; Lord De Ferrars held a Candle for Mrs. Thrale, but avoided, from real good breeding, giving me more than one glance, though he could not forbear a very meaning smile the whole Time. Dr. Johnson was too deaf to | hear what was going forward, & Miss Monckton, Miss Ellerker, & Mr. Musgrave were at cards. The imitations were carried on to old Delvile, Morrice, Lady Honoria & Mr. Meadows:87 86 A line from an ‘Epilogue’ by Miles Peter Andrews (d. 1814), dramatist, printed in the Morning Herald, 12 Nov. 1782, and in the Public Advertiser, 13 Nov. 1782. The 26 lines of the epilogue that allude to Cecilia are footnoted in the Morning Herald: ‘Alluding to the Novel of Cecilia from whence the characters are taken’. The epilogue had been spoken by Albinia Hobart, née Bertie (c.1739–1816), wife of the Hon. George Hobart (1731–1804), later 3rd E. of Buckinghamshire, 1793, at a private performance of Arthur Murphy’s All in the Wrong (1761) at the Hobarts’ ‘house at Ham-Common’. The allusions begin with: At the Opera assembled, some smart Maccaroni, Begins with some Belle, the gay conversazioni; ’Fore Gad, that Cecilia’s a charming young woman! Were you, Miss Larolles, at the play at Ham-Common? Oh, yes to be sure! you can’t think how delightful, The men were so bad, and the women so frightful, Such a croud, so much heat, and so little to drink, The time pass’d so pleasantly on, you can’t think —’. See CB to FB, 13 Nov. 1782 (LCB i. 354 and nn.). 87 The lines continue (transcription courtesy of Alvaro Ribeiro): — Can there be any pleasure Ma’am? Meadows retorts, For my part, I hate all amusements and sports; — — Dear, dear, now how odd, when I vow and declare, You sat picking your teeth all the time we were there; — There — where — pick my teeth — about what — about when Is it me you allude to? — indulge me agen — As I hope to be married, how dreadful a bore y’are! Give me the two Colonels cries Lady Honoria, —

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I could not for my life imagine what they all meant, nor whence they came: I have since found they were in a Epilogue written by Miles Andrews, for Mrs. Hobart to speak at a private play. I sate as quiet as I could, after the first surprise, which really made me quite start. My own inclination would have led me to walk off & look at some prints, but I checked it, supposing they would think it affected, & listened, as much as I could, as if I listened upon the same unconcerned terms with themselves. They were shewn afterwards to Dr. Johnson, & when we got Home, ‘Ah, said he, this is the she! — she fills the Whole World! — a little Rogue! — A World she is in herself, with her Harrels & Hobsons! —’ Wednesday [13 Nov.]. Mrs. Thrale & I walked out all morning, & were joined by Lady De Ferrars & the Ellerkers. ‘Had you never seen those verses before, Miss Burney?’ said Lady De Ferrars. ‘No, ma’am, — I have not seen them yet.’ ‘Then you are very incurious, for they are at Thomas’s.’ ‘No, I am not incurious, but ignorant, for I had never heard of them.’ She then proposed our going to Thomas’s for them, but I begged to be excused asking for or reading them in so public place, & requested Miss Harriet to cut them out for me. Lady De Ferrars declared she would not part with them; — however, in the Evening, she sent me the Newspaper herself, sealed up, with her Coronet & Compliments. Thursday [14 Nov.]. Was very quiet, we had only Mr. Selwyn, who gave us this French freak to make out, saying it suited me very particularly, to whom many might apply it, — so make it out if | you can. Il Vous il mor88

The one is so tall, and the other — I wager Says Miss, you could play a part too with the Major. — Improper, indecent! Old Delville replies, — That folks of distinction such follies should prize, Old families too — is your blood all forgot, And the line of your ancestry suffer’d to rot? Had I time on my hands, I cou’d easily shew, That my father, nor grandfather never did so. — Lord love you, cries Morrice, why, who cares a jot, If your grandfather ever existed or not? 88 Unexplained.

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Brighton, 14 November [1782]

To Charles Burney ALS (Beinecke), 14 Nov 1782 Double sheet 4to, 4 pp. pmk 16 NO red wafer Addressed: Dr. Burney, / Chesington, / Kingston, / Surry. Annotated (by FBA): Ly De Ferrars. Cecilia — Andrews, prologue. Compton — Moncton. Pepys

Brighthelmstone Novr 14th

I have this moment been in search of a little fresh blacking, Dearest Sir, that my thanks for your kind Letter may not sink without making any impression.89 The Prologue90 is very flattering indeed, & comically done, — though Morrice is quite a mistake, for his is a flippancy that never leads him to a contemptuous repartee, except, like a Gentle man, behind his adversary’s back. The Meadows, & old Delvile, are vastly well,91 & the consequence you so kindly draw from the whole is really very striking.92 I am very sorry for poor Sir Joshua,93 — Lord Ashburton94 has written to Dr. Johnson that the illness was a stroke of the 89 See CB to FB, 13 Nov. 1782: ‘I had a Lettr from the dear Sue by the same post as your pale faced Scrib — worse than Master Briggs’s Ink — do, put a little Lamp-black in it — or it will never hide the clean, light-coloured dirt of Brighton’ (LCB i. 354). 90 A slip for the epilogue to the private performance of a play acted at Albinia Hobart’s, a transcription of which CB included in his letter of 13 Nov. (see above, p. 169 n. 86). 91 See above, p. 169–70 n. 87. 92 CB suggests that the epilogue is ‘an honble Testimony of Cecilia’s Notoriety & publicity among les Gens comme il faut, ... For it must be supposed that all the Characters mentioned, in this Epilogue were well known to the Company, ... or else there wd have been no fun in the Allusions’ (LCB i. 354–5). 93 ‘Poor Sr Jos. Has been very ill — but is better now ... he was ordered to Bath — but me on Monday Morng that he found himself so much bette he thought he shd Rebel’ (LCB i. 355). 94 John Dunning (1731–83), cr. (1782) B. Ashburton; M.P. He had been elected a member of the Club in 1777 (Life iii. 128).

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Palsey:95 — I hope it was nothing so serious. It will bring Miss Palmer,96 I suppose, in all haste from Devonshire. I had seen the prologue, but it was merely by accident, as we have no news papers, & I never, hardly, go to the Booksellers: but we were all at Lady De Ferrars on Tuesday, when the Morning Herald came in from Town; — Lord De Ferrars cast his Eyes over it, & whispered Mrs. Thrale that there were verses about Cecilia; — Lady De F. insisted upon her reading them, which she did a demi voix, — but loud enough for me, though not for Dr. Johnson, & you may believe I was not a little | astonished, — I was at a distance from her, & chatting with Harriet Ellerker, when I suddenly heard Cecilia’s a charming young woman, — I thought, at first, she was making some sport herself, but she soon undeceived me, by going on. It was an awkward thing enough at the time, though very pleasant afterwards; but the Company were all strangers to me, — Miss Monckton, Mr. Musgrave, Mr. Manners, & Sir Henry Dashwood, — & they all looked most stoutly determined not to be strangers to me when we met again! They were so furiously curious to watch how I took them, that I knew not which way to turn myself for the rest of the Evening. Lady De Ferrars has since sent them to me. Miss Monckton, who has been here some Time with her mother, Lady Galloway, has sent messages to Mrs. Thrale & to me, by divers persons, of her great eagerness to make acquaintance here; she already knew Dr. Johnson: &, after many such passing Compliments, it was settled that Lady De Ferrars should bring her to this House last Sunday [10 Nov.]. I was not much charmed with her: she seems to affect a sort

95 SJ wrote to Reynolds, 14 Nov. 1782: ‘I heard yesterday of your late disorder, and should think ill of myself if I had heard of it without alarm. I heard likewise of your recovery which I sincerely wish to be complete and permanent’ (LSJ iv. 87). CB had written to SBP, 11 Nov. 1782: ‘I am heartily grieved to tell you that poor Sr Jos. has had a paralitic stroke, wch drew his mouth very much out of its place, & distorted his whole Countenance!’ (LCB i. 353). Reynolds soon made a complete recovery. 96 Mary Palmer had left on a trip to Devonshire on 14 Aug. CB wrote to SBP, 11 Nov.: ‘It was then resolved that ... [Reynolds] was to go out of Town to Morrow at farthest — He was to stop a Week at Burke’s to give Miss Palmer time to meet him at Bath’ (LCB i. 353 and n. 10).

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of easy levity, that seldom is delightful when natural. We met her again at her Ladyps on Tuesday [12 Nov.], & yesterday she left the place. Nobody, indeed, now remains | of our acquaintance, but the De Ferrars, Ellerkers, & Mr. Selwyn. We see these few very often. I was glad enough that an Honourable Miss Monckton should be so desirous to know me, for I have made no Honourable Compliment to her name in my Book; — & there, also, Mr. Monckton is the son of a noble family! ’Twas odd enough that I had 2 of my names in the Room with me for the first Time, — for Lady De Ferrars, who paid me a thousand civilities about Cecilia, said ‘We have plagued my Lord about it to Death, & told him we were sure all that pride & prejudice97 belonged to him, for his name, you know, is Compton! I really felt a little ashamed, but as I had never, at that Time, seen him, he must be sure I could not think of him: though I am now informed he is the first man for a complete knowledge of Heraldry in the Kingdom! — Lady De Ferrars herself added ‘He owned, that if he had been a Delvile, he believes he should have acted the same! — however, though we quarrel about that, — because I can never bear a word that is not in honour of Cecilia herself, & against all that plague & torment her, — I assure you he cried so bitterly over the last volume that he made me afraid of reading it: — so I hope that will give you a good idea of his Heart.’ — She complained that she never could catch your Eye at the Opera House, though she very frequently sate within one of you. I told her that you | were no Eye Acquaintance with any body, but begged her to try the quickness of your Ear by her voice, & she says she certainly will. She seems to live very happily & quietly with her Lord & her Children:98 the eldest, a little Mr. Townshend not yet quite 4 Years old,99

97 See Cecilia, bk. 10, ch. 10, p. 930: ‘Yet this, however, remember; if to PRIDE and PREJUDICE you owe your miseries, so wonderfully is good and evil balanced, that to PRIDE and PREJUDICE you will also owe their termination.’ 98 George Ferrars Townshend (1778–1855), later 3rd M. Townshend, 1811; Thomas Compton (1780–7); Charlotte Barbara (1781–1807); and Harriet Anne (1782–1845). 99 His birthday was 13 Dec.

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she very comically calls Mr. Hobson, for she declared he was always calling out I say, & I said,1 — I long to hear some thing of Morigi.2 I am very glad the 2d Edition is advertised.3 But surely it must have been Richard, not Will. Burke you met at Sir Joshua’s, for Will. I thought was in the East Indies,4 whither Jem had dispatches for him from his Brother. I Bathe, in spite of cold Weather, to harden me for the Winter. Dr. Johnson was invited to Lord De Ferrars, which is the only visit he has made with us since my arrival! — Yet not one refused. How your raw Head & bloody bones5 made me laugh! — He is still, however, as kind & as soft as ever to your F.B. We shall be in Town next Wednesday, Novr 20th.6

See Cecilia bk. 5, ch. 12, pp. 403–4; bk. 9, ch. 2, pp. 725–7. FB may be responding to a reference by CAB, who completed CB’s letter to her; the extant part contains news of Pacchierotti, who had visited St Martin’s Street, but 12 lines are obliterated, probably containing more operatic gossip. ‘Morigi’ is probably Margherita Morigi (fl. 1782–8), who through the influence of her father, the strikingly successful buffo Andrea Morigi, made her English debut on 14 Nov. in the role of Selene in Medonte (see below, p. 177), in which Pacchierotti sang the role of Arsace. The opening night had been postponed from 12 to 14 Nov. ‘on account of Sga Morigi’s not being quite recovered from a very severe indisposition’ (LS 5 i. 569). CB thought little of her performance, writing that she ‘astonished the audience, not by the powers she had, but by those she wanted; for it was hardly possible to account for such a singer having been recommended, or thought of, for the first woman of a serious opera, or indeed of any opera. She was not only much limited in her taste, style, and knowledge, but in total want of voice’ (Hist. Mus. ii. 890). 3 ‘And so here’s a 2d Edit. advertised to Day to be published with all possible expedition — by wch I conjecture that it is now out of Print’ (LCB i. 355). CB is referring to the following in the Morning Chronicle, 13 Nov.: ‘In the Press, and with all possible Expedition will be published, in five vols. 12 mo. price 12s. 6d. sewed, The Second Edition of Cecilia’. CB’s conjecture was correct. See JL iii. 206. 4 ‘I dined with him [Reynolds], his Physician, Sr Geo. Baker, young Burke, & Will. Burke, only, on Saty’ (LCB i. 355). In CB’s letter to SBP, 11 Nov. 1782, he says ‘Sir Geo. Baker, Will. Burke, & his relation E[d]mund’s son’ (LCB i. 353). William Burke (1728–98) was, indeed, in India at this time (ODNB). CB may have mistaken Richard Burke (1733–94), Edmund Burke’s younger brother, for William, as FB suggests, or he may have met ‘Will Burke’, an otherwise unidentified Irish cousin of Edmund Burke, whom Burke mentions in a letter of 1759 (see LCB i. 353 and nn. 7–8). 5 ‘I am glad to hear Dr Johnson is so well; but grieved that he is such a raw-head & bloody bones, to his acquaintance’ (LCB i. 355–6). ‘Raw-head’, usually coupled with ‘bloody-bones’, denotes a nursery bugbear or bogy-man (OED, s.v. ‘Raw-head’). 6 ‘But — you Fan — you say not a Word of your return? When? hah! — tell us in your next, if it begins to be in Contemplation’ (LCB i. 35). 1 2

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[FB’s Journal for 1782 resumes.]

Friday [15 Nov.]: we spent at Lady Shelley’s, where Sir John swaggered & vapoured far more outrageously than ever old Delvile does. Saturday [16 Nov.]. We had Lady De Ferrars & the Ellerkers. Sunday [17 Nov.]. Was very quiet, — Mrs. & Miss Thrale went to the Shelleys, but I excused myself, having visited till I was tired, & spent a very instructive & agreeable Evening with only Dr. Johnson, who is not more fierce or severe with others, than he is kind, & even almost reverential to me, so highly does he place me in his esteem as well as affection. Monday [18 Nov.] & Tuesday [19 Nov.] I have no Time to name, — except to tell you a very comical tale which Mrs. Thrale ran to acquaint me with. She had been calling upon Mr. Scrase,7 an old & dear friend, who is confined with the Gout; & while she was enquiring about him of his Nurse & Housekeeper,8 the Woman said ‘Ah, madam, how happy are you to have Minerva in the House with you! —’ ‘O, cried Mrs. Thrale, you mean my dear Miss Burney, that wrote Cecilia? So You have read it, — & what Part did you like?’ ‘O, madam, I liked it all, better than any thing I ever saw in my life; but most of all I liked that good old Gentleman, Mr. Albany, that goes about telling people their duty, without so much as thinking of their fine Cloaths!’ When Mrs. Thrale told us this at Dinner, Dr. Johnson said ‘I am all of the old House keeper’s mind, Mr. Albany I have always stood up for; — he is one of my first favourites. Very fine, indeed, are the things he says.’ My dear Dr. Johnson! — what condescension is this! He fully, also, enters into all my meaning in the high flown language of Albany, from his partial insanity, & unappeaseable remorse. | So here concludes Brighthelmstone for 1782. — on Wednesday, Novr 20th Mrs. & the 3 Miss Thrale’s & myself all arose at 6 o’clock in the morning, &, by ‘the pale blink of the

7 8

Charles Scrase (1709–92), solicitor; HLT’s ‘Daddy Crisp’. See EJL iv. 206. Not further identified.

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moon,’9 we went to the sea side, where we had bespoke the Bathing Women to be ready for us, & into the Ocean we plunged! It was cold, but pleasant. I have Bathed so often as to lose my dread of the operation, which now gives me nothing but animation & vigour. We then returned Home, & Dressed by Candle light, for it was still dark; & as soon as we could get Dr. Johnson ready, we set out upon our Journey, in a coach & a Chaise, & arrived in Argyll Street at Dinner Time. Mrs. Thrale has there fixed her tent for this short Winter, — which will end with the beginning of April, when her foreign Journey takes place. I can by no means recollect what has Daily passed since I came, but must clump matters as I can. I have never stirred out but to Mrs. Thrale 2 morning Calls, in one of which I met Mr. Crutchley, who, in his dry way, said to me, ‘So ma’am, why Evelina is quite forgot now! I hear of nothing but Cecilia, — it’s all Cecilia, go where I will, — why you absorb all conversation upon Yourself, & nothing is said but your praises.’ ‘A worthy subject!’ quoth I. ‘Nay, that, I am sure, I always think, if that may add any thing to the general cry. But the last thing I heard of you was that none of the Dukes nor Duchesses could live without you: so I said I was glad, for their sakes, you were coming to Town, for you was now at Brighton.’ This, or something of this sort, I am now hearing Daily. |

9 Perhaps echoing the final line in the traditional Scottish ballad ‘The Grey Cock, or, O saw ye my father’: ‘And it was but a blink of the moon’ (collected in David Herd, Ancient and Modern Scots Songs (Edinburgh, 1769), p. 324, and frequently republished; thanks for comments and suggestions to Thomas Keymer, Carol Barton, Robin Hamilton, Howard Gaskill, and Robert Folkenflik).

285

[St Martin’s Street, November – December 1782] To Susanna Burney Phillips AJLS (Diary MSS II, paginated 1667–[8], Berg), Nov.–Dec. 1782 Double sheet and single sheet 4to, 6 pp. pmk 3 DE red seal Addressed: Mrs. Phillips, / at Mrs. Hamilton’s, / Chesington, / Kingston, / Surry. Endorsed (by SBP): Decr 4th 1782

The day after my arrival [Thursday, 21 Nov.] Pacchierotti came & spent part of the afternoon here. Mr. Sastres also was with us. The Pac. was very sweet & amiable, in exceeding good humour, & tolerably in spirits. But what was my delight to receive, by Charlotte, a message from Mrs. Fitzgerald to invite me to a place in her Box & a Ticket, for Thursday — She called for us, & we both went. Her Box is a new one, only up 2 pair of stairs, the 4th from the stage, & holds 6. — It is, indeed, the most delightful Box in the House, from not being so much in sight as to render very much Dress necessary, yet enough to have, every convenience of seeing both performers & company. The opera was the new serious one, Medonte.10 I am not enchanted with it, — there is a general want of something striking or interesting. My Father says he has written you11 an account both of the music & singers, & therefore I shall only gratify myself by telling you that Pacchierotti sung most sweetly, — without force, effort, or pain to himself, but with an even excellence he is seldom well enough to keep through out a whole Opera. He is but too perfect, for how we shall bear his successors I cannot guess.12 He found me out, & 10 See above, p. 174 n. 2. Medonte, a pasticcio, libretto by Giovanni de Gamerra (1743–1803) directed by Bertoni, opened 14 Nov. 1782 for the first of 10 performances that season (LS 5 i. 569–622; GMO). 11 Missing. 12 Of Pacchierotti’s singing in the role of Arsace, one critic wrote: ‘The airs which Pacchierotti has chosen for himself have served to disclose in that excellent performer such powers as we had not yet discovered, uniting into one the delicate

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gave me several smiles during the performance; indeed he could never look either to the right or left without a necessity of making some sort of acknowledgement in return to the perpetual Bows made him from almost every Box in the House. The Theatre is now | very beautiful, the Boxes are all very convenient, & the Pit looks double its former size. Sunday Novr 24. Mrs. Thrale was with me all the morning, up stairs in my cold Bed Chamber. And all the Evening I spent with my mother, in reading ‘Adele & Theodore’,13 — a Book you must purchase, for there are so many good directions about Education, that though the general plan is impracticable, except to very rich & very independent people, there are a thousand useful hints for folks in real life. Its worst fault seems tediousness, much repetition & minuteness making it necessary to skip, from Time to Time, in order to keep up any attention; but the whole, as a work, has great merit indeed, both in design & execution. Some of the Episodes are pretty, but the plot of the stories commonly either trite, or unnatural, though the circumstances attending them are very interesting, & very well told. Monday [25 Nov.], was all devoted to working with Mrs. Henry,14 who assisted me in preparing for the Winter campaigne, & in receiving another visit from dear Mrs. Thrale. I had also an invitation to accompany her to Mrs. Montague’s, to Dinner, — but I had various reasons for sending an excuse. I have never yet told you what Mrs. Montagu says of Cecilia? — I am informed she has written 8 folio leaves upon it, but what I have heard is to this effect. — That she is passionately fond of it, says the Harrels are so much from the life, that she can never stop | at a fine lady’s Door without being upon the point of saying Is Mrs. Harrel at

Soprano to the more majestic and manly strains of the most accomplished Contralto’ (Public Advertiser, 23 Nov. 1782; cited in LS 5 i. 569). 13 Adèle et Théodore, ou, Lettres sur l’éducation ... des princes, des jeunes personnes et des hommes (Paris, 1782), by Stéphanie-Félicité Ducrest de St-Aubin (1746–1830), who m. (1763) Charles-Alexis Brûlart (1737–93), comte de Genlis, later marquis de Sillery. An English translation, Adelaide and Theodore, was published in 1783. 14 i.e., needleworking. Mrs Henry was presumably a sempstress. CAB no doubt also took part, and FB conveyed Mrs Henry’s respects to her in 1786, along with the news that she had recently married (FB to CBF, 27 June 1786 (Berg)).

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Home?15 & that Meadows is the most common Character in the Book, though new, & the best subject for ridicule that could possibly be taken: she adores Mrs. Delvile,16 but says the first Character for composition in the Book is Monckton, as he is traced in the beginning, & as he weaves his Web through-out to the end: but as to the 5 Volumes, she only wishes they were 10! in particular, she would have had the 4th & 5th of treble their length, & she declared she could heartily have cried when she came to the conclusion, only because it was the conclusion! So this is very flattering, & I am very much pleased indeed with such approbation. Tuesday [26 Nov.] — was a Day of eternal visitors, — I went, early, to see sweet Hetty, who was ill, & I left Charlotte to nurse her, as I was wanted at Home by Mrs. Henry; but I spent very little Time with her, for as soon as I had seated myself, came Mrs. Ord. I was, however, very glad to see her, for she has a uniform sweetness & good breeding that make it impossible to be otherwise. She came to invite me to a conversatione the next Day, but I am not inclined to begin visiting so soon, after having had so much of it, & therefore excused myself. Just as she was going away, she said ‘I have been here all this Time, & not once named Cecilia, — neither have I written to you about it, — but the reason is that my voice is lost among so many more important, — I hear, indeed, of | nothing else! & I can never express the true pleasure I feel in finding the general, the universal opinion that you are held in. You stand, indeed, upon such ground as nobody stands but yourself.’ There, my dear Susy! — won’t you grow tired of hearing Cecilia named? Just after she was gone, Patty Payne17 called. She is much better in Health, & seemed in very good spirits. 15 William Weller Pepys had written to Elizabeth Montagu, 22 July 1782: ‘I hope you have read Cecilia, and that You are as much pleas’d as I am with the deliniation of some of the Characters: ... Sure Mr. and Mrs. Harrel (your Neighbours) are admirably represented!’ (Mrs. Montagu ‘Queen of the Blues’: Her Letters and Friendships from 1762 to 1800, ed. R. Blunt (Boston, 1923), ii. 121). 16 ‘The mixture of dignity and sweetness in Mrs. Delville is finely supported’ (Pepys to Montagu, LCB i. 350). 17 Martha (‘Patty’) Payne (1757–1803), elder sister of James Burney’s wife Sarah and daughter of Thomas Payne, one of the booksellers who had published Cecilia. See EJL ii. 193 and n. 11; iv passim.

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Sweet Pacchierotti came while she stayed, & so did Mrs. Pepys, & in the Evening we had Mr. & Mrs. Bogle, both well & both very gay & chearful, & Mrs. Fitzgerald, & Merlin. Wednesday morning [27 Nov.], Dr. Rose, by appointment came here to Breakfast. He seems a very worthy, highprincipled, gay, good-humoured, facetious man. He was very earnest with me to go to Chiswick, & talked to me much of the great good I did him in his last fit of the Gout, by bringing out Cecilia just at that Time. Nothing was said of Charles or his Daughter;18 he was eager to tell stories himself, & he told them so well we were all sufficiently content to be hearers.

286

[Tavistock Street,] 29 November 1782

To Hester Lynch Thrale ALS (Berg), 29 Nov. 1782 Single sheet 4to, 2 pp.

How sweet are the Letters you write,19 Dearest Madam, but O how uncomfortable! — my sister, I thank God, is much better, &, with good care, & some Time, will be as well as ever. I shall leave her in about 2 Hours, & spend the Day as quietly as I can, & go to Bed at 10 O’Clock to recruit. To-morrow I must see you, though when or how I cannot settle without knowing your engagements. At Night, I have promised, if my sister continues recovering as fast as I expect, to go to the Opera with Mrs. Fitzgerald,20 but any other part of the Day I shall most gladly spend with you. I read your Letter to Dr. Pinfold21 with great concern indeed, — I felt as if I wished Sarah Rose, wife of CB Jr. Two letters of 27 Nov. 1782 (Berg). See below, p. 182. Charles Pinfold (1709–88), LL.D. (Cantab.), 1736; Admiralty advocate, 1751– 6; Governor of Barbados, 1756–67. See HLT to FB, 27 Nov. 1782 (Berg): ‘with my Eyes scarce wiped did I run to you yesterday to shew you the Copy of a submissive Letter I had been forced to write to an old Friend of my Father’s Uncle’s (Dr Pinfold;) in order to obtain his help to persuade Lady Salusbury to a Compromise tho’ I make 18 19 20 21

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you had made the concession in things, not words, — it wounds me to hear you tell those you write to professedly as Enemies, of your cowardly & broken Spirit: & I much fear the accusation to Ly S: of her unjust hatred & revenge, will do more to still irritate them, than all the subsequent humiliations will do to soften them. I hope, however, she will do from shame what I do not | expect from her relenting, & that my sweet Mrs. Thrale will be as free, in a short time, from all public quarrels, as she deserves to be from all private animosities. Such is most truly the earnest wish of Her F.B. I cannot imagine what the message to the Lady of the M.22 could be, but there is no fault yet in its not being delivered, as I have never seen her, nor once stirred from my sister, since Wednesday Morning [27 Nov.]. Friday, Nov. 29th 1782. [FB’s Journal for 1782 resumes.]

[Wednesday, 27 Nov.] As soon as he [Dr Rose] was gone, I went to poor Hetty, whom I found very ill indeed; & I stayed with her till Friday [29 Nov.] Noon, nursing; & then, not quite well myself, I left her again to Charlotte, & called upon Aunt Beckey, who has a dreadful cold, which threatens to fasten very dangerously upon her lungs: I am really very uneasy for her, though I have hopes her living upon milk & vegetables may recover her. When I came home, I purposed going to Bed to recruit almost as soon as Tea was over; but I heard| that the Hooles were invited in order to meet me! — Delighted by this news, I stayed with them, or rather they with us, till past 12 o’Clock. Mr. Hoole congratulated me very cordially upon the success of Cecilia; & his wife only wished I had been at Winchester, to have heard what the Wartons23 said of it.

her an offer She has not the smallest right to — & that, against the Opinion of all my Friends except the two Dear Creatures that share my Heart.’ See also Thraliana i. 552: ‘I have written to Dr Pinfold an old College Intimate of my Father’s, to interpose between Lady Salusbury & me, & to make up our Quarrel for £6000. Fanny Burney advised me to the Compromise.’ 22 The Lady of the Manor, i.e., EAB. 23 Joseph Warton (1722–1800), D.D., poet and literary critic, headmaster of Winchester, 1766–93; and his brother Thomas Warton (1728–90), poet and literary historian (ODNB). See CB to FB and the Phillipses, c.22 July 1782: ‘Warton is eager

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Saturday [30 Nov.]. Our Hetty was very much better: but she has had a very dangerous illness indeed, — an inflamation, I believe, of the Bowels; & but for the care & skill of Dr. Bromfield,24 I know not what might have been the consequence of so terrible an attack! Thank God, she is now even surprisingly recovered, though it will take no little Time for her to get back her strength. We have been terribly frightened, but I rejoice that my sweet Susy escaped our alarm. In the Evening our good friend Mrs. Fitzgerald called again for both Charlotte & me, & took us to her Box. [The] Opera again was Medonte, & Pacchierotti sang more come un Angelo than ever! — O so sweet, so penetrating, so affecting was his voice! — he was once encored, & seemed really felt by the Audience. I had again some stage smiles, &, during the last Dance, a Bow from Lady Mary Duncan’s Box, where he sate, with her ladyship & Miss Bull, to see it. They instantly whispered him when he Bowed, & both took out their opera Glasses to see what metal I was made of. Miss Bull has told my Father she should be quite afraid to know me! — I am sure I am sorry for it, for I wish much to know her. My dear Mrs. Thrale was in the Pit, & exchanged glances with me all the Night. She wants me to be with her | all & every Day, but I have a thousand ocupations to prevent me. Mr. Poore25 comes regularly into Mrs. Fitzgerald’s Box, but I fancy he cannot tell what to make of me, for he looks earnestly attentive if I speak but a Word, yet never talks to me. Sunday [1 Dec.]. I spent the morning with Hetty, & she is charmingly well, considering how severe has been her illness. I received your Letter26 last Night, my beloved Susy; — I am quite disappointed to find you no better: — but my Father charges me to praise your staying at Home this bad Weather. O be careful if you love us! — & if you don’t, you will have the sin of Witchcraft to answer for, as dear Kitty will explain to you. I am very sorry for my Daddy, but hope he will escape from the acct he heard, to begin — he goes to Winchester to Morrow, & takes it with him’ (LCB i. 344). 24 Robert Bromfield (c.1721–86), M.D. See EJL iv. 212. 25 Edward Poore (c.1743–95), barrister. See EJL iii. 186 n. 62. 26 Missing.

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the fit you think him threatened with.27 Pray tell him Lord De F. is not a silly, though a prejudiced man. O, I have more & more Ceciliaisms every Hour! — Mrs. Walsingham has sent me the finest of messages by my Father, & her full approbation of the book, & her earnestness to be acquainted with its author. Daines Barrington28 told my Father nothing else was read upon the circuit, go where he would. Dr. Kippis, author of the Biograph: Brit:29 talked of nothing else to my Father last Night at the Royal Society: in short, the like was never before heard, & my dear Father’s delight at its well doing is really superior to my own, for he thinks & talks of it for ever. Adieu, my Love, I am now up to the present minute. Kindest love to All. And pray write soon how you are to your true F.B. a Three penny for [xxxxx 1 word] why you’ll be ruined!

287

[St Martin’s Street, December 1782]

To Susanna Burney Phillips AJL (Diary MSS II, paginated 1669–[1706], Berg), Dec. 1782 10 double sheets 4to, 38 pp.

[Monday,] Decr 2d Mr. Swinerton took it in his Head to call upon me Yesterday [1 Dec.] while I was at my sisters [sic]. This evening Mrs. Thrale had a large party, & invited Charlotte to it, which I was very glad of, as she was much delighted by the notice .30 My Father took us both, for I could not 27 SC’s declining health would end with his death in April 1783. He had written to Sophia Gast on 29 July 1782: ‘As to myself, my Digestion and Sleep are wretched. At times, I feel as if I had no inside; but as I am in my 75th year, I cannot expect great matters in my favor. Therefore Patience!’ (BP, p. 84). 28 The Hon. Daines Barrington (1728–1800), judge, naturalist, and antiquary (LCB i. 147 n. 54; ODNB). 29 The Revd Andrew Kippis (1725–95), D.D., 1767; F.R.S., 1779; nonconformist divine and biographer. Kippis edited the 2nd edn. of the Biographia Britannica (1778–93), of which only 5 vols. were completed (LCB i. 465 n. 14; ODNB).  30 CAB writes in her journal for 15 Jan. 1783: ‘I have begun this winter happier than ever I did another — I have had an invitation to Mrs. Thrale’s, and my dear father and Fanny and I went. She is now in town in Argyle Street. There was a large

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go to Dinner, & we were very late. Dear Mrs. Thrale received me, as usual, as if I was the first person of her Company. There was not a Creature there with whom I was not acquainted except the Duca di Sangro,31 a Neapolitan Nobleman, very much in fashion at present, among the young ladies comme il faut, with 2 or 3 of whom he has trifled not very honourably. He is very young, & very handsome, & very insinuating in his address & manners.32 The rest of the folks were Lady Rothes, who very politely & obligingly apologised for not having waited upon me in Town; & Dr. Pepys: — Mrs. Ord, who made me promise to spend Thursday with her, to meet a Relation of her’s [sic] lately come to Town: Mrs. Byron, who asked me for the same Day, & whom I rejoiced in being able to refuse without affronting: Mr.33 & Mrs. Davenant, — Harry Cotton, Mr. Swinerton, Piozzi, who sang very well, & whose voice is this year in very good order; Mr. Evans; Mr. Seward; Mr. Sastres; Mr. Thornton,34 the new Member for the Borough, a man of Presbyterian extraction, upon which he has grafted of late much Ton & non-chalence, & who was pleased to follow me about with a sort of hard & unmeaning curiosity, very disagreeable to me, & to himself very much like nothing: Mr. & Mrs. Pepys, Mrs. Scot, & Dr. & Mrs. Parker.35 The Evening was well enough, but not more: for it was too large a party for general society, & too | much among mutual party there.... I believe I had no particular enemies there for all that knew me look’d glad to see me there’ (ED ii. 305–6). 31 Presumably Don Nicola de’ Sangro (1756–1833), 2nd Duca di Sangro; gentiluomo di camera, cavaliere dell’Ordine di S. Gennaro, gran croce degli Ordini di San Ferdinando e di Ferdinando I (Diario Siciliano (1807–1830), web). He was born and died at Naples. He m. (1794) Donna Maria Giuseppa Carafa (1773–1834) (Leo van de Pas, ‘Descendants of Don Vincenzo Magalotti,’ web) and had a daughter, Beatrice de’ Sangro (1800–59) (Geneanet, s.v. ‘Carafa’, web). He had been introduced to the Queen at St James’s the previous Feb., ‘lately arrived from Naples’ (Morning Chronicle, 22 Feb. 1782). The Duca was apparently also a guest of HLT the previous Sept. (HLT to FB, 10 Sept. 1782 (Berg)). He subscribed to Ruccellai’s Rosmunda (BD). 32 CAB calls him ‘an elegant, pretty, young man’ (ED ii. 306). 33 Corbet d’Avenant (1753–1823). See EJL iii. 222 n. 38. 34 Henry Thornton (1760–1815), of Clapham, Surrey, merchant. Elected M.P. for Southwark on 24 Sept. 1782, he held his constituency until his death in 1815 (HP). 35 The Revd Dr William Parker (1714–1802) and his wife Mary, née Whitwell (1729–99). See EJL iii. 301 n. 84.

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acquaintances for separating into Groupes. I knew every body, & therefore was in constant employment: but poor Charlotte looked a little forlorn, though Miss Thrale & Mr. Seward both gave her a great deal of attention.36 Mr. Pepys seemed quite in misery for ‘a snug Chat,’ & kept watching an opportunity for attacking me comfortably, with a most evident anxiety: & when, at last, he found one, he drew a Chair close to me, & said ‘Now, Miss Burney, let me ask you how you do. —’ But he could go no further, before Mrs. Parker came to entreat I would walk with her into the next Room, for she was dying to speak to me. I instantly accompanied her, & she began a warm eloge of Cecilia, which was all she wanted me to hear, — adding ‘But I can take no denial to your calling some morning upon me, to see my Dressing Room, which looks into a Court in Picadilly, & I never go to the Window without looking for the Green Grocer’s shop, where the Pew Woman lived, & I always fancy I see the good old Albany groping into the two pair of stairs Room!’ Mr. Pepys, unable to restrain himself any longer, now followed us, & to turn the discourse, I asked Mrs. Parker how Miss Alicia Markham37 did; a young lady she often has the care of. ‘O, very well, cried she, & I assure you she often talks of you.’ ‘That, said Mr. Pepys, is, I suppose, to be in the fashion.’ The Davenants now came, & Mr. Thornton, & poor Mr. Pepys, in utter despair, left us, & flung himself upon a sofa. I was very sorry too, for his Conversation was far preferable to what took it’s [sic] place. — Praise so open & inartificial that it | was merely surfeiting. Tuesday [3 Dec.]. Pacchierotti called in the morning, & was very sweet & amiable. In the Eveg I received, also, a most 36 CAB writes in her journal: ‘Mr. Seward came up to me immediately as he commonly does when I meet him to do the honours in his odd way; — lugging a chair into the middle of the room for me, and upon my saying I could not sit there by myself, “oh,” cried he, “I’ll stand by you, and amuse you.” Miss Thrale was, to my no small astonishment, civil to me, and sat by me the whole evening. She has taken it into her head to be civil to people this winter, I hear. I had not a very entertaining evening, but I would not but have been there, for the flash of the thing’ (ED ii. 306). 37 Alicia Henrietta Markham (1771–1840), 3rd daughter of William Markham (1719–1807), Archbishop of York, and Sarah Goddard (ODNB). She later m. (1794) the Revd Henry Foster Mills (IGI; GM cx1 (1840), 445).

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perfumed Note, on french paper, bordered, glazed, enclosed in a finely decorated cover, & sealed with a miniken38 figure, from Miss Monckton, to invite me for Sunday the 8th, to meet Mrs. Thrale. I accepted the invitation with pleasure; though I like not the inviter, but her parties are the most brilliant in Town, & she is acquainted with many people I wish to meet. In small parties, or intimate acquaintances, it is necessary to like the mistress of the House; but in large Assemblies, it is but like going to a better regulated public place. Wednesday [4 Dec.]. I called in the morning upon Miss Palmer, with whom I sate some Time. Her uncle has been very dangerously ill,39 but is now quite recovered. I then went & spent all the Day with sweet Mrs. Thrale, who shut out all company, & gave me herself to myself, & it was much the happiest Time I have spent, away from my Father, since I left Brighton. Dr. Johnson was at Home, & in most excellent good humour & spirits. When I returned Home, I found Baretti, who seemed very glad to meet me again, & Barry, & young Hoole:40 & a card with Lady Rothes’ name, which she left for me herself. I shall not return her visit, which does me much honour, as I shall Miss Monckton’s, for I have had a visiting Ticket also from her, — for she is so amiable, I had rather find her without a party than with one. Thursday [5 Dec.] — I spent at Mrs. Ord’s, where I met the Miss Ord41 she invited me to meet, & did not like her. She is stiff & unpleasing. The Denoyers42 were there, & Mr. Selwyn, & some others: & Mrs. Thrale peeped in for a few minutes. I wish Mrs. Ord would let me go to her alone, for I love her well enough to wish it, & of these Dressed parties I am really quite sick. | When I came Home, I found the good & always pleasant Bogles. i.e., tiny, dainty or elegant (OED, s.v. ‘minikin’, adj.) See above, p. 172 n. 95. The Revd Samuel Hoole (1757/8–1839), son of John and Susannah Hoole; rector of Poplar, Middlesex, 1803–39. He later m. (1791) Elizabeth Young (1768– 94), daughter of Arthur Young (JL i. 242 n. 31; IGI; ODNB). 41 She was ‘a Cousin’ of Anna Ord (see below, p. 464 n. 9). 42 Philip Denoyer (d. 1788), m. (1757) Sophia Sallier (c.1733–1810). See EJL iii. 453 n. 27. 38 39 40

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Friday [6 Dec.]. I was very busy in preparing new finery for Miss Moncktons, & much interrupted by visitors. Andrew Strange43 called; he is more tonnish in his manners than ever: he stayed a long while, & then I heard a Gentleman enquiring in the passage for my Father; he was answered that he was out, & Mrs. Burney up stairs, & myself in the Parlour: he then came in: but no name was given, & I did not recollect anything more than that I had some where seen his Face. He was extremely well bred & agreeable, & kept up a very good chat, for a full half Hour, all by himself, for I was too much puzzled in trying to find out who he could be to talk with any tolerable ease. When, at last, my mother’s step was heard on the stairs, he laughed, & said ‘Good God, here’s Mrs. Burney summoned to me, & I have nothing in the World to say! — I was never so ashamed as of having her called! —’ When she came in, however, I was relieved from my suspence, by finding my companion was Mr. Batt.44 Mrs. Thrale came soon after, & he seemed much gratified by seeing her. Molly Richmond45 was here the whole Time, looking very miserably poor & mean, but well content with herself, & as happy, I really believe, to be seen as to see. I spent the Afternoon again at Mrs. Thrale’s, where I met Sir Richard Jebb, in good Health & spirits, Dr. Johnson, Mr. Selwyn & Mr. Swinerton. Saturday [7 Dec.]. I received my dearest Susy’s Letter,46 — & much indeed am I shocked & disappointed at such an account of her Health, — my sweetest & best loved Girl what a Frame is yours! — the inside is not more excellent than the outside is brittle. I had hoped before this Time you would have been quite restored, but I am almost of the despair party to find you still so feeble & unwell. I am never charged double for large Paper, so pray always write upon it. |

43 44 45 46

Thomas Andrew Lumisden Strange (1756–1841). See EJL ii. 111 n. 21. John Thomas Batt (1746–1831), barrister. See EJL i. 256 n. 3. Not identified. See EJL iii. 213 n. 11. Missing.

288 7 December 1782 To Thomas Payne and Thomas Cadell Signed Receipt (Berg), 7 Dec. 1782 Single sheet 16mo, 2 pp. Annotated (in an unknown hand): Dec [xxxxx 1 word] / Miss Berneys rt / for Cecilia / £ T. Payne & Son / £ T. Cadell The receipt itself is in an unknown hand. It was probably written by a publisher’s clerk and given to FB to be signed by her.

December 7th 1782. Recd of Mesrs Payne & Cadell Fifty Pounds which with Two Hundred recd before is full for the Copy right of Cecilia or Memoirs of an Heiress in 5 Vol and I promise to execute a regular Assignment on demand47 Frances Burney £200.00 50.00 _______ 250.00 [FB’s Journal for 1782 resumes.]

Sunday , Decr 8th . Now for Miss Monckton’s Assembly. I had begged Mrs. Thrale to call for me, that I might have her Countenance & assistance upon my entrance. Miss Thrale came also. Every thing was in a new style : we got out of the Coach into a Hall full of servants, not one of which enquired our names, or took any Notice of us. We proceeded,

47 See FB to CB, 14 Oct. 1796: ‘Of Cecilia the first Edition was reckoned enormous at 2000. — & as a part of payment was reserved for it, I remember our dear Daddy Crisp thought it very unfair. It was printed, like this [Camilla], in July, & sold in October — to every one’s wonder’ (JL iii. 206).

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& went up stairs, & when we arrived at a Door, stopt & looked behind us. No servant had followed or preceded us. We deliberated what was to be done. To announce ourselves was rather awkward, neither could we be sure we were going into the right Apartment. I proposed our going up higher till we met with somebody; Miss Thrale thought we should go down & call some of the servants; but Mrs. Thrale, after a ridiculous consultation, determined to try her fortune by opening the Door. This being done, we entered a Room full of — Tea Things! & one maid servant. — ‘Well, cried Mrs. Thrale, Laughing, what is to be done now! I suppose we are come so early that nothing is ready.’ The maid stared, but said ‘There’s Company in the next Room.’ Then we considered again how to make ourselves known, & then Mrs. Thrale again resolved to take courage & enter. She therefore opened another Door, & went into another Apartment. I held back, but looked after, & observing that she made no Courtsie, concluded she was gone into some wrong place. Miss Thrale followed, — &, after her, went little i, wondering who was to receive, or what was to become of us. Miss Monckton lives with her mother, the old Dowager Lady Galway, in a noble House in Charles Street Berkeley Square. The Room was large & magnificent. There was | not much Company, for we were very early; Lady Galway sate at the side of the Fire, & received Nobody. She seems very old; & was Dressed with a little round white Cap, & not a single Hair, no Cushion, roll,48 nor any thing else but the little round Cap, which was flat upon her Forehead. Such part of the Company as already knew her, made their Compliments to her where she sate, & the rest were never taken up to her, but belonged wholly to Miss Monckton. Miss Monckton’s own manner of receiving her Guests, at first, was scarce more laborious: for she kept her seat when they entered, & only turned round her Head, to nod it, & say ‘How do do?’ after which they found what accomodation they could for themselves.

48 ‘A round cushion or pad of hair or other material, forming part of a woman’s head-dress’ (OED, s.v. ‘roll’ n1 8. a).

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As soon, however, as she perceived Mrs. & Miss Thrale, which was not till they had been some minutes in the Room, she arose to welcome them, contrary to her general custom, & merely because it was their first visit. Our long Trains making my entrance some time after their’s [sic], gave me the advantage of being immediately seen by her, & she advanced to me with quickness, & very politely thanked me for coming, & said ‘I fear you think me very rude for taking the liberty of sending to you.’ ‘No, indeed, you did me much honour.’ quoth I, & she then broke further into her general rules, by making way for me to a good place, & seating me herself, & then taking a Chair next to me, & beginning a little Chat. I really felt myself much obliged to her for this seasonable attention, for I was presently separated from Mrs. & Miss Thrale, & entirely surrounded by strangers, all Dressed superbly, & all looking saucily, & as nobody’s names were spoken, I had no chance to discover any acquaintances. Mr. | Metcalfe, indeed, came & spoke to me the instant I came in, & I should have been very happy to have had him for my Neighbour, but he was engaged in attending to Dr. Johnson, who was standing near the Fire, & envirroned [sic] with listeners. Some new people now coming in, & placing themselves in a regular way, Miss Monckton exclaimed ‘My whole care is to prevent a Circle,’ & hastily rising, she pulled about the Chairs, & planted the people in groupes, with as dexterous a disorder as You would desire to see. The Company in general were Dressed with more brilliancy than at any route I ever was at; most of them were going to the Duchess of Cumberlands, & attired for that purpose. Just behind me sat Mrs. Hampden,49 still very beautiful, but insufferably affected. Another Lady, in full Dress, & very pretty, came in soon after, & got herself a chair just before me: & then a conversation began between her & Mrs. Hampden of which I will give you a specimen. ‘How disagreeable these

49 Catherine Graeme (1749–1804), m. (1768) Thomas Hampden (1746–1824), 2nd Visc. Hampden, 1783.

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sacques50 are! — I am so incommoded with these nasty Ruffles: — I am going to Cumberland House, are you? —’ ‘To be sure!’ said Mrs. Hampden, ‘what else, do you think, would make me bear this weight of Dress? — I can’t bear a sacque.’ ‘Lord, I thought you said you should always wear them?’ ‘O yes, but I have changed my mind since then, — as many people do.’ ‘Well; — I think it vastly disagreeable indeed! said the other, you can’t think how I’m incumbered with these Ruffles! — ’ ‘O, I am quite oppressed with them, said Mrs. Hampden, I can hardly bear myself up.’ ‘And I Dined in this way, cried the other, — only think, Dining in a sacque! —’ ‘O, answered Mrs. Hampden, it really puts me quite out of spirits! —’ Well, have you enough? — & has my Daddy raved enough! After this, they found some subject less popular, & the lady | unknown leant over me, without any ceremony, to whisper with Mrs. Hampden. I should have offered her my place if she had made any apology, but as it was, I thought she might take her own way. In the course of the Evening, however, I had the pleasure to observe a striking change in her manners; for as soon as she picked up, I know not how, my Name, she ceased her whispering, looked at me with the civilest smiles, spoke to me 2 or 3 Times, & calling to a fine Beau, said ‘Do pray sit this way, that you may screne [sic] Miss Burney as well as me from that Fire.’ I did not, however, sufficiently like her beginning, to accept her challenge of talking, & only coldly answered by yes, no, or a Bow. Mrs. & Miss Thrale had other engagements, & soon went away. Miss Monckton then took a chair again next to me, which she kept till we both started at the same voice, & she cried out ‘O, it’s Mr. Burke!’ & she ran to him with as much joy as, if it had been our House, I should. Cause the Second for liking her better.

50 An appendage of silk attached to the shoulders of a loose kind of gown worn by ladies, and forming a train (OED, s.v. ‘sack’ n.4, 1). The OED cites Catherine Hampden’s reply: ‘I can’t bear a sacque’.

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I grew now in a violent fidget both to have his notice, & for what his notice would be; but I sate very still, & he was seized upon by scores, & taken to another part of the Room. Then came in Sir Joshua Reynolds, & he soon drew a Chair near mine, & from that Time I was never without some friend at my Elbow. ‘Have you seen, said he, Mrs. Montagu lately?’ ‘No, not very lately.’ ‘But within these few months?’ ‘No, not since last year.’ ‘O, — you must see her, then! — you ought to see & to hear her! — ’Twill be worth your while. Have you heard of the fine long Letter she has written?’ ‘Yes, — but I have not met with it.’ ‘I have.’ ‘And who is it to?’ ‘The old Duchess of Portland.51 She desired Mrs. Montagu’s opinion of Cecilia & she has written it at full length. I was in a party | at her Grace’s, & heard of nothing but you, — she is so delighted, & so sensibly, so rationally, that I only wish you could have heard her. & old Mrs. Delany52 had been forced to begin it, though she had said she should never read any more, — however, when we met, she was reading it already for the 3d Time! Indeed I wish you had been there; there was a very fine discourse upon it.’ Pray tell my Daddy to rejoice for me in this conquest of the Duchess, his old friend, & Mrs. Delany, his sister’s.53 Sir Joshua is extremely kind; he is always picking up some anecdote of this sort for me, yet, most delicately, never lets me hear his own praises but through others. He looks vastly well, & as if he had never been ill. After this, Mrs. Burke saw me, & with much civility & softness of manner came & talked with me: while her Husband, without seeing me, went behind my Chair to speak to Mrs. Hampden.

51 Lady Margaret Cavendish Harley (1715–85), only daughter and heir of Edward Harley (1689–1741), 2nd E. of Oxford and E. Mortimer. She m. (1734) William Bentinck (1709–62), 2nd D. of Portland. 52 Mary Delany, née Granville (1700–88). She m. 1 (1718) Alexander Pendarves (1660–1725); m. 2 (1743) Revd Patrick Delany (1685/6–1768), Dean of Down, 1744 (ODNB). 53 Ann Crisp (d. 1776). See EJL ii. 65 n. 5.

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Miss Monckton, returning to me, then said ‘Miss Burney I had the pleasure Yesterday of seeing Mrs. Greville.’ I suppose she concluded I was very intimate with her. ‘I have not seen her, said I, many years.’ ‘I know, however, cried she, looking surprised, she is your God mother.’ ‘But she does not do her duty & answer for me, for I never see her.’ ‘O, you have answered very well for yourself! But I know, by that, your Name is Fanny.’ Well worth knowing to be sure! — She then tript to somebody else, & Mr. Burke very quietly came from Mrs. Hampden, & sate down in the vacant place at my side. I could then wait no longer, for I found he was more near sighted than myself, I therefore turned towards him, & Bowed, — he seemed quite amazed, & really made me | ashamed, however delighted, by the expressive civility & distinction with which he instantly rose to return my Bow, & stood the whole Time he was making his Compliments upon seeing me, & calling himself the blindest of men for not finding me out sooner. And Mrs. Burke, who was seated very near, said, loud enough for me to hear, ‘See, see! what a flirtation Mr. Burke is beginning with Miss Burney! & before my Face, too!’ These ceremonies over, he sate down by me, & began a Conversation which you, my dearest Susy, would be glad to hear, for my sake, word for word, but which I really could not listen to with sufficient ease, from shame at his warm eulogiums, to remember with any accuracy. The general substance, however, take as I recollect it. After many most eloquent Compliments upon the Book, too delicate either to shock or sicken the nicest Ear, he very emphatically congratulated me upon its most universal success; — said he was now too late to speak of it, since he could only eecho [sic] the voice of the whole Nation, & added, with a Laugh, ‘I had hoped to have made some merit of my enthusiasm, but the moment I went about to hear what others say, I found myself merely one in a multitude!’ He then told me, that, notwithstanding his admiration, he was the man who had dared to find some faults with so

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favourite & fashionable a Work: I entreated him to tell me what they were, & assured him nothing would make me so happy as to correct them under his direction. He then enumerated them: & I will tell you what they are, that you may not conclude I write nothing but the fairer part of my adventures, which I really always relate | very honestly, though so fair they are at this Time, that it hardly seems possible they should not be dressed up. The masquerade he thought too long, & that something might be spared from Harrel’s grand assembly; he did not like Morrice’s part of the Pantheon, & he wished the conclusion either more happy or more miserable:54 ‘for in a work of imagination, said he, there is no medium.’ I was not easy enough to answer him, or I have much, though perhaps not good for much, to say in defence of following Life & Nature as much in the conclusion as in the progress of a Tale; & when is Life & Nature completely happy or miserable? ‘But, said he, when he had finished his comments, what excuse must I give for this presumption? I have none in the World to offer but the real, the high esteem I feel for you; & I must at the same Time acknowledge it is all your own doing that I am able to find fault, for it is your general perfection in Writing that has taught me to criticise where it is not quite uniform.’ Here’s an Orator, dear Susy! — Then, looking very archly at me, & around him, he said ‘Are you sitting here for Characters? — Nothing, by the way, struck me more in reading your Book, than the admirable skill with which your ingenious Characters make themselves known by their own Words.’ He then went on to tell me that I had done the most wonderful of wonders in pleasing the old Wits, particularly the Duchess of Portland & Mrs. Delaney, who resisted reading the Book till they were teized into it, & since they began, could do nothing else; & he failed not to point out, with his utmost eloquence, the difficulty of giving satisfaction | to 54 See bk. 2, ch. 3; bk. 5, ch. 1; and bk. 4, ch. 6 respectively. At the end of the novel, Cecilia is happily married to Mortimer Delville but at the cost of her fortune.

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those who piqued themselves upon being past receiving it: ‘but, said he, I have one other fault to find, & a far more material one than any I have mentioned.’ ‘I am the more obliged to you. What is it?’ ‘The disposal of this Book: — I have much advice to offer you upon that subject; — Why did not you send for your own friend out of the City? he would have taken care you should not part with it so much below par.’ He meant Mr. Briggs. Sir Joshua Reynolds now joined us. ‘Are you telling her, said he, of our conversation with the old Wits?55 — I am glad you hear it from Mr. Burke, Miss Burney, for he can tell it so much better than I can, & remember their words.’ ‘Nothing else would they talk of, for 5 whole Hours. said he, & we were there at the third reading of the Bill.’ ‘I believe I was in good Hands, said I, if they talked of it to you!’ ‘Why yes, answered Sir Joshua, Laughing, we joined in from Time to Time! Gibbon says he read the whole 5 Vols. in a Day.’ ‘’Tis impossible; cried Mr. Burke; it cost me three Days, & you know I never parted with it from the Time I first opened it.’ Here are Laurels, Susy! — My dear Daddy & Kitty, are you not doubly glad you so kindly hurried me up stairs to write, when at Chesington? Mr. Burke then went to some other party, & Mr. Swinerton took his place, with whom I had a dawdling conversation upon dawdling subjects: & I was not a little enlivened, upon his quitting the Chair, to have it filled by Mr. Metcalfe, who, with much satire, but much entertainment, kept chatting with me till Dr. Johnson found me out, & brought a chair opposite to me. | ‘So, said he to Mr. Metcalfe, it is You, is it, that are engrossing her thus?’ ‘He’s jealous,’ said Mr. Metcalfe, dryly. ‘How these people talk of Mrs. Siddons! said the Doctor. I came hither in full expectation of hearing no name but the 55

i.e., the Duchess of Portland and Mary Delany.

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name I love, & pant to hear, — when from one corner to another they are talking of that jade Mrs. Siddons! — till, at last, wearied out, I went yonder, into a corner, & repeated to myself Burney! Burney! Burney! Burney!’ ‘Ay, sir, you should have carved it upon the Trees.’ ‘Sir, had there been any Trees, so I should; but, being none, I was content to carve it upon my Heart.’ Soon after, the parties changed again, & young Mr. Burke came & sate by me. He is a very civil & obliging, & a sensible & agreeable young man. I was occasionally spoken to afterwards by strangers, both men & Women, whom I could not find out, though they called me by my Name as if they had known me all my life. Old Lady Galway trotted from her corner, in the middle of the Evening, & leaning her Hands upon the backs of 2 Chairs, put her little round Head through 2 fine high Dressed Ladies, on purpose to peep at me; — & then trotted back to her place! For my own part, I never quitted my seat the whole Night. Dr. Johnson soon returned to me, & said ‘I have been having a long talk with Mr. Burke, — do you know what about?’ ‘No, sir.’ ‘Can’t you Guess? — If you try?’ ‘Why, n . . . o . . .’ ‘Ah! — all about you! — He has talked very finely, indeed, about you! so finely, & in such Language, that you can do nothing better for yourself, than die to Night! for you can rise no higher, nor be more illustrious! —’ Mercy, Susy! this was solemn praise, indeed!56 | Miss Monckton now came to us again, & I congratulated her upon her power, in making Dr. Johnson sit in a Groupe, upon which she immediately said to him ‘Sir, Miss Burney says you like best to sit in a Circle.’ ‘Does she? said he, Laughing; Ay, never mind what she says, don’t you know she is Writer of Romances?’

56 ‘Than die to Night! Miss Burney should die to Night! was exclaimed by dear Mr Burke upon some astonishing praise uttered by my kind Dr. Johnson, as I found out afterwards’ (inserted by FBA).

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‘Yes, that I do, indeed! —’ said Miss Monckton, & every one joined in a Laugh that put me horribly out of countenance. ‘She may write Romances, & speak Truth.’ said my dear Sir Joshua, who, as well as young Burke & Mr. Metcalfe, & 2 strangers, joined now in our little party. ‘But indeed, Dr. Johnson, said Miss Monckton, you must see Mrs. Siddons. Won’t you see her? in some fine part?’ ‘Why if I must, madam, I have no choice.’ ‘She says, sir, she shall be very much afraid of you.’ ‘Madam, that cannot be true.’ ‘Not true? cried Miss Monckton, staring, yes, it is.’ ‘It cannot be, madam!’ ‘But she said so to me, I heard her say it myself!’ ‘Madam, it is not possible: remember, therefore, in future, that even fiction should be supported by probability.’ Miss Monckton looked all amazement, but insisted the truth of what she had said. ‘I do not believe, madam, said he, warmly, she knows my Name.’ ‘O, that is rating her too low,’ said a Gentleman stranger. ‘By not knowing my Name, continued he, I do not mean so literally; but that when she sees it abused in a news-paper, she may possibly recollect that she has seen it — abused in a news-paper before!’ ‘Well, sir, said Miss Monckton, but you must see her, for all this.’ ‘Well, madam, if you desire it, I will go. See her I shall not, nor hear her, but I’ll go, & that will do. The last Time I was | at a play, I was ordered there by Mrs. Abington,57 or Mrs. Somebody, I do not well remember who; but I placed myself in the middle of the first row of the front Boxes, to shew that, when I was called, I came.’ The talk upon this matter went on very long, & with great spirit, but I have Time for no more of it. I felt myself extremely awkward about going away, not chusing, as it was my first

57 Frances Barton (1737–1815), m. (1759) James Abington (d. 1806); actress (ODNB).

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visit, to take french leave,58 & hardly knowing how to lead the way alone among so many strangers, all of whom I evidently saw knew me, for the staring & whispering was the same as at Brighton. At last, & with the last, I made my attempt. A large party of Ladies arose at the same Time, & I tript after them; Miss Monckton, however, made me come back, for she said I must else wait in the other Room till those ladies carriages drove away. When I returned, Sir Joshua came & desired he might convey me Home; I declined the offer, & he pressed it a good deal, drolly saying ‘Why I am old enough, a’n’t I? —’ And when he found me stout, he said to Dr. Johnson ‘Sir, is not this very hard? Nobody here thinks me very Young, yet Miss Burney won’t give me the privilege of age in letting me see her Home? — she says I a’n’t old enough!—’ I had never said any such thing! — ‘Ay, sir, said the Doctor, did I not tell you she was a Writer of Romances!’ Again I tried to run away, but the Door stuck, & Miss Monckton prevented me, & begged I would stay a little longer. She then went & whispered something to her mother, & I had a notion, from her manner, she wanted to keep me to Supper, which I did not chuse, & therefore, when her back was | turned, I prevailed upon Young Burke to open the Door for me, & out I went. Miss Monckton ran after me, but I would not come back. I was, however, & I am, much obliged by her uncommon civility & attentions to me. She is far better at her own House than else where. Mr. Erskine59 was there, but I did not see him. I had, upon the whole, an Evening I shall always recollect with pleasure. The rest of the Week will bear compression. Monday [9 Dec.]. I spent the morning at Mr. Bogles, very little to my liking. He & his Wife have so persecuted me to sit for my picture, that, not wholly to disoblige them, I have been compelled to consent, with this compromise, that he would give up his first request & plan, which was to put it into the Exhibition, to which I will not consent. In my way Home, I To go away without taking leave of the host or hostess. The Hon. Thomas Erskine (1750–1823), of Hampstead, Middlesex, cr. (1806) B. Erskine; Kt, 1815; Lord Chancellor, 1806–7 (ODNB). 58 59

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was stopt by the Bishop of Peterborough, in Leicester Fields, who was very courteous. In the Evening we had Mrs. Hawkesworth,60 who looks very well, & Mrs. Barwell,61 an old maiden lady, at whose House I 6 years ago called upon Miss Kinnaird,62 & who now makes a point of returning that visit! She has a furious rage to know every body, but talks so much, no one can be known in her Company but herself. She has promised me, however, that I shall meet Mrs. Bates63 at her House, & that will make me ample amends for visiting her. The 2 Paynes were here, also, & looked well, & were cheerful & pleasing: but Mrs. Barwell never spoke but to me, nor suffered me to look at any body else. Ha! Ha! Ha! ridiculous enough! This Day Mrs. Crewe sent her opera Ticket here! — huzza! — Tuesday [10 Dec.] — I called upon Mrs. Montagu, Lady Rothes, Mrs. Pepys, Miss Streatfield, Mrs. Byron, & found none of them at Home: but I spent 2 or 3 Hours with Mrs. Thrale, & went at night to the Comic opera, Il Convito,64 with Mrs. FitzGerald & Charlotte. I was not much pleased: yet Allegrante65 is a sweet singer. But Pacchierotti is so much sweeter, that he spoils me | for all singing but his own. He 60 Mary Hawkesworth, née Brown (c.1722–96), widow of John Hawkesworth (1720–73). See EJL i. 241 n. 32. 61 An acquaintance of Mary Hawkesworth whom FB first met in 1773 and who had been Christopher Smart’s landlady. See EJL i. 228. 62 Margaret Kinnaird (d. 1800), youngest daughter of Charles, 6th B. Kinnaird. See EJL i. 250 n. 66. 63 Sarah Harrop (c.1755–1811), singer, m. (1780) Joah Bates (1741–99), organist. See EJL iv. 78 n. 65; ODNB. 64 Il Convito, a comic opera by Bertoni, which was performed 13 times that season (LS 5 i. 566–606). The Public Advertiser, 4 Nov. 1782, reported a relatively low attendance on opening night, 2 Nov.: ‘The Pit had not above 150 Persons in it; those however who were there, were a Corps of pick’d Men —’ among whom ‘Dr. Burney’ is mentioned by name. See also Morning Chronicle, 5 Nov. 1782 (sources cited in LCB i. 350 n. 13). The performance of 10 Dec. was ‘by Command of their Majesties’ (LS 5 i. 576). 65 Teresa Maddalena Allegranti (1754–c.1802), Italian soprano, whom CB had first heard on his 1772 German tour (Tours ii. 34), and whom he then described as singing ‘in a pretty unaffected manner; and though her voice will not allow her to aspire at the first part in an opera, she seems likely to fill the second in a very engaging manner.’ After her first London appearance in 1781 in Anfossi’s Il viaggiatori felici, CB described her voice as ‘very sweet and flexible, though not very powerful’ (Hist. Mus. ii. 892). She sang Alfonsina in Il Convito. See Mercer ii. 892; LCB i. 333– 4; GMO.

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came & paid us a visit during the opera, but was not well, nor in spirits. Wednesday [11 Dec.]. I spent with Mrs. Thrale. Thursday [12 Dec.]. I went to Medonte, with Charlotte & Edward, into the first Gallery. We had a silver Ticket66 of Mrs. FitzGerald’s, & Mrs. Crewe’s. Pacchierotti sung deliciously, — faultlessly, I think I may safely say. Friday [13 Dec.]. I spent entirely at Home, to my great relief, for I was heartily tired of rioting: & we had nobody but Barry in the Evening.

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[St Martin’s Street, 13 December 1782] To Susanna Burney Phillips AL incomplete (Berg), 13 Dec. 1782 Single sheet 4to, 2 pp. pmk 13 DE red seal Addressed: Mrs. Phillips / at Mrs. Hamilton’s, / Chesington, / Kingston, / Surry Endorsed (by SBP): Decr 14th The first leaf is missing. FB responded to specific letters from SBP while continuing her lengthy journals to her, which she periodically sent separately in large packets.

Medonte is a pasticcio, — Morigi does not improve. You are a sweet Creature for promising to take care of yourself, but pray be very conscientious in keeping your word. I long to see my God Child. How much I must love it! — Pray let me know how the asses milk goes on. My kind love to poor Daddy, & do send me a better account of him. He cannot be angry I do not write separately to him, when I send such large pacquets, & a reader into the bargain. Pacchierotti called just after your Letter came, for the Opera was a serious one. I read to him that line which concerned himself only inserting Mr., ‘Ah, he cried, can she be so good to think still of so great fool 66 A ‘silver ticket’ was a season’s ticket for two. Six silver tickets were awarded as prizes at the opening of Vauxhall Gardens in 1794 (S. Denne, Historical Particulars of Lambeth Parish (1795), p. 422; see also Henry Fielding, The Miser (1733), act I, scene ii, and John Mottley, The Widow Bewitch’d (1730), act II, in English Drama).

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as am I! —’ and when he was going, he said ‘I must beg the liberty to give my best Respects to Mrs. Phillips when you write, as in the same Time to her caro sposo.’ I am mighty glad Mrs. Gast prescribes for you. Remember me kindly to her. Miss Monckton’s turned out a most brilliant affair. I shall try against next Baker’s Day67 to make you All participate in the entertainment I received there. Hetty is delightfully, considering. She is preparing to go to Farnham.68 Aunt Beckey is a leetle 69 better. We have Peace & War announced alternately every other Minute. The Books & Hat came very safe. Adieu, my best beloved Girl — we are all never so happy as when your Hand Writing appears, so indulge us as much as you can without fatiguing yourself. Love to the Captain, Kitty, & Mrs. Ham. Were you not much pleased in hearing from Lady Clarges? She is not yet gone, but expected to go Daily. Poor Sir Thos. has been worse, or they were to have gone on Wednesday. [FB’s Journal for 1782 resumes.]

Saturday [14 Dec.] was Mrs. Siddon’s Benefit Night.70 Mrs. Thrale had taken a side Box for her, & invited me to a seat in it which I had accepted: but Medonte was unexpectedly performed, & Mrs. Fitz. invited me to a place in her Box; — & as Nothing gives me any pleasure in competition with hearing Pacchierotti, I called & excused myself to Mrs. Thrale, though not without infinite difficulty, & solaced myself at night by hearing his most exquisite Voice. He sung so sweetly, so very sweetly I did nothing but congratulate myself upon the relinquishment of the Play. He always goes into Lady Mary Duncan’s Box to see the last Dance,71 & constantly Bows to me from it; &, as constantly, her Ladyship & Miss Catherine Tues., 17 Dec. Farnham Castle, the Bishop of Winchester’s seat (see below, p. 215). Echoing Pacchierotti’s accent. At Drury Lane, where Sarah Siddon played the role of Belvidera in Otway’s Venice Preserv’d. The Public Advertiser, 25 Dec., gives her total profits for the night, including gifts, as more than £800 (LS 5 i. 577). 71 On that night a new grand ballet (premiered 12 Dec.), The Rape of the Sabines, by the famous dancer and choreographer Charles Le Picq (LS 5 i. 577–8; Highfill). 67 68 69 70

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Bull,72 who has a share of the Box, take their Opera Glasses to peep at me. What would I not give to be of their parties when they have Pacchierotti! — I do really believe if they knew half the delight it would give me, they would bring it about; for they are mighty curious about me only profess themselves afraid of me! — Heaven! as my Father himself once answered them — So tame a Lyon — Who can say fie on?73 I suppose it will not be surprising news to tell you that sweet Captain Phillips arrived while we were at Dinner? — How well, gay, & happy he looks! — how comes it that the cares of the World have not yet dampt him? — Yet how much happier was my part of the meeting last summer! when there was no | constraint nor worry! — I did not feel half the joy I then felt at his sight, from the depression of being obliged to restrain shing it. Yet the Lady74 has been remarkably good humoured & gracious to me, & I have had every reason to be content with her behaviour: nevertheless, the least appearance of comfort with any part of the family, she regards as cabal, & therefore becomes suspicious, sour & violent from the moment any new meeting takes place. The Captain, however, will give you better accounts of these particulars, & therefore I shall refer you to him. [xxxxx 1-2 words] I am much provoked that I sent you the wrong sheet first. Sunday. Dec r 15th. To Day, by an invitation of 10 Days standing, I waited upon Mrs. Walsingham. She has sent me fine 72 Catharine Susanna Bull (d. 1795), younger daughter of Richard Bull (LCB i. 350 n. 14, 352 n. 17). 73 From the air, ‘Ladies don’t fright you,’ in John Frederick Lampe’s (c.1703–51) mock opera, Pyramus and Thisbe (1745). The work had not been staged in London for many years, but CB had known and admired Lampe’s music as a young man (he had seen Lampe perform at Chester in 1741, and Lampe was brother-in-law of Thomas Arne, CB’s own music master in London). The lines were presumably wellknown since they were also quoted without attribution in The Yearly Chronicle for 1761, or, A Collection of the most interesting and striking Essays, Letters, &c. which appeared in the St. James’s Chronicle for that Year (1762), p. 114. CB in Rees mentions Pyramus and Thisbe, ‘which had a great success’, and calls Lampe ‘a truly ingenious man’ and ‘excellent musician’ (see also CB Mem., pp. 25–2, Mercer ii. 1004, 1007; thanks to Nicholas Smith and Norbert Schurer for identifying this quotation, and also to Yvonne Noble, who looked into Mercer; Prof. Schurer also called attention to the Yearly Chronicle). 74 EAB.

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messages from my Father, who teaches her Daughter, Miss Boyle,75 & she has sent me a Card of Invitation, & a visiting Ticket, & performed [xxxxx 3-4 words]. She is a Woman high in fame for her talents, & a Wit by Birth, as the Daughter | of Sir Charles Hanbury Williams.76 She is rather deformed, & ugly, though with a good profile; she has the Character of being only civil to people of Birth, Fame, or Wealth, & extremely insolent to all others. Of this, however; I could see nothing, since she at least took care to invite no Company to her own House whom she was disposed to disdain. Her reception of me appeared rather singular; she was violently dressed, — a large Hoop, Flowers in her small & full dressed cap, Ribbons & ornaments extremely shewy, & a Fan in her Hand. She was very polite, said much of her particular pleasure in seeing me, & kept advancing to me so near, that, involuntarily, I retreated from her, not knowing her design; & kept, therefore, getting further & further back, as she came forward, till I was stopt from any power of moving by the Wainscoat. I then necessarily stood still, & she saluted me! — | We then quietly sate down, & my Father began a very lively conversation, upon various subjects: she kept it up with attention & good breeding, often referring to me, & seeming curious to know my notions: I had been, however, prejudiced against her before I came, & could not, therefore be frank or sociable with her. She said nothing of the Book for which I thanked her in my mind, till she happened to talk of Mrs. Bates, & then she said ‘I was last Night in her Company, & she had such a cold she could hardly speak; but when she told me of it, Mr. Bates77 said, ay, a Cold indeed in her Eyes: but she will never get rid of it till she has finished Cecilia, for she sits up half the Night, & crys over it till she is blind.’ ‘She is a Saint Cecilia herself, cried I, & therefore I have some right to her sympathy.’

75 Charlotte Boyle (1769–1831), suo jure Baroness de Ros (1806); m. (1791) Lord Henry Fitzgerald (1761–1829), 4th son of James (1722–73), cr. (1766) D. of Leinster. 76 Sir Charles Hanbury Williams (1708–59), K.B., M.P., diplomat, wit, poet. 77 See above, p. 199 n. 63.

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Miss Boyle, her Daughter, who has her name on account of some Estate, I suppose78 is about 13 or 14. She is distractedly fond of her, & addresses her every other instant, to ask if she is too cold, or too hot, or to manifest her affection by some such attention incessantly. The rest of the Company who came to Dinner, were Mrs. Montagu, Mr. Pery, Speaker of the Irish House of Commons, his Lady & Daughter,79 & Sir Joshua Reynolds & Miss Palmer. I was excessively glad to see the latter, who clung to me all the visit, & took off from its formality & grandeur by her chatting & intimacy. Mrs. Walsingham lives in a splendid House in Stratford Place,80 elegantly fitted up chiefly by her own Paintings & Drawings, which are reckoned extremely clever, — I hate that Word, but cannot think of another. She was vastly attentive to me during Dinner, referring to me upon every possible occasion, to ask my opinion, & make me speak. When we left the 3 Gentlemen to their Wine, Mrs. | Montagu came & took my Hand, & said she hoped I would soon make her amends for disappointing her upon her former invitation, & then added ‘I have much to say to you, & many thanks to return you for the very great entertainment you have procured me.’ ‘O how much we are all obliged to Miss Burney! cried Mrs. Walsingham, she has given us so much pleasure, it is impossible to know how to thank her.’ 78 Her father’s surname was originally Boyle, though he had taken the surname of Walsingham before she was born (after the death of his elder brother Henry, who had assumed the surname and arms of Walsingham). Her surname suggests that she had no pretensions to the Walsingham estate. 79 Edmond Sexton Pery (1719–1806), barrister and Irish M.P.; speaker of the Irish House of Commons, 1771–85; cr. (1785) Visc. Pery of Newtown-Pery (Ire.); m.  (2) (1762) Elizabeth Vesey (c.1732–1821), widow of Robert Handcock, with whom he had two daughters: (1) Diana Jane (1764–1839), m. (1785) Thomas Knox (1754–1840), cr. (1826) B. Ranfurly of Ramphorlie (UK) and (1831) E. of Ranfurly (Ire.); (2) Frances (b. c.1768, living 1806), m. (1789) Nicolson Calvert, esq., of Hunsdon House, Herts (IGI; ODNB). 80 Then a fashionable new residential neighborhood. The site was leased by the Corporation of London to Edward Stratford, 2nd E. of Aldborough, and others. Aldborough built Stratford House (now the Oriental Club) at the northern end. The cul-de-sac street was separated by gates from Oxford Street (Wheatley; London Encyclopaedia, ed. B. Weinreb and C. Hibbert (Bethesda, 1986)).

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‘I, however, must scold her, said Mrs. Montagu, for she made me guilty of a negligence I never practiced before; I left all my Bills & Papers unexamined, & never saw any business while it was unfinished.’ ‘O, it is astonishing how interesting she has contrived to make it, said Mrs. Walsingham, though there is nothing in it of the marvellous! It was impossible ever to put it down. I meet her Characters every Day: Miss Larolles in particular.’ ‘O, said Mrs. Pery, I have seen more Miss Larolles’s than any Character I ever saw drawn in my life.’ ‘All the Misses that go to see Mrs. Siddons, said Mrs. Walsingham, talk like Miss Larolles; they are so hot, & so delighted, they cry so & find it so charming! — And then Mr. Meadows —’ ‘O, the Meadows are a tribe as numerous as it is hateful, said Mrs. Montagu. But there is one thing I can never forgive Miss Burney; — Mrs. Harrel is so exactly from the life, that I never enter a fine lady’s House, without being upon the point of asking if Mrs. Harrel is at Home.’ NB I have heard of this speech, you know, before! — ‘Nothing entertains me so much, said Mrs. Walsingham, as to hear the old Duchess Dowager of Portland, who has read no modern Book of entertainment so long, exclaiming, from Time to Time, in conversation, ‘O, he is a Harrel! — it is quite a Meadows!; — This is really a Miss Larolles! —’ She then added — ‘Pray Miss Burney did not you Laugh at that advertisement about Mrs. Mears? — ’ | ‘I never saw it, ma’am.’ ‘O, I Laughed like Miss Larolles herself at it! — It was a sale of all the Goods & Furniture of Mrs. Mears!81 — & you know Miss Larolles wishes there was an Execution in her House, on purpose that she might get rid of that old red Gown!82 But 81 ‘To be Sold by Auction by Mr. Compton, By Order of the Executors, on the Premises, on Friday next [13 Dec.], and the Following Day, The genuine Houshold Furniture, Linnen, China, Green-house-Plants, &c. of Mrs. MIERS, deceased, at her House, No. 15, Lisson-Green, near Paddington’ (Daily Advertiser, 10 Dec. 1782). 82 ‘O do but look! ... if there is not Mrs. Mears in her old red gown again! I begin to think she’ll never have another. I wish she was to have an execution in her house, if it was only to get rid of it! I am so fatigued with the sight of it you can’t conceive’ (Cecilia, bk. 4, ch. 6, p. 286).

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some thing or other reminds me of some part of that Book every Hour.’ The Gentlemen now came in, & the subject was changed. I was very glad, for I had had quite enough of it. We did not stay late, for my Father & I were both engaged to Miss Monckton’s: so was Sir Joshua, who accompanied us. Miss Palmer had not been invited, which she much regretted. Mrs. Walsingham very earnestly begged to see me again, & very much pressed me to call some morning. I was extremely happy to have my dear Father with me at Miss Monckton’s. We found Mrs. Siddons the Actress there. She is a woman of excellent Character, & therefore I am very glad she is thus patronised, since Mrs. Abington, & so many frail fair ones,83 have been thus noticed by the Great. She behaved with great propriety; very calm, modest, quiet, & unaffected. She has a very fine Countenance, & her Eyes look both intelligent & soft. She has, however, a steadiness in her manner & deportment by no means engaging. Mrs. Thrale, who was there, said ‘Why this is a leaden Goddess we are all worshipping! however, we shall soon gild it.’84 The rest of the Company were almost all people of quality: [xxxxx 1 word] though I had the pleasure to distinguish from among them Mr. Metcalfe & Young Burke, with both of whom I had a good deal of chat. Sir Joshua Reynolds had accompanied us, & deserted us not upon our arrival. Mrs. & Miss Thrale were also of the party: yet the Evening was but so, so, for people were afraid of talking of any | Thing but Mrs. Siddons Acting, & her parts, lest she should think herself out of the question as some of them said, & that talk was very tiresome after the first Half Hour. At one time, Miss Monckton came to enquire of a lady who had just drawn a Chair near mine, if she was not afraid of the Door? She answered no, she should keep her Cloak on; Miss Monckton repeated her question to me, & the lady, with 83 Frances Abington had been the mistress first of Mr Needham (d. 1765), wealthy Irish M.P. for Newry, Country Down, and subsequently of Lord Shelburne (ODNB). 84 Cf. Thraliana, 1 Dec. 1782: ‘The Town has got a new Idol — Mrs Siddons the Actress: a leaden one She seems, but we shall make her a Golden one before ’tis long.— ’ (i. 554).

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great quickness, said ‘If you feel any air from the Door, Miss Burney, pray remove, for it is of consequence to the whole World that you should not catch cold.’ She then began a Dialogue with Mr. Erskine, who had placed himself exactly opposite to Mrs. Siddons; & they debated together upon her manner of studying her parts, disputing upon the point with great warmth, yet not only forbearing to ask Mrs. Siddons herself which was right, but quite over powering her with their loquacity when she attempted, unasked, to explain the matter! — Most vehement praise of all she did followed, & this lady again turned to me, & said ‘What invitation, Miss Burney, is here, for Genius to display itself! everybody, I hear, is at Work for Mrs. Siddons, — but if you would work for her, what an inducement to excell you would both of you have! — Dr. Burney —’ ‘O pray, ma’am, cried I, don’t say so to him! —’ ‘O but I will! — if my influence can do you any mischief, you may depend upon having it! —’ She then repeated what she had said to my Father, & he instantly said ‘Your Ladyship may be sure of my interest.’ I whispered afterwards to know who she was, & heard she | was Lady Lucan.85 Sir Joshua came away with us. Miss Monckton invited me for the next Sunday [22 Dec.]; but I was less pleased than with the last, & therefore less eager to repeat it; I told her I was engaged. [xxxxx 1 word] & Young Burke also came out with us, & we all came to this House together. I told him I had a design to persuade Miss Palmer to call with me once more, upon Mrs. Burke. ‘O, cried he, I hope you will not take so round about a method as that for giving her the pleasure of seeing you?’ However, I have now stayed away too long to go without such a convoy. Young Burke is an exceeding civil, & very pleasing young man. We found dear Captain Phillips at home, & had a little snug treason86 before we retired to rest.

85 Lady Lucan was an amateur painter and bluestocking hostess. Horace Walpole, in a letter dated 5 Feb. 1781, describes one of her gatherings as ‘a bluestocking meeting in imitation of Mrs Vesey’s Babels. It was so blue, it was quite mazarine-blue’ (YW xxix. 104). 86 About EAB.

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Monday [16 Dec.]: There was a very full assembly at Mrs. Thrale’s where I Dined & spent the Day. The Company that I recollect were — Lady Rothes & Dr. Pepys; Mrs. Montagu, Mr. & Mrs. Hatsel, Mrs. Ord, Capt. Coussmaker, Mr. Thornton, Mr. Seward, Mrs. John Hunter,87 Sir Sampson & Lady Gideon, Mr. & Mrs. Pepys, Miss Benson, Mr. Cambridge & his son the Clergyman,88 Mr. Baldwin & the fair Greek, Mrs. Byron, Lady De Ferrars, Miss Monckton, Mr. Swinerton, Harry Cotton, Mr. Selwin, Dr. & Mrs. Parker, Miss Alicia Markham, Sir Joshua Reynolds, Mr. Hutton.89 The Evening proved very gay & very agreeable, though I have but a short account to give of it, as the Conversation was only in partys, & never for more than a few minutes with the same people. I had some Chat with every body, in turn, that I have named, & therefore I had not one moment unoccupied. What gave me, however, the most pleasure, was the discourse of the 2 Mr. Cambridges, Father & son, who | both, though at different times, sung to me the praises of Capt. Phillips with so much energy & heartiness, that I was ready to shake Hands with them, & Cry ‘Gentlemen, agreed!’ — Mr. Seward made me known to Mrs. Hunter, who is extremely pretty, & reckoned very ingenious. Dr. Parker introduced me to Mr. Hutton, a clergyman, at his desire; but I saw nothing of him that made it mine. I had long confabs with Mrs. Ord, Miss Monckton, Sir Joshua, Lady Gideon, Mrs. Byron & Mr. Thornton, who, very oddly, followed me about where-ever I went, & listened to every Word I said, with a steady, yet not offensive curiosity, that made me hardly able to look in his face without simpering. With the rest, I had only short speeches. Tuesday [17 Dec.]. I had a very pretty little Letter90 from Mrs. Hatsell, to offer me a place in her Box for that Night, to see 87 Anne, née Home (1742–1821), poet and society hostess. The eldest daughter of the surgeon Robert Home, she married John Hunter (1728–93), anatomist and surgeon, in 1771. Her Poems was published in 1802 with a second edition appearing the following year. See EJL ii. 111 n. 22; ODNB. 88 Richard Owen Cambridge (1717–1802), wit, author of The Scribleriad (1751); and his son George Owen Cambridge (GOC) (1756–1841), B.A. (Oxon.), 1778; M.A. (Oxon.), 1781; Rector of Elme, 1793; Prebendary of Ely, 1795; Archdeacon of Middlesex, 1806. See ODNB. 89 Described below as ‘a clergyman’; not further traced. 90 Missing.

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Mrs. Siddons in Isabella.91 I could not but think my chance of entertainment worth 5 shillings, and there were circumstances, too tedious to relate, that made me consent to pay them. Our party was Mr. & Mrs. Hatsell, Miss Benson, Sir  George Cornwall,92 & one other stranger. As to Mrs. Siddons, — but, just before I went, Pacchierotti called, & most earnestly begged me to write a note to him the next morning, with my opinion of Mrs. Siddons, & he was so serious, that I could not deny him, though not very fond of the task: I will try, however, now, to recollect what I said, as the opinion I gave was a very honest one. To Mr. Pacchierotti. ‘I must confess my admiration of Mrs. Siddons does not keep pace with that of the Town; yet I think her a pleasing & elegant Actress. Her Countenance is intelligent, & | full of sensibility, her voice is penetrating & affecting, her attitudes, upon striking occasions, are very noble, though, in general, her arms are awkward. I think her neither great nor astonishing; her manner seems to me monotonous, her Walk mean, her air wants spirit, & her dignity is studied. Upon the whole, I think she has much merit & but few defects yet, alltogether, something through-out, is wanting to produce upon me much effect.’ This was the purpose of what I wrote, & what I think. Wednesday [18 Dec.] — I called, by appointment, upon Miss Benson, to carry her, at last, Adele et Theodore: & then I came Home for Captain Phillips, who accompanied me to Mrs. Ord’s, where we spent the Day, very comfortably & 91 Isabella; or; The Fatal Marriage, David Garrick’s alteration of Thomas Southerne’s The Fatal Marriage; or, The Innocent Adultery, with Sarah Siddons in the title role, opened on 10 Oct. at Drury Lane and was performed 22 times in the 1782–3 season. The reviewer for The Morning Chronicle, 11 Oct., wrote that Sarah Siddons’s ‘merit in the character was infinite, and the applause she received unbounded. In various of her scenes the plaudits were repeated.... During the fourth and fifth acts there was almost an incessant clapping, and when Isabella expired her death was rendered glorious by the theatre’s resounding with thunderous applause for more than a minute.’ See LS 5 i. 559–60, 578. 92 Sir George Amyand (1748–1819), 2nd Bt, of Moccas Court, Herefs, M.P.; m. (1771) Catherine Velters Cornewall (1752–1835), daughter and heir of Velters Cornewall (?1697–1768), and assumed the name of Cornewall (HP; IGI; GM cv1 (1835), 557).

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sociably, Mrs. Ord having solemnly promised me not to admit any Company. In the Evening, however, my Father called: & I permitted his admittance: He had Dined at Lady Mary Duncan’s, & was set down by Pacchierotti, who called upon him again in an Hour, to take him back: & then, also, I permitted his admittance, — wonderful condescendsion! — Capt. Phillips ran down, & invited him up, & up he came. Mrs. Ord received him very graciously, & he made his Compliments to her with his usual softness & good breeding; & then, turning towards me, he spread out his Hands, & said ‘There, madam, You have got the [A segment of the leaf is cut away.]

to sign to it all. He then thanked me for my note about Mrs. Siddons, & praised it with his customary warmth. He did not stay long. Bertoni also was with him. | Just as he was going, he looked earnestly at Captain Phillips, & suddenly exclaimed ‘He is so much fatter than ever! — Ah! he is the happiest of Men! —’ Then, stretching out his long arm, & cordially shaking Hands with him, he added ‘God bless you, sir! God bless you, my dear sir, for a long While! —’ Capitano & I stayed till Eleven O’Clock, & then my Father called for us. He told me that Miss Catherine Bull had desired her Compliments to the sweet Cecilia, & begged her acceptance of her opera Ticket for the next Night, to see Anfossi’s new opera,93 if it would be of any use. Miss Bull then called out ‘And pray give my Compliments too, — though I should be dreadfully afraid of her!’ — How provoking that they have this simple notion! — I am glad, however, there seems a little opening to an acquaintance I so much desire. I accepted the Ticket, & should if I had not wished for it, merely that I might have to thank her for it.

93 Il trionfo della costanza, by Pasquale Anfossi (1727–97), Italian composer, libretto by Carlo Francesco Badini (fl. 1770–93). The opera, Anfossi’s first written expressly for London, opened 19 Dec. 1782 at the King’s Theatre, where he served intermittently as music director until 1786 (GMO; Highfill).

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To Hester Lynch Thrale AL (Berg), 18 Dec. 1782 Single sheet 4to, 1 p. wafer Addressed: Mrs. Thrale, / Argyll Street

I should have been quite as bad as Miss Thrale had I seen you crouch to the pink & white; to the red & black, it had been another matter. But I am sorry you were frighted:94 — how in the world are you to get to Naples?95 — ah! dearest Madam, would to Heaven you were frighted from that! — but there your courage is as invincible as it is unexampled. — Not even on Monday can I get into the Warming Pan,96 for I dine at Mrs. Walsingham’s, & I think I shall not venture to too dear & fascinating Argyll Street upon a Dinner Day again at least for a fortnight. Sunday Morning I must be out, & if I can, I will call for half an Hour before Dinner, but I dare not promise. It will not be before 3 at the earliest.97 Adieu, Dearest Madam till our next cari amplissi98 — If you go to the Opera to-morrow, & can let me know before I engage Mrs. Fitz, I shall be most glad to have the honour of appearing under your banners.

94 HLT had written to FB earlier in the day about her attendance at Drury Lane the night before: ‘Mrs Siddons is angelick and we had an agreeable Ev[en]ing. But such a Crowd! I confess myself frighted, as I had no Taste to crush my Limbs into Fractures & Cancers.’ Later she repeats: ‘I was dreadfully frighted last night.... The Throng was seriously horrible and my Cowardly Tears came into my Eyes. would you believe it! Queeney laught to see me so subdued that I crouch’d even to Pink & White [Edward] Jerningham for Safety as I rush’d through the mob’ (Berg). By ‘red & black’ FB perhaps means the red coat of the soldier and the black coat of the priest. 95 See above, p. 115 n. 73. 96 HLT had written: ‘... but perhaps Monday must be the soonest we can meet.’ 97 HLT replied: ‘My dearest shall have the Coach at 3.o’clock & stay till six if She likes those hours best’ (Berg). 98 ‘Dear embraces’ (Italian).

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[FB’s Journal for 1782 resumes.]

Thursday [19 Dec.] — We were all invited to Sir Joshua Reynolds’ to Dinner, but I was engaged to Mrs. Thrale. In the morning Miss Benson returned my visit & Miss Streatfield called also, & sate Hours, & Mrs. Hatsell called too, & sate only minutes. I am encreasing my acquaintance Daily, & that whether I will or not, with new folks of all sorts. [A segment of the leaf is cut away.]

At Mrs. Thrale’s we were comfortable & alone. She & her Daughter carried me to the opera House, & tried to entice | me to sit in the Pit with them; but I had already engaged a place in Mrs. Fitz.’s Box. I can give you but little account of the Opera, for I was much disappointed in it. My expectations had planned another Buona Figliuola,99 or Fraschetana,1 from Anfossi, — but it is a pretty opera simply, & nothing more. Allegrante2 sung very well, — but — but — but — Oh how has Pacchierotti spoilt me! — Friday [20 Dec.]. I returned Miss Catherine Bull her Ticket with a Note of thanks. Lady Gideon called upon me at noon, but I was engaged, — with my Hair-Dresser! — in preparation to wait upon her Ladyship, who had sent me a Card of invitation for the Evening. Mr. Cambridge also called, & I regretted much that I missed him. There was a grand Assembly at Lady Gideon’s; — & every thing in the House, both of decorations, refreshments, & accommodation, was in greater magnificence than I have yet seen. Lady Gideon is still very pretty, & extremely gentle, well bred, attentive & amiable: Sir Sampson seems all good nature, & his desire to oblige is unremitting, & there is even a humility in the manners of both, that makes it impossible to quarrel with them for such other brighter qualities as they have missed. 99 La Cecchina, ossia La buona figliuola, comic opera by Niccolò Piccinni, libretto by Carlo Goldoni (EJL i. 56 n. 19, iv. 26). 1 La Frascatana, comic opera by Giovanni Paisiello (1740–1816), libretto by Filippo Livigni, first performed at the King’s Theatre, 5 Nov. 1776. It was repeated forty-nine times through 1799, making it the most popular opera of its day (LS 5 i. clxxii, 33; GMO). 2 In the role of Giannina (LS 5 i. 579).

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The moment my reception was over, — & my dear Father being with me, I felt no awkwardness in my entrance, — Mrs. Walsingham came up to me, & invited me to her House for the next Monday morning,3 to meet Lady Gideon, who was to go & see her paintings. There was no refusing, &, indeed, I wished to see them, as they are of great fame in the World &, I fancy, very well worth seeing. The next who found me out was Sir Joshua, & the instant I told him of the engagement I had made, | he said he would go too, — for he was invited to call some morning, so he would chuse Monday. He kept with me to my great satisfaction, the principal part of the Evening. He is so pleasant, unaffected, & agreeable, that there is no one, among those who are of celebrity, I can converse with half so easily & comfortably. Miss Thrale next espied me, & never left my Elbow during my stay. She grows more & more sociable with me every Day. Mrs. Thrale was at Cards, but soon joined us. There were 3 Rooms, — one for cards, one for nothing, & one for music, where Piozzi presided, & where some misses sung. First, Miss Thrale, then Miss Wilmot,4 a sister of Lady Gideon, then 2 Miss Parrys.5 I think, if Allegrante gave me such scanty pleasure, any account here would be rather superfluous. Late in the Evening came in Lady Margaret Fordyce, & Lady Anne Lindsay: I had hopes they would have sung, but I was disappointed, for they only looked handsome. Mrs.  Hampden, also, did that, & was much less in her airs. Among my acquaintance, were Lord Gage,6 Miss Monckton, Mr. Selwin, Mr. Swinerton, Harry Cotton, Mr. H. Shelley,7 Mrs. Walsingham, the Thrales, & Sir Joshua. Among those at

23 Dec. Elizabeth Wilmot (1746–1826), second daughter of Sir John Eardley Wilmot, Chief Justice of the Common Pleas, later m. (1788) Sir Thomas Blomefield (1744– 1822); cr. (1807) Bt. She, whom FB had met at a ball in 1770, was one of FB’s early admirers (EJL i. 109 and n. 18; IGI; ODNB). 5 Amelia Parry (1767–1846), daughter of Joshua Parry (1719–76), Presbyterian minister and writer, m. (1793) Benjamin Hobhouse (1757–1831), politician, cr. (1812) Bt; her elder sister, Sophia (b. 1765) died, unmarried, of consumption in 1784 (ODNB; C. H. Parry, Memoir of the Revd. Joshua Parry (1872), p. 117). 6 William Hall Gage (1718–91), cr. (1780) B. Gage of Firle. See EJL iii. 320 n. 12. 7 Henry Shelley (1727–1805) of Lewes, Sussex. See EJL iii. 276 n. 43. 3 4

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whom I looked, were Sir Hugh Dalrymple,8 author of the Memoirs, a very respectable looking man, Mr. Erskine, & Soame Jenyns.9 Sir Joshua desired me to speak to Soame Jenyns, for he said he was now of an age to be entitled to such an attention! You may suppose I complied readily! — Another Time, when he had strolled away for a few minutes, he hastened back to me, & exclaimed ‘I have just found out Mr. Simkins!’ ‘Where? which is he?’ ‘There, — that Gentleman who is Bowing to Lady Juliana Penn.’10 | ‘Mercy! cried I, perceiving, to my great dismay, Mr. Selwin, — why that is one of our intimate friends! —’ ‘O, is he so? cried he, with great readiness why then that, I suppose, is the reason of the resemblance!’ Wicked enough, however, by no means true. Afterwards I had some talk with the Duca di Sangro, a Neapolitan Nobleman, very young, excessively handsome, & very gay, talkative, sportive & frolicsome. He took off the french manner of singing in general, then M. le Gros11 in particular, he acted, Capered, talked comical bad English, sung, languished, laughed & mimicked; &, in short, was an admirable & most diverting buffoon. A small part of the Company; consisting of about 30, were kept to supper; — my Father & self were of the Number. The entertainment given was superb, & most elegantly costly. 24 had seats at our Table; the rest stood round, till another supper was prepared in another Room. I sate between Miss Thrale & Harry Cotton. But I shall give no further particulars, as the Evening, all together, was but tiresome. 8 Sir Hew Dalrymple (1712–90), 2nd Bt, of North Berwick, Haddington. FB mistakenly attributes to him the Memoirs of Great Britain and Ireland (Edinburgh, 1771–88) by Sir John Dalrymple (1726–1810), 4th Bt (YW ii. 66; ODNB). 9 Soame Jenyns (1704–87), miscellaneous writer (ODNB). 10 Lady Juliana Penn, née Fermor (1729–1801), 4th daughter of Thomas Fermor (1698–1753), 2nd B. Leominster, cr. (1721) E. of Pomfret. She married (1751) Thomas Penn (1702–75), 2nd son of William Penn (1644–1718), the founder of Pennsylvania (ODNB). 11 Joseph Legros (or Le Gros) (1739–93), French tenor and composer. Legros ‘developed a powerful, sweet-toned haute-contre suited to the high tessitura of French opera’ (GMO).

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Saturday [21 Dec.]. We had 2 Tickets for the new Comic opera, & made Mr. Burney & Hetty use them: & they then supped with us, & took leave for some time, as they go on Tuesday [24  Dec.] to the Bishop of Winchester’s at Farnham.12 Charles also came Home for one Night. Poor Miss Rose is very far from well. She is a very good & deserving Girl, how ever simply romantic, & I am very truly desirous of her Health & happiness. I need not tell you we lost our Capt. who I was quite grieved to see so little of. Sunday, Decr 22. I went to the French Chapel13 in the morning, & found Mr. Seward here when I returned. He was followed | by Barry, & succeeded by Pacchierotti, who, in rather better spirits than I have lately seen him, told me he had been admitted, for half an Hour, the Day before, to Lady Clarges, as poor Sir Thomas was a little better! — She told him that Sir Thomas, though often delirious, never failed, in his intervals of reason & of ease, to enquire for Pacchierotti, & to call out Has Pacchierotti been here to Day? — does Pacchierotti call always to ask how I do himself? This affected the feeling Pacchierotti very strongly, & he talked of Sir Thomas’s illness & danger in a manner that could not but be very affecting to me, also, though I hardly knew him by sight. Lady Clarges, in this short interview, enquired very much about you, & whether you were coming to Town, & how your Health was, & what were your designs. ‘Indeed, added the Pac., is a very true regard which Lady Clarges she has always for Mrs. Phillips.’ I asked him if he had heard that Miss Catherine Bull had lent me an Opera Ticket? & told him I very much wished to be acquainted with her Family. He looked much pleased, & called out ‘Then, I am sure, is in your own power, for Doctor Burney can —’ He stopt, as if suddenly recollecting & checking himself, & added ‘I don’t know, ma’am, how is, but you have made, indeed, all the people, not only for the Young, but 12 Brownlow North, Bishop of Winchester, had befriended the Worcester Burneys while Bishop of Worcester and had invited them to stay at Farnham the previous Christmas (see EJL iv. 488 n. 12). Probably this year’s party was a repeat with Charles Rousseau included (with EBB of course) as one of the Worcester branch. 13 A chapel on Orange Street at the corner of St Martin’s Street. Established in 1693 as a French Huguenot Chapel, it was a Church of England Chapel in the 1770s and 1780s (London Encyclopaedia, ed. B. Weinreb and C. Hibbert (Bethesda: Adler & Adler, 1986)).

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at the same Time for the old, quite afraid of you! — Indeed, is their just veneration | which is the cause of such a thing. —’ This always much vexes me, but I know not how to conquer so unfair a prejudice, while I never can get sight of these folks, except through an opera-Glass! — In which way they most assiduously view me in return, whenever I am in Mrs. Fitzgerald’s Box. By his saying the old, as well as young, I suspected he meant Lady Mary Duncan, &, upon sounding my Father, he acknowledged she professed the same ridiculous fear. ’Tis horribly provoking, & thwarts my most favourite views. I dined at Mrs. Thrale’s. Monday [23 Dec.]. I waited upon Mrs. Walsingham. I found Lady Gideon & 2 of her Daughters,14 & Lady Middleton,15 & 2 other Ladies, all assembled to see these Pictures. I was, indeed, extremely pleased with the Exhibition. They appear to me surprisingly well executed, & the subjects are admirably chosen & selected. They are chiefly copies from old Pictures or from Sir Joshua Reynolds. Two were lent her by the king himself, at Windsor, — a Silence, a beautiful Picture of Caracci,16 & a Madona & Child of Guido.17 The others are chiefly from the Devonshire collection.18 Of Sir Joshua, she has the Fishing Boys, the noble Angel viewing the Cross, 2 Samuels, a beautiful Child, & one other I cannot recollect. She has also Copied Gainsborough’s sweet Shepherd’s Boy:19 14 Sir Sampson and Lady Gideon had three daughters. The eldest, Maria Marowe (1767–1834), m. (1794) Gregory William Twistleton (later Eardley-TwistletonFiennes) (1769–1844), 14th B. Saye and Sele, 1788. The second, Charlotte Elizabeth (d. 1826), m. (1792) Sir Culling Smith (1768–1829), 2nd Bt, 1812. The youngest, Selina (b. 1773), m. (1797) John Walbanke Childers (d. 1812) of Cantley near Doncaster, Yorks (ODNB; GM lxvii1 (1797), 528, lxxxii1 (1812), 195; will of J. W. Childers, PCC, prob. 3 Nov. 1813; IGI). 15 Possibly Dorothy Cartwright (c.1733–1808), who m. (1756) Henry Willoughby (1726–1800), 5th B. Middleton, 1781. 16 Annibale Carracci (1560–1609). 17 Guido Reni (1575–1642). 18 At Chatsworth. 19 Probably the character study of a shepherd boy with dog, exhibited at the Royal Academy in 1781, sketched by Edward Francesco Burney and known today only through an engraving (see M. Postle, Thomas Gainsborough (London: Tate Gallery, 2002), p. 56 and fig. 49; A. Graves, The Royal Academy ... 1769 to 1904 (1905–6), iii. 192). Horace Walpole noted on the same page of his copy of the catalogue, ‘The boy good, the dog better’.

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& there are originals by herself, of Capt. Walsingham, & her son,20 & Miss Boyle. | These are all in oils. There were also some Heads in Crayons, & severals [sic] small figures in Plaister of Paris by Miss Boyle,21 who inherits her mothers Genius & fondness for painting, & who behaved with great modesty & politeness. They shewed me, also, a work of Mrs. Delany, which they have framed. ’Tis from an invention of her own, a natural Flower, a Geranium, composed of Paper stained different colours, cut out very delicately, & pasted upon paper, so as to look in relief; & the effect is extremely pretty.22 This she did at Eighty two! — I would have made my exit at the same Time with the rest of the Company, but Mrs. Walsingham would not suffer me, & made me stay & chat with her for I believe 2 Hours. She insisted upon my telling her the whole History of my writing & publishing Evelina, & was curious for the most minute particulars, while Miss Boyle hardly breathed during my answers to her mother’s enquiries, which were very open, & sometimes almost jumped from her Chair, from her eagerness to catch every word ere it was well uttered. When this curiosity was satisfied, she gave me a long history of herself, & her painting, with equal openness, & then said ‘But do pray, now, Miss Burney, let me ask one thing more, — how came you to write that Book that is my first Darling, Cecilia? — did the idea occur to you by chance, or did you regularly sit down to write by Design?—’ I had then to satisfy her about this, — & she spared not for praises in return, but said one thing which | extremely astonished me; — ‘The Character, cried she, which I most delight

20 Richard Boyle (1762–88), army officer. Walpole describes him as ‘a very pleasing young man; a fine figure; his face like hers [his mother’s], with something of his grandfather Sir Charles Williams, without his vanity; very sensible, and uncommonly well bred’ (YW xxxv. 384–5 and n. 7). 21 Walpole notes a bust she modelled of her brother (YW xxxv. 385). 22 Mary Delany’s ‘paper-mosaicks’ or Flora Delanica, as she called them, are ‘collages built up of often very small, separately cut pieces of coloured paper representing not only conspicuous details but also contrasting colours or shades of the same colour so that every effect of light is caught’ (Ruth Hayden, Mrs Delany: Her Life and Flowers (1980), pp. 13–14). Between 1772 and 1782, she represented almost a thousand plants before stopping because of failing eyesight. See below, p. 287.

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in, is Mr. Briggs! I think it the most admirable & entertaining in the Book.’ ‘I am very glad to hear it, ma’am, for he has very few friends.’ ‘O, I know many people think him too low, but that is merely from chusing only to look in the upper Circle. Now I am not at all surprised to find that the Queen objects to him, — a Foreigner, & in so exalted a station, may well not understand so vulgar a miser; but why people in common life should object to what in common life is to be found, I don’t understand. For myself, while I Paint, or Work, I can divert myself with thinking of him, &, if I am quite alone, I can burst out a Laughing by recollecting any of his speeches.’ You will easily believe I was by no means so sorry at the Queen’s objection, as I was glad & surprised that her Majesty should ever have met with the Book. ‘But how wonderfully you have contrived, she added, to make one love Mrs. Delvile for her sweetness to Cecilia notwithstanding all her pride, — & always to hope the pride is commanded by the Husband?’ ‘No, ma’am, answer’d I, I merely meant to shew how differently Pride, like every other quality, operates upon different minds, & that though it is so odious when | joined with meanness & incapacity, as in Mr. Delvile, it destroys neither respect nor affection, when joined with real dignity & generosity of mind, as in Mrs. Delvile.’ I had much more to have said of my meaning & purpose in these Characters; but she has so much established in the World an opinion of her own pride, that I was glad to leave the subject. Of that pride she shewed none to me, I am sure, & would hardly suffer me to leave her all the morning. In the Evening I went to Lady Rothes, with my Father. I found her, as I had left her at Brighton,23 amiable & sociable. I never tell you when the invitations come, for I rather fancy you will not conclude I am likely to go without them. The Party was a good one; — Mrs. Boscawen, Mrs. Walsingham, Mr. & Mrs. Pepys, sweet Mrs. Thrale & her Daughter, Dr. Cadogan, Miss Streatfield, Mr. Wraxal, Lord Falmouth, 23

In November.

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Mr. Seward, Mrs. Ord & some others I did not know: but the Evening was a most melancholy one, for I soon heard, from Mrs. Ord, that poor Sir Thomas Clarges was Dead!24 — how sorry was I for his lady, — for Pacchierotti, & for you! — I could never get you a moment out of my Head, & from the time that I heard it I could do nothing but wish myself at Home. The next morning, Tuesday [24 Dec.], I wrote a little note25 of consolation & good wishes to poor Pacchierotti; — my Father called on the Miss Bulls, & found them in deep affliction, | I long to hear if Lady Louisa Nugent26 can go to Lady Clarges. I believe she is now out of Town. I called upon Bessy Kirwan, & stayed with her a Couple of Hours, — & all our talk was of poor Pacchierotti & his loss, & dear Susy & her Health. As I had the coach, I then spit Cards27 at Mrs. Chapone’s, who has sent me an invitation I declined, — for so I do by at least half I receive, much as I go out, — & at Mrs. Hatsell’s, & Mrs. Paradise’ [sic], & Lady Gideon’s. When I came here, I found Mrs. Wilkinson, who insists upon again renewing our long dropt acquaintance. She is somewhat improved, I think, & much less affected. Mrs. Ord also called, at the desire of Secretary Ord’s lady,28 to make a tender of acquaintance with me. — I begin to grow most heartily sick & fatigued of this continual round of visiting, & these eternal new Acquaintances. I am now arranging matters in my mind for a better plan, — & I mean, hence forward, never to go out more than three Days in the Week; &, as I am now situated, with Mrs. Thrale to seize every moment I do not hide from her, it will require all the management I can possibly make use of to limit my visits to Sir Thomas died on 23 Dec. (HP). Missing. Lady Louisa Nugent (1761–1841), daughter of Robert Nugent (c.1702–88), cr. (1776) E. Nugent (Ire.). She later m. (1784) Eliab Harvey (1758–1830) of Chigwill, Essex, naval officer; G.C.B., 1825 (ODNB; HP; IGI; see also YW xxiv. 417 n. 13, GEC, Peerage ix. 794 n. a). 27 To leave visiting cards. Cf. Thraliana i. 489: ‘Mr Thrale is very well now, & gone out in his Carriage to spit Cards as I call’d it —sputar le Carte.’ 28 Jean Mary Browne Powlett (1751–1814), m. (1778) Thomas Orde (1746– 1807), later Orde Powlett; cr. (1797) B. Bolton. FB had met Orde, a relation of Anna Ord, in Dec. 1776 when he attended one of CB’s musical evenings in St Martin’s Street (see EJL ii. 210). He had been appointed secretary to the Treasury the past July, a post he held till Apr. 1783 (ODNB; HP; IGI). 24 25 26

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only half the Week’s Days. But yet, I am fixed in resolving to put it in practice, except upon some very singular & unforseen occasions, as I really have at present no pleasure in any party, from the trouble & tiresomeness of being engaged to so many. | For my own part, if I wished to prescribe a cure for Dissipation, I should think none more effectual than to give it a free course. The many who have lived so from year to year amaze me more than ever, for now more than I [sic] ever I can judge what Dissipation has to offer. I would not lead a life of Daily engagements even for another month, for any pay short of the most serious & substantial benefit. I have been tired some Time, though I have only now broke out: but I will restore my own spirit & pleasure, by getting more courage in making refusals, & by giving that rest to Company & diversion which can only be given by making them subservient to convenience, & by taking them in turn with quietness & retirement. This is my intention, & I shall never, by inclination, alter it. Now to return to Tuesday [24 Dec.], one of my out-Days. I went in the Evening to call on Mrs. Thrale, & tore myself away from her to go to Bolt Court, to see Dr. Johnson, who is very unwell. He received me with great kindness, & bid me come oftener; which I will try to contrive. He told me he heard of nothing but me, call upon him who would, & though he pretended to growl, he was evidently delighted for me. His usual set, Mrs. Williams29 & Mrs. De Mullins,30 were with him, & some queer man of a Parson,31 who after grinning at me some Time, said ‘Pray, Mrs. De Mullins, is the 5th volume of Cecilia at Home yet? — Dr. Johnson made me read it, ma’am.’ Anna Williams (1706–83), poet. See EJL iii. 62 n. 97. Elizabeth Desmoulins (1716–?86). See EJL iii. 146 n. 79. Perhaps the Revd James Compton (b. c.1747), whom SJ mentions as visiting him on 26 Dec. (SJ to HLT, 26 Dec. 1782 (LSJ iv. 100)). Librarian of the Benedictine convent in Paris at which SJ had stayed in 1775, he had resolved to convert to the Church of England. He arrived in London in the summer of 1782 and asked SJ’s assistance in procuring an introduction to the Bishop of London; he was received into the Church in Jan. 1783 (LSJ iv. 77–8, 82, 85, 131). HLT wrote in 1788 that SJ had given Compton ‘a Guinea ev’ry Monday Morning’ till he became established (Thraliana ii. 707). 29 30 31

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‘Sir, — he did much it honour.—’ | ‘Made you, sir? said the Doctor, You give an ill account of your own taste, or understanding, if you wanted any making to read such a Book as Cecilia.’ ‘O, sir, I don’t mean that, — for I am sure I left every thing in the World to go on with it.’ A shilling was now wanted, for some purpose or other, & none of them happened to have one; I begged that I might lend one, — ‘Ay, said the Doctor, I will borrow of you, — Authors are like Privateers, always fair game for one another.’ ‘True, sir, said the Parson, one Author is always robbing another —’ ‘I don’t know that, sir, cried the Doctor, — there sits an author who, to my knowledge, has robbed nobody. I have never once caught her at a Theft. The Rogue keeps her resources to herself!’ I was then told that Mr. Wyndham32 of Norfolk had called in the morning, & that Dr Johnson had talked over the whole Book with him, — & said such things! — O me, in what must all this end! Christmas Day [25 Dec.] — And a merry one be it to my Susy! — I went to Oxendon Chapel33 & heard a very good sermon by a Mr. Layard34 against infidelity, & I came Home & repeated it for divers purposes. I was soon followed by Miss Palmer & just as she took her leave came Pacchierotti, looking so ill! so thin! so dejected! — He came to thank me for my consolatory note & he stayed till Dinner Time. Our whole Talk was of poor Sir Thomas & his Lady; — | I was happy, however, to keep him, & to make him talk, for he says that when he is at Home he is in a state so deplorable it cannot be 32 William Windham (1750–1810), of Felbrigg Hall, Norfolk. A member of SJ’s Club and a pallbearer at his funeral, Windham was a talented scholar and mathematician who later became an M.P. and Secretary at War (ODNB; HP). 33 Built in 1675 by Margaret, née Charlton (1636–81), religious nonconformist and wife of Richard Baxter (1615–91), nonconformist minister, on the west side of Oxendon Street (near Coventry Street), Haymarket (ODNB). 34 Possibly Charles Peter Layard (1749–1803), D.D. (Cantab.), 1787; Dean of Bristol, 1800 (ODNB, s.v. Daniel Peter Layard; GM lxxiii1 (1803), 481; IGI; The Letters of Sarah Harriet Burney, ed. Lorna J. Clark (Athens and London: University of Georgia Press, 1997), p. 364 n. 7.

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described. He pressed me to make use both of Lady Mary’s Tickets & her box for the next Comic Opera; but I refused both, as I intend to go but once or twice more to the Comic Opera, & then can make use of Mrs. Crewe’s Ticket. I spent the Day entirely with my Mother.

291

[St Martin’s Street, 25 December 1782] To Susanna Burney Phillips AL (Berg), 25 Dec. 1782 Double sheet 4to, 4 pp. pmk 25 DE red seal Addressed: Mrs. Phillips, / at Mrs Hamilton’s, / Chesington, / Kingston, / Surry. Endorsed (by SBP): Decr 26th 1782.

A merry Christmas to you, my Susy, — my dearest Daddy, my Kitty, — my good Mrs. Ham, — my kind Mrs. Gast, & my much loved Captain! — I have just got your Letter,35 & enclose the half note, — the other half you shall have to-morrow. William is this moment come from the One Bell Inn,36 where he saw the Bag booked, & hears it went to Kingston on Saturday. You must make, therefore, your sergeant37 enquire at the Kingston Inn if it is not in the Warehouse. Nothing, my Susy, should I better — nay, so well like, as running to Chesington, — but I have not at present the courage to make the proposal, — not only to Mrs. Thrale, but to my Father. I have nothing in the writing way to put it upon, as I have nothing in my mind or my Head of that sort, — don’t say so to Daddy, who will only rave, — but it is most true Missing. See SBP to FB, 11 Apr. 1783 (Berg): ‘He [SC] sends his love to my Father too, & begs if he has Petrarca’s life at home that he will be kind enough to send the 1st Vol: or all of them, by Cooke’s Kingston Stage on Monday, wch sets out from the One Bell Inn, near the new church in the Strand.’ This stage coach departed at 2 p.m. daily. See EJL iv. 513 n. 14. 37 Presumably a sergeant of marines assisting Phillips on his recruiting assignments (see above, p. 4 n. 12). 35 36

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indeed. My Father, I am certain, therefore, would think it an extravagant indulgence to which I have no right. How much I should like to come to you, my dear love, I know I need not say, & indeed it is so much that | I cannot. I must, however, defer it till some sort of pretence offers to make it feasible for mentioning. Your account of your own Health, if not flattered, truly comforts me, — sweetest Susy! — God long bless you & let you long bless your family! — You must have seen poor Lady Clarges’ loss in the Papers, — I am grieved at Heart for Pacchierotti, who suffers more than can be expected, & who has no friend to supply to him so heavy & cruel a loss. — Poor Lady Clarges is greatly to be pitied, — the blow to her, was quite unexpected, for she is unused to illness, & had not seen his danger. She has shut out all her friends from her, even the Miss Bulls, & is half distracted with the shock she has received. In a little Time, however, & when we hear she is more composed, I think you should certainly write to her. But, as I am here upon the spot, & hear news of her continually, I will tell you when, by what I can gather, such a Letter would be likely to give her any consolation. At present, the servants would not even take in a note from Miss Bull, with which she called herself. Thanks, my love, for your caution about my Letters, — I would not, for the world, have them a moment out of your Hands, — if, by any unexpected means, it should be known I write these Journals, what a Warfare should I be engaged in! — Never relent even for a minute, & most steadily continue to read first to yourself, as I have never an instant for looking over what I write, & therefore can give no caution from time to time. I am not, indeed, sure that any has been wanting, but I have trusted all to your discretion. Tell Mrs. Gast you are bound to me in Honour never to part with my Letters! I am very happy to contribute to the entertainment of your fire side, but I should be as uneasy to have the stuff got by Heart, by being privately conned over, as to have it copied. If any difficulties arise in future, tell me, & I will send you a yet stronger exhortation. Your account of all your proceedings is both characteristic & interesting, & my dear Daddy’s encreasing kindness to you makes mine for him encrease. Adieu, my most beloved, — I think you have had Journals enough of

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late to make you all wait very well till I can find you another frank creditably. I have got 5 to you! My mother is much gratified by Mr. Crisp’s writing, she desires her kind Compliments to him, & is sorry to tell him the Cat in St. Martin’s Street Eat the Liver, which was tainted, & she thought would taint the Turkey if they travelled any further in Company. — She believes the Gizzard shared the same fate. I forgot to enclose your Letter to Capt. P. but will in next Frank — read to yr self — [The Journal for 1782 resumes.]

Thursday [26 Dec.] — I passed ditto, though not by ourselves. In the morning Mr. Cambridge came, & made a long visit. He is entertaining, original, & well bred; somewhat formal & what the Witlings would call priggish, but extremely civil & obliging, & I believe remarkably honourable & strict in his principles & actions. I cannot help suspecting that Capt. Phillips has talked some treason38 to him, for though I said hardly 3 words, as my mother said 300, the instant she left the Room to speak to some messenger, he seized the opportunity to press an invitation to Twickenham39 to me: & when she returned, said no more of it. I wished I could have been easy & chatty with him, as I hear he is so much my friend, & as I like him very much; but, in truth, he listens to every syllable I utter with so grave a deference, that it intimidates & silences me. When he was about taking leave, he said ‘Shall you go to Mrs. Ord’s tomorrow? —’ ‘Yes, sir.’ ‘I thought so, said he, smiling, my son, the Clergyman, is invited, & he hoped it. Where shall you go to Night?’ | ‘No where, — I shall be at Home.’ ‘At Home? — are you sure? —’ ‘Yes, —’

i.e., has spoken ill of EAB. Cambridge’s estate on the Thames, just south of Richmond Bridge, which he purchased in 1751. 38 39

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‘Why then, — Mrs. Burney, my son & I Dine to Day in your Neighbourhood, at the Archbishop of York’s, & if you please we will come here in the Evening.’ This was agreed to, — And now I am writing up to the very moment, for it is just 7 o’clock, & we are going to Tea, as these Gentlemen are not expected till 9. He talked much of Capitano, & said several times how happy he should be to know Mrs. Phillips. Our Evening was really a charming one, — the 2 Mr. Cambridges came at about 8 o’clock, & the good Mr. Hoole was here; my Father came down stairs to them, in high spirits & good humour, & he & the elder Mr. Cambridge not only talked enough for us all, but so well & so pleasantly that one person only present had even a wish to speak for himself;40 — when I have told you this was not Mr. Cambridge the Younger, you will want no Ghost to tell you who it was.41 Mr. Cambridge has the best stock of good stories I almost ever heard, &, though a little too precise in his manner, & rather prosing in his conversation, he is always well bred, & almost always entertaining. Our sweet Father kept up the Ball with him admirably, whether in anecdotes, serious disquisitions, philosophy or fun, for all which Mr. Cambridge has | both talents & inclination. The son rises extremely in my opinion & liking: There was something in his manner that, at first, I thought a little pedantic, but that notion entirely wears away upon further acquaintance. He is sensible, rational, & highly cultivated; very modest in all he asserts, & attentive & pleasing in his behaviour, & he is wholly free from the coxcombical airs, either of impertinence or negligence & non-chalence, that almost all the young men I meet, except, also, young Burke, are tainted with. What chiefly, however, pleased me in him was observing that he quite adores his Father. He attended to all his stories with a Face that never told he had heard them before, & though he spoke but little himself, he seemed as well entertained as if he had been the leading person in the company; — a Post which, nevertheless, I believe he could extremely well sustain, &, no doubt, much the better for 40 41

i.e., EAB. An allusion to Hamlet.

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being in no haste to aspire to it. I have seldom, alltogether, had an Evening with which I have been better pleased. Young Cambridge, a little oddly, said to me ‘You don’t go to Mrs Ord’s to-morrow?’ ‘Yes, I do.’ ‘I shall have, then, the pleasure of seeing You.’ Now Mrs. Ord has, since, told my Father that, at his own desire, she invited him professedly to meet me: that is, she had promised him to let him know when I came. I am glad, however, that the interview took place before I knew this, which made it less formidable & far more agreeable. And now, for once, I have off a pacquet at the end of a Day’s adventures. So God bless you, my Susy, & all your Hearers. |

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[St Martin’s Street, December 1782–January 1783] To Susanna Burney Phillips AJL (Diary MSS II, paginated 1707–[50] Berg), Dec. 1782–Jan. 1783 11 double sheets 4to, 44 pp.

Friday, Decr [27] — I Dined with Mrs. Thrale, & Dr. Johnson, who was very comic & good humoured. Susan Thrale42 had just had her Hair turned up, & powdered, & has taken to the Womanly Role. Dr. Johnson, sportively gave her instructions how to encrease her consequence, & to take upon her properly. ‘Begin, said he, Miss Susy, with some thing grand, — some thing to surprise mankind! Let your first essay in life be a warm censure of Cecilia. You can no way make yourself more conspicuous. Tell the World how ill it was conceived, & how ill executed. Tell them how little there is in it of human Nature, & how well your Knowledge of the World enables you to judge of the failings in that Book. Find fault without fear, & if you are at a loss for any to find, invent whatever comes into your mind, for you may say what you please, with little fear of detection, since of those who praise Cecilia, not half 42

Susanna Arabella Thrale (1770–1858) (EJL iii. 111 n. 11).

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have read it, & of those who have read it, not half remember it. Go to Work, therefore, boldly; & particularly mark, that the character of Albany is extremely unnatural, to your own knowledge, since you never met with such a man at Mrs. Cummyn’s School.’43 This stopt his exhortation, for we laughed so violently at this happy criticism, that he could not recover the Thread of his harangue. Mrs. Thrale, with whom I was to have gone to Mrs. Ord’s, gave up her visit in order to stay with Dr. Johnson; Miss Thrale, therefore, & I went together. We found there Charlotte,44 who had been invited to Dinner, & who looked very pretty, & very innocent; Mr. Seward Mrs. Chapone, Mr. & Mrs Pepys, Mr. Mulso45 & young Mr. Cambridge. There came afterwards Mr. Burrows, Lady Rothes, Miss Burgoigne, Dr. Pepys, Mr. Seward, & a Lady I knew not. | Mrs. Ord received us with her usual good breeding. Mr. Pepys was the most eager to attack me, but finding himself followed by Mrs. Chapone, he soon retreated, for his rage for Tete à Tetes unfits him for all other conversation. Mrs. Chapone was more civil than ever, & after a little general discourse, she asked me if I had yet heard that Swift’s Mrs. Delany46 was among my unknown friends. ‘I have a Letter, she said, which I must beg to shew you from her, for I think it will be worth your running over. It in answer to one I wrote, begging to know whether she had m with Cecilia.47 —

43 A boarding school attended by Susanna and her sister Sophia (EJL iii. 111 n. 11). 44 CAB. 45 Either Hester Chapone’s eldest brother Thomas Mulso (1720–99), commissioner of bankruptcies and, for many years, secretary to his uncle the Revd Dr John Thomas (1696–1781), Bishop of Winchester; or her other surviving brother John Mulso (1721–91), Prebendary of Winchester (ODNB; GM lxix1 (1799), 254; IGI). Thomas Mulso was the author of Callistus; or the Man of Fashion and Sophronius; or, the Country Gentleman (London, 1768). 46 Both Mary Delany and her late husband, Patrick Delany, the Dean of Down, were intimate friends of Jonathan Swift (1667–1745). 47 See Hester Chapone to Mary Delany, 9 Nov. 1782: ‘Have you read Cecilia? I hope it finds favour at Bulstrode, for I am fond of the book and its writer’ (Delany Corr. vi. 120).

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She tells me that both she & the old Duchess of Portland are reading it for the 3d time, & that they desire nothing so much as an acquaintance with the amiable Writer.’ There, Miss Susanna! there daddy! — the old Wits have begun the charge! — this was very pleasant to me indeed, for if they have curiosity as will I, we shall all have some end to answer in meeting. When I sate down, — for all this & much more, passed as soon as I entered the Room, — I had Mr. & Mrs. Pepys for my 2 Neighbours: but Mr. Cambridge came up to me, & said he feared his Father & himself had kept us up the preceding Evening; ‘for me, he added, I had not any idea how Time went; on the contrary, I thought it so early, that when I came Home I sate down quietly to my Books & papers, & was preparing for my usual employments, when the watchman, to my infinite surprise, passed my Window with Past 1 O’ Clock! — ‘ I assured him, which was very true, that my Father had been so entirely of the same mind, that he had seriously called for his Candle, to go into his study, & begin the Evening! & when we told him it was half past 12, he protested he had not believed it was yet 10. Mr. Cambridge then went back to his place, & Mr. Pepys | took the reins. Mr. Seward came afterwards & sate just behind me, & was very comical & pleasant: & Miss Burgoigne was placed just before me, & I continued the whole of the Evening in the same party. I have no conversation, however, to write, for none was striking. In the conclusion of the Evening, at a general rising upon some of the Company’s going away, Mr. Pepys had left his place, & Mr. Cambridge took it, saying ‘I have had no opportunity, Miss Burney, of asking you how you do to night.’ And then, as usual, he began upon Captain Phillips, — ‘He is not, I think, in Town?’ ‘O no, — You, I fancy, would know if he were.’ ‘I should otherwise be extremely disappointed. I have some thoughts, however, of going to visit him.’ ‘What, to Chesington!’ exclaimed I. ‘Yes, — I have been making enquiry into the Roads.’ He then asked me several particulars of how it stood.

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‘Ah, said I, if you go there, — you will see the dearest & oldest & best friend I have in this World! — & you will see a man who has not, I think, left such another behind him when he ran out of it!’ ‘Indeed! —’ ‘Indeed I think so: & I am sure, in my circle, I have found no such other, — neither for knowledge of mankind, nor of business, nor of the polite arts, nor of literature.’ ‘I can never rest, then, said he, smiling, till I see such a man.’ ‘You may not, perhaps, said I, in a short meeting, see all that I tell you; but, as it is not half what I think of him, I have no fear that I should disappoint you if you could spend any Time with him. He is a Travelled man, & a scholar, as I am told, — & he has a good humour, & a love of sport that make his Company always charming. He has long shut himself | up from the World, which is the worst thing I know of him, & he has refused to let any of his old friends except my Father follow him: but you will see in a moment, by his manners, his entrance into a Room, — I could almost say by his Countenance, that when he did live in the World, it was among the first people there.’ ‘But perhaps, cried he, a little alarmed, if he is so very rigidly retired, he will not permit me to see him?’ ‘O Yes, he will; as Captain Phillips’ friend he will even be glad to see you: for he is as much alive as ever to all that passes in the World, & as happy to be acquainted with what is going on. If you went, formally, by way of seeing him, he would perhaps be uneasy, & wish to shun you; but as you go to Captain Phillips, he will feel no weight upon himself from the visit & therefore he will probably be much pleased with it.’ I don’t know if my Daddy will scold me for giving this encouragement; but I really think Mr. Cambridge deserves his Acquaintance. ‘He has a general benevolence, then, to the World, said he, notwithstanding he has run from it?’ ‘Indeed he has, & he is as deeply interested in the welfare of his friends as if he never lost sight of them. As to me, I feel as well satisfied of his regard, as of my own for him, & I communicate to him every thing that I do, & almost every thing

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that I say. He knows all my proceedings as exactly as if we never lived asunder.’ ‘Why what roads could ever be bad enough to keep one from seeking out such a man as this? — How I wish my Father could see him!’ ‘Your Father, I am sure, must be delighted with him, because | they must have so many recollections in common. The most unmixed happiness I have known in my life has been at Chesington; the place is so retired, & so comfortable, & the inhabitants are so easy & so good humoured. Mrs. Hamilton, the mistress of the House, is the most obliging & even tempered Woman I think ever knew, & Miss Cooke, her Niece, though she has had no advantages from Education, has so excellent a Heart, & so sweet a disposition, with a very good fund of natural sense, that I would rather pass my Time with her than with more than half the cultivated people I have ever met with. There is such a general worthiness, & friendliness, & chearfulness through-out the whole place, that it is almost impossible — I am sure I have found it quite impossible — to be ever unhappy there.’ I know not how much longer I might have run on upon this favourite theme, if my Father had not come now to tell me the Coach waited, & to hurry us off. Young Mr. Cambridge, however, will have no cause to complain of my taciturnity! If every body, like him, would chuse general subjects, instead of boring me about my own Books, how much more should I like these Conversationes. I wonder if he will go to Chesington! — I would I could ride behind him! I shall be excessively eager to hear what he says, if he really takes the journey. I said nothing of my sweet Susy; — I did not dare; — but I begged him, if he should not like Mr. Crisp, never to give me any account of his excursion. Mrs. Chapone, before I came away, engaged me for Monday [30 Dec.]. Saturday, Decr 28. My Father & I Dined & spent the Day at Sir Joshua Reynolds, after many preceeding disappointments. | Our Dinner party consisted merely of Mr. West,48 the Painter, 48 Benjamin West (1738–1820), historical and religious painter and portraitist (EJL iv. 315 n. 96).

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Mr. Jackson49 of Exeter, & Miss Reynolds.50 Mr. West had, some Time ago, desired my Father to invite him to our House, to see that Lion your sister, saying to him ‘you will be safe, Dr. Burney, in trusting to our meeting, for I am past 40, & married!’51 My Father, however, has had no Time, & therefore I believe he applied to Sir Joshua, for the servant who brought our Card of invitation, said he was to carry no other till ours was answered. The moment Miss Palmer had received me, with a reproachful ‘At last we are met!’ Sir Joshua took my Hand, & insisted upon wishing me a merry Christmas according to old forms, & then presenting me to Mr. West, he said ‘You must let me introduce to you one of your greatest admirers.’ Mr. West is a very pleasing man, gentle, soft-mannered, chearful & serene. Mr. Jackson you may remember our formerly seeing: he is very handsome, & seems possessed of much of that ardent genius which distinguishes Mr. Young; for his expressions, at Times, are extremely violent, while at other Times, he droops, & is so absent that he seems to forget not only all about him, but himself. They were both exceedingly civil to me, & dear Sir Joshua is so pleasant, so easy, so comfortable, that I never was so little constrained, in a first meeting with people who I saw came to meet me before. After Dinner, Mr. Jackson undertook to teach us all how to write with our left Hands; — some succeeded, & some failed, but both he & Mr. West wrote nothing but my | Name; I tried, & would have written Sir Joshua, but it was illegible, & I tore the paper; Mr. Jackson was very vehement to get it from me; — ‘I have done the worst, cried I, & I don’t like disgracing myself.’ ‘Pho!’ cried he, just with the energy & freedom of Mr. Young, — ‘let me see it at once, — do you think you can do anything with your left Hand that will lessen the credit of what you have done with your right?’ This, however, was all that was hinted to me upon that subject by him. I had afterwards one slight touch from Mr. West, but the occasion was so tempting, I could not possibly 49 50 51

William Jackson (1730–1803) of Exeter, composer. See EJL iv. 104 n. 50) Frances Reynolds (1729–1807), painter, sister of Sir Joshua Reynolds. He m. (1764) Elizabeth, née Shewell (1741–1814) (ODNB).

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wonder at him. Sir Joshua had 2 snuff Boxes in use, a gold, & a tin one; I examined them, & asked why he made use of such a vile & shabby utensil as the Tin one? ‘Why? said he, Laughing; why because I naturally love a little of the blagguard 52 [sic]. — Ay, & so do you, too! little as you look as if you did! — & all the people all Day long are saying where can you have seen such Company as you treat us with?’ ‘Why you have seen such, Sir Joshua, said Mr. West, taking up the tin snuff Box, for this Box you must certainly have picked up at Briggs’s sale!’53 You may believe I was eager enough now to call a new subject; & Sir Joshua, though he loves a little passing speech or two upon this matter, never insists upon keeping it up, but the minute he sees he has made me look about me, or look foolish, he is most good naturedly ready to give it up. — But how, my dearest Susy, can you wish any wishes about Sir Joshua & me? a man who has had 2 strokes of the Palsey!54 — Good God! what misery should I suffer if I were | only his Neice! from a terror of a fatal repetition of such a shock! — I would not run voluntarily into such a state of perpetual apprehension for the Wealth of the East. Wealth, indeed, per se, I never too much valued, & my acquaintance with its possessors has by no means encreased my veneration for it. In the Evening came Major Lyon,55 a Young man who, I found, had long ago been promised by Miss Palmer to meet me at her House. This was so obvious, by his introduction & manner, that it made me very uncomfortable for an Hour or two, & I scolded Miss Palmer very much, & charged her to make such a shew of me no more, as she valued my comfort in her House. She has promised amendment, & I hope she will mind her promise. I can give no account of this major, for he watched me too much for me to watch him; but I was heartily glad he took his leave before supper. 52 Austin Dobson suggests that Sir Joshua is punning upon the name for a brand of snuff, ‘blackguard’ or ‘Irish blackguard’ (DL ii. 163 n. 1). See OED, s.v. ‘blackguard’ A. n. II. 7. 53 i.e., it is the kind of cheap item that might have been obtained at a sale of the effects of Mr Briggs, Cecilia’s miserly guardian (see ‘A Miser’s Mansion,’ Cecilia, bk. 5, ch. 8). 54 Sir Joshua had suffered his first stroke in April 1779 (GAO). 55 Not identified.

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Mr. Elliot56 of port Elliot also came in, & he stayed the whole Evening. I have met him there 2 or 3 Times, & therefore neither of us cared about meeting the other. He is a sensible, agreeable, well bred man. Sir Joshua has a plan in consideration for instituting a Jubilee in honour of Raphael, who, this Easter, will have been Dead 300 Years.57 He is not yet determined what ceremonies to have performed, but he charged me to set my little Brain to Work in thinking for him, & said he should insist upon my assistance. Miss Reynolds, comically enough, proposed a procession of all the Characters from Cecilia, as Garrick had arranged one of those of Shakespeare.58 Sir Joshua declared he would walk for Hobson, — ‘And as to Simkins, said he, we | know where to look for him!’ meaning poor Mr. Selwyn; a notion which really provokes me. I had afterwards a whispering Conversation with Mrs. Reynolds, which made me almost burst with Laughter, from her excessive oddness & absurdity. It began about Chesington. She expressed her wonder how I could have passed so much Time there; I assured her that with my own will I should pass much more Time there, as I know no place where I had had more, if so much happiness. ‘Well! bless me! cried she, holding up her Hands, and all this variety comes from only one man! — That’s strange, indeed! for by what I can make out, there’s nothing but that one Mr. Quip, there!’ ‘Mr. Crisp, said I, is indeed the only man, but there are also 2 ladies, very dear friends of mine, who live there constantly.’ ‘What, & they neither of them ever married that same Gentleman?’ ‘No, they never married any body; they are single, & so is he.’ Edward Eliot (1727–1804), of Port Eliot, Cornwall. See EJL iv. 315. 1783 marked the tercentenary of Raphael’s birth on 28 March or 6 April 1483. He died on 6 April 1520 (GAO). 58 Garrick had planned a procession of Shakespeare’s characters for the Stratford Shakespeare Jubilee of 1769. After it was cancelled by bad weather, he adapted it into The Jubilee, a theatrical entertainment which was his single most popular piece at Drury Lane (ODNB). 56 57

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‘Well, but if he is so mighty agreeable, said she, holding her finger up to her Nose most significantly, can you tell me how it comes to pass he should never have got a Wife in all this Time!’ There was no answering this but by grinning; but I thought how my dear Kitty would again have called her the old sister. She afterwards told me of divers most ridiculous distresses she had been in with Mrs. Montague & Mrs. Ord. ‘I had the most unfortunate thing in the World happened | to me, said she, about Mrs. Montague, & I always am in some distress or misfortune with that lady! She did me the honour to invite me to Dine with her last Week; & I am sure there is Nobody in the World can be more obliged to Mrs. Montagu for taking such notice of any body: but just when the Day came, I was so unlucky as to be ill, & in such a way that I was forced to take some rhubarb , & that, you know, made it quite improper to go to Dine with Mrs. Montagu, for fear of any disagreeable consequences. So this vexed me very much, for I had nobody to send to her, that was proper to appear before Mrs. Montagu; for, to own the truth, you must know I have no servant but a maid, & I could not think of sending such a Person to Mrs. Montagu. So I thought it best to send a Chairman, & to tell him only to ring at the Bell, & to wait for no answer, because then the Porter might tell Mrs. Montagu my servant brought the Note, for the Porter could not tell but he might be my servant. But my maid was so stupid, she took the shilling I gave her for the Chairman, & went to a Green shop,59 & bid the Woman send somebody with the Note, & then she left the shilling with her so the Green Woman, I suppose, thought she might keep the shilling, & instead of sending a Chairman, she sent her own errand girl! And she was all dirt & rags! But this is not all, for when the Girl got to the | House, nothing would serve her but she would give the Note to Mrs. Montagu, & wait for an answer! — so then, you know, Mrs. Montagu saw this ragged Green shop Girl! — I was never so shocked in my life, for when she brought me back a Note, I knew at once how it all was! — only think what a mortification! to have Mrs. Montagu 59

A greengrocer.

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see such a person as that! She must think it very odd of me, indeed, to send a Green shop Girl to such a House as her’s’. Now for a distress equally grievous with Mrs. Ord. ‘You must know Mrs. Ord called one Day when I did not happen to be Dressed; so I had a very pretty sort of a Bedgown, like a Jacket, hanging at the fire, & I had on a petticoat, with a border on it of the same Pattern; but the Bedgown I thought was damp, & I was in a hurry to go down to Mrs. Ord, so I would not stay to dry it, but went down in another Bedgown, & put my Cloak on: — but only think what Mrs. Ord must think of it! for I have since thought she must suppose I had no Gown on at all, for you must know my Cloak was so long, it only shewed the Petticoat!’ If this makes you grin as it did me, you will be glad of another specimen of her sorrows. ‘I am always, said she, out of luck with Mrs. Ord; for another Time when she came, there happened to be a great slop on the Table; so while the maid was going to the Door, I took up a rag that I had been wiping my Pencils with, for I had been Painting, & I wiped the Table, — but | as she got up stairs before I had put it away, I popt a white Handkerchief upon it. However, while we were talking, I thought my Handkerchief looked like a litter upon the Table, &, thinks I, Mrs. Ord will think it very untidy, for she is all neatness herself; so I whisked it into my Pocket; but I quite forgot the rag with the paint on it! so when she was gone, bless me! — there I saw it was sticking out of my Pocket in full sight! only think what a slut Mrs. Ord must think me! to put a dish clout in my Pocket! —’ I had several other stories of the same sort, & I fear I have lost all reputation with her for dignity, as I laughed even immoderately at her disasters. We stayed supper, & were quite comfortable & easy. Sunday, Decr 29th. In the morning called Pacchierotti, rather in better spirits, but still looking very ill. I did not dare mention Lady Clarges, though I much wished to have gathered some information, in order to have sent it to you: but he is so depressed by the loss of his friend, that he cannot, without a sadness too much to well endure, talk or think of him. He told me he hoped to meet me in the Evening at one of my

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friends, & seemed much surprised, &, indeed, disappointed, when I said I should be at Home all Day. He meant Mrs. FitzGerald, where he had been invited; & he had hardly left the House, before she sent here. You may believe I did not much hesitate in accepting her invitation. I went to her, indeed, | with very great delight, for it was the first opportunity that has offered this whole Year to me of hearing Pacchierotti in a Room. There was no Company but 2 more disagreeable Misses, Gwin & O’Hara,60 & Keane FitzGerald.61 Charlotte went with me. I had a very pleasant Evening; Pacchierotti sung, at Mrs. FitzGerald’s desire, Non temer bel idol mio,62 which I much regretted, as I had a thousand times rather have heard him in something less hackneyed, nothwithstanding he makes almost everything new every fresh time he sings. He afterwards, of his own accord, sung a song from Artaserse, made for Artabano,63 — a very pretty minuet, which he transposes, & which I dare say you have heard. He sung it most sweetly. All the 3 FitzGeralds’ were enchanted with him. Monday. Decr 30. I spent all the morning at my Aunts. Aunt Beckey was at Epsom, where her Health is already mended, to my great satisfaction. Aunt Anne is pretty well. In the Evening I went, by appointment, to Mrs. Chapone, where I met Mr. & Mrs. Pepys, Mr. & Mrs. Mulso,64 & Mr. Burrows & his old maiden sister.65 We had rather a hum drum Evening. I cannot bring myself to be well enough acquainted with this set to try at enlivening it, because I cannot help being half afraid of them; otherwise, a little rattling would prodigiously

Neither has been identified. Keane Fitzgerald (1748–1831). See EJL iii. 278 n. 54. A favourite aria by Ferdinando Gasparo Bertoni, which he composed for the pasticcio Demofoonte (GMO; EJL iii. 183 n. 50). 63 The part of Artabano in Artaserse. The role was for tenor voice and was created in London by Valentin Adamberger (1740 or 1743–1804), German tenor (GMO; Highfill; LS 5 i. 230; see also EJL iii. 184; above, p. 22). 64 Mr and Mrs Thomas Mulso or Mr and Mrs John Mulso (see above, p. 227 n.  45). Mary Prescott (d. 1799) m. (1761) Thomas Mulso; Johannah Young (d.  1790) m. (1756) John Mulso (DNB; IGI; GM xxvi (1756), 261; lxix2 (1799), 622; will of John Mulso, PCC, prob. 15 Oct. 1791). 65 Presumably Amy Burrows (1730–1811). Another maiden sister, Elizabeth (1731–82), died this year (M. Burrows, ‘Pedigree of the Family of Burrows’ (1877), rev. (1924) by J. C. Burrows, original held at Society of Genealogists, London). 60 61 62

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mend matters, &, though they might stare a little, I am sure they would all like it. | Mrs. Chapone shewed me a Head of Mrs. Delany; I admired it much; there looks much benevolence & sense in it. ‘I am glad, said I, to see even thus much of her.’ ‘I hope, then, said Mrs. Chapone, you will give me the pleasure of introducing you to know more of her.’ I forgot to mention that while I was at my aunts the fine Miss Ellerker honoured me with a visit. Tuesday, Decr 31. I went this morning with my dear Father to Sir Ashton Lever’s,66 where we could not be entertained. Sir Ashton came & talked to us a good while. He may be an admirable Naturalist, — but, I think, if, in other matters, you leave the ist out, you will not much wrong him. He looks full 60 years old, yet he had Dressed not only 2 young men, but himself, in a Green Jacket, a round Hat with Green Feathers, a bundle of arrows under one arm, & a Bow in the other; & thus, accoutered as a Forrester, he pranced about, while the younger fools who were in the same Garb, kept running to & fro in the Garden, carefully contriving to shoot at some mark just as any of the Company appeared at any of the Windows! — After such a specimen of his actions, you will excuse me if I give you none of his conversation. We met with Mrs. Nollekens & Miss Welsh.67 As soon as I came Home, I went to Mrs. Thrale’s, where I bargained for having nobody admitted, & I stayed till Eleven o’clock, spending as quietly sociable a Day as I could wish. — But I was very much vexed I had not | returned somewhat sooner, when I heard that young Mr. Cambridge had been here, just arrived from Chesington. I would have given the World to have heard his immediate account of what had passed, & whether the place & people had answered his expectations.

66 Sir Ashton Lever (1729–88), natural history collector (ODNB). His museum, the Holophusikon, was located in Leicester House, Leicester Square. For a description of the museum, see EJL iv. 494 n. 30. 67 Mary Nollekens, née Welch (d. 1817) and her younger sister Anne (‘Nancy’) Welch (d. 1810). SJ writes that Anne Welch had ‘Powers and knowledge, but no art of making them agreeable’ (LSJ iv. 160; see also EJL ii. 211 n. 33).

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[St Martin’s Street, December 1782 or January 1783] To Hester Maria Thrale ALS (Houghton), Dec. 1782 or Jan. 1783 Single sheet 8vo, 1 p. Addressed: Miss Thrale, Argyll Street The ‘cruel affair’ was presumably HLT’s increasing resolve to marry  Gabriel Piozzi. She had confided to her diary on 27  Nov.: ‘I have given my Piozzi some hopes. — dear, generous, prudent, noble-minded Creature: he will hardly permit himself to believe it ever can be’. And in Dec.: ‘My Lover is jealous of me; how should he help it? he sees me surrounded with Fops & Fools, & Wits & Wise Folks. . . . yet sure he might be convinced of my Love, my Esteem by this Time . . .’ (Thraliana i. 551, 555).

If you can possibly come to me here I beg you would, — we will talk the whole cruel affair quite through — we can be quite undisturbed in my Room, you will not mind cold, & I will not mind ceremony. I am very, very sorry for you indeed! — & too much frightened to do any good by writing, but in talking we may both recover our recollections. — I am glad you applied to me, distressed as I am how to counsel you, for I will think the best I can, & I will, as I ever have, be as honourable in advising you, as I must be tender for your dear unhappy mother — whom I can hardly think of without crying. — If you can come, the sooner the better I shall be at Home all Day — God bless you my dear Miss Thrale! ever yours F.B. [The Journal for 1783 resumes.]

Wednesday, Jany 1st 1783. This was one of my quiet Days at Home, upon the new construction I mentioned to you. Pacchierotti called for a few minutes in the morning, to wish us a happy new year, & desired I would not forget making his Compliments to Mrs. Phillips upon such an account. Thursday [2 Jan.] — I again spent at Home.

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Friday, Jany 3d was a very busy Day. In the morning, there was a grand Rehearsal of a new serious opera; Mrs. FitzGerald had engaged to go with me, but sent me suddenly an excuse. I therefore wrote to ask Mrs. Ord, for she had said she should like it a few Days before. She sent me a very kind answer, & called for me at 12 o’clock. We got into a very good Box, though so much in the dark, that Pacchierotti did not know me. There was very little company. The famous old dilitante Mrs. French68 was in the next Box to ours, & put her Head in to ask if I was not Miss Mee?69 Mrs. Ord had a good mind to answer no, Miss B. — however, when I told her of her mistake, she entered nevertheless into chat, asking my opinion of the opera, & what was the story, & the new singer, Carnevale,70 &c. The Opera is called Cimene,71 & the story is, The Cid.72 The music, Bertoni’s. Some is very pretty, some very | trite, & a good many passages borrowed from Sacchini. Many things, however, in the scheme of the opera were, to me, quite new: The Duet they begin & end together, without one solo bit for either singer; it is extremely pretty, & if Pozzi73 had the upper part, would have been beautiful. The conclusion is a long historic finale, such as we have been only used to in comic operas; & just before the last Chorus, Pacchierotti74 has a solo air accompanied by the mandoline, which has a mighty pretty effect, but, not being expected, John Bull75 did not know whether it would be right or not to approve it, & therefore, instead of applauding, the folks only looked at one another. The new singer, Carnevale has a loud, violent voice, very 68 Juliana French, née Burke (1728–90), sister of Edmund Burke; she m. (1766) Patrick French (Correspondence of Edmund Burke, ed. T. W. Copeland et al. (Cambridge, 1958–78), i. 20, 235). 69 Probably Mary Mee (1752–1805), daughter of Benjamin Mee of Bath; she m. (5 Jan.1783) Henry Temple (1739–1802), 2nd Visc. Palmerston (YW xii. 59; IGI). 70 Signora Pietro Carnevale (fl. 1783–92), Italian singer and actress. In her first London appearance, 7 Jan. 1783, she sang the title role in Bertoni’s Cimene (Highfill). 71 Cimene, ‘a Serious Opera in 2 acts’ (LS 5. i. 583), music by Bertoni, libretto by Benedetto Pasqualigo. Its opening night, 7 Jan. 1783, at the King’s Theatre was the first of only three performances. 72 The medieval Spanish romance based on the exploits of Rodrigue Diaz de Bivar, ‘the Cid’ (d. 1099). Pasqualigo’s libretto is based on Corneille’s Le Cid (GMO). 73 Anna Pozzi (fl. 1776–88), Italian soprano (GMO). 74 In the role of Rodrigo. 75 i.e., the English public.

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harsh & unpleasing, & as little manageable or flexible as if she had sung all her life merely by Ear, & without teaching of any sort. She has all the abilities to be a great singer, & she is worse than any little one. Pacchierotti’s first song is a sweet mezza bravura, or sweet, at least, he made it, with the same words Millico had, ‘Placa lo sdegno, O Cara.’ — His 2d is una vera cantabile, — O such singing! — so elegant, so dignified, so chaste, so polished! — If my sweet & ever simpathising Susy had but been with me, I should have thought myself in Paradise. I never hear him sing without wishing for you, who only feel his singing as my Father & I do, — for my Father seems more & more delighted with it every Time he hears him. I have nothing new to say of the other people. The Opera is only in 2 acts & he has only 2 songs. | 4th Jany 1783 I will now go on with the rest of Friday [3 Jan.] when we had an invited party at Home, both for Dinner & the Evening. The Occasion was in honour of Dr. Parr, of Norwich;76 Mr. Twining’s friend, & who has been very kind about poor Charles.77 He had been asked to Dinner, to meet Dr. Johnson, but could not come till the Evening. Mr. Seward & Mr. Sastres came early. Charles, also, came from Chiswick78 to [xxxxx 5  words] first professed [xxxxx 3 words] my Father’s friends, — my Heart ached the whole Evening internally — [xxxxx 1 word] I [xxxxx 1 word] satisfaction that almost set me to crying, I will relate to my Susy, place. Dr. Johnson came so very late, that we had all given him up: he was, however, very ill, & only from an extreme of kindness did he come at all! When I went up to him, to tell him how sorry I was to find him so unwell, ‘Ah! he cried, taking 76 The Revd Samuel Parr (1747–1825), LL.D. (Cantab.), 1781; Headmaster of Colchester Grammar School, 1777–9, and of Norwich Grammar School, 1779–85. See ODNB; W. Derry, Dr Parr: a Portrait of the Whig Dr Johnson (Oxford, 1966). 77 Twining had enlisted Parr in the campaign to rehabilitate CB Jr from his disgrace. A noted Latinist, he served as CB Jr’s classical mentor, stood as godfather to his only son Charles Parr Burney (b. 1785), and helped him (through Parr’s former pupil Martin Davy) to gain reinstatement to Caius College in 1807 (ODNB). 78 Where he was employed as assistant master in Dr Rose’s school.

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my Hand & kissing it, who shall ail any thing when Cecilia is so near? — yet you do not think how poorly I am! —’ This was quite melancholy, — & all Dinner Time he hardly opened his mouth, but to repeat to me ‘Ah! you little know how ill I am! —’ He was excessively kind to me, in spite of all his pain, & indeed I was so sorry for him that I could talk no more than himself. All our comfort was from Mr. Seward, who enlivened us as much as he possibly could by his puns & his sport. Poor Charles, for the first Time, was introduced to Dr. Johnson. He was distant but very kind to him. I actually trembled during the ceremony. Charles behaved with more propriety than I ever saw in him before. He was so [xxxxx 1 word] & quiet, & he spoke [xxxxx 3-4 words]. | Mr. Seward, who had never seen him before, ed at him with much surprise & curiosity, but never spoke with him till the latter part of the Evening; & then, I find, he asked him to call upon him. This, however, was brought on by circumstances, for till very late, nothing could be more cold or distant than his words & his manners. Poor Dr. Johnson was so ill, that after Dinner he went Home. I was grieved for him, & I was very sorry, & half ashamed for the rest, who were all invited to meet him. Very early in the Evening came Mrs. FitzGerald, who has all her life been dying to see Dr. Johnson, & who, I am sure, was extremely disappointed in missing him. Soon after came Mrs. Ord, who was less provoked, because her curiosity has often been gratified. Then came Young Mr. Cambridge, who had had the same inducement sent him. As soon as ever he had made his Compliments to my mother, & had some talk with Mrs. Ord, we both, almost in the same moment, for he sate next me, began upon Chesington. I told him how sorry I was to have missed hearing his account of it, for I was greedy of every word that related to that place. ‘O, cried he, I have not talked it half over yet, — I have never mentioned it since I was here, & I have really felt quite full for want of talking of it.’ ‘O, then pray unburthen to me; cried I, for, if it will not tire you, I shall be glad to hear every particular | of your visit. How did you find the Roads?’

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‘O, pretty well: never above the Horses legs. I came here the same Boots I rode in, in order to shew you them.’ ‘How I wish I had been at Home! the dirt that came from Chesington I should have valued! — which way did you find it out?’ ‘Why I know all the Country about it very well, & therefore I knew which way to look for it: but though I saw the House as soon as I came upon the Common, & was very proud of my own sagacity in finding it, I had no credit from any body else, for we met Captain Phillips, who conducted us himself.’ ‘And which way did you go in? not by the Farm Yard, I hope?’ ‘O no! My Brother79 had been there the Day before, & he went that way; but we were very careful to go right.’ ‘Did you go in, then, by the long Walk?’ ‘The long Walk? — no; I saw no long Walk. I remember we were afraid Capt. Phillips took us over Ground we had no right to make our Horses tread, for we went through a very pretty Green path, with Hedges on each side.’ ‘O shocking! cried I, why this is Death to me! — this Green path is our noble long walk! — & I well remember once thinking there was no other such Avenue in the World. Did you see the Church?’ ‘Yes, & Capt. Phillips made me long to have it, for he told me it was a very good living.’ ‘And Mr. Crisp, — you were there too short a Time, perhaps —’ ‘I was there too short a Time, said he, with a smile that told how well he understood me, — to see all, or half I | wanted to see of him. He spoke but little; — his Countenance however, was never silent. —’ Here my mother brought his Portrait, — but he said he thought it less like than that at Chesington. — ‘I saw there, too, he added, another Portrait!’80

79 GOC had two older brothers, Richard Owen (b. 1741) and Charles Owen (1754–1847), but he is here referring to Charles. See p. 387 n. 80. 80 The portrait of FB painted by Edward Francesco Burney the previous Aug. See above, p. 104.

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‘Ah, cried I, I would it were behind the Fire! —’ ‘You will not easily, though, I believe, cried he, persuade Mrs. Phillips to put it there! —’ So he thinks it is yours. ‘My Father, he added, was much struck with its resemblance to Lady Harris.81 I knew it immediately.’ ‘Capt. Phillips, I dare say, had told you it was there.’ Here Dr. Par [sic], Mr. Seward & Mr. Sastres, & my Father came up from the parlour. Poor Dr. Johnson was gone. Charles also came, and Mr. Pugh,82 the only accidental caller in of the Party. I gave up my place upon this bustle, & went & took a seat on the sofa, next to Mrs. FitzGerald. As soon as the new reverences were over Mr. Cambridge, who had a very bad cold, & said it was not every House he would have left his own for so unwell, declared himself very glad of a place near the Fire, & took the seat next mine on the sofa. I was very glad of it, for We began again immediately upon dear Chesington. ‘Mr. Cambridge knew Mr. Crisp, I hear, formerly?’ ‘Yes, he had known him at Hampton,83 & met him at Lord Coventry’s;84 & he was particularly happy in seeing him again. I shall be very sorry, if I have not, myself, the pleasure of seeing much more of him:’ | ‘Did you see Mrs. Hamilton?’ ‘For a minute only. I met her upon the stairs. I was afraid she thought me a little forward in running about her House, for Capt. Phillips took me up to shew me his Room.’ ‘Did you go into the other Rooms?’ ‘No; I saw a pleasant looking Closet, at the end of a Gallery, in perspective: but I should like to see the whole House. One thing, however, I was very proud of; I called Mrs. Hamilton by her name before I was told it.’ ‘Did you see Mrs. Gast?’ 81 Harriet Maria, née Amyand (1761–1830), younger daughter of Sir George Amyand, 1st Bt. She m. (1777) James Harris (1746–1820), of Salisbury, Wilts, cr. (1788) B. and (1800) E. of Malmesbury. 82 The Revd Matthew Pugh (c.1739–1810), Curate of St James’s Westminister (EJL i. 107 n. 16). 83 SC had formerly lived at Hampton (see above, p. 113). 84 George William Coventry (1722–1809), 6th E. of Coventry, 1751. His seat was Croome Court, Worcs.

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‘No.’ ‘O, I am sorry for that. She is Mr. Crisp’s sister, & a very cultivated & intelligent & elegant woman. But did you see my friend Miss Cooke?’ ‘No: That is reserved for my next visit; she did not appear.’ ‘I don’t know how to ask you after my sister’s Health, because as you never saw her before, you cannot make any comparison about her looks —’ ‘No, but she seemed in exceeding good spirits; however, I must own that when my sisters asked me, concerning Mrs. Phillips, I told them she appeared to me not to have quite recovered from some illness. Perhaps she always looks so delicate?’ Ah, my Susy, how sorry I was to hear this! — & you boast to me how well you are! — ‘She has been so good, he added, as to promise us a visit at Twickenham, & we hope it will take place very soon. We have no House in Town, which proves, sometimes, a great inconvenience, as my mother & sisters cannot expect to see every body without return. I wished to have prevailed upon your sister to have given me some commission to you, but | she said she had nothing to send but her Love.’ Here Mr. Pugh, at last, spied me out, & came squinying85 up to me. His Eyes are smaller than ever, & he is more blind than ever, & he pokes his nose more into ones face than ever. Mrs. FitzGerald could not look at him without bursting into almost an Horse Laugh; which really made me hardly able to speak to him. He enquired after all the family, & talked to me of Charles in particular. The moment he went away, Mr. Cambridge said ‘Is your Brother here?’ ‘Yes —’ ‘I shall hope, then, for the pleasure of being introduced to him. Will you be so good —?’ I thanked him. [xxxxx 4 words] of the [xxxxx 1 word], not [xxxxx 1 word] school [xxxxx 2-3 words] surprised him, — but 85 ‘To squint, look askance; to peer with partly closed eyes’ (OED, s.v. squinny, v.1 1). The OED cites FB’s sentence.

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I felt myself very uneasy & uncomfortable, uncertain whether I was greatly obliged to him, or was obliged to him at all. Dear Captain Phillips, when in town, was much dissatisfied upon this subject. I would give the World to know if the Family is acquainted with this sad story. Nothing could contribute more to Charles’s credit with the Roses, than any from a family so much respected by in the neighborhood, but I fear they are just among those who only wonder a son of Dr. Burney’s should be in no higher a station. ‘Captain Phillips, he continued, was to have introduced your Brother to my Father but I will the office from Him now.’ [xxxxx 3-4 words] thought I, that you will. ‘Captain Phillips, he continued, is a most extraordinary young man. He has a knowledge of the World, & of men, & of | manners really amazing! — his Youth, & the Time he must have spent in his best years, at sea, considered. He has an acuteness of observation, & an ingenuity as well as an ingenuousness of disposition, extremely, I think attractive — I don’t speak this by way of my own opinion, for that would be of small importance; but it is very sincerely the opinion of my Father.’ ‘You are very kind to him,’ said I, with O how different a feeling to the same words about poor Charles. ‘And he has a frankness,’ said he. ‘O yes, said I, laughing, he has a frankness that we are all ready to quarrel with him for, for it leads him to commit actions that terrify us to death.’ I don’t know if he understood me, but I believe he did by the quickness with which he answered — ‘&, I am sure he only communicates where he sees himself with trusted friends.’ ‘Why it is not very easy not to love the frankness, said I however we may fear it.’ ‘Never fear it, said he good naturedly, Captain Phillips has more caution in his confidence than to give you any reason.’ He then asked me whether you were always so delicate, or only since your confinement? ‘She was never, answered I, very robust, but it is only of late she has been so very far from well. — one thing, however, I must tell you of Captain Phillips, — though you may perhaps laugh to hear me, also,

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enumerating his excellencies, — but this is one you could not well suppose; — he is the best nurse in the World! & though he has had no experience of illness | himself, he is as careful & attentive to her as if he had never known Health. — And, indeed, if he did not, I know not what would become of her, for she has never been used to take care of herself! Captain Phillips has taken my place; — but he has filled it up entirely to my satisfaction.’ ‘I assure you, answered he, though I always liked Capt. Phillips, & took to him immediately, the thing that first gave me seriously a good impression of his Character, was a speech he made about your sister. It was during the Time of her illness & confinement & when I first knew him, — though it was no set speech he made, he spoke quite naturally, with so much tenderness & concern of her sufferings, that I can never forget it.’ I could almost have greeted 86 at this speech, so strongly did the remembrance of my dear Susy’s illness & danger come back to my mind! My Father now came up to me, followed by Dr. Parr, & said ‘Fanny, Dr. Parr wishes to be introduced to you.’ I got up, & made my reverence. ‘I have long wished, said Dr. Parr, for an opportunity to thank Miss Burney for the very great entertainment, & instruction, I have received from her.’ Horribly disagreeable these Compliments! — I would to Heaven people would either not think them necessary, or send me them by second Hand. ‘Dr. Parr, said my Father, gives us hopes of seeing Mr. Twining this year.’ | ‘If Miss Burney, cried the Doctor, would write to him, success would be certain. I am sure he could resist nothing from her Hand. Tell him he must come & see Mrs. Siddons —’ ‘Ay, said my Father, — & hear Pacchierotti, —’ ‘Whatever Miss Burney tells him will do — one line from her would do. And if she makes use even of any false pretences, as they will be for so good a principle, I will absolve her.’ 86 ‘To weep, cry, lament’ (OED, s.v. greet, v.2 1); a Scottish or northern dialectical term.

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I hate, even in jest, this loose morality from a Clergyman: I only courtsied, & so forth, but attempted no answer; & he grew tired, & went on with my Father & Mr. Seward. Mr. Cambridge then asked me concerning this Mr. Twining, & I gave him a little history of his Character, but not so animated a one as of my Daddy, lest he should order his Horse, & set off for Colchester!87 his enthusiasm for any thing he supposes admirable would never have stopt short of such an expedition. We then went on chatting about Mrs. Siddons, Mr. Garrick, Dr. Johnson, & sundries, till Mrs. Ord broke up the party by taking leave. Mrs. FitzGerald too, went at the same Time. The men now getting into a cluster, Charles was beginning to speak to me, when Mr. Cambridge came up to him, & made me introduce him. It was so entirely his own affair, that he can, at least, have nobody to reproach. I hardly dared hope he what he did! He had then a very long conference with Charles. I moved over to the other side of the Room, & Mr. Pugh came & talked to me, with his usual powers of entertainment. Dr. Parr, Mr. Seward, my Father & Mr. Sastres kept in a clump. | When Mr. Cambridge & Charles parted, the former went & chatted with my mother, who, it seems, though how I know not, told him he had now the entreé of the House. He then again came to me; & with a look that, I think, showed he felt he was giving pleasure, said ‘I have prevailed upon your Brother to promise us his Company next Monday [Jan. 6], when I shall have the pleasure of introducing him to my Father.88 —’ ‘You do him a great deal of honour, — but you should have a little caution, for if you make many more find your House as agreeable as Capt. Phillips tells us he has found it’ — ‘O no! cried he, my only fear is that Captain Phillips’ partiality to our system of life will stop with himself; — no Cards, hardly any Company, — no’ —.

87 Twining, who was the curate of Fordham, Essex, maintained a townhouse in nearby Colchester where he and his wife wintered. 88 CB Jr writes of that first meeting: ‘As for Mr. C. excepting that he some times put me in mind of Mr Delville Senr — I like him much’ (CB Jr to FB, 9 Jan. 1783 (Osborn)).

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‘You ought rather to fear, said I, that it may spread so wide as to destroy it, by breaking into it. When I had the pleasure of being at your House, I was so unfortunate as to miss seeing Mrs. Cambridge.’89 ‘She & my youngest sister90 were in Dorsetshire. My mother had not, for near 40 Years, been so long absent from my Father, — &, indeed, she was very glad to come back. Were you ever in Dorsetshire?’ Berry Hill 91 is there, thinks I! — ‘I have travelled through it, & I have spent some Time in Devonshire,92 which is the most beautiful County I have ever seen.’ ‘Have you travelled through many parts of England? — Were you ever at the Isle of Wight?’ said he. ‘Yes, for a short Time,93 — I was there during Lord George Gordon’s riots,94 — & therefore not very happy; I spent a whole week at that Time without receiving one Letter from | any of my friends. Mr. Thrale had been reported, by some electioneering enemies, to be a Papist, & we were afraid he would be pursued, as the London mob 3 Times attacked his House in the Borough;95 & therefore we travelled about the 89 Mary Cambridge, née Trenchard (c.1717–1806), m. (1740) Richard Owen Cambridge (1717–1802). FB does not mention this visit previously; it probably occurred earlier in 1782, before her first extant mention of the two Cambridges (Richard Owen the father and George Owen the son) in Dec. 90 The two eldest Cambridge daughters were Charlotte (1746–1823) and Catherine (‘Kitty’) Cambridge (1750–84). Richard Altick’s speculation that there was a third daughter, based on one of Richard Owen Cambridge’s letters in which he refers to his having had ‘three daughters at three balls in Salisbury’ and on his will in which he provides for his ‘daughter Mary Cambridge’ (Richard Owen Cambridge, p. 36), is confirmed in CB Jr’s letter to FB, 9 Jan. 1783 (Osborn): ‘The third Girl, Miss Molly, whom you did not see, seldom I imagine appears to strangers, as she is troubled with St Vitus’s dance, or some disorder, that approaches nearly to it’. 91 Fictional home of Mr Villars, Evelina’s guardian, in FB’s first novel Evelina. 92 In the summer of 1773. See the ‘Teignmouth Journal’, EJL i. 274–311. 93 In June 1780 while travelling with the Thrales (EJL iv. 192, 195). 94 The anti-papist riots, incited by Lord George Gordon (1751–93), head of the Protestant Association, began in London, 2 June 1780, to protest the Catholic Relief Act of 1778. See EJL iv. 172–98. 95 On 6 June 1780, the mob’s attack on the Thrale brewery in Southwark was thwarted by the quick thinking of the manager John Perkins (c.1730–1812), who gave the rioters food and porter: ‘nothing but the astonishing Presence of Mind shewed by Perkins in amusing the mob with Meat & Drink & Huzzaes ... could have secured us from actual Undoing’ (Thraliana i. 437; see also EJL iv. 173–4 and nn. 18–20).

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kingdom, merely to avoid being settled; & we were 10 Days, I think, in going from Bath to Brighthelmstone. But — when we got there, — we found 30 Letters at once! 13, I think, were mine.’ ‘’Tis well, cried he, you were not taken up as a spy, yourself! — Have you seen Lord George’s late Letters?’96 ‘No; I thought he had been very quiet now; I hoped he had been tranquilised by the power of music, for I hear he is always at the Opera.’ ‘Yes, but he does not go to the Opera for music, but for a Wife! The truth is, he wants money: & I wish, with all my Heart, some lady would take him, that he might be at rest.’ ‘Why it would really be public spirited! — Do you think him at all crazy?’ ‘No, I believe him merely an adventurer, who wants something, & risks nothing: all his religious pretences I believe mere hypocrisy.’ Here Dr. Parr, who was last but one, took leave; & Mr. Cambridge, hastily saying to my mother ‘I could not go till the last! —’ ran down stairs. The Evening, all together, was something more than pleasant, in the hopes it gave me to see poor Charles being favored once again, though he was too much upon my mind to make me easy. 97 You will, however, agree to what I told you once before, that Young Mr. Cambridge need not complain of my | taciturnity, whatever his Father may do. — Who, indeed, of all my new Acquaintances, has so well understood me? — the rest all talk of Evelina & Cecilia, & turn every other word into some Compliment, while He talks of Chesington, or Captain Phillips, & pays me, not even by implication, any Compliments at all. He neither looks at me with any curiosity, 96 Gordon persisted in his political activity after his acquittal from the charge of high treason in Feb. 1781 (EJL iv. 253 n. 57). He continued to seek the repeal of the Relief Act, and this very day (3 Jan. 1783) published a letter addressed to Lord Shelburne in the Morning Chronicle declaring it ‘the indispensible duty of Kings, Princes and Magistrates, to prohibit “the practice of idolatry in every place under their jurisdiction; that to tolerate any false and idolatrous worship is an affront to the Majesty of Heaven”’ (cited in GM liii1 (1783), 249–50). This year he also published a pamphlet, Innocence Vindicated, and the Intrigues of Popery and its Abettors Displayed. 97 FBA heavily over-scored the remainder of the sentence after ‘pleasant’ and inserted ‘in all respects except the illness of my dear Dr Johnson’.

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nor speaks to me with any air of expectation; two most insufferable honours which I am now continually receiving. He is very properly conscious he has at least as much to say as to hear, & he is above affecting a ridiculous deference to which he feels I have no claim. If I met with more folks who would talk to me upon such rational terms, considering, like him, their own dignity of full as much value as my ladyship’s vanity, with how infinitely more ease & pleasure should I make one in these Conversationes! — Saturday [4 Jan.]. I made visits this morning to Miss Ellerker, Mrs. Barwell, Mrs. Wilkinson, & Mrs. Chapone, & found only the last at Home; but as she was not only last, but best, it accorded extremely well with my wishes. I then went on to Mrs. Thrale, with whom I spent the Day: — always with All my heart. Sunday, Jany 5. After Church, Pacchierotti called, but stayed a very short time. I spent the rest of the day very quietly at Home. Monday [6 Jan.]. Mrs. FitzGerald called for me in the morning, to go to the last Rehearsal of ‘Cimene’. I have nothing new to say to you about it. Mr. FitzGerald brought Pacchierotti, for a few moments, into our Box. He was not in spirits, but could not help singing sweetly. As we were coming out of the Opera House, just at the Door leading to the Hay market I saw the | two Miss Bulls. Lady Mary Duncan, whom they had been with, was gone on. Miss Catherine Bull accidentally looked round, &, thinking now or never to put an end to the awkwardness of our acquaintance, & no acquaintance, I ventured to instantly Courtsie, though rather uncertain whether I was known. Miss Catherine returned my reverence with much alacrity, & most eagerly called after her sister ‘Sister! Sister! here’s Miss Burney! —’ Miss Bull came back, & more courtsies followed. I then went up to them, & said I was very happy in an opportunity of thanking them for their opera Ticket; & they said they were very happy in an opportunity of sending it. ‘I know, said Miss Bull, you are one of Pacchierotti’s greatest admirers.’ Miss Catherine Bull then began a most warm eloge of him. She quite adores him. I asked Miss Bull if she had heard of Lady Clarges? ‘I am to go, for the first Time, she answered, to

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Day to her: I shall Dine with her: — & indeed I wish it was over, for I dread the meeting!’ ‘I hope, cried she, the new opera will be applauded! — if Pacchierotti is not applauded, I shall die! — He is so unhappy about it!’ ‘It is very unfortunate, said I, that even those friends he has, small as the number is to what I wish it, he is not conscious that he has; for they are, in general, the most quiet & attentive part of the Audience, & though they listen to him with as much pleasure as we do, they hardly think of applauding him; & therefore he concludes they do not like him.’ ‘Yes, cried Miss Catherine, & one may talk one self out of Breath before he will believe one, when one tells him how many people admire him.’ Mrs. FitzGerald being now waiting in her Carriage, into | which she had run full speed upon my addressing Miss Bulls,98 I could not in decency keep her any longer, & therefore hastily took my leave; but I was very sorry I could not stay longer, as they seemed full as well disposed as myself to be better acquainted: especially Catherine: the Eldest hung back. They would not, I fancy, have known me, if they had not lately always enquired of my Father whether I was at the Opera, & peeped at me through their Glasses. I am glad, however, this little confab. passed, for I hope it will lead to more. Mrs. FitzGerald then made me go with her to Cosway’s,99 to see her little Girl’s1 Picture. I saw some sweet things there, especially a miniature of the Duchess of Rutland that is Beauty itself.2 I passed the rest of the Day chez nous.

98 FBA later inserted here: ‘with her moral importunity to avoid any sort of ceremony’. 99 Richard Cosway (1742–1821), miniature painter; R.A., 1771; m. (1781) Maria Louisa Caterina Cecilia, née Hadfield (1759–1838), painter (GAO). At this time, the Cosways lived in Berkeley Street. 1 Unless an otherwise unrecorded daughter who died young, this would be Mary Frances Fitzgerald (d. 1855), ‘only daughter and sole heiress’ of John Fitzgerald. She m. (1801) John Purcell (d. 1852), M.D. (Landed Gentry). 2 The Duchess was one of the reigning beauties of the day. See EJL iv. 381.

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St Martin’s Street, 6 January [1783]

To Sarah Rose ALS (Osborn), 6 Jan. 1783 Double sheet 4to, 3 pp. wafer Addressed: Miss Rose, / At Dr. Rose’s, / Chiswick. Annotated (by FBA): No 4 Jany 6th

St. Martin’s Street, Jany. 6th.

Will my dear Miss Rose think me a very officious & troublesome Correspondent should I now send her two Letters for one? Most readily will I promise to make no practice of such methods; though just now I cannot resist the desire I feel of begging to hear from Yourself. Some account of your Health, & of assuring you of the true concern with which I hear how heavily your late domestic loss has fastened upon your spirits.3 That a Heart so affectionate, so warm, so feeling, as all circumstances conspire to convince me you possess, should have been deeply wounded by such a calamity, is the last thing to surprise me, — but pardon me if I entreat you to consider what is due to your surviving friends, who, if they love You as to me you seem loveable, must look upon your depression of mind as a cruel aggravation to their family misfortune, since it must necessarily retard the recovery of one who by kindred, by situation, & by her many excellent qualities, appears to have most power to repair it. I think too highly of the rectitude of your understanding to enlarge upon this matter, as I am sure I can offer nothing which you will not yourself suggest, if once you can turn your thoughts from | Your own affliction to the pain which your sadness gives to 3 The references below to ‘your surviving friends’ and ‘kindred’ suggest that the ‘late domestic loss’ was of a relation living with the Roses for whom she is grieving inordinately. This hypothetical relation has not been identified.

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those to whom You are most dear, & to the danger into which it may bring your very valuable life. — Can you forgive this exhortation? & will you, my sweet sister elect, impute it not merely to friendly freedom, but to the most unfeigned desire of endeavouring to contribute to that restoration of those spirits & that Health in which I already take a family interest? We were all extremely disappointed in not seeing Dr. Rose on Friday [3 Jan.]. The one only meeting I have had with him makes me far more desirous of a second than I ever was of the first. We still, however, console ourselves with the hope of a general party during the holydays. The Day must depend entirely upon yourselves, as we dare venture no invitation till encouraged by some better account of your Healths. That this may be speedy I earnestly wish, — & though I would not for the World have you teized or fatigued into Writing if you are averse to it, I must yet entreat that, in my Brother’s Hand if not in your own, I may see a kind promise that you will try to chear yourself, & to check your too great sensibility, — & that you will thoroughly forgive the zeal & the frankness of Dear Miss Rose, your faithful & affecte friend & servt F.B. | I must entreat you to tell my Brother that Dr. Johnson wishes to see him when he next comes to Town; & that I shall expect some account from him of his visit at Mr. Cambridge’s.4 I beg my best Compliments to all your family. | [The Journal for 1783 resumes.]

Tuesday [7 Jan.]. I was all the morning with Mrs. Thrale, & then went with my Father to supper at Mrs. Ord’s. We met the Denoyers, & Jonas Hanway,5 the old Traveller. He is very loquacious, extremely fond of talking of what he has seen & heard, & would be very entertaining, were he less addicted to 4 ‘I went on Monday [6 Jan.] to dinner & was received, with all the appearance of a kind & hearty welcome. The whole family was at home — and the harmony, that seemed to subsist among them all, quite won my good opinion’ (CB Jr to FB, 9 Jan. 1783 (Osborn)). 5 Jonas Hanway (1712–86), merchant and philanthropist. He had travelled much abroad in his early years and achieved fame through the publication of An Historical Account of the British Trade over the Caspian Sea (London, 1753) (ODNB).

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retail anecdotes & Reports from News-papers. Mr. Selwyn also was there. My Father & I came away early, & went together to the Opera house. He accompanied me into Mrs. FitzGerald’s Box. It was the first Night of Cimene. It was very coldly received. The new woman, Carnevale did worse than at the Rehearsal. Nobody seemed to like her. Pacchierotti was not well, & was frightened; but he sung very finely. Nobody else is worth mentioning, except Bartolini,6 the 2d man, whom you have had described by my Father. Miss Catherine Bull sat, as usual, with Lady Mary Duncan in one of the House Boxes, & found me out, & | courtsied. I shall now always keep up that ceremony when I am with Mrs. Fitz. — as it will prevent her forgetting me. Wednesday [8 Jan.] — was quietly at Home. Mr. Bogle teized me to go & sit to him, but I was wearied to Death of going any where, & excused myself. The Evenings we spend by ourselves I devote to reading with my mother. I get therefore, hardly any Time Free to myself: but I am high in favour, & she is high in good humour, & that is not nothing. We are reading Moliere. Thursday [9 Jan.]. Again at Home, though Mrs. Thrale came to me to offer me a place in her side Box to see Mrs. Siddons in Belvidera.7 I could refuse that without offence, though not without surprise, as it was so generally a desireable thing that it shewed how much I really & sincerely coveted a little respite from Dress & bustle. Pacchierotti called afterwards, & was very sweet & gentle, though much out of spirits still. He is now as to his Benefit. 8 Friday [10 Jan.] — Again at Home, but not alone, for we had visitors all Day. Mr. Jackson of Exeter came about in the 6 Vicenzio Bartolini (fl. 1782–92), Italian soprano castrato, made his first appearance in England at the King’s Theatre on 2 Nov. 1782 singing Il Conte Polidoro, the second soprano, in the comic opera, Il Convito. In Cimene, he sang Duarte (Highfill). CB later wrote to SBP praising a quartet by Sarti in which 3 of the 4 parts, including Bartolini’s, were ‘charming’ (LCB i. 405). 7 The heroine of Thomas Otway’s Venice Preserved (1682). FB had seen Siddons play Belvidera at Bath in Apr. 1780. See EJL iv. 83. 8 See below, p. 320 n. 34. FBA deletes this sentence and substitutes ‘I had, however, seen, & been half killed by Mrs Siddons in Belvidera, or I could not have been so heroic in my Domesticity’. Her real opinion of Siddons was not so enthusiastic (see below, p. 289).

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morning, & brought, as he had begged leave to do, his Daughter.9 She is not, I think, worthy her relationship with him. She seems sensible, however, but she is rather conceited, & rather forward, fond of talking, & talking as if well satisfied she deserved hearers. Before they went, came Miss Streatfield, looking pale, but very elegant & pretty. She was in high spirits, & I hope has some reason. She made, at least, speeches that provoked such surmises. When the Jacksons went, ‘That, said I, is the celebrated Jackson of Exeter: I dare say You would like him if you knew him.’ ‘I dare say I should, cried she, simpering, for he has the 2 requisites for me, — he is Tall & Thin. —’ To be sure this did not at all call for raillery! — Dr. Vyse 10 | has always been distinguished by those 2 epithets. I said, however, nothing, as my mother was present; but she would not let my looks pass unnoticed. ‘O, cried she, how wicked You look! — no need of seeing Mrs. Siddons, for expression! — However, you know how much that is my taste, — Tall & Thin! — but you don’t know how apropos it is just now! —’ How much farther she would have gone with these extraordinary insinuations I know not, if left to herself, but she was here interrupted by the entrance of young Mr. Cambridge, who, Tall & Thin, then came into the Room. I have a notion our dear Capitano has, at least, done no mischief with Mr. George Cambridge at least, for he said to my mother ‘I had no expectation of meeting with Dr. Burney, — but I thought Mrs. Burney might perhaps have more leisure.’ He soon after told me he had had the pleasure of seeing my Brother, & of seeing him extremely well with his Father & Family at Twickenham, where he assured me he was already a favourite. I am afraid of being glad, lest I should here after find more cause to be sorry! — He had a good deal of talk with Miss Streatfield about her darling Bishop of Chester, at whose House he has often met 9 Jackson had at least eight children. This was perhaps his daughter Mary Jackson (c.1760–1808), who m. (1806) the painter John Downman (1750–1824) (ODNB). 10 The Revd Dr William Vyse (1741–1816). Streatfeild had been openly declaring her love for Dr Vyse since about 1775. See EJL iii. 304 n. 87.

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her. She talked of him with her usual warmth of passionate admiration, & he praised him very much also, & said ‘I know no House where conversation is so well understood as the Bishop of Chester’s, — except This, — where from the little I have seen, — & much more I hope to see, — I think it is more pleasantly & desireably managed than any where.’ Ah, thought I, you must not come often, if you wish to keep that opinion! S:S: went first, though not till late. She is going for some Days out of Town. When Mr. G. C. took leave, he turned back, & said — ‘Pray, don’t let Dr. Burney think it necessary to return my visits, — I know how he is engaged, & should think that quite unconscionable.’ — He charged me to write Capt. P. word that he had stayed away from Twickenham quite long enough — & to beg he would think so himself. Adieu, my Susy, & adieu to All. | Friday [10 Jan.] continued. Mr. Jackson & his Daughter came to Tea in the Evening, & Miss Mathias,11 as a visitor of Charlotte’s. Mr. Jackson, unfortunately, was in one of his gloomy humours, & would not talk with my mother; as to me, I never, hardly, when the party is so small, can talk, with any comfort or spirit, with any body, for the company [xxxxx 4-5 words] favour, so my own peace, is by a most [xxxxx 5 words] I may be as gay as I please when nobody is here, & [xxxxx 3 words] to encourage & to [xxxxx 5 words] whatever entertainment I am able, but the [xxxxx 2 words] of that sort in company is [xxxxx 1 word] to occasion [xxxxx 6-7 words] on better reflection! — except, indeed, there are people enough present to let [xxxxx 3 words] uninterrupted Engagements of [xxxxx 2 words] loquacity in a separate party. For this reason, I have no manner of pleasure in [xxxxx 2 words] House that is very large & [xxxxx 1 word] very comfortless! — but to you my dear Susy, very [xxxxx 1 word]! I gave the Evening wholly to Miss Jackson, who could give me back nothing in payment but that I had merely done what was fitting to do. 11 Albinia Mathias (c.1760–1824), daughter of Vincent Mathias (1715–82) and Marianne Popple (1724–99), was an early friend of CAB. She later m. (1791) Walter Frye Skerrett (d. 1828) (IGI; JL i. 221 n. 2; iii. 71 n. 5).

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2. Samuel Johnson. From a mezzotint by William Doughty, 1779.

I forgot to mention that I made a visit to poor Dr. Johnson, to enquire after his Health. I found him better, yet extremely far from well. One thing, however, gave me infinite satisfaction. He was so good as to ask me after Charles, whose story he knows & has long known, & he said ‘I shall be glad to see him; tell him to call upon me.’ I thanked him very much, & said how proud he would be of such a permission.

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‘I should be glad, said he, still more kindly, to | see him if he were not Your Brother, — but were he a Dog, a Cat, a Rat, a Frog, & belonged to you, I must needs be glad to see him!’ You may think whether or not I was thankful. Mr. Seward has sent me a proof plate, upon silver Paper, of an extremely fine impression of this dear Doctor, a mezzotinto, by Doughty,12 from Sir Joshua’s Picture: & a very pretty note to beg my acceptance of it. I am much obliged to him, & very glad to have it. Saturday, Jany 11th. I went early to my dear Mrs. Thrale’s, to spend the whole Day with her, which I did most comfortably, & nobody was let in. In the Evening, as I had Mrs. Crewe’s Ticket, I went with her & Miss Thrale into the Pit at the Opera. It was Medonte. Pacchierotti was charmingly in voice, & we sat near the Orchestra, & I heard him to all possible advantage. In our way, we passed through the Coffee Room. To be sure I did not think of Miss Larolles nor Mr. Meadows! There we were recognized by Mr. Jerningham. He was very civil, & soon after we had taken our places, Mrs. Thrale being between her Daughter & me, he took the outward seat next mine, where he sate during the whole Opera. He is affected & dainty, but he knows music very well, & is passionately an admirer of Pacchierotti, which made me very glad of having him in my neighborhood. A Gentleman, too, of his Acquaintance, who sate before us, was quite a vehement admirer of the sweet Pac.’s, & enjoyed every thing he did as much, or nearly, as I did myself. Yet, I observed that neither of them gave him any applause! So indolent people are, even in their pleasures. Mr. Jerningham, though he talked to me very much, | never did it while the Pac. was singing, or while any thing else was going forward that was worth attention. Two specimens of his conversation, which, in their different ways, were equally curious; I must give you. And my Daddy, who used to 12 William Doughty (1757–82), painter and engraver, pupil of Reynolds. Hill and Powell describe this mezzotint, dated 24 June 1779, after the Reynolds painting of 1778, as ‘the standard engraved portrait of Johnson’ (Life iv. 461). See Illustration 2; ODNB.

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be much regaled by the account of his Harping at Bath,13 will be glad to hear more of him. One of them, indeed, does him so little honour, that if I had the smallest regard for him, I should sink it; but as that is not the case, I am content to give you the same ill impression of him which he himself gave to me. The first was merely a preposterous stretch of affectation. He has lately been at Paris, & was full of french communications. ‘There is a Book, he said, lately come out here, which I find all les Gens comme il faut endeavouring to read at Paris: it’s particular friend there is Madame la princesse du Bouillon,14 who says that for want of 10 Volumes, which she wished to have been its length, she was forced to make 10 of 5, by instantly re-reading it, when she had first finished it. She is praying earnestly for peace, as that is all she waits for to make a Tour to England: & then, she says, her first Object will be to seek out you. — She hopes to put herself under your protection.’ There! — my protection! — Ha! Ha! — troppo baddo! — & quite solemnly seriously did he say it. The 2d will require no comment. — ‘Have you read, he said, the new Book that has had such a run in France, ‘Les Liasons [sic] dangereuses?15 —’ ‘No, answered I, not much pleased at the name, I have not even heard of it.’ | ‘Indeed? — it has made so much noise in France I am quite surprised at that. It is not, indeed, a work that recommends very strict morality, but you, we all know, may look into any work without being hurt by it.’ I felt hurt then, however, & very gravely answered, ‘I cannot give myself that praise, as I never look into any Books that could hurt me.’

See EJL iv. 82–3. Maria Hedwig Eleonore Christine von Hessen-Rheinfels-Rothenburg (1748– 1801), m. (1766) Jacques-Léopold-Charles-Godefroy de la Tour d’Auvergne, Prince du Bouillon (YW iv. 409 n. 5). 15 Epistolary novel by Pierre-Ambroise-François Choderlos de Laclos (1741– 1803), published in Apr. 1782. An English translation, entitled Dangerous Connections, was published in 1784. 13 14

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He Bowed, & smiled, & said that was very right, & added — ‘This Book is written by an officer;16 & he says there are no characters nor situations in it that he has not himself seen.’ ‘That, then, cried I, will with me always be a reason to as little desire seeing the Officer, as his Book.’ He looked a little simple at this, but pretended to approve it very much. However, I fancy it will save him the trouble of enquiring into my readings any more. I was really provoked with him, however, & though he was most obsequiously civil to me, I only spoke to him in answer, after this little Dialogue. When the Opera was over, he took leave of us, to go into some better place, I fancy, for seeing a new Dance, which was to follow. But I was very much surprised, when, while I was speaking to Mrs. Thrale, a voice said ‘How do you do Miss Burney? —’ &, turning about, I saw Mr. Jerningham’s place had instantly been taken by Mr. George Cambridge. You may easily believe I was not sorry at the change. I like him, indeed, extremely. He is both elegant & sensible, & almost all the other folks I meet, deserve, at best, but one of those epithets. And they plague me so much by talking to me constantly about my own romance, that I am kept in an almost constant state of embarrassment by all my new acquaintance except himself. | He entered into conversation with Mrs. Thrale [xxxxx 1-2 words] till the Dance was beginning, & then, when we all sate down, he gave me another surprise, by saying ‘I was at your House this morning, almost the moment after you left it.’ ‘This morning?’ cried I. — ‘Yes, — I made a very short visit, — a mere flying Call, but Mrs. Burney had said she had not seen the Print of Mrs. Siddons,17 & therefore I carried her mine to look at.’ Yet again! — he [xxxxx 3 words] not [xxxxx 5 words] Captain. I die to hear whether any conversation ever passed while he was present upon this subject. I said I should have liked to have seen the Prints, & he told me he had kept them, & we might see them as long as we pleased. I told him, that Laclos was an artillery officer. Perhaps in the role of Belvidera (see above, p. 254). An engraving of her by J. Heath as Belvidera, ‘in the mad scene,’ was later published as a plate to Lowndes’s New English Theatre, Sept. 1783 (Highfill xiv. 54). 16 17

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just as he had left our House the Day before, I received a Letter from Charles full of the praise of Twickenham meadows, & of delight at the reception he had been honoured with from all the Family. ‘I am very glad if he was satisfied, he answered, for I hope he will be therefore induced to come again. Have you heard from Chesington since I saw you? — has Mrs Phillips been so good as to fix any Time for me yet?’ ‘I believe not yet. — but if you are not contented for the present, where, I am thinking, shall you stop? —’ ‘O well, I know very well where to stop, cried he, with a sort of laugh, that, but for this [xxxxx 1 word], would have led me to fancy he meant at my mother. He said, however, nothing more about the matter, though he talked on about Chesington, & he desired me, in particular, | to write to Miss Cooke, & lay my injunctions upon her to appear at his next visit. So pray tell her she must. When the Dance was over, he joined some other Ladies, & we met with my Father, & Harry Cotton, & proceeded to the Coffee Room. It was, however, so crowded, we could only make way to the Door. Here he again came to us, exclaiming ‘What! got no further yet?’ ‘I know not, cried I, why we are to get further: but I am sure I think it ought to be for some thing!’ ‘Why if it was not for this Coffee Room, answered he, we should never know what an admirable thing it is to walk round a Post! — for what other advantage has Ranelagh?18 & yet who complains of the crowd there? I believe it has been nothing but the want of that Post that has ruined the Pantheon.’— He then asked me if I knew when Miss Streatfield went out of Town. No, I said, though I wanted to know, upon account of calling upon her, & asked him, therefore, if he remembered what she had said about it? ‘No, cried he, I only remember when she said she returned.’ 18 Cambridge refers facetiously to the huge ornamental structure enclosing a fireplace at the center of the rotunda in Ranelagh Gardens. See Illustration 3, ‘The Inside View of the Rotunda in Ranelagh Gardens with the Company at Breakfast,’ engraved and published by Thomas Bowles in 1751 (copy in the Burney Centre, McGill University).

3. The Rotunda in Ranelagh Gardens. From an engraving by Thomas Bowles, 1751.

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‘Why that, indeed, is somewhat more to the purpose.’ ‘You marked that, cried he, by telling her it would be at the same Time the Bishop of Chester came: & I fancy your inference was very just, for she did not deny it.’ ‘O no, she glories in adoring him.’ By the way, Dr. Vyse was there, but did not know us. We got, at last, into the Coffee Room, though with much crowding & difficulty: How the Larolles’s & Meadows’s would have stared, had they known who was | [The top of the following leaf is cut away.]

Among the fine folks was Lady Archer, whom I had never before seen so near: & notwithstanding all her most unnatural cake of white & red, her Features were so perfect & so lovely, I could not help saying: ‘What pity so much beauty should be thrown away!’ ‘Beauty? repeated Mr. Cambridge, — if any there be, I must own it lies too deep for me to see it!’ | [The rest of the leaf is cut away.]

I have a notion he has the same peculiarities in his opinions about Beauty that Capt. Phillips has, & that he only allows it to those whose expression he likes. When we had stayed as long as Mrs. Thrale liked, Mr. Cambridge went & saw after Chairs for us, as Mrs. Thrale for some reason about the Horses, could not have her Coach. And I had very nearly been in a bad scrape here, for when Mrs. & Miss Thrale were both, & with much fright as well as difficulty, from the Crowd, Handed into their Chairs, I was just getting, as I thought, into mine, when the men refused to carry me, & a Gentleman began a violent remonstrance with Mr. Cambridge that the Chair belonged to him. He made him, however, no manner of answer, but in a loud & commanding Voice ordered the Chairmen to take me instantly. — They resisted some Time, & said they were engaged; which could not be true, as Mrs. Thrale’s man had already bespoke all the 3 Chairs: Mr. Cambridge, however, assumed so authoritative a voice & manner, that he fairly intimidated them, & triumphantly Handed me into the Chair. But [xxxxx 2-3 words] Mrs. Thrale before the |

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[The first 1½ lines of the leaf are cut away.]

finished with the Gentleman who had tried to hire my chair, & whom he would not [xxxxx 2 words] until he had conquered. I wished much to have heard how it ended, but had not any means. The men wanted to make me pay double fare when I came Home, because it rained — but they had behaved so ill, & had so short a way to carry me, that I would listen to no such demands. They grumbled insolently, & said they | had been offered a double fare, & but for that Gentleman they would have had it, for they would not have brought me. If he had not got the better, how disagreeable a situation I should have been in! The real truth is, Mrs. Thrale ought not to have gone off till I was safe lodged. But she has none of these sort of thoughts, though she has all other. She has suffered, dear me, terribly, herself, for in her fright, she put down the chair Glass, & could not draw it up again, & it rained in upon her, therefore, on her way Home, & she caught a dreadful cold & sore Throat that she still feels the effects of. Sunday, Jany 12. I was forced, to Day, to go to Mrs. Byron, upon a call in a private Note she sent me, acquainting me she wished to consult with me upon some very important & secret affairs. I must not tell what passed, nor would I if I might, for all that passed gave me the severest uneasiness. I am extremely concerned she desired to place any confidence in me, as I do not wish to be upon such terms with her.19 [xxxxx ½ line] | Mrs. [xxxxx 1 word], a half sister of Miss [xxxxx 7 words] but I hardly saw her . I then went to Lady Hales, who has been here. She looks extremely ill & is very ill; & Miss Coussmaker looked extremely ugly, & is very ugly; & the other misses20 looked extremely affected & conceited, & are affected & conceited: — so looks & facts were well suited. They were mighty civil, & very pressing to see much of me: & they talked of you, — Lady Hales, at least, — as warmly as they used to write. She charged me to For Byron’s tumultuous family life, see EJL iv. 363 n. 83 and passim. Sir Thomas and Lady Hales had five daughters, as yet all unmarried: Mary Anne (1765-1833), Jane (1766–1848), Elizabeth (1769–1815), Harriet (1770– 1858), and Caroline (1772–1853). See EJL iii. 31 n. 97. 19 20

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apologise for her not answering your Letter,21 & to tell you she was so ill she could not hold a pen, — & really she is so much altered I was almost shocked at her sight, & could not resist her pressing to see me again, though she had made me so angry by not inviting me last year to meet Pacchierotti,22 that I had determined against ever making more than a morning call. She also prevailed upon me to promise that I would let her know when you came to Town, as she assured me it would make her happy to see you if but for a moment. I then called on Mrs. FitzGerald, & had an halloo23 with her, somewhat different from the languor I had just left, & then came Home, where I stayed with my mother the rest of the Day. Monday, Jany 13th. This proved, & unexpectedly, a very agreeable Day to me. I went with my Father to Dine at Mrs. Walsingham’s, where I only went, so soon again, because he wished it, but where I passed my Time extremely well. The Party was small, — Dr. Warton, Mr. T. Warton, Mr. Pepys, Mr. Montagu, Mr. Walker,24 the Lecturer, & my dear Sir Joshua | Reynolds, with my Father, were all the men, & Mrs. Montagu was the only other female besides myself. Dr. Warton made me a most obsequious Bow; I had been introduced to him, by Sir Joshua, at Mrs. Cholmondeleys.25 He is what Dr. Johnson calls a Rapturist,26 & I saw plainly he meant to pour forth much civility into my Ears, by his looks, & watching for opportunities to speak to me: I so much, however, dread such attacks, that every time I met his Eye, I turned another way, with so frigid a countenance, that he gave up his design: for that a design he had was extremely obvious from sundry circumstances. I rejoice not a little in my success. He is a very communicative, gay, & pleasant converser, & enlivened the whole Day by his readiness upon all subjects. Missing. On 4 Mar. 1782. See above, p. 17. Altered by FBA to ‘a hearty & robust halloo’, to clarify Fitzgerald’s loud and boisterous manner. 24 Adam Walker (1730/31–1821), itinerant lecturer and writer (ODNB). 25 See EJL iii. 236. 26 An enthusiast; OED cites FB. 21 22 23

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Mr. Tom Warton, the Poetry Historiographer,27 looks much like any Butcher, — coarse, dirty, unformed in his manners, & awkward in his gestures. He joined not one Word in the general talk, &, but for my Father, who was his Neighbour at Dinner, & entered into a Tête à Tête with him, he would never have opened his mouth after the removal of the second course. Mr. Montagu is Mrs. Montagu’s Nephew, & adopted son. He is young, & well enough looking, has an uncommon memory for all he has read, is extremely civil in his behaviour, & seems extremely well formed in his mind, both with respect to literature & to principle. He affects, however, talking French rather too much, & has a something finical in his manners that, with | me, much lessens their power of pleasing. Mr. Walker, though modest in science, is vulgar in conversation. The rest I have nothing new to say about. I was placed at Dinner between Sir Joshua & Mr. Montagu. I had a great deal of exceeding comfortable & easy chat with Sir Joshua, as I always have, which makes his very sight enliven me in all these places. I had intended not speaking at all with Mr. Montagu, as I thought him so fine, but he was so very civil, & so perpetually addressed me, that before Dinner was over we seemed quite well acquainted. I believe, by the pains he persisted in taking for this purpose, he had a mind to discover what metal I was made of.28 He gave several hints allusive to the Books, but I never seemed to understand them, &, by sudden transitions to other subjects, soon got rid of them. If I can but acquire more presence of mind, I think I shall be able to ward off better this Topic, which constantly gives me horrible uneasiness at the time it is started, however I may be gratified by recollecting, afterwards, what is said. When we left the Gentlemen, Mrs. Montagu & Mrs. Walsingham began a conversation upon Lady Charlotte

27 Warton’s The History of English Poetry was published in three volumes from 1774 to 1781. 28 i.e., to ascertain her ‘mettle’, to see what ‘stuff’ her character was made of (OED, s.v. ‘mettle’ A. n. 1).

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Finch’s29 late excursion to Spain, & then talked upon foreign places & foreign people with much spirit & entertainment. When the Gentlemen joined us, the same subject continued, & was extremely well treated. Mrs. Montagu was particularly chearful, & said many very good things. I was never called upon myself, & therefore listened with much pleasure, for indeed nothing was said that deserved not attention. | Once, however, I was a little startled: — the conversation, by degrees, fell upon Books, & every body agreed that Sir Roger de Coverley30 was, perhaps, the first Character ever drawn for perfection of delineation. ‘But I cannot help suspecting, said Dr. Warton, it is taken from the life, as there are certain traits in it too excellent to have been merely invented: particularly that singularity that where- ever he visited, he always talked to the servants the whole way he went up stairs.’ Mr. Montagu here arose, & walking round to the back of my Chair, said in a Whisper ‘Miss Burney, pray how is this? must a Character, to be excellent, be drawn from the life? — I beg you would tell me.’ Malicious enough, this! — ‘O, answered I, as easily as I could, unless we knew what Characters are, & what are not drawn from the life, ’tis impossible to decide.’ Dr. Warton then went on, naming other favourite Characters, — Don Quixote, Partridge,31 Capt. Sentry,32 & Falstaff, — & then, while Mr. Montagu was whispering some remark that prevented my hearing him, he suddenly broke off, saying — ‘But I beg pardon for all this, — I speak now before one who best knows all Characters, & whose knowledge of human Nature has never been excelled.’ ‘Ay, —’ cried Mrs. Montagu, turning quite round to me, & bowing her Head: — While every Creature instantly looked at me. I kept as quiet as I could, but I felt terribly hot! — & to my great relief nothing more followed of the same sort. Compliments made in this | oblique manner, though very 29 Lady Charlotte Finch, née Fermor (1725–1813), m. (1746) the Hon. William Finch (1691–1766). 30 Famous character in Addison and Steele’s Spectator papers. 31 Benjamin Partridge, barber and schoolmaster in Fielding’s Tom Jones (1749), who accompanies Jones on his travels. 32 Another character, representing the army, in the Spectator.

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elegant from the givers, are doubly awkward for the receivers, as they have no right to take them, yet cannot escape being hit by them. We spent the whole afternoon & evening there. Tuesday [14 Jan.]. I spent at Mrs. Thrale’s all the afternoon, but had 2 Engagements for the Evening. One with Mrs. Ord, who had written me the finest of Panegyrics from Soame Jenyns, who had charged her to contrive a meeting for him, & she begged to see me on Saturday [18 Jan.]. I had no heart of [sic] such an encounter, & sent an excuse: she then insisted upon seeing me, &, when I went, declared I should fix my own Day, & shewed me Mr. Jenyn’s notes upon the subject, all expressing his violent impatience for the interview. I was obliged to agree for Friday [17 Jan.]: but indeed with no good will, for I am not at all equal to such formal Engagements. If I had met him accidentally, I should have been much pleased, but arranging a meeting, professedly to hear his Compliments, — nothing in the World but an inability of resisting Mrs. Ord’s importunity should have made me consent. Mrs. Carter was with her. I could not, however, stay, though so quiet a Trio would much better have suited me: but I was engaged to Lady Hales, who was without Company, & had sent to beg to see me. Miss Thrale accompanied me. We found the Family alone, & stayed & chatted chearfully enough. They are always best by themselves. I will never go when there is any party, — except to meet Pacchierotti. Lady Hales’ illness is attributed to her fretting about her son,33 who has entangled himself some way with Miss Sophy Cumberland!34 | We had a note to Day from Hetty35 who is just returned from Farnham, with a request from the Bishop of Winchester & Mrs. North that they might come here to Tea the next Day [15 Jan.]. Mrs. North has long made advances to me of acquaintance, & I have always shunned them: I don’t wish for any new Acquaintance, except the old wits, & the Miss Bulls, 33 George Kien Hayward Coussmaker (1759–1801), army officer. See EJL ii. 237 n. 66. 34 Sophia Cumberland, second daughter of Richard Cumberland (1732–1811), the dramatist. See EJL iii. 88 n. 53) 35 Missing.

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& I am quite sick of visiting except to meet people that I extremely like: & I have no great pre-sentiment that will be the case with Mrs. North, whose Character I am not enchanted with at a distance. However, Hetty wrote me word from Farnham,36 that she said she saw I shirked her, & that I did not chuse her acquaintance, but she was determined to conquer me, if human powers could do it! My dear Father, however, was delighted, & readily agreed to their coming [xxxxx 3-4 words], just arrived from Farnham, & [xxxxx 2 words] amiable, better person will hold me. My Father would have nobody invited to meet them, — but my mother, of her own accord, & without telling him, sent to invite Mr. George Cambridge, whose civility to her has won her Heart, & most especially his bringing her the Print of Mrs. Siddons, which she told him she should not return, till he called for it himself. I would fain have persded her to let my Father know of the invitation, as he is excessively fond of Mr. G: C. & has declared he likes him better than any young man he ever met with, & that he would never have a party without asking him to make one. I told her all this, but she loves mystery, & managing things slyly, & therefore would have it her own | way: though I was really uneasy at the absurd appearance it must make to him if found out. They came very early, the Bishop, Mrs. North, Mr. Burney & Hetty, who had Dined with them. Mrs. North apologised with an easy gaiety to my mother for the liberty she had taken, & then bid Hetty introduce her to Charlotte & me. She spoke to me at once with a freedom & facetiousness which she meant to inspire me with the same, & make me shake off the shyness she had heard belonged to me with strangers: but her flightiness, like that of Mrs. Cholmondeley, which it a good deal resembled, only served to make me feel foolish, & wish her to address somebody else. The Bishop was quiet, & gentle, & talked only with my Father.37 When Mr. Cambridge was summoned, my Father was much surprised, but, fortunately, attributed his visit to accident. He Missing. CAB describes the bishop as a ‘sweet man’ and his wife as a ‘sensible, agreable, handsome woman’ (ED ii. 307). 36 37

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began immediately an apology for not having sent an answer to my mother’s invitation, but before he could get the words out, she stopt him, calling out ‘say nothing about it! — I won’t hear a word! — It’s the fashion not to mind answ’ ‘But it is not my Fashion, cried he, & the only reason —’ ‘Hold your Tongue, can’t you? cried she, facetiously slapping his Hands, & hallowing aloud, to drown his words, is the man mad, that he can’t be at rest?’ What he thought of this elegance I know not, but he was now silenced, & my dear innocent Father, though he could not comprehend either of them, never enquired into their meaning. I was at this Time sitting by myself upon the sofa, when Hetty, crossing over to me, said ‘Mrs. North declares she sees you are going into a lethargy, & she has sent me to rouse you.’ Mrs. North then followed herself, & began a vehement charge to me not to be formal. She reproached me, with great good humour, for so long shirking her acquaintance, said she was sure I had conceived an aversion to her, but gave me | her Word I should like the Bishop of all things. Then, calling him up to us, she said ‘Did not I tell you, as we came along, that I know she would like you vastly, & me not at all?’ ‘I beg your pardon! cried I, — but perhaps I may be less afraid of the Bishop, from expecting less of his Notice.’ ‘There! now that’s abominable! She’s afraid of me, & not of you!’ ‘Because I, cried the Bishop, am afraid of her! — that’s all.’ My mother now summoned them to look at Mrs. Siddons’ Print, & I was glad of the opportunity to remove, as this rattling requires more intimacy & congeniality to make it, to me, pleasant. Mr. G. Cambridge then came to ask me what I thought of the Print, & when we had compared Notes about it, we talked of our Chair adventure at the Opera. ‘Do you know, he said, how that man bullyed me? — he pretended the chair was his.’ ‘But that could never be, cried I, for Mrs. Thrale’s servant most certainly had secured 3 Chairs.’ ‘O, there can be no doubt of it! — I could not think, for some Time, what he wanted, for he kept teizing me all the while I was disputing with the chairman, — however, I did not

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listen to him then, but when I had put you in, I asked him what he wanted.’ ‘Why that is just like Dr. Johnson, cried I, to let the man talk to you, without ever heeding him till you were at leisure.’ ‘Why, my point, cried he, was to speed you into the Chair, & when that was gained, I was satisfied, & willing to attend to him.’ ‘I am sorry, though, to have occasioned you so much trouble. I hope you soon got rid of him?’ ‘O yes, I was pretty well off, for I escaped with no other loss than having my Pocket picked, in the debate, of a Cambrick38 Handkerchief. Mrs. Thrale, though, was so much frightened by the Crowd, that, though I am not given to do gallant things, I would really have sallied forth by the side of her Chair | if the Night had not been so miserable — but I was not quite equal to such a march in the Rain.’ He then asked me to make a remonstrance to Capt. Phillips for having stayed away so long from Twickenham & Mrs. North, — being satisfied with the Print, again placed me next her on the sofa. She shewed us all a very beautiful Bouquet, half natural, & half artificial, & then, taking it out of her Bosom, she insisted upon fastening it in mine; & when I would have declined it, cried out, ‘Come, you little Toad, don’t be absurd; let me fix it for you at once.’ And afterwards, when I did not instantly understand some queer speech she made, & which might be taken many ways, she exclaimed, ‘Come, now, don’t be dull!’ She then invited me to Farnham Castle for next summer. I made evasive sort of unmeaning thanks, but she readily understood me, & scolded most violently that I did not instantly engage myself to her, assuring me she should never forgive me, repeatedly, if I failed to come. When they were taking leave, she named a Day for our returning her Visit: I excused myself from another appointment; she immediately called out ‘come, then, name your own Day! —’ This was unevasive, & Monday [20 Jan.] was 38 ‘A kind of fine white linen, originally made at Cambray in Flanders’ (OED, s.v. cambric 1.a).

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fixed upon, for all of us but my mother, who was allowed to excuse herself, to Dine at the Bishop’s. I was engaged in the Evening to an assembly at Mrs. Thrale’s. After they were gone, Mr. G. Cambridge asked me if I thought her Handsome? ‘Yes, certainly, I said, — don’t you?’ ‘Why I don’t yet know, answered he, I am not quite settled yet in my own mind whether to think her so or not.’ ‘Perhaps, said I, because You are not yet settled whether to like her or not? — no more, indeed, am I. I never saw her till to Night, & she has said such strange, odd things to me, that I must really see more of her before I can settle any opinion of her.’ | ‘Never saw her before! — this I had no idea of! — I supposed she had been very intimate with you. — Pray will any part of your family be among the Friends I am invited to meet at Mrs. Ord’s next Friday?’39 So! so! thinks I, — You, then, are to be present at this grand interview! — I kept, however, my own counsel about Soame Jenyns, for I was certain that if he knew why the party was made, he would never resist watching how it answered. I only therefore said I hoped Mrs. Ord meant to include us among his friends, for some of us were to be there. My Father then entered into a very lively conversation with him, upon various Books, but chiefly upon a new Pamphlet, just published by Sir Henry Clinton,40 which he borrowed, & said he would bring back to-morrow or the Day after: &, putting it in his pocket, he had a Coach called, saying he must not stay all Night, & was taking leave; but my Father made him come back to take a look at my Daddy Crisp’s Portrait, — ‘It is very like, he said, but I think there is one at Chesington equal to it.’ ‘I am glad of it for their sakes.’ cried I, — 17 Jan. Sir Henry Clinton (1730–95), K.B., 1777; M.P.; commander-in-chief in America, 1778–82. In defence of his behavior during the American War of Independence, he published (on 13 Jan.) the ‘Narrative of Lieutenant-General Sir Henry Clinton, K.B., relative to his conduct during part of his command of the King’s troops in North America; particularly to that which respects the unfortunate issue of the campaign in 1781’ (London, 1783) (ODNB; Morning Herald, 13 Jan. 1783). 39 40

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‘But I mean another, cried he, only Miss Burney won’t allow me to say so. —’ That was mine, I presume, — which indeed I hate to have either seen or mentioned. To be over-flattered, either in painting or in speech, rather humbles than gratifies. Thursday [16 Jan.]. This morning we had a visit from the Elder Mr. Cambridge. ’Tis well, as you say, we like this family, for they seem very well inclined to return the Compliment. I cannot, however, be at all easy with the Father, though I admire him more & more, & think all that is formal in him wears off upon acquaintance, & all that is pleasant grows more & more conspicuous: but he behaves to me with a kind of deference that kills me; he listens to | what I say as You would listen to Dr. Johnson, & leans forward with an air of respect that, from a man such as him, half petrifies me, — for what upon Earth could I find to say that would answer high raised expectations from Mr. Cambridge! — I feel with him as I did with Mr. Burke, an admiration that makes me delighted to hear him, but that makes me, at the same time, dread to hear myself. If they took less notice of me, I should do better. He told us he had had great pleasure in seeing again his old acquaintance Mr. Crisp, & ‘But for Mrs. Phillips! — he cried, — I am in love with her! I want to marry her! — I never was so much charmed, in so short a Time before.’ I believe I did look a little more at my ease when he said this: his praise of my Susy, is worth having, & he spoke it with a warmth & pleasure that made me almost long to embrace him. — I think that would have put an end to this distance I complain of pretty completely! He said not a syllable about Twickenham, not even of your visit to it; mine, therefore, is utterly out of the Question. Perhaps he thought he must invite my mother, who was in the house the whole time. In the afternoon, Mrs. Meeke came from Lynn, well, gay, giddy, & carressing. She made me lose the Post to Chesington by her gibble-gabble,41 which I could not get away from till the Coach called for me to go to the Opera with Mrs. FitzGerald. It was Cimene; Carnevale was no better. 41

Senseless chatter (OED, s.v. ‘gibble-gabble’).

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Pacchierotti was charming. At supper we had Miss Strange,42 just returned from Scotland, where she has been many months. She looks & she is more the same than any body; always estimable, never attractive. Yet I have a real regard for her, & I see she has a strong one for me. I shall reserve the Soame Jenyns account for a fresh pacquet. | I must now, however, call for Yours, & for my Daddy’s congratulations upon a little event long in chace, now in view. I have received a Letter from Mrs. Chapone, to tell me that [FB copied parts of Hester Chapone’s letter into her journal. We here transcribe the complete original ALS, single sheet 4to, 2 pp. (Peyraud).]

Thursday Jany 16th Dear Madam, I have let Mrs Delany know that you are very willing to indulge her desire of being acquainted with you, and equally wish to wait upon her. She says that as her hearing is so far impaired that she loses a great deal of what is said in company, she could wish to be favoured with your first Visit in a morning. — I wrote to know if she chose to fix any time to offer you. The inclosed is her answer. (N.B. the handwriting & spelling is her Maid’s.) I presume the Doctor’s Coach is too much employ’d at this time of year to be at your command, therefore I suppose it will be best to defer the visit to next week when I dare say Mrs D. will send her friend the Dss Dr of Portland’s Coach for us. I am quite at your service any morning — either tomorrow or next week. Be so good to let me know | your inclinations and I will write to Mrs Delany accordingly. I hope Dr Burney and all the Ladies are well. I am Dear Madam your obedt humble Servt H: Chapone

42

Mary Bruce Strange (1748–84). See EJL i. 56 n. 20.

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[The Journal for 1783 resumes.]

Inclosed was a Letter from Mrs. Delany to Mrs. Chapone, written by her servant, her Eyes now not permitting her to write herself, in which she says ‘how very impatient I am to be made personally acquainted with your very ingenious Friend Miss Burney, —’ &c. Nothing, of this sort, could to me be more grateful, & therefore I wrote to Mrs. Chapone, proposing Sunday morning,43 or any other she would name. She sent me back Mrs. Delany’s answer to her, — which I will Copy. To Mrs. Chapone My dear Madam, I am always for the Bird in the Hand; & as I find Sunday [19 Jan.] is a convenient Day for Miss Burney, I wish to fix our meeting for that Day. — The Clergyman44 who attends me on Sundays cannot come to me till 1 o’clock: but if you will take upon you that it shall not appear improper to Miss Burney to ask the favour of her Company to dinner, with you, on that Day, at half an Hour after 3 o’clock, it will obviate all difficulties, & very much oblige Your most affect h1e sert MD The Initial Letters were signed by herself. Mrs. Chapone wrote to desire I would do just as I pleased, & I instantly closed with the proposal, & sent word we would wait upon Mrs. Delany to Dinner on Sunday. My Respects to Mrs. Gast, & tell her I Copied this little Letter chiefly for her. I am much delighted this matter is brought about without my interference, as it makes it every way more comfortable. |

19 Jan. The Revd John Lightfoot (1735–88), naturalist; M.A. (Oxon.), 1766; F.R.S., 1781; author of the Flora Scotica (1777). One of the most distinguished botanists of the century, he was chaplain to the Duchess Dowager of Portland and caretaker of her important collection of plants and shells at Bulstrode (ODNB). 43 44

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[St Martin’s Street, January 1783]

To Susanna Burney Phillips AJL (Diary MSS II, paginated 1751–[80], Berg), Jan. 1783 8 double sheets 4to, 30 pp.

Friday [17 Jan.]. Now for this grand interview with Soame Jenyns. I went with my dear Father, who was quite enchanted at the affair, — dear soul, how he feeds upon all that brings fame to Cecilia! his eagerness upon this subject, & his pleasure in it are truly enthusiastic, & I think rather encrease by fullness, than grow satiated. We were late; there was a good deal of Company, not in groupes, nor yet in a circle, but seated square round the Room, in order following, — Miss Ellerker, Mrs. Soame Jenyns,45 Mrs. Thrale, her Daughter, Mrs. Buller, Mr. Cambridge Senr, Mr. Soame Jenyns, — Mr. Selwyn, Mr. Cambridge Junr, Miss Burgoigne, a lady or two I knew not, & 3 or 4 men. Mrs. Ord almost ran to the Door to receive us; — & every Creature of this Company, contrary to all present custom in large meetings, stood up. ‘Why have you been so late? cried Mrs. Ord; we have been waiting for you this Hour. I was afraid there was some mistake.’ ‘My Father could not come sooner. —’ ‘But why would not you let me send my Coach for you! Mr. Soame Jenyns has been dying with impatience, — some of us thought you would not come, others thought it only Coquetry, — but come, let us repair the Time as we can, & introduce you to one another without further delay.’ You may believe how happy I felt at this some thought, & others, — which instantly betrayed that every body was apprized they were to see this famous rencounter — & lest I should mark it less, every body still stood up. 45 Elizabeth Gray, daughter of Henry Gray, of Hackney, m. (1754) as his second wife Soame Jenyns (ODNB).

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Mr. Jenyns now, with all the speed in his power, hastened up to me,46 — & began a long harangue, of which I know hardly a word, upon the pleasure & favour | & honour, & what not, of meeting me, & upon the delight & information & amusement of reading ‘Cecilia.’ I made all possible reverences, & tried to get to a seat, but Mrs. Ord, when I turned from him, took my Hand, & leading me to the top of the Room, presented me to Mrs. Jenyns. Reverences were repeated here, in silence, however, so they did very well. I then hoped to escape to Mrs. Thrale, who held out her Hand to me, pointing to a Chair by her own, & saying ‘Must I, too, make interest to be introduced to Miss Burney?’ This, however, was not allowed; Mrs. Ord again took my Hand, & parading me to the sofa, said ‘Come, Miss Burney, & let me place You by Mrs. Buller.’ I was glad, by this Time, to be placed any where, for not till then did the Company seat themselves. Mr. Cambridge Senior then came up to speak to me, but had hardly asked how I did, before Mrs. Ord brought Mr. Jenyns to me again, & made him my right Hand Neighbour, saying ‘There! now I have put you fairly together, I have done with you.’ With my left Hand Neighbour I don’t know if you are acquainted: Mrs. Buller is Tall & elegant in her person, & genteel & ugly in her Face: she is a famous Greek scholar, a celebrated Traveller upon the Continent to see customs & manners, & a Woman every way singular for her knowledge, & enterprising way of life. Mr. Soame Jenyns then, — thus called upon could he do less! — began an eulogy unrivalled, I think, for extravagance of praise: — all Creation was open to me — no human Being ever began that Book & had power to put it down, — | pathos — humour — interest — moral — O Heavens! — I heard, however, but the leading Words, though every body else, the whole Room being silent, doubtless heard how they hung 46 FBA writes that Jenyns ‘was full dressed in a court suit, of apricot-coloured silk, lined with white satin’ and that he ‘made all the slow speed in his power’ (Mem. ii. 289).

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together. Had I been carried to a Theatre to hear an oration upon my own performances, I could hardly have felt more confounded. I Bowed my Head during the first 2 or 3 sentences, by way of marking that I thought them over; but over they were not the more; I then turned away, — but I only met Mrs. Buller, who took up the panegyric where Mr. Jenyns stopt for Breath, telling me how in a nation the most divided in the World both in politics & in literature, I only had found means to bring about a union by the composition of Cecilia! — In short, the things that were said, with the attention of the whole company, would have drawn blushes into the Cheeks of Agujari47 or Garrick. I was almost upon the point of running away, — I changed so often from hot to cold that I really felt myself in a fever. I never even attempted to speak to them, & I looked with all the frigidity I possibly could, in hopes they would tire of bestowing such honours on a subject so ungrateful. One moment I had hopes that Mr. G: Cambridge, in Christian Charity, was coming to offer some interruption, for when these speeches were in their height, he came & sate down on a Chair immediately opposite Miss Thrale, & equally near, in profile, to me: but he merely said ‘I hope Dr. Burney has not wanted his pamphlet?’ & when I answered it was not a thing he could ever want to read twice, he said no more, but turned away | & entered into talk with Miss Thrale & her mother. Even Mrs. Thrale would not come near me, & told me after wards, it had been such a settled thing, before my arrival, that I was to belong to Mr. Soame Jenyns, that she did not dare! — At length, however, the people, finding there was no chance of amusement from me, & naturally concluding Mr. Jenyns could say little more, began to entertain themselves in a more general way. And then Mr. Cambridge Senior ventured into an argument with Mrs. Buller upon foreign customs opposed to English, & upon the difficulty of getting good conversation, from the eternal intervention of politics

47

Lucrezia Aguiari (or Agujari) (1743–83), singer. See EJL ii. 74 n. 24.

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or dissipation.48 Mrs. Buller was clever & spirited, but bold & decisive; Mr. Cambridge was entertaining & well bred, & had all the right, I thought, on his side: I had more relief, however, than pleasure in the Conversation, for my joy in being no longer the Object — Heaven help me! — of the Company, was such as not to leave me quite at liberty for attending to what was said. But imagine what must be my surprise, in a Room such as this, to hear the name of my Daddy! — in the midst of the discourse, while Mr. Cambridge was defending the possibility of people’s living to their own liking, & of meeting with men truly gifted with powers of sociability, he illustrated his argument by suddenly turning to my Father, & naming Mr. Crisp. — I almost | jumpt between astonishment at the sound of my Daddy’s Name in such a Circle of strangers to his person, & pleasure at the praise which accompanied it: Mr. G: Cambridge gave me instantly a smile of congratulation, & I may truly say I owe to my Daddy the first moment’s real satisfaction I received this Evening. Not very great, therefore, was my sorrow when Mr. Jenyns’ carriage was announced, & Mrs. Buller begged to be carried Home by him. In taking leave, he again made me fine speeches, of his happiness in meeting one he had so longed to see, & so forth; & Mrs. Buller said she hoped I would not look strange upon them. — Cold, however, & I fear much ungracious, I could not help looking, for I was tormented, ashamed & confounded by them. The moment they were gone, Mrs. Thrale took Mrs. Buller’s place, & Mr. Cambridge senior, Mr. Jenyns’s. Mrs. Ord, Mr. G. C., my Father, & a man or two came & sate opposite to us, all the rest of the party being gone. 48 See HLT to FB, 18 Jan. 1783 (Berg): ‘Why my sweetest Burney! why what an Afternoon it was? but Soame Jennings says you know, that we all are to be plagued by Superior Beings for their Diversion, & without knowing why. But where is the Superiority of Soame Jennings & Mrs Buller? I never heard Conversation less pleasingly carried on in my Life: and what can that long slip of a Woman mean by thinking or saying that there is no Talk to be had? why it seems to me that there is nothing else to be had. We all run about from Talking:House to Talking:house, where the best Tongues are brought to Market, and conversation is made a mere Commerce, as if we shall leave off eating our Dinners, and each of us set up a Butcher’s Shop. I am sincerely tired of these ambitious Meetings, where if there is much Illumination it is made with such stinking Oyl as disgusts me grievously’.

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‘Well, Miss Burney, said Mrs. Ord, have You & Mr. Jenyns had a great deal of conversation together?’ ‘O yes! a great deal! — on my part. —’ ‘Why you don’t look quite recovered from it yet? — did not you like it?’ ‘O yes, — it was perfectly agreeable to me! —’ ‘Did he oppress you?’ cried Mr. Cambridge. — And then began a very warm praise of him, for his talents, | wit, & understanding, his knowledge, Writings, & humour. I should have been very ready to have joined with him, had I not feared he meant an implied reproach to me for not being more grateful for the praise of a man such as he described. I am sorry he was present, if that is the case, but the truth is the Evening was not merely disagreeable, but painful to me. It became now, however, quite the contrary; Mr. Cambridge took the lead, & told some stories, especially of a Miss Susy Oliver,49 that for humour & comicality50 I think unequaled. When we all broke up upon Mrs. & Miss Thrale’s going, Mr. George Cambridge, very good naturedly, said to me ‘How sorry I have been for you to Night! —’ ‘O, I shall take care how I come here again! answered I; I have often tied Mrs. Ord up to promise I should find her alone; & I don’t much think I shall be in haste to come again without making the same agreement.’ Mrs. Ord herself then coming up to me, regretted that Mrs. Boscawen had been at the House, but though she came on purpose, could not stay my coming, I was so late! — I wished to have remonstrated against her making this silly interview thus public, & inviting Witnesses to such folly; but I saw she meant me so much kindness, that I had not courage to tell her how very utterly she had failed. I shall not, therefore, complain or scold, but only try to guard against any more such scenes in future. We carried both the Mr. Cambridges Home, the Father to Mortimer, & the son to Dutchess Street.

49 50

The comical Miss Oliver has not been traced. Cited by OED.

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Even my Father himself, fond as he is of this ado about Cecilia, was sorry for me to Night, & said I looked quite ill one Time. Saturday [18 Jan.]. I felt so fagged with the preceding Days [sic] fussation, that I gave up the opera, though I had intended going once more to Annfossi’s new one: but I really wanted quieting & refitting. Mr. George Cambridge, in the morning, brought Home my Father’s pamphlet, & asked me how I did after Mr. Soame Jenyns? ‘O, pretty well, now! cried I, but I must own I most heartily wished myself at plain, quiet, sober Chesington the whole of the Evening.’ ‘Well, said he, you concealed your uneasiness extremely well, for my Father never saw it; I saw it, & was very much concerned at it; but when I mentioned some thing of it to him this morning, he was quite astonished.’ ‘I doubt not, said I, he only thought I received a great deal of Honour.’ ‘No, no, it was not that, — but he has no idea of those sort of things. I am sorry, however, you saw Soame Jenyns to such disadvantage, for he is worth your knowing. His conversation is not flowing, nor regular, but nobody has more Wit in occasional sallies.’ ‘Well, all my comfort was from Mr. Cambridge: When he began that argument with Mrs. Buller I was in Heaven!’ ‘My Father hates argument, too, said he, it was a mere accident that he would enter into one. For my own part, I was quite sorry not to hear Soame Jenyns talk more.’ ‘Were you!’ quoth I, shaking my Head a little piteously: ‘Not to You, I don’t mean to You, cried he, Laughing, but | I assure you You would find him extremely entertaining. However, was not Mrs. Ord herself, though she is a sweet Woman, a little to blame? Nothing could be so natural as that Soame Jenyns, having himself so much humour, should have been charmed with Cecilia, & should wish to know you; — but if there had not been so many people — or if there had been as many, & they had been set to conversing with one another, — it might all have done very well.’ While he was here, Pacchierotti called, very grave, but very sweet. Mr. G: C. asked if he spoke English? ‘O, very well,

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cried I, pray try him, — he is very amiable, & I fancy you will like him.’ Pacchierotti began with complaining of the Weather, ‘I cannot, he said, be well, such an inconsistent Day!’ We Laughed at the Word inconsistent, & Mr. Cambridge said ‘It is curious to see what new modes all languages may take in the Hands of foreigners. The Natives dare not try such experiments, & therefore we all talk pretty much alike: but a Foreigner is obliged to hazard new expressions, & very often he shews us a force & power in our words, by an unusual adaptation of them, that we were not ourselves aware they would admit.’ And then, to draw Pacchierotti out; he began a dispute of the different merits of Italy & England, defending his own Country merely to make him abuse it, while Pacchierotti most eagerly took up the Gauntlet on the part of Italy. ‘This is a Climate, said Pacchierotti, never in the same case for half an Hour at a Time; it shall | be fair, & wet, & dry, & humid, 40 Times in a morning, in the least. I am tired to be so played with, sir, by your Climate.’ ‘We have one thing, however, Mr. Pacchierotti, he answered, which I hope you allow makes some amends, & that is our verdure; — in Italy you cannot boast that.’ ‘But it seem to me, sir, to be of no utility so much evergreen! — is rather too much, for my humble opinion.’ ‘And then your Insects, Mr. Pacchierotti; — these alone are a most dreadful draw back upon the comfort of your fine Climate.’ ‘To Mr. Cambridge, cried I, meaning his Father, I am sure they would, for his aversion to Insects is quite comical.’ He wanted me to explain myself, but I dare not tell a story after Mr. Cambridge, especially to his son. ‘I must own, said Pacchierotti, is rather disagreeable for the Insects; but is not better, sir, than an atmosphere so bad as they cannot live in it?’ ‘Why as I can’t defend our atmosphere, I must shift my Ground, & talk to you of our societies —’ ‘O, indeed, good sir, are not very invigorating! — Twenty people of your Gentlemen & Ladies, to sit about a Fire, & not to pronounce one Word! — is very dull! —’

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We Laughed heartily at this retort courteous, & Mr. G. C. was so much pleased with it, that he kept up a sportive conversation with him the whole Time he stayed, much to my satisfaction, as most of the people the poor Pac. meets with here, affect a superiority to conversing with him, though he has more intelligence, ay, & cultivation too, than half of them. | The entrance of young Mr. Hoole, & afterwards of Mrs. Meeke, interrupted them, & Pacchierotti took leave. I then made his eloge to Mr. G. C., who said ‘I was very glad to meet with him; I had heard he applied very much to our language; — & there is a softness in his manner, & at the same Time a spirit in his opinions, extremely engaging as well as entertaining.’ You may believe I did not down him for this notion. When J: Hoole went, he took again his Print, & made his Exit. I spent the whole Day at Home. Sunday, Jany 19. And now for Mrs. Delany. How fertile in adventures for my Susy has this spring proved! a Journal could never be more worth keeping in such sort of life as ours.51 I spent one Hour with Mrs. Thrale, & then called for Mrs. Chapone, & we proceeded together to St. James’s Place.52 Mrs. Delany was alone, in her Drawing Room, which is entirely hung round with Pictures of her own painting, &

51 Lady Llanover, the great-great niece of Mary Delany and the editor of her Autobiography and Correspondence, alluding to FB’s diary as ‘a subject particularly unpleasant’, asserts in a fit of aristocratic pride that there is a ‘discrepancy between the statements of Madame d’Arblay and the realities demonstrated by the original records of Mrs Delany’s life’ (Delany Corr. vi. 125). She casts doubt on FB’s representation of this first meeting with Delany: ‘The pert and vulgar dialogue alleged by Miss Burney to have taken place on her first interview with Mrs. Delany, and the scene given in her Diary, dated 19th January, is so utterly incredible to those who recollect the relative position of the speakers, or the dignity and refinement of Mrs Delany, that any further remarks upon the subject are needless’ (Delany Corr. vi. 127). For another version by FB of her meeting with Delany, see Appendix 2. 52 Mary Delany’s residence at 33 St James’s Place. See Mary Delany to the Viscountess Andover, 3 June 1771, in which she mentions ‘having purchased some old walls in St. James’s Place, in order to remove thither by the end of July’ (Delany Corr. iv. 341).

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ornaments of her own designing.53 She came to the Door to receive us. She is still Tall, though some of her height may be lost; not much, however, for she is remarkably upright. She has no remains of beauty in Feature, but in Countenance I never but once saw more, — & that was in my sweet Grand mother Sleepe;54 benevolence, softness, piety, & gentleness are all resident in her Face; & the resemblance with which she struck me to my dear Grand mother in her first appearance, grew so much stronger from all that came from her mind, which seems to contain nothing but purity & native humility, that I almost longed to Embrace her, & I am sure if I had, the recollection of that saint-like woman would have been so strong, that I should never have refrained from crying over her. | Mrs. Chapone presented me to her, &, taking my Hand, she said ‘You must pardon me if I give you an old-fashioned reception, for I know nothing new. —’ And she saluted me. I did not, as with Mrs. Walsingham, retreat from her. ‘Can you forgive, Miss Burney, she continued, this great liberty I have taken with you of asking for your Company to Dinner? — I wished so impatiently to see one from whom I have received such very extraordinary pleasure, that, as I could not be alone this morning, I could not bear to put it off to another Day. And if You had been so good to come in the Evening, I might perhaps have had Company, — & I hear so ill, that I cannot, as I wish to do, attend to more than one at a Time, — for age makes me stupid even more than I am by Nature, — & how grieved & mortified I must have been to know I had Miss Burney in the Room, & not to hear her! —’ I don’t write you my own Bows & Thanks, because you can so well suppose them: but while you read, pray imagine our darling Grandmother, with the polish of high life & Education, & you will see Mrs. Delany while you read her words. For myself, I am so much in love with her, that I have talked of no one else since I have seen her.

53 See Delany Corr. vi. 499–502 for a list of the pictures painted by Mrs. Delany in oils and crayon. 54 Frances Sleepe, née Dubois, FB’s maternal grandmother. See EJL i. 18 n. 49.

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She then mentioned her regret that we could not stay & spend the Evening with her, which had been told her in our Card of accepting her invitation, as we were both engaged: which for my part I heartily regretted. ‘I am particularly sorry, she added, on account of the Dutchess Dowager of Portland, who is so good as to come to me in an Evening, as she knows I am too infirm to wait upon her Grace myself; & she wished so much to see Miss Burney, — but she said she would come as early as possible, & you won’t, I hope, want to go very soon?’ | My Time, I answered, was Mrs. Chapone’s, & Mrs. Chapone said she could not stay later than half past seven. ‘Fie! fie! cried Mrs. Delany, smiling, why Miss Larolles would not for the World go before 8! — However, the Dutchess will be here by seven, I dare say, for she said nothing should detain her.’ Mrs. Chapone then made me look at the Paintings, which I greatly admired: particularly a Copy of Saccharissa from Vandyke.55 There was also a portrait of Mme de Sevigné,56 which struck me very much: & while I was noticing the gaiety of its Countenance, Mrs. Delany, with an arch look, said ‘Yes, — it is very enjouée, — as Captain Aresby would say.57 —’ And afterwards of some other, — but I have forgot what, she said ‘I don’t know how it is, Mrs. Chapone, but I can never look at that picture without thinking of poor Belfield. — You must forgive us, Miss Burney, — it is not right to talk of these

55 Sir Anthony Van Dyck executed at least 4 portraits of Lady Dorothy Sidney (1617–84), the ‘Sacharissa’ of Edmund Waller’s love poetry, who m. (1639) Henry Spencer (1620–43), cr. (1643) E. of Sunderland. Mary Delany made three copies of Van Dyck’s Sacharissa, the third of which she bequeathed to FB (Delany Corr. vi. 499; ODNB). 56 Marie de Rabutin-Chantal (1626–96), Marquise de Sévigné, letter-writer. The portrait was rendered by Delany in oil and copied from the painting, given to Horace Walpole by Lady Hervey, which hung in the Gallery at Strawberry Hill. Delany describes it in 1756: ‘A picture of Madame de Sévigné’s is lent me, a real copy of a real original. I begun last Friday, and have almost dead-coloured it. It is a head as big as life — a fair, sensible sweet countenance, and fat’ (Delany Corr. vi. 412). See also Delany Corr. vi. 501; Horace Walpole, A Description of the Villa of Mr. Horace Walpole (Strawberry Hill, 1784), pp. 16, 47–9. 57 Mrs. Delany cleverly alludes to the foppish Aresby’s sprinkling his conversation with French phrases.

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people, but we don’t know how to speak at all, now, without! — they are so always in our minds.’ Soon after we went to Dinner, which was plain, neat, well cooked, & elegantly served. When it was over, I began to speak, — & now, my Chesington Auditors, look to yourselves! — ‘Will you give me leave, ma’am, to ask if you remember any body of the Name of Crisp? —’ ‘Crisp? cried she, — what, Mrs. Ann Crisp?58 —’ ‘Yes, ma’am.’ ‘O surely! extremely well! — a charming, an excellent Woman she was, — we were very good friends, once, — I visited her at Burford,59 & her sister, Mrs. — Gast. —’ Then came my turn, & I talked of the Brother, — but I won’t write again what was so nearly the same to what | I said to Mr. George Cambridge. She knew him, she said, but very little, & by no means so much as she should have liked. I reminded her of a Letter he wrote her from abroad, which she immediately recollected: & I told her that the account I had heard from him & from Mrs. Gast of her former friendship for Mrs. Ann Crisp, had first given me a desire to be acquainted with her. ‘I am sure, then, said she, I am very much obliged to them both; but how Mr. Crisp can so long have remembered so insignificant a body I don’t know. I beg, however, when you write to him, you will give my compliments & thanks to him; — & also to Mrs. Gast, for being so good as to think of me.’ Mrs. Chapone then asked me a hundred questions about Mr. Crisp, & said ‘Pray is he a Doctor Lyster?’60 ‘I don’t know Dr. Lyster, ma’am, cried I, very simply, for the Book was so wholly out of my Head at the Time, that I really thought she meant some living Character. They both laughed Ann Crisp (c.1696–1776), SC’s other sister. See EJL ii. 65 n. 5. Ann Crisp, who lived in a house on Witney St. in Burford, Oxfordshire (about 18 mi. WNW of Oxford), from perhaps as early as 1735, was joined there by her sister Sophia Gast after Mr Gast’s death around 1748. After Ann Crisp died, Sophia Gast continued to live in the house until her own death in 1791 (BP, pp. 10–12, 23). 60 The wise physician in Cecilia to whom FB gives the ‘pride and prejudice speech’: ‘The whole of this unfortunate business ... has been the result of PRIDE AND PREJUDICE....’ (Cecilia, bk. 10, ch. 10, p. 930). 58 59

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very much, & assured me they should soon teach me to remember names better, if I lived with them. This Chesingtonian talk lasted till we went up stairs, & then she shewed me the new art which she has invented. It is staining paper of all possible Colours, & then cutting it out, so finely & delicately, that when it is pasted on Paper or Vellum, it has all the appearance of being Pencilled, except that, by being raised, it has still a richer & more natural appearance . The effect is extremely beautiful. She invented it at 75! — She told me she did 4 Flowers the first Year, — 16 the second, & the 3d 160. — & after that many more. They are all from Nature, & consist of the most curious flowers, plants & weeds that are to be found. | She has been supplied with Patterns from all the great Gardens, & all the great Florists in the kingdom. Her Plan was to finish 1000, — but alas! her Eyes now fail her, though she has only 20 undone of her task! — She has marked the places whence they all came on the back, & where she did them, & the year: & she has put her Cypher, MD. at the corner of each, in different coloured Letters for every different year, such as red, blue, Green, &c — ‘But, said she, the last year,61 — as I found my Eyes grew very dim, & threatened to fail before my work was completed, I put my initials in white, for I seemed to myself already working in my winding sheet! —’ I could almost have cried at the mingled resignation & spirit with which she made this melancholy speech. Mrs. Chapone asked her whether any cold had lately attacked her Eyes? ‘No, said she, smiling, nothing but my reigning malady, Old Age! — ’tis, however, what we all wish to obtain, — &, indeed, a very comfortable state I have found it. I have a little Neice62 [sic] coming to me soon, who will see for me. Yesterday I was really rather distressed from my infirmity of blindness, for I received a Note from Young Mr. Montagu, and could not get it read. My reading servant63 was i.e., 1782. Her great-niece Georgiana Mary Ann Port (1771–1850), who later m. (1789) Benjamin Waddington (1749–1828), an American merchant. FB and Mary Ann Port would become good friends and life-long correspondents. 63 Anne Astley (c.1748–1836), the daughter of a clergyman, who had entered Delany’s service as waiting-woman and housekeeper on 11 July 1782: ‘Mrs. Astley is 61 62

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out, — Molly,64 whom you know, Mrs. Chapone, cannot either write or read; Edward,65 my man servant, is at present in disgrace with me, & therefore I thought I would not, just now, do him the favour to be obliged to him: so I tried, once more, to read myself, — I got my Glass, — it would not do; I got a large magnifying Glass, — I then saw the first Word, — but before I could get at the second, that became a blank! — my Eyes, however, have so well served me hitherto, that I have all reason to be content with them. I then recollected that my Cook66 could | read & I sent for her.’ At about 7 o’clock, the Dutchess Dowager of Portland came. She is not near so old as Mrs. Delany, nor, to me, is her face by any means so pleasing; but yet there is sweetness, & dignity, & intelligence in it. Mrs. Delany received her with the same respectful ceremony as if it was her first visit, though she regularly goes to her every Evening. But what she at first took as an Honour & condescendsion, she has so much true humility of mind that no use can make her see in any other light. She immediately presented me to her. Her Grace Courtsied & smiled with the most flattering air of pleasure, & said she was particularly happy in meeting with me.67 We then took our places, & Mrs. Delany said ‘Miss Burney, ma’am, is acquainted with Mr. Crisp, whom your Grace knew come, tired to death with travelling all night; she is going to drink some tea and go to bed. She appears to me to be just what I want’ (Delany Corr. vi. 93). She later m. (1791) Thomas Agnew (c.1752–1824), a gardener. Lady Llanover enlists her aid in her attempt to discredit FB by quoting from a letter in which Mrs Agnew writes that ‘Madame d’Arblay has not stuck exactly to truth, and in many respects has taken the advantage of very little to build on.... It is surprising to me how Madame d’Arblay could mention the two friends in the way she has done; she must fancy she was writing a novel, and therefore could embellish her story in any way she liked’ (Delany Corr. vi. 318). In later years, Anne Agnew lived at 21 Park Street, Windsor. See JL i. 78; Delany Corr. v. 563, vi. 152. 64 Molly Butcher, a maid. See Delany Corr. vi. 35, 41. 65 Not further identified. 66 Not further identified. 67 Cf. Delany Corr. vi. 127–8: ‘The Duchess of Portland had a prejudice against female novel writers, which almost amounted to a horror of them, and the Editor’s mother [Mary Ann Port Waddington] often told her that it was with the greatest difficulty that Mrs. Delany at last persuaded the Duchess of Portland to see Fanny Burney, whose power of amusing conversation ... and respectful attention ... so much pleased and interested her that she was induced, some time after she had herself received Miss Burney, to gratify the latter, by obtaining the Duchess of Portland’s unwilling consent to have the “authoress of Evelina” presented to her.’

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so well; & she tells me he & his sister have been so good as to remember me, & to mention me to her.’ The Dutchess instantly asked me a thousand questions about him: where he lived, how he had his Health, & whether his fondness for the polite arts still continued. She said he was one of the most ingenious & agreeable men she had ever known, & regretted his having sequestered himself so much from the society of his former friends. This Conversation lasted a long while, for it was one upon which I could myself be voluble. I spared not for boasting of my dear Daddy’s kindness to me, & you can hardly imagine the pleasure, ease & happiness it was to me to talk of him to so elegant a Judge, who so well knew I said nothing that was not true. She told me, also, the story of the poor Birmingham Boy,68 & of the sketches which | Mr. Crisp, she said, had been so good as to give her. In the course of this Conversation, I found her very charming. High bred, courteous, sensible, & spirited: not merely free from pride, but free from affability, it’s [sic] most mortifying deputy. After this, she asked me if I had seen Mrs. Siddons, & what I thought of her. I answered in guarded terms, that I admired her very much. And this is constantly my answer, &, while it goes no further, is very true. For the World would I not have any critique of mine run about the Town in her disfavour. She is certainly by far the best Actress we have, & as to her not fulfilling all my ideas, nobody, after Garrick, I suppose ever could. ‘If Miss Burney approves her, said the Dutchess, no approbation, I am sure, can do her so much credit, for no one can so perfectly judge Characters or Human Nature.’ ‘Ah, ma’am! cried Mrs. Delany, & does your Grace remember protesting you would never read Cecilia?’ ‘Yes, said she, Laughing, I declared that 5 volumes could never be attacked! — but since I began, I have read it 3 Times.’ ‘O terrible! cried I, — to make them fiveteen [sic]! —’ 68 Not further traced. The context suggests that SC had kindly bought some amateur ‘sketches’ by the boy, which he then gave to the Duchess.

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‘The reason, continued she, I held out so long against reading them, was remembering the cry there was in favour of Clarissa & Sir Charles Grandison, when they came out; & those I never could read! — I was teized into trying both of them, but I was disgusted with their tediousness, & could not read Eleven Letters, with all the effort I could make: so much of my Sisters & my Brothers, & my Uncles & my Aunts! —’ ‘But if your Grace had gone on, said Mrs. Chapone, the latter part must certainly have affected you.’ ‘O I hate any thing so dismal! Every body that did read | had melancholy faces for a Week! Cecilia is as pathetic as I can bear, — & more, sometimes; — yet, in the midst of the sorrow, there is a spirit in the Writing, a fire in the Whole Composition, that keep off that heavy depression given by Richardson. Cry, to be sure, we did, — O Mrs. Delany, shall you ever forget how we cried? — but then we had so much Laughter to make us amends! — we were never left to sink under our concern.’ ‘For my part, said Mrs. Chapone, when I first read it, I did not cry at all; I was in an agitation that half killed me, — that shook all my nerves, & made me unable to sleep at nights, from the suspence I was in; but I could not Cry for excess of eagerness; the second Time, however, when I knew the sum total, I cried at the distress ready to break my Heart! Oh that quarrel of Simkins with the Coach man!69 — I cannot, now, think of that moment for poor Cecilia without trembling!’ ‘I only wish, said the Dutchess, Miss Burney could have been in some corner, amusing herself with listening to us, when Lord Weymouth,70 & the Bishop of Exeter,71 & Mr. Lightfoot, & Mrs. Delany, & I, were all discussing the point of the name! — so earnest we were, she must have been diverted with us. Nothing the nearest our own Hearts could have been debated more warmly. The Bishop was quite as eager as any of us. But what cooled us, a little, at last, was Mr. Lightfoot’s See Cecilia, bk. 10, ch. 7, pp. 895–6. Thomas Thynne (1734–96), 3rd Visc. Weymouth, 1751; cr. (1789) M. of Bath; courtier and politician (ODNB). 71 John Ross (1719–92), D.D. (Cantab.), 1756; chaplain to the King, 1764–78; canon of Durham, 1769–78; Bishop of Exeter, 1778–92. He also served as house chaplain to Weymouth, who had been his pupil at St John’s College, Cambridge, and was his patron (ODNB). 69 70

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thinking we were seriously going to quarrel, & while Mrs. Delany & I were disputing about Mrs. Delville, & he very gravely said ‘Why Ladies, this is only a matter of imagination! — it is not a fact! Don’t be so earnest!’ ‘Ah ma’am, said Mrs. Delany, how hard your Grace | was upon Mrs. Delvile! so elegant, so sensible, so judicious, so charming a Woman —’ ‘O I hate her! cried the Dutchess, — resisting that sweet Cecilia! — coaxing her, too, all the Time, with such hypocritical flattery —’ ‘O no, cried Mrs. Chapone, indeed she is no hypocrite, she shews, in all things but that name, how really & unaffectedly fond she is of Cecilia.’ ‘Ah! said the Dutchess, that silly name! —’ ‘I shall never forget, said Mrs. Delany, your Grace’s earnestness when we came to that part where Mrs. Delvile bursts a blood vessel;72 down dropt the Book, & just with the same energy as if your Grace had heard some real & important news, you called out ‘I’m glad of it with all my Heart!’73 ‘I have heard many people, said Mrs. Chapone, of high family themselves, say that nothing could have been so base & so dirty as for the Delviles to give up their Name: & others say nothing could be so preposterous as Cecilia’s giving up her Fortune to gratify them: — but, for my part, I always say that where the Husband of her Choice was in question, all that could have been base & dirty would have been keeping the fortune in preference to him.’ ‘Well, said Mrs. Delany, I am for the good husband; but yet, — methinks I am very sorry for the fortune too! Lord Weymouth says his only fault is that Mrs. Delvile, whom he admires most, does not appear again in the conclusion; why then, my Lord, said I, I can only infer from that, that when you have read 5 volumes, | Your Lordship is dissatisfied not to have a sixth!’ ‘What disputes, too, said Mrs. Chapone, there are about Briggs! — I was in a Room some time ago, where somebody Cecilia, bk. 8, ch. 6, p. 681. FBA inserted here: ‘N.B. They All looked away from me during the whole discourse, as if I was unconcerned in it. Not one word was addressed to me.’ 72 73

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said there could be no such Character, — & a poor little mean City man, who was there, started up, & said ‘But there is, though, for I’se one myself!’ ‘Mr. Lightfoot declares, said the Dutchess, that he knows the very man.’ ‘He diverts me extremely,’ said Mrs. Delany. ‘And me too, I am sure! said Mrs. Chapone, & I can never either see or hear of a Lobster, a Breast of mutton or a crab, without Laughing.’74 ‘Nothing so much amuses & charms me, said the Dutchess, as Miss Larolles & Mr. Meadows: they are incomparable! That Journey on the Road, which made me half crazy with anger when I began it, grew so extremely entertaining as I went on, that I never Laughed so much at any thing I ever read, — but when Miss Larolles loses her little Dog!75 — & when she applies to Mr. Meadows to shoot the Highway man!76 — I could not read for Laughing! — And then, again, Morrice! — what an admirable Character! how much in life, yet how irresistably disgusting!’ ‘O, Morrice diverts me beyond them all!’ said Mrs. Delany. ‘What most amazes me, said the Dutchess, is to hear people pretend to criticise the Character of old Delvile! Why I personally know three myself! and one is so very like, talks so exactly in the same manner of his occupations, his family, his Estates, & his importance, that I always have him present to me when I read old Delvile’s speeches. — How admirably is young Delvile supported! he has just | what he ought to have of 74 Briggs complains to Cecilia, ‘waited for you three days, dressed a breast o’ mutton o’ purpose; got in a lobster, and two crabs; all spoilt by keeping; stink already; weather quite muggy, forced to souse ’em in vinegar; one expence brings on another; never begin the like agen’ (Cecilia, bk. 6, ch. 2, p. 452). 75 Twice! The first time she exclaims: ‘O dear, where’s my little dog? I never thought of him, I declare! I love him better than any thing in the world. I would not have him hurt for an hundred thousand pounds. Lord, where is he?’ (Cecilia, bk. 7, ch. 9, p. 594). 76 ‘Miss Larolles, then, running up to Mr. Meadows, called out, “I have a prodigious immense favour to ask of you, Mr. Meadows.” ‘”Ma’am!” cried Mr. Meadows, with his usual start. ‘”It’s only to know, whether if that horrid creature should come back, you could not just ride up to him and shoot him, before he gets to us? Now will you promise me to do it?” ‘”You are vastly good,” said he, with a vacant smile; “what a charming evening! Do you love the country?”’ (Cecilia, bk. 7, ch. 9, pp. 608–9).

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the pride & prejudice of his Family, just what Education & Example must necessarily give him; & no more. A Character more consistent, yet more uncommon, was never drawn. ‘Yet my favourite, said Mrs. Chapone, is still Lord Orville; O, if I were a young woman, I should be afraid of trusting myself to read of him, so charming he is to me! I should be like Rousseau’s Sophia,77 so much in love with my Telemaque,78 that nobody else could please me.’ ‘I think I was by nothing quite so much struck in the whole Book, said the Dutchess, as by that I do!79 — O I was so disappointed! I thought, then, that sweet Cecilia would have been married, & then I should have cared little more for the Delviles & their names; but that cruel interruption, at so critical a moment! — indeed, Miss Burney, you have lost me, — much as we are indebted to you, 2 whole Nights sleep totally from the deep interest I took in that enchanting Cecilia’s afflictions.’ ‘It is very shocking, ma’am, said I, that I should hear this, & not be shocked! —’ This, with a terse You are y good, was all I could possibly say, for these comments & compliments never gave Breath for more. ‘The Harrels, — O then the Harrels!’ cried Mrs. Delany. ‘If you speak of the Harrels, & of the morality of the Book, cried the Dutchess, with a solemn sort of voice, we shall indeed never give Miss Burney her due! So striking, so pure, so genuine, so instinctive! —’ ‘Yes, cried Mrs. Chapone, let us complain how we will of the torture she has given our nerves, we must all | join in saying she has bettered us by every line.’ ‘No Book, said Mrs. Delany, ever was so useful as this, because none other so good, was ever so much read.’

77 A character from Jean-Jacques Rousseau’s Emile (1762), a treatise on education that expounds Rousseau’s views on the natural man. The last book is devoted to the ideal female pupil, Sophie, who is trained to be docile and submissive and to help men. 78 In a sequel, Emile et Sophie, Sophie’s infidelity with Télémaque destroys her marriage to Emile. 79 See Cecilia, bk. 8, ch. 2, p. 626.

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‘It should be read, cried the Dutchess, with energy, forever! it should be the study of Youth! both for precept & example I know nothing to compare with it. It seems to me, indeed, in all respects, one of the first Books in the World! And it ought to be put in every Nursery, it is so innocent & so pure, & if I had the care of any young people, it should be the first Book I would put in their Hands.’ I think, my dear Susy, I need now write no more! I could, indeed, hear no more, for this last so serious praise, from Characters so respectable, so moral, & so aged, quite affected me; & though I had wished a thousand times, during the discourse, to run out of the Room, when they gave me this solemn sanction to the meaning & intention of my writing, I found it not without difficulty that I could keep the Tears out of my Eyes: & when I told what had passed to our sweet Father, his quite ran over! Of all the scenes of this sort in which I have been engaged, This has been the least painful to me, from my high respect for the personages, from their own elegance in looking at one another while they talked, & from having no witnesses to either watch me, or be wearied themselves: yet I still say only least painful; for pleasant nothing can make a Conversation entirely addressed to one who has no means in the World of taking any share in it. This meeting had so long been in agitation, & so much desired by myself, | that I have not spared for being circumstantial & I have written the more fully, because I thought my Daddy would be glad to hear what his old friend the Dutchess thought of his own Brat’s Book. Tell him this, & if he don’t say ‘she’s a good little Beast enough! —’ I renounce him —! The Dutchess had the good sense & judgment to feel she had drawn up her panegyric to a climax, & therefore here she stopt. So, however, did not we, for our Coach was ready, & when I set Mrs. Chapone down I went to Mrs. Ord. She had sent to me in the morning, that she was not well, & begged to speak with me. It is very provoking that, so amiable as Mrs. Ord is, & so much as I really like her, I can never prevail with her to give up her ardent desire to introduce me to new Acquaintance.

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She has for some Time past told me that Secretary Ord’s80 family wanted to know me, & I have always evaded meeting them. Since the scene with Soame Jenyns, on Friday,81 I doubt not but she saw I should be still firmer in refusals; & therefore, after sending me a message that could not fail taking me to her House, — I found with her this very family! — she was, however, really not well, & she means me so much kindness, that I did not riot82 her, though really I was very mad to be so taken in. I begin to quite sicken at the sight of strangers, — Begin, nay, when did I ever like it? — And now I have seen Mrs. Delany, I have not a grain of curiosity left for any body quite unseen that I have heard of. I forgot to mention that Mrs. Delany most kindly urged me to call upon her, & said the civillest of things of how much she should be obliged, & so forth. I most certainly & gladly shall wait upon her the first opportunity. I stayed but a little while at Mrs. Ord’s, as her business, I found, was not very private. I then went to Mrs. Strange | I met all the family. Bruce Strange83 is lately come from Scotland, & she & I chatted socially together all the Evening. Monday. Jany 20th To Day my Father, Hetty, Mr. Burney, Charlotte & I went to Dine at the Bishop of Winchesters, where we met only himself & his lady, & our Cousin Dick, most exquisitely happy so to be met! — I did not much like the Day, yet they were extremely good humoured, & most marvellous easy & civil: but — Mrs. North forces her wit, & her kindness, too, so violently, that I rather retreat than advance in her presence. You must be very careful, my Susy, not to let this 80 Thomas Orde (1746–1807), later (1795) Orde-Powlett, politician; secretary to the Treasury, July 1782–Apr. 1783. A ‘near Relation’ of Anna Ord, FB had met him in 1776 (EJL ii. 210). Orde had only an infant son at this time so that by ‘family’ FB may mean his wife, Jean Mary Browne Powlett (d. 1814), and perhaps his brother John Orde (1751–1824), naval officer, cr. (1790) Bt, and his wife Margaret Emma, née Stevens (1759–1790). See ODNB. 81 17 Jan. 82 i.e., quarrel with. OED does not record this particular sense of the verb used transitively. EDD records an East Anglian substantive, ‘riot’, meaning ‘a quarrel between two people only’. FB probably knew this dialectical usage from her childhood in King’s Lynn. 83 Mary Bruce Strange. She was known familiarly by her middle name. See EJL i. 98 n. 2.

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escape you to Hetty, who has now taken a great fancy to her, & who would not merely be mortified but angry, if she knew I had not drawn a more favourable Portrait of her to you. Hetty likes so few people, that I am sure I would never wish to lessen her benevolence — on the contrary, I do all in my power to forward her liking Mrs. North, who is excessively fond of her. She is not, to be sure, to my taste, but what of that? She has many good qualities, & if she would be content without insisting upon intimacy, I should like her moderately well without difficulty. But she charges me to promise I will visit Farnham next summer, & again at Christmas! & says she shall never forgive me if I do not! — & is as eager & vehement as if we were the best & oldest friends in the World, when we have only met twice. In the Evening, Mrs. Thrale was to have a large Assembly. I had asked her to invite Mrs. Meeke, which she did, & Charlotte without asking. Mrs. Meeke, with a party of her own, went first to the Pantheon,84 where my Father and Charlotte went to join her, from the Bishop’s & I went to Mrs. Ord & begged she would take me with her to Mrs. Thrale’s; for I chose to shirk the Pantheon. Mrs. Ord lives next door to the Bishop; & readily consented. Indeed she is always & most kindly offering to accompany me any where, & every where that she goes. She also chaproned the two Miss Ellerkers,85 who were mighty courteous. | We were late, & found the Company chiefly assembled. All the folks I can recollect I will write down: Lady Shelburne,86 Mrs. Montagu, Mrs. Boscawen, Mrs. Byron, Dr. & Mrs. Parker, Dr. Lort,87 Sir Richard Jebb, Mr. Cambridge, his son, Dr. Pepys, Mr. & Mrs. Pepys, Mrs. Price,88 Sir Sampson & Lady 84 ‘The Entertainments at the Pantheon will commence THIS EVENING, and be continued through the Season in the manner of Ranelagh.... The doors (in Oxford-street only) will be opened at half past seven o’clock, and the Music begin at eight’ (Gazetteer and New Daily Advertiser, 20 Jan. 1783). 85 Elizabeth and Harriet. See above, p. 148 n. 50. 86 Lady Louisa Fitzpatrick (1755–89), m. (1779) William Petty, 2nd E. of Shelburne. See above, p. 80 n. 74. 87 The Revd Michael Lort (1725–90), antiquary; D.D. (Cantab.), 1780. See EJL iii. 111 n. 12; ODNB. 88 Sarah Price, née Evelyn (1735–1826), widow of Chase Price (c.1731–77) and half-sister of Frances Boscawen, née Glanville (1719–1805). See EJL iv. 314 n. 93.

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Gideon, Mrs. Barclay89 the fair Quaker, & her Husband & Cousin;90 Mr. Jerningham; Miss Palmer; the Bishop of Peterborough; Mr. & Miss Whitbread;91 Mrs. Scot; Mr. Wraxal; Mr. Manners; who was at Lord De Ferrars at Brighthelmstone, Mr. Selwin, &c. &c. & Dr. Johnson & Miss Thrale. As I knew almost every Creature present, I had, as usual at that House, nothing but Courtsying & Nodding from the moment Mrs. Thrale let go my Hand, — which was not very soon, — but the first person who came to speak to me was Mr. Cambridge the Elder: & with a Countenance full of good humour & softness, for every Feature softens when he speaks to me, such is the strange & determined partiality he has hitherto shewn me! — he told me that Capt. Phillips had favoured his House with a visit, & that he hoped still to find him at Twickenham when he returned there the next Day. And then, with a Face still more smiling, he added, ‘He now promises we shall really, at last, see Mrs. Phillips; she is first to come to Town, & then to favour us with her Company in her way back: — but Capt. Phillips gives us some little encouragement to hope that both sisters might be prevailed upon to come together. —’ And then he went on with very kind & flattering speeches to invite me, saying the party, now, rested wholly with me. I could not wish any thing more agreeable than to make one of it: & therefore I instantly thanked him, & assented; — he looked very much pleased, &, indeed, he is so excessively courteous & good natured, that I doubt not, when I am under his Roof, I shall lose all that uneasy constraint I cannot now, for my life, get rid of when he addresses me. There is a respect in | his manner so little my due from him, that it quite confounds me. ‘The Captain, he continued, talks of being with us in a fortnight, — now my fear is lest that should be your fullest time’ — 89 Rachel Lloyd (1743–92), m. (1767) as his 2nd wife David Barclay (1729– 1809). See R. Hingston Fox, Dr. John Fothergill and His Friends (London: Macmillan, 1919), pp. 269–77; ODNB; IGI; GM lxii1 (1792), 581; EJL iv. 350 n. 58. 90 The cousin is not further identified. 91 Samuel Whitbread (1720–96), of Cardington, brewer; m. (1757) Harriot Hayton (1735–64). Their elder daughter, Harriot (1758–1832), later m. (1789) James Gordon, Jr of Moor Park, Herts. See GM lix2 (1789), 669; lxvi1 (1796), 531; cii1 (1832), 379; Piozzi Letters i. 185 n. 1; IGI; ODNB.

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I suppose he meant for engagements, — O Heaven! how gladly shall I relinquish them for such an Excursion with my dear Susy! And so I shall before we go, for not one will I enter into from the Day I know I may expect you. — I cannot tell you, — & it would fill all my paper if I could, the joy I look forward to meeting you again with! — & I doubt not but our little Jaunt to Twickenham will give us back the comfort in each other that we shall, never, have here. As to my dear Father; I know so well that he will make no objection to my going to a new House, where the Head of it is so celebrated as Mr. Cambridge, that I felt not any scruple in giving my immediate consent to his plan; & I only said that March would be my fullest Time, as it would be Mrs. Thrale’s last month in England. He hoped, then, he said, that Mrs. Phillips would be expeditious; & told me that his Daughters would be particularly happy in attending me, at my own Time, back if Mrs. Phillips continued her Journey. I now saw the truth of your conjecture that this Invitation has only been delayed from want of opportunity to speak, on account of the presence of my mother: for it could not have been made with more earnestness nor more elegance, if its object had been the Princess Royal.92 I am really all amazement at the extreme civility he shews me, as I have been even unusually unfortunate in all little attempts at conversing with him. Prejudice, however, does, in some cases, as much good, as in others it does mischief, — so vive la prejudice between Mr. Camdge & me! — This was scarce arranged, when Dr. Lort came between us, & said ‘Very well, Miss Burney! so now You won’t speak to me!’ ‘To You? cried I, no, surely, you are the superior, & ought to begin.’ ‘That won’t do, said he, ’tis you are the superior Being now, & so I must wait your nod before I dare say how do do to you.’ | Mr. George Cambridge spoke to me next, & told me how sorry he was to have missed Capt. Phillips but that he meant to go to Twickenham the next morning, in hopes of finding 92

Charlotte Augusta Matilda (1766–1828), the Princess Royal.

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him still there. Then Miss Palmer seized me, & insisted on making me join her, as she knew but little of the Company. ‘I have not seen you this great while, Miss Palmer, said Mr. G: C. — but perhaps you will say whose fault is that!’ ‘To be sure I shall! cried she, for I can’t come to see you.’ ‘Why that’s true, —’ said he, Laughing, & then Mrs. Thrale came & took my Hand, & led me to make my reverences to Mrs. Montagu, & some others, & made me sit down in a Groupe where she took a Chair next mine, for she had some thing she was impatient to communicate to me, relating to her affairs. The moment she left me, to receive some new Guest, Mr. Jerningham came, & stood behind my Chair to prate, but I shall now cut him, as such folks say, though I shall not affront him — so I was civil, but dry, & distant, & he soon left me. Then again Miss Palmer followed me & begged I would go with her into the next Room, where Piozzi was going to sing. There we went, & I got planted between Miss Palmer & Miss Ellerker for an Hour, I believe. Piozzi’s voice is so much gone, that when there are so many people, there is little pleasure in hearing him. Miss Thrale, too, sang, but I [xxxxx 1 line] little at her ease to do well. Mrs. Thrale then again came to call me away, as some friends of mine, she said, wanted me: they were Mrs. Meeke & Charlotte. Mrs. Meeke was Dressed very gayly, had put on some rouge, & attracted general attention. I immediately joined them, as I had promised to do, — was going back to the other Room for Charlotte, but saw that Mr. Cambridge Senr was talking to her, so I knew she was content. | When I came back to Mrs. Thrale, Mr. George Cambridge, who was standing near the Piano Forte, — to pass Time, I am sure, for I see he cares nothing for music, — said to me ‘Have You recovered yet, Miss Burney, from Soame Jenyns?’ I was a little suspicious he said this for sport, as he had confessed that his Father had no idea of those sort of things, & I let him know my suspicion immediately; but he took a great deal of trouble to assure me it was ill founded, & very often, & very good naturedly, repeated that he had seen my uneasiness at Mrs. Ord’s, & been extremely sorry for me, & pitied me very much for being in so nasty a situation, as he saw I was

300

January 1783

in. I then said, — for I was afraid my dislike of what to most others seems desirable might really appear absurd, ‘I did not, I do assure you, bring all that upon myself, — but that nobody knows, & nobody, therefore, will make allowance for it.’ This was no Time for narration, or I would frankly have told him the whole history of my chancing to become an Author, & how I was betrayed into being known as such, without either my consent or approbation. I don’t suppose he knew what I meant, for he only answered with a Laugh, ‘You must pay the price, however, of your own celebrity: & take the bad with the good belonging to it.’ ‘If there were any, cried I, I must not pay for, but lose it, by such meetings as these.’ ‘No, no, no, — cried he, You must support it. I hear, however, that Soame Jenyns himself complains! I saw Mr. Ray,93 a friend of his, this morning, & he has been telling him that he has had the pleasure of being introduced to Miss Burney, which he had very much wished, but that there were so many people, listening to all that passed, that he had never felt himself so much at a loss what to say in his life!’ ‘Well, cried I, grinning in my turn, I cannot possibly be | sorry to hear this! —’ I dare say, if the truth was known, it was my silence & gravity that disconcerted him. ‘I was really quite confounded, continued I, by the beginning of the ceremony, paraded up the Room, & then down, — & not suffered to sit by Mrs. Thrale, — & what for? I had seen Mr. Soame Jenyns 50 Times, & if I had have met him quietly, I should have liked seeing him 50 more — but I could not for my life imagine the reason of this sudden fuss & parade.’ ‘Why were not you apprized of this intended introduction?’

93 Perhaps Robert Ray (c.1761–1837), son of Richard Ray (d. 1795), a wealthy ‘wood mason’, whose wife Sarah Ray (1722–1814) ran Russell House, a girl’s school attended by HLT’s daughter Cecilia. He became a barrister in 1785 and a trusted friend of HLT and her new husband Piozzi. Robert Ray’s interest in authors (such as Jenyns) is attested by his dying in possession of ‘a valuable library’ (GM cviii1 (1838), 217; Piozzi Letters i. 237 n. 2).

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‘Yes, but not how it would be circumstanced. I had made several excuses, but I was desired, at last, to name my own Day, — & there is no evasion to be used then! —’ ‘Soame Jenyns, said he, has so much wit, & so much humour, & such knowledge —’ ‘Ay, interrupted I, I know very well I received a great deal of honour, & a great deal of credit, — but all that belonged to the business was — I had rather have been without them!’ He Laughed heartily at this avowal; &, I then added ‘But I had a meeting Yesterday that has put me in humour, again, with new folks, though I had almost determined to see no more.’ ‘And with whom was this meeting?’ ‘With two old acquaintances of Mr. Crisp!’ ‘O then, cried he, smiling, I doubt not you were happy.’ ‘Yes, I was indeed; — for I had the pleasure of talking of nothing else to them but him.’ I did not, however, think it necessary to tell him what they talked of to me! — He desired to know who they were: & I told him, & he joined me in praising Mrs. Delany, whom I found he was acquainted with: but, in the midst of our | joint eloge, he exclaimed ‘It is all your fault that I talk! — so I don’t mind it!’ looking at Piozzi. ‘O, mighty well!’ quoth I, & determining I would no longer be his excuse for talking, I turned away from him, & meeting with my Father, I heard that Dr. Johnson was complaining I did not speak to him. Now the real truth is I dread speaking to him before any audience, because it is necessary to talk so loud, in order to be heard by him, that every body else, also, must hear all that is said. I observed, however, that nobody was very near him, & therefore went to make my peace. He scolded a little, but called me his little darling, & all did well; & I left him as expeditiously as I could without offending him. Mr. George Cambridge soon after came to ask me if my Bouquet was still of Mrs. North’s Flowers. By the way, I wish I had asked him how he came not to stay & listen in silence to Piozzi & Miss Thrale when he had the opportunity! ‘Yes, I answered, I have kept the Green as well as I could till to Day, as I Dined with her, & wished to shew them.’

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January 1783

‘Did she make you any more odd speeches?’ ‘O yes! but she does not want parts, for she said she was sure I should like the Bishop better than her!’ ‘She meant you should contradict that!’ ‘Perhaps so, — but I did not know how, it was so true.’ ‘She is a very flighty woman, I believe: & where she chuses to be acquainted, she is determined not to be baffled. She has carried points of this sort with great success, & with some of the first people in the kingdom.’ Miss Palmer then joined us, & we had some very agreeable chat, till I was called away from them by Mrs. Boscawen, who, with her usual good breeding & good sense, held me some Time | in conversation; chiefly about Mrs. Delany, & the Dutchess Dowager of Portland: for she had heard of our meeting, & was curious to know how I liked them: You may believe I found no difficulty in satisfying her, as all I had to say was so much in their favour. Miss Palmer took the first opportunity she could seize, to tap me on the shoulder to return to them, & said they wanted to ask me a question. ‘We solicit your opinion, said young Mr. Cambridge, of Mrs. Barclay, the Quaker, & to know whether You will join in our’s. Do you think her handsome?’ ‘Yes, indeed, very.’ This, I saw, was not their Opinion. ‘I don’t, at all!’ cried Miss Palmer. ‘I think, indeed, said he, there is such a total want of expression, that it is impossible to bestow the word beauty upon such merely well formed Features.’ ‘I fancy, cried I, you are like Captain Phillips; — for he allows no beauty but where he sees an expression that pleases him.’ ‘I hope, cried he laughing, we are like in many things, but I don’t remember that upon this subject we ever compared Notes.’ You must know I have a great notion he has imbibed the same Capt. Phillips’ notions of our pretty little Charlotte, for, with all her beauty, he scarce takes the smallest notice of her. Miss Palmer soon after went away, & I joined Mrs. Meeke & Charlotte.

January 1783

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Some time after, Mr. G: C., coming up to me, with some degree of earnestness, said ‘You can’t imagine, Miss Burney, how pleased I am to see how well you enter into my Father’s Character. There were several traits in his Conversation at Mrs. Ord’s, which I saw you exactly took as he meant them. I observed your looks, & I saw you noticed just those things I wished not to escape you.’ | ‘I had nothing, I am sure, said I, to notice but from Mr. Cambridge, that would give me pleasure all that Evening.’ ‘I must thank you, too, said he, for that story of the Insects,94 I had not heard it before. I could not for my life imagine what you had alluded to, & I flew to my Father to ask him. What an extraordinary sort of confidential intercourse there seems between this Father & son? & how much it rises them both in my esteem! I think I never, out of this House, knew a Father so adored by his Children as Mr. Cambridge. This son tells his Father not only all his actions, but all his thoughts, & all his conversations . I told him, again, how extremely I had been entertained by Mr. Cambridge’s discourse, & most particularly by his stories — of Miss Oliver. ‘What, Miss Susy? said he, O, pray, then, make him tell you more, he has many that, I fancy, you will find especially interesting.’ ‘I am sorry, said I, that her name is Susy, — That is Mrs. Phillips’ name.’ ‘Is it? —, why I thought her’s was a very different one.’ ‘What did you think it?’ ‘Why not that — I thought it a very pretty one.’ Mrs. Price now came to chat with me, & I heard what Name he had fancied for you. As soon as she left me , Mr. G. C. enquired who she was? ‘Mrs. Price, answered I, & I think there is neither expression nor Features there.’ She is, indeed, equally & uglily defective in both. His father then came with the same enquiry; & whether she was Mrs. Boscawen’s sister. I told him yes, ‘Then, said he, I [xxxxx 1 word] ought to speak to her.’

94

See above, p. 282.

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January 1783

‘O, do speak to her, then, if you think you ought! cried I, for she is not one to dispense with any thing that is her due.’ He then went to make her his Compliments, & Lady Gideon most civilly came on the same errand to me, & to examine | Mrs. North’s Bouquet, which was the only one in the Room. A little while after, when Piozzi was playing the symphony95 of a song in the next Room, Mr. G: C. came to ask me whether that was Miss Thrale singing. ‘No, — said I, grinning, I believe, a little, Nobody is singing.’ ‘Why, I thought I heard a note just now —’ ‘Yes, of the PianoForte! — But though Miss Thrale has not much voice, she has some! —’ ‘O, no, said he, looking a little queer, You are going to laugh at me & bent his head — however, I will let you laugh, but it is not every body I would.’ ‘I assure you, cried I, I imagined you were laughing your self, & that your secret Miss Thrale had so little voice, there was no knowing whether she sang or not.’ I then went on into the other Room, where I had much insipid talk with Miss Ellerkers, some far otherwise with Mrs. Byron, & some very rational with Miss Ord, who grows almost Daily more & more friendly. I had very little with Mr. Pepys, because I could never sit Tête à Tête with him. After this, I sate down for the rest of the Evening, Mrs. Meeke & Charlotte. Mrs. Thrale, whenever she cou sitting next me, & her Daughter & Mr. George Cambridge placing themselves vis à vis to us. Miss Thrale & Mr. G: C. had some very lively talk also on the publication of some Letters of Lord Chesterfield,96 & the both of them said very good things. Mr. G: C., in particular, 95 i.e., introduction. See OED, s.v. ‘symphony’ 5, which cites Evelina: ‘During the symphony of a song ... young Mr. Branghton said, “It’s my belief that that fellow is going to sing another song.”’ 96 The Art of Pleasing; or, Instructions for Youth in the first Stage of Life, In a Series of Letters to the Present Earl of Chesterfield, by the Late Philip Earl of Chesterfield. Now first collected (London, 1783). It was advertised by the Whitehall Evening Post, 9 Jan. 1783, as to be published ‘on Monday [13 Jan.]’. Besides Kearsley, it was ‘printed for Debrett, Piccadilly; Egerton, (successor to Milan) opposite the Admiralty ... Bew, in Paternoster-row; and Sewell, in Cornhill’.

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made many speeches in a style of humour & sport I have never before heard him make use of. I cannot, however, write what passed, as Mrs. Meeke prevented me from giving them my whole attention by her frequent whispers. When Mrs. Thrale was called away, he asked whether I had read the | [The rest of the journal letter is missing.]

296

[St Martin’s Street, 25 January 1783]

To Hester Maria Thrale ALS (Hyde), Jan. 1783 Double sheet 4to, 3 pp. Addressed: Miss Thrale, Argyll Street It seems that FB sent this letter early Sat., 25 Jan., that on that day Crutchley made the visit to HLT that FB wished to delay, and that FB then visited HLT the following day, 26 Jan., as she says she plans to do in this letter.

I am half distracted to think how your poor mother will bear either way, your telling, or his,97 — how ill she looked yesterday! — how unfit for the new life & dangers she is preparing to encounter!98 — I am sorry too at my very Heart for you, — I thought you looked pale & miserable — Good God of Heaven how dreadful in all its circumstances & in all its consequences is this unhappy infatuation! — I was never in my life so much distressed as what advice to give, — I think quite with you that her rage & grief will half madden her, & I see her frame is already so shaken that who can answer for the affect of passions so violent in her present state of Health? — If at least he would defer till she is better this horrible

97 Jeremiah Crutchley’s. ‘Whether Miss Thrale sent him word slyly, or not I cannot tell; but on the 25: Jan: 1783. Mr Crutchley came hither [to Argyll Street] to conjure me not to go to Italy: he had heard such Things he said, & by means next to miraculous’ (Thraliana i. 558). 98 If she were to marry Piozzi.

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25 January 1783

explanation,99 — no Time would be lost by it, as she can never bind herself more to P[iozzi] than she has already done: no evil, therefore, of that sort, could follow the delay, & indeed I think it would be kind. His going into Lincolnshire1 is surely less material than consulting Health so precarious & so precious. Do try, my dear Miss Thrale, to gain this little respite. I protest to you while she is so hoarse & weak, I should fear any sudden & violent struggle might even be dangerous to her life. If this deferring scheme takes place, we may meet & confer about what shall succeed. If not, — if you cannot prevail with him to be quiet, — endeavour, my dear friend, to take the business into your own Hands: I know how hard the task will be, — but I will come myself & assist you in fulfilling it. This, indeed, I think a duty, however hard a one. To expose her, unprepared, to his reproaches, would really be unjustifiable. You as her Daughter, myself as her darling friend, how should we answer to ourselves if any evil happened which we could prevent? — Bad, miserably bad, all must go! — but hitherto, we, at least, have nothing to blame ourselves for. This is the only counsel I can give, & though I have a thousand things I wish to talk over, it would be the sum of what I should say. I earnestly entreat you to make Daisy2 come to me | some time this Evening with a Letter to tell me what you resolve upon, & what passes between you and Mr. C. I shall be dying with anxiety, & at Home all Day. If you could get the Coach for either visits or business, & call, how glad I should be! — I

99 FB is referring to the scandalous rumours that had been circulating regarding HLT and Piozzi. HLT wrote to FB, 25 Jan. 1783 (Berg): ‘Crutchley has been here, and all is out! — He told his Story tho’ with some Delicacy, and so — and so it has not killed me. I gave him evasive Answers, he charged me not to take the Girls abroad: I said I would not do it without his Consent. He charged me not to go — I said I’ll think about it. So then I talked to my Tit [Queeney] when he was gone, and She said it was better for her not to go, as the Business was already known, and it would in her have the Appearance of Connivance.’ FB, Queeney and Crutchley feared that HLT’s proposed trip to Italy with her daughters, ostensibly for financial reasons, had become a cover for Piozzi to follow and marry her there. 1 Crutchley regularly visited his sister and brother-in-law in Syston, Lincs. See EJL iv. 359 n. 68. 2 Presumably Queeney’s servant.

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shall call at your House to-morrow Noon, but most likely not have a minute with you.3 God bless you & direct you! & strengthen your sweet mother — whose sufferings I think will be equal whether she gives this hateful affair up, or persists in carrying it on. —

297

[St Martin’s Street, 22–27 February 1783] To Susanna Burney Phillips AJL (Diary MSS II, paginated 1781–[4], Berg), Feb. 1783 3 double sheets and single sheet 4to, 14 pp. pmk 27 FE wafer Addressed: Mrs. Phillips, / at Mrs. Hamilton’s, / Chesington, / Kingston, / Surry. Endorsed (by SBP): Feby 28th 1783 Annotated (by FBA): written after a visit to Twickenham with Capt. & Mrs. Phillips To Feb. 23.

Saturday [22 Feb.]

How sorry I have been, my sweetest Susy, not to have had a moment for writing to you till to Day; but I really have not. Your Letter4 gave me much satisfaction, & I wished to have answered it immediately — but things have so happened I could not. I rejoice you got safe home,5 & found 3 ‘The next day Sunday 26. Fanny Burney came, said I must marry him instantly, or give him up; that my Reputation would be lost else — I actually groaned with Anguish, threw myself on the Bed in an Agony which My fair Daughter beheld with frigid Indifference’ (Thraliana i. 558). Early Sunday morning, after a sleepless night, HLT had written to FB (Berg): ‘tomorrow [i.e., Sunday] Morning I go to the Cold Bath to strengthen my nerves — then to church to strengthen my Mind, & will at my Return — — — give my final Answer as to future Resolutions. Ah Burney! Love me, & pray for me: indeed I can no longer endure not only to torture myself, but to torture every body belonging to me. Children Lover & Friend. somebody shall be made happy tomorrow. I have almost killed myself with yesterday’s contest & the sleepless Night past after it.’ After FB’s visit she apparently sent HLT a ‘forced — and killing Letter of severe remonstrance — which was either wilfully set aside, from a fixed resolution, not to heed any obstacles — or really — in the phrenzy of all absorbing passion, forgotten’ (FB’s docket to HLT’s letter to her, ‘Sunday Night’, 26 Jan. 1783 (Berg)). 4 Missing. 5 To Chessington Hall.

308

22–27 February 1783

Baby & All pretty well, & I shall long for a better account of my dear Daddy. In our Journey to Town,6 I was not very gay, though I had turned from my best loved Susy without one chaste embrace, to keep myself hardy: but the minute I had got into the Coach, I felt provoked that I had done it, — & I wished I had bid all things defiance for the pleasure which I had denied myself. Mr. Cambridge talked a great deal, & as well, & with as much spirit as any man could who had so much toil upon his Hands; Miss Cambridge indeed, talked also, but I found it out of my power to support my own part with any chance of dividing the labour. I could not, however, help being entertained by one subject which Mr. C. chose. He told me the history of his Courtship & marriage; &, among many other particulars, said he had visited 3 Years at Miss Trenchard’s Father’s,7 in love all the time with the Daughter, yet honourably forbearing ever to tell her so, because, not being rich enough to marry her, he chose to be at liberty, &, at the end of the 3 years, he resolved to go abroad: however, when all was ready for his Journey, his uncle8 offered to settle his Estate upon him if he would give it up, & marry: which he therefore then did. Miss Cambridge & I both agreed it would have been more honourable, to our thoughts, had he gone sooner, for she said her mother has often owned that, though Mr. C. made no declaration, his frequent visits had made every body else 6 On Tues., 18 Feb., from Twickenham where FB and the Phillipses had been visiting the Cambridge family. 7 George Trenchard (c.1684–1758), of Lytchett Matravers nr. Poole, Dorset; M.P. (HP). Burke’s Landed Gentry (1852) gives the date of the marriage of Richard Owen Cambridge and Mary Trenchard as 18 June 1740 (i. 177), while the parish register of Lytchett Matravers, printed in John Hutchins, History and Antiquities for the County of Dorset ((London, 1774), ii. 118) lists the marriage in the entry for 1740 (sources cited in R. D. Altick, Richard Owen Cambridge: Belated Augustan (Philadelphia, 1941), p. 11 n. 6). The three years might be an exaggeration. Trenchard’s eldest son George enrolled at Lincoln’s Inn in July 1739 where he struck up a friendship with Richard Owen Cambridge, and Altick claims that that is when Cambridge became intimate with the Trenchard family (p. 10). 8 Richard Owen (d. 1748), of Britwell Place nr. Burnham, Bucks; attorney. Upon his death, Owen left bequests totalling £4,000 to various friends and relatives and the remainder of his estate, consisting of freehold messuages, tenements and hereditaments in London as well as of the reversion of lands in the counties of Hereford and Radnor, to Richard Cambridge on condition that Cambridge assume the surname of ‘Owen’. See Altick, pp. 5–6, 22–3; GM xviii (1748), 43.

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regard him as her Lover, & she had so far given him her Heart, that she could never have been happy with any other man. He desired, before we came Home, to carry me to Steward’s9 Father, the Barber, to shew me the Family. It was, indeed, a | very fine sight, for his sisters are even beautiful, & all so clean & so sensible, that I quite fell in love with them. After this, Mr. Cambridge begged my leave to stop at Mr. Trenchard’s,10 Mrs. Cambridge’s Brother, to enquire how he did, & if he could accompany them back to Twickenham. He was out, but his old Housekeeper11 was called to the Coach Door, & Mr. C. asked her a thousand questions, purposely, he told me, that I might hear her. She was a good comic Character enough. This over, — ‘Miss Burney, he said, will you be so good as to excuse it, now, if we just stop a moment at poor George’s Lodgings,12 to ask how he does?’ ‘Certainly,’ I answered; & thither we went. Miss Cambridge, who had never seen them, was delighted at the opportunity, & easily prevailed upon to get out: ‘There he is, at the window, poor fellow! cried Mr. Cambridge, all covered with Flannel! — Why don’t you look, Miss Burney? — you can see him this way.’

9 Probably Thomas Stewart (1766–c.1801), portrait painter, who entered the Royal Academy Schools in 1782 and exhibited at the Royal Academy from 1784 to 1801. A Miss M. Stewart exhibited at the Royal Academy from 1791 to 1801 (E.  Waterhouse, The Dictionary of British 18th-Century Painters in Oils and Crayons (Woodbridge: Antique Collectors’ Club, 1981), p. 359). Waterhouse describes her as Thomas Stewart’s ‘daughter’, but Stewart’s young age suggests she may have been one of his sisters. Miss Stewart was a pupil of George Stubbs 1799–1800 (Waterhouse), and Thomas Stewart exhibited a portrait of Stubbs in 1801. In 1791 Miss Stewart exhibited a ‘Scene from Miss Burney’s Cecilia’. T. Stewart and Miss M. Stewart shared the same address at 1, Union Street, (New) Bond Street (A. Graves, The Royal Academy ... 1769 to 1904 (London: Henry Graves, 1905–6), vii. 262–3). FB wrote to SBP, 22 Jan. 1785 (Berg), quoting their mother as saying that ‘That Boy Steward has been here’, and that ‘he desired to have poor Dr. Johnson’s Picture to Copy’ for GOC. She also annotated an undated letter to her from Richard Owen Cambridge (Barrett) which includes ‘Mr. Cambridge’s account of the Design he gave to a young Painter Steward for a Caricature Picture of Boswell’s Materials for his life of Dr. Johnson’. 10 Either Thomas Trenchard (b. 1723) or John Trenchard (d. 1819) of Sturminster Marshall, Dorset, and of Welbeck Street, London; appointed commissioner for taxes, 1756 (GM xxvi (1756), 206). 11 Not further identified. 12 GOC lived on Duchess Street. See below, p. 355 n. 62.

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How ever odd he is! — I told him I was so near sighted I should only look in vain, — for I thought it enough to be waiting at his Door, without nods & bobs to him, in his Night Cloaths, from the Window. Miss Cambridge stayed with him some Time, & then brought us word he was very ill, that his Face was dreadfully swelled, & he felt indisposed in his whole Frame. Mr. Cambridge, who would not be prevailed upon before to leave me, then went up himself. — Good God, if Mrs. Ord had passed by, — & the House is very near hers,13 & seen me sit so long at his Door, how she would have exulted! — I sate really in some fright, as all her servants know me, & I kept as much out of sight as possible. Miss Cambridge brought down with her a Card from Mrs. Thrale to her Brother, putting off his visit, & telling him she had at last heard from Miss Burney! I thought she looked [xxxxx 4 -5 words]. When Mr. Cambridge came back, he said he should send Dr. Bromfield to his son, & we continued our route to this House. | I would fain have dispensed with Miss Cambridge’s coming in, & so would she; but Mr. Cambridge said she ought to make her Courtsie to Mrs. Burney. I believe [xxxxx 1 word] that he only wanted her to see how like Me Duval she was. She behaved pretty well, & they were extremely civil. Miss Cambridge took leave of me very kindly, & with many expressions of esteem, — &, indeed, talked [xxxxx 1 word] of my soon repeating the visit! — I then turned to make speeches, — but not, I am sure,14 to tell lies, to the Father, — however, he ran away, & I could not get in a word. I was vexed to part from him so abruptly, after so many civilities, & therefore I resolved to write a few lines to Mrs. Cambridge; — don’t think this too much, for it really appeared indispensable, — I had managed so ill both in our Journey Home & in parting. If you’d like to write still, I have said so much of the [xxxxx 1 word] post to Chesington, that I am sure your Letter will seem only to have been delayed in its passage. I will copy mine, as I think you will like to see it.

13 14

Anna Ord lived on Queen Anne Street, Cavendish Square. FBA inserts ‘like my Mrs. Selwyn’.

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To Mrs. Cambridge. Dear Madam, I cannot go to rest with a quiet Conscience, till I have returned You & all your Family my best thanks for your kindness during our stay in your charming House. Mr. Cambridge will perhaps say ‘What return is her thanks? & where is the good of her thanking us at all? if we have done nothing to deserve thanks, they are only a reproach to us, & if we have done something, — don’t we know it best ourselves? —’ Mrs. Cambridge, however, is always the friend of the attacked, & therefore, as I have the Honour of addressing myself to Her, I do not despair of coming in, with my Lord Poulet,15 & other such fellow sufferers, for a good word in my defence. I should say something more serious upon my own secret mortification in my inability to better answer the expectations of Mr. Cambridge, but that I received such infinite entertainment & pleasure from him, that I know not how to imagine I could have had more, had I played my own part with even equal brilliancy: — but alas! I could merely, like | Omiah with his Wig, say — If You’ll go the Talk, I’ll come the Laugh! — I sincerely hope Miss Cambridge will not suffer from favouring me with her Company to Town, nor Miss Kitty from her ride; that Miss Molly will soon recover; that Mr. G. C. will be a better economist of his Health, — than to throw away any more half Guineas,16 & that You will do the Honour to receive among your Protegées, Dear Madam, Your obliged & obedt hl servt FB. I think this was just the [xxxxx 1 word] with [xxxxx 1 word] everything, not doing every thing: but I shall be truly alarmed if you think [xxxxx 3 words] company, & will not put the delay to the Chapter of accounts.

15 Vere Poulett (1710–88), 3rd E. Poulett, 1764. Apparently Richard Owen Cambridge had criticized Poulett while FB and SBP were at Twickenham, and Mary Cambridge had defended him. Poulett was a Twickenham neighbor. 16 FBA inserts ‘upon his Dentist’, suggesting that Cambridge’s swollen face was due to an abscessed tooth or perhaps a botched extraction.

312

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I sent immediately to ask for a place in Mrs. FitzGerald’s Box for to Night.17 I found a Card from Lady Amherst18 for Sunday,19 but I cannot so soon begin rioting, & wrote an excuse. Mrs. Walsingham also sent to offer to Chaperon me to her Ladyship’s: but I must go first to Miss Monckton, for a public Sunday appearance, or I shall offend for ever. I went almost instantly to Mrs. Thrale, who I found most eagerly waiting for me. She said she had heard a long account of me from Mr. George Cambridge & gave me his Letter. You may remember she sent me her card, which was an open one with an enquiry after me, & a Letter to him, & an account of her own ill state of Health. His account is curious, from its minuteness, & I will recollect it. Mr. G. Cambridge presents his compts to Mrs. Thrale, & is happy to inform her he left Miss Burney on Saturday Evening20 much the better for the country air. Her Fever was gone off & her Cough much abated, & she deserves to be well, for she takes great care of herself, & will be able, when she comes to Town, to give a good account of having implicitly followed all Mrs. Thrale’s directions.21 That she did not send written account of herself to her friend is not Mr. Cambridge’s fault, as he repeatedly solicited the honour of being the bearer of her answers which he knew would give so much | pleasure, but she persevered in an obstinate refusal, to which he hopes Mrs. Thrale will take her to task when she next sees her. Mr. G: C. is very well himself, except that one side of his Face is as big again as the other: if, however, he can bring them to match tolerably by tomorrow Evening, he will do himself the pleasure of calling on Argyle Street. He is sorry to hear Mrs. T. is still so ill.22 17 i.e., for Mary Fitzgerald’s box at the Opera for Tues. night, 18 Feb. (see below). ‘To’ has been inserted, possibly by FBA while editing this page. 18 Elizabeth, née Cary (1740–1830), m. (1767) as his 2nd wife Jeffrey Amherst (1717–97), cr. (1776) B. Amherst; Gen., 1778; Lt-Gen. of the Ordnance and Commander-in-Chief of the Army (ODNB). 19 23 Feb. 20 22 Feb. 21 HLT seems to allude to FB’s falling ill in her letter to her of 12 Feb. (Berg): ‘The Afternoon would have been tolerable but for dear Mrs Ord’s cruel Intelligence; Oh for pity’s Sake be well dearest Creature.’ 22 HLT began her letter of 12 Feb: ‘I am better to day though the night was terrible from a Cough that would have shaken Hercules into Hemp and made him

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While Mr. C. was writing this, he received a message from Twickenham, that Miss Burney is better, & expected in Town tomorrow. In the Evening, I went to Iphigenia,23 with Mrs. Thrale. I have nothing to tell you about the opera, as you heard the Rehersals, but Pacchierotti was evidently much out of spirits, & did not sing nearly so well as when in the Coffee Room,24 nor was he once moved, but, indeed, sad. I wonder, however much I might grieve, for he exerted himself so little & was so very languid, that not half the effect was produced by his songs that ought to have been. How extremely mortifying & most affecting! — Wednesday [19 Feb.] A gentleman called here, & enquired if Miss Burney was at Home, & then said he brought a Letter for Mrs. Phillips which had been just mailed at Twickenham, & that Mr. Cambridge made his Compliments to Miss Burney & that Mr. George Cambridge was much better. I find droll this confidence in my taking so much interest in his recovery! however, I really do, & so I like it very well. I spent the afternoon & Evening very comfortably at sweet Mrs. Thrale’s, with only Dr. Johnson, in high good humour & spirits, & Dr. Delap, & Mrs. Hinchcliffe. Thursday [20 Feb.]. At Noon called Mr. Cambridge Senior, to enquire how I did after my excursion, & to thank me very politely, in Mrs. Cambridge’s name, for my Letter, and to tell me that George was almost well again. He enquired if there was any chance of seeing my Father in the Evening, & though we gave him little encouragement, he said if it would not be inconvenient to me, he would come. | I spent all that I could of the rest of the day between my poor Aunts, who are far from well, & sweet Hetty; & in the spinnable for Omphale’s Fingers.’ In another letter to FB from this period (Berg), she writes: ‘I have a terrible sore Throat and a constant & violent snottering Cold: no Cold Bathing yet of Course, but ’tis very odd I should sneeze and get the Tooth:ach to this violent Degree: it cannot surely be the Effect of Grief.’ 23 Ifigenia in Aulide, a serious opera in 3 acts, libretto by Vittorio Amedeo Cigna-Santi, altered by Antonio Andrei, and music by Bertoni, had its first London performance at the King’s Theatre on 25 May 1782 but did not re-open until 18 Feb. 1783. Pacchierotti sang in the role of Achille. See LS 5 i. 525, 592. 24 Apparently, FB and SBP both attended the rehearsals for the opera, and Pacchierroti sang impromptu to them in the opera house’s coffee room.

314

22–27 February 1783

Evening I came Home to meet Mr. Cambridge. My Father appeared, & we had a most agreeable & really merry 2 or 3 Hours. I liked Mr. Cambridge, if possible, more than ever, for he tormented me about nothing, & talked all his talk with my Father. The moment he came into the Room, he flew to him, & shaking his Hand, said ‘Dr. Burney, I am quite impatient to return you my thanks for the very great pleasure I have received from the Company of some of your Family. The Captain has long been a favorite with us, & as to Mrs. Phillips, I do protest to You we are all of opinion there is hardly such another Woman in the World. She has quite won all our Hearts. As to the Lady now present, — I shall only say of Her a living Dog is better than a Dead Lyon.’25 You remember, I dare say, the facetious story to which he alluded. Friday [21 Feb.]. To my great surprise Mr. George Cambridge called about noon. Sudden Business, he said, had called him to Town before he purposed coming, but he was to return to Twickenham to Dinner. I was very glad to see him well, for he has suffered extreme pain from his Face since he left us at his Father’s. I enquired about all his family, & heard a good account of them, &, that Miss Kitty was again down stairs. There seems a general awareness, though, I am sure, without guessing our guess, that the Miss Cambridges behaved coldly & queerly to us upon our arrival; he said very much in excuses of their being ill, & that he had never seen them so uncomfortable before. I believe he hardly knows what to think of it himself, but I am sure he is neither alarmed nor sorry about it, for after all my apologies, he added ‘There | were, indeed, 2 or 3 things, while you were at Twickenham, that I wished otherwise; — my sisters must have appeared to more advantage to you if they had been well, &, loving them as I do, I could not but be anxious you should be pleased with them.’ I said but little about it, & mentioned Mr. Hemmings,26 & my concern, in sport, that we had not seen him. ‘Why you ought to have seen him, he answered, however, I am glad you See Ecclesiastes 9.4. The ‘facetious story’ has not been further traced. The Revd Samuel Hemming (c.1724–85), B.A. (Oxon.), 1748; Minister of Twickenham Chapel, 1761–85. Hemming lived at Amyand House, Twickenham, from 1760 to 1785. His obituary describes him as ‘well known for his philosophical 25 26

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315

did not, for it would not have been politick to shew all our stores at once.’ He then asked me about Mrs. Thrale, & her Cold, & I gave him my humble thanks for having desired her to take me to task. ‘O, I did that on purpose, said he, with pure malice, in revenge for your not employing me.’ ‘Why I was unwilling to give you so much trouble.’ ‘But you saved me none, for I had a circumstantial & facetious Letter to Write, to remove her anxiety.’ ‘I did not imagine she would have had any anxiety that the Post would not have been in Time to have removed. However, I begin to think I must set you down for my particular Enemy,27 as Mr. Merlin says, for you not only desired Mrs. Thrale to take me to task, but you rejoiced much, at Twickenham, when you heard that Mr. Cambridge had done the same!’ ‘O Yes! I was very glad of that, for I saw it did you a great deal of good! — ’ ‘Your most obedient, sir! — however, I was in perpetual disgrace, after you went, & had nothing to answer but no at every other word; for I neither knew the things, nor had read the Books, that he was continually enquiring about.’ ‘O, you only gave him so much the more pleasure, for he had then an opportunity to tell, or to read them, himself. But I hope you intend to really profit from that lecture my Father gave you? — ’ | ‘Why I don’t intend being incorrigible, for I assure you I do not desire another! —’ ‘I wonder much, I own, that my Father, who so well knows Characters, should have taken —’ He was going, I fancy, to say so wrong a method, but my mother, who had walked out of the Room for some thing, came back, & started a new subject. He made me, however, explain to him what I meant by particular Enemy, & I gave him some acquirements’ (GM lv2 (1785), 1010). See also R. S. Cobbett, Memorials of Twickenham (London: Smith, 1872), p. 57 et passim. 27 See EJL iv. 395 where FB tells Jeremiah Crutchley that John Joseph Merlin refers to him as ‘his particular Enemy!’ FB adds: ‘And this, indeed, is now become our hack speech to Mr. Crutchley, whose supposed enmity to Merlin is indeed a stretch of that Absurd Creature’s imagination even more than usually ridiculous.’ See also above, p. 15.

316

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accounts of Merlin that diverted him mightily, for he had just seen enough of him to relish them. Soon after, Pacchierotti came. He was much out of spirits, & entered into no dispute about Italy. Indeed, by his looks, he seemed more struck than pleased at again meeting Young Cambridge, though why I know not, as he has again & again met every body else.28 He spoke but little, & soon went away. I am quite grieved to see how extremely he is dejected. Every thing, I believe, goes wrong with him, managers, Benefit, & Public. When he was gone, my mother, who was in one of her restless humours, trotted out of the Room again; however, I did not mind, but only talked away so much the more. When she returned, Mr. G. C. who seemed to think his visit appeared rather long, said ‘Mrs. Burney, do I keep you from anything?’ ‘No sir, no; nothing at all.’ ‘Because I beg if you want to Dress, or do any thing, you will not let me hinder you. My Father said he should be in this part of the Town at 2 o’clock, & I told him he would find me either here, or at Sir Ashton Lever’s, where I am always sure of entertainment, & where I will run if I am at all in your way.’ ‘Not in the least, said she, I was only seeing after some family affairs, but I have nothing more to do now.’ ‘You are very good to say so, cried he, & I won’t suppose but it is true, for I hope I am upon that footing in this House that You would not stand upon any ceremony with me.’ After this he stayed without | further apology till his Father came, which was not till 4 o’clock. The Father stayed but a short Time, & they set off for Twickenham from our House. Just as they had got into the Passage, Mr. C. Senior turned back, & said to me ‘Do you go to Mr. Pepys tomorrow, Miss Burney?’ ‘No, sir.’ ‘No! — What, are you not invited? —’ ‘No.’ — ‘No? — Why George is! —’ ‘I believe, sir, cried he, hastily, there will be only their own family.’ & away they went. How singular in all things this Mr. Cambridge! — I have always forgot to tell you that my first business, upon returning from Twickenham, was to put an end to the suspicions both of my Father & mother about Mr. G. C. — &, though I saw I much surprised them, I wholly succeeded, & to my great satisfaction, 28 Evidently, Pacchierotti shares the suspicions of FB’s parents expressed below. She seems unaware that he may be jealous of GOC.

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I saw that I at length convinced them, though without ever coming to the point, of their mistake. This long visit, however, has, I fear, done fresh mischief; for this morning Saturday, Feb. 22 d. Mrs. Thrale called upon me, & while she was talking of Bath, to my mother, & mentioning the things to be had there, such as potted lampreys, sully hens, Laver,29 &c, — my mother, turning suddenly to me, with a most significant smile, added ‘Ay, & brown Georges!30 — they are very good, too.’ It was impossible for me to mistake her meaning, & I was really very mad, not only at the speech, but to find all my labour so thrown away. I said nothing, to that, but went on with the subject, recapitulating, myself, various other articles, — but, again fixing her Eyes on my face, she called out, no longer with a smile, but a loud hallow, ‘Well, & what have you to say to the brown Georges? —’ I could have said, with truth, I had never heard of them, but I dared not keep up the subject. ’Tis very spiteful, however, for this has [xxxxx 3-4 words] at a visit to her & to me, & I think it very likely she only had it [xxxxx 1 word] from | [xxxxx 1-2 words] to Mrs. Thrale, for as soon as ever I destroyed the illusion about myself, my Father & she mentioned having heard that Miss Thrale was at Mr. G. C.’s service, & her mother was ready to consent. So that universal spite you so well called her was here all ways gratified. I had been obliged, the Night before, when I spent 4 Hours with Mrs. Thrale, to enter into talk with her upon this subject, by circumstances I have no Time to explain. She then, point blank, said to me ‘Is George Cambridge in love with You, or is he not?’31 ‘Not, cried I, & entreated her most earnestly, if she 29 See Christopher Anstey, The New Bath Guide, Letter 5: ‘While notes of sweet music contend with the cries / Of “fine potted laver, fresh oysters, and pies!”’ (lines. 31–2). ‘Laver’ presumably refers to various varieties of edible marine algae (OED, s.v. laver, n1 2). ‘Sully hens’ are probably the females of a very large species of mackerel (OED, s.v. hen, n. 4; EDD, s.v. sull, sb2). 30 A loaf of coarse brown bread or a hard, coarse biscuit (OED). 31 HLT writes in Thraliana, 14 Apr. 1783: ‘My dearest Miss Burney has apparently got an Admirer in Mr George Cambridge; if they marry, I shall have perhaps more of her Company than now, for her Mother in Law [i.e., step-mother] is a greater Tyrant than any Husband would be, especially a Man whose heart is apparently engaged’ (i. 562–3).

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heard any thing of such a subject, to boldly & positively contradict it. She has promised never to hint at it herself, but I could in no way convince her it was not so, because he wrote so long a Note about my cold, & only one line in it about her’s! Queeney, she said, had liked him, but had too little feeling to herself with her affections, which were all now directed to another subject — being presented at St. James’s! 32 To Day, very unexpectedly, I have received a Letter from Mrs. Cambridge, in answer to mine. It is short, & I will Copy it. Dear madam, I am much obliged to you for the favour of your Letter, as it gives me an opportunity of thanking you for the pleasure of your Company. It was very good of you to venture into the Country when you was so much indisposed. I hope you have not suffered for your complaisance. I will flatter myself it may not be long before the same agreeable party that left us on Tuesday [18 Feb.] will meet here again, in better Health & better Weather. Mr. Cambridge & Charles went to Town on Wednesday [19 Feb.]: George, according to your good wishes, is pretty well, & is gone to Day. My Daughters desire their best Compliments. I am, Dear madam, yr obedt humble servt. Mary Cambridge It fills me with [xxxxx 3-4 words] congenial. I am most pleased with her regard [xxxxx 3-4 words] the more as they are | but quite [xxxxx 4/5 line]. Now to proceed with Saturday [22 Feb.]. At Night I went to the Opera. Iphigenia again, & again but coldly received, though Pacchierotti sung very sweetly, but not powerfully. My Father sate with Lady Mary Duncan & Miss Bull, &, between the Acts, he came up to Mrs. FitzGerald’s Box, & told me that Miss Bull had invited him to Concert for Wednesday [26 Feb.], & had said she wished much to invite his Daughter, 32 Queeney was presented ‘at a Court and Drawing-Room at St. James’s’ on Thurs., 27 Mar. (General Evening Post, 27–9 Mar. 1783).

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but had the Honour of so little acquaintance, she knew not if she might take such a liberty. My Father promised to negociate the matter, & I need not tell you my answer to her, which I made him carry immediately. I stood not upon such forms as with Lady Say & Sele, who has sent Mrs. Paradise to me with card for Sunday [23 Feb.], & all possible fine things of her eagerness to renew acquaintance with me. I again excused myself, & so coldly, that I now cherish hopes I shall be tormented with her favours no more. I have had, too, another affectionate Billet from Miss Monckton, & I am quite forced to go to her Sunday the 2d of March, when she says I am to meet many of my friends. Mr. Poore, also, came into the Box, &, for the first Time, spoke to me. ‘You have been with some of my friends, lately, I hear, Miss Burney? — the Cambridges?’ He then entered into a flippant description of the Characters of Mr. & Mrs. Cambridge; Charles, & the 3 sisters, & when he had done them all up, he said ‘Was my friend George there much?’ ‘Part of the Time.’ ‘He is very agreeable, — very sensible & clever.’ I hope he did not single him out for praise, by way of obliging me! However, I readily joined him: & then said ‘I cannot imagine how you should hear of my having been there?’ ‘O nothing so natural! I see George for-ever, but it was not he told me, — it was Charles; I thought he would have rode over me in his haste to call out ‘Why you ought to be | at Twickenham now! Why Miss Burney is with us! — However, you have surely been there before?’ ‘Yes, — once.’ ‘I thought so, for they all seem perfectly well acquainted with you.’ More than you shall be! thought I, for I do not like him at all.33 Sunday, Feb. 23. After Church Pacchierotti called, still very melancholy: He consulted with me, however, about his 33 Cf. CAB’s journal for 15 Jan. 1783: ‘Mr. Poor and the Fit’s have cut; which I regret, but poor man nobody likes him that ever I met but Andrew Strange, Bessy Kirwan, and her father, and i! I have a quarrel with him too, tho’ he don’t know it, and that is for his impertinence in always calling me Charlotte. I am afraid of telling him of it, because it would look prodigiously proud; — but I gave him a hint one night at the Opera, when he said Charlotte. “Mr. Poor is a Quaker,” cried I, but my courage fail’d me at the time, and I said it in so low a voice that I don’t believe he heard me’ (ED ii. 305).

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Benefit34 & his affairs, & grew into better spirits by far before he went, which was not till Dinner Time. But he vexed me a little by expressing strong & odd suspicions about that Gentleman he met on Friday, who, he said, took care so to engage me, that hardly he could speak to me. I assured him we were only talking of his Family, that I had just left, & he then said he hoped for the sake of the Public I should never marry, as, if I kept single, I should be the first Genius of England! I promised him there was little danger & we were soon as sociable as ever. I went at Night to Mrs. Thrale, who was alone. She took me into her Room, & said ‘Have you seen any more of George Cambridge?’ ‘No.’ ‘I have been speaking to Queeny about him. She told me he had called; well, I said, I think you take pretty good interest in what he does: No, indeed, not I, she answered, besides, I know he has other thoughts in his Head: — of whom, said I, — why of Miss Burney, said she, — I was told so by Mr. Seward.’ — What a provoking thing is this! — Mr. Seward, I suppose, judged from the meeting here when Dr. Parr was with us,35 — he had Time for observation, so had not Mr. G. C. — who only on Friday [21 Feb.] could not recollect he had ever seen Mr. Seward. I quieted Mrs. Thrale with all my might, but I am really vexed & half frightened. Groundless as the notion is, if it should reach the Young man or his Family, it might expose me to very disagreeable things. [xxxxx ½ line] & write to me more fully about it. Stop it I must, if possible, but how I have not settled! Adieu, my dearest dear Girl. | Thanks for y Letter, my love, Pac’s Benefit i the 6th — so pray come. My Father & m [xxxxx 1 word] to be here, & stay with me, & [xxxxx 1 word] happy Lodge which we can. Pray [xxxxx 2 words] way [xxxxx 2 words]. My Father & Hetty both [xxxxx 1 word] in better. My mother sent on the [xxxxx 1-2 words] not abstain [xxxxx 1-2 words]. 34 The benefit, a performance of the pasticcio Olimpiade, music by Bertoni, Gluck and Paisiello, libretto by Metastasio, took place on Thurs., 6 Mar. 1783, at the King’s Theatre. Pacchierotti sang in the role of Megacle. Tickets sold for half a guinea each, ‘to be had of Pacchierotti, No. 8, Great Marybone-street’ (LS 5 i. 596). 35 3 Jan. 1783. See above, pp. 240–1.

298

[St Martin’s Street, post 28 February 1783] To Susanna Burney Phillips AJL (Diary MSS II, paginated 1785–[6], Berg), Feb. 1783 3 single sheets 4to, 5 pp. This incomplete letter has been partially reconstituted from 7 fragments that were either discards or used as paste-overs on other leaves in the run of manuscripts.

Monday, Feby 24. This morning came sweet Pacchierotti again, gay, happy, & entertaining. He consults with me about all things belonging to his Benefit. Just before he went, Mr. Cambridge came, — le pere [1 line is cut away.]

He said he had something to shew me that nobody else in the World must see, but that Mrs. Cambridge herself had permitted my exclusive reading: ‘But what, then, said he, must we do with Mrs. Burney, for I am under oath not to extend my confidence?’ My mother, with more good humour than we ever saw before, left us. The secret was in verse, & very comical & clear. I am delighted to keep so well in his favour. We had a [xxxxx 1 word] of chat in our Tete a Tete, & he again talked to me of George as of the only man to be compared with my Lord Orville, & told me of his temper, his sweetness, his rectitude of conduct, & dignity of mind. I eve, indeed, he is a very amiable young man, & I am sure I er heard his eloge with so much pleasure, because it convinced me Mr. Seward, whom he has lately met at Mr. Lock’s,36 & who he much likes, has not told every body what he told Miss Thrale. He said he had had a Letter from Capt. Phillips, & he bid me thank him for it. I was very glad to hear he had written, 36 William Locke (1732–1810), of Norbury Park, art connoisseur and patron. He and his wife Frederica Augusta, née Schaub (1750–1832), would later become very close friends with FB (JL passim; ODNB).

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for I doubt not, by Mr. C’s manner & looks that his Letter was [xxxxx 5 words] [At least 1 line is cut away.]

When my mother returned, he said he would make her amends for what he had denied her, by repeating far better verses to her; & he repeated a very good Poem of Hawkins Brown,37 which is very difficult to be met with. He stayed & chatted most good humouredly upon all sort of subjects for a great While. Tuesday [25 Feb.] — I spent the Afternoon with my dear Mrs. Thrale, & Wednesday [26 Feb.] I did the same between my aunts & Hetty. Thursday [27 Feb.] I went to see Miss Thrale dressed for Court, as she was presented: she looked very well. I Dined & spent the Day there. In the Evening, at a little past 10 o’clock, my Cold being very far from gone, I was making off to Bed, to nurse it, when we heard a Coach stop, & a Voice which we knew for Mr. Cambridge | call out! ‘Is Dr. Burney at Home?’ ‘No, sir.’ My Father was in his study. ‘Are the Ladies?’ ‘Yes, sir.’ [¾ line is cut away]

Bed at nine. [At least 1 line is cut away.]

How simple this vanity of wanting to have to herself men who for herself would never come at all! however as nobody comes to this House half so agreeable & as I could not but believe my being out of the way would be a dangerous discouragement for future visits, I resolved not to mind any [xxxxx 3 words] openly said. If it is Mr. Cambridge, I had rather [xxxxx 2 words]. She [xxxxx 6-7 words] & kindly said [xxxxx 2 words] afraid for my cold, [xxxxx 2 words] I was so well & then in came Mr. C. followed by his younger son. I can write no particulars of the Conversation because it was of that lively & mixed sort that is too diffuse for writing & recollection: 37

Isaac Hawkins Browne, the elder (1706–60), poet (ODNB).

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but I was, for one, in good spirits, & chatted much more than usual; Mr. C. was all good humour, complacency, & entertainment. [xxxxx 2½ lines] chearful, sociable, unaffected, & pleasant. There was nothing in his behaviour that any one could mark, save that he some what preferred talking to me than to La Dama: & I heartily all those people who are so busy in settling his opinions, had been present, to see his attention to my mother, & his ease & frankness & openness with her . He is all, I find, for the Blues in general, so why should not I come in with the rest, without all this ado? I remember when I first saw him, hearing him praise | Georgiana Shipley, & since Mrs. Buller, & to Night Sophy Streatfield, & Hannah More. If this is his taste, I fancy I stand rather a worse than better chance than the rest of my sisterhood, for I am sure I have far less blue talk than any of them. However, he was very agreeable to me, & I liked the visit exceedingly. When the Watchman went half past 12, Mr. G. said ‘Do you know, sir, how late it is?’ ‘George, cried he, smiling, I am very happy, — so what do I care how late it is?’ ‘But, sir, Miss Burney ought to be in Bed with that Cold, for if that should be made worse, that, I believe, would not make you very happy!’ This moved him to rise, & he said so much of enquirys & concern about my Cold, that I was half [2-3 words cut away] him. It was, however, just | [The rest of the leaf is cut away]

Wednesday [26 Feb.]. I have misplaced my Days: but on Wednesday, at last, I went with my Father to Miss Bulls. They received me very politely; I liked Mr. Bull38 very much. There was a great deal of Company, but Nobody I knew except Miss Benson, who came to me for a few minutes, & Lady Mary Duncan, who was extremely gracious. Mr. Price39 made my Father introduce him to me as soon as I came in, & he kept with me almost incessantly, & though I do not like him, I was 38 Richard Bull (c.1725–1805), formerly M.P.; collector; of Ongar Essex, and North Court, Shorwell, Isle of Wight (HP). 39 Presumably Uvedale Price (1747–1829), CB’s friend and writer on the picturesque; cr. (1828) Bt (ODNB; LCB i. 399 n. 67).

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glad of some Esquire, & therefore I forced myself to talk with him as well as I could, that I might keep him in my service; for nothing is so dismal as desertion in a large Company. I succeeded, however, admirably, for he was my faithful Attendant. Miss Molly Carter,40 Lady Clarges’ friend, was there, & she, somewhat abruptly, began to Chat to me — [At least 1½ lines are cut away.]

I did not much like her; she is somewhat too flippant for my taste. Mr. Bull was all curiosity, & very comical, though very civil. He was frightened out of his Wits, at me, he said, lest he should do any thing improper! — He told my Father I was so exactly what he expected, that he could have drawn my Picture without seeing me, & it would have been a strong likeness. Pacchierotti, the king of the Evening, sung Metastasios Prima Vera, set by Bertoni, & Misero Pargoletto,41 & a Duet of Duarte’s42 with Bertoni. Charming, & superior to all others he must be, yet less delightful than he sometimes is. He was fatigued with having rehearsed the Olimpiade, & tired to Death with preparations for his Benefit. I had but little discourse with him, for I knew he had friends of more importance to oblige, & I would not draw him away from them for my own pleasure. Besides, [xxxxx 1 word] Friend [xxxxx 2/3 line] they seemed to give him, for he told me he had wished them to see, that he might not be tempted any more to wish for Health & life! — | 40 Mary (‘Molly’) Carter (1730/31–1812), companion to Louisa Clarges. CB, in a fragment from his memoirs, writes of his first meeting with her in the fall of 1745: ‘Miss Carter, very young, intelligent and handsome, though very pleasing, did not discover herself to be possessed of so large portion of wit, as that for wch she has since been so justly celebrated (CB Mem., p. 51). See Betty Rizzo, ‘Friends: Molly Carter and Louisa Clarges’, Companions Without Vows: Relationships Among Eighteenth-Century British Women (Athens: University of Georgia Press, 1994), pp. 267–94. 41 Presumably the aria by Carlo Monza (c.1735–1801), Italian composer, in the pasticcio Demofoonte, libretto by Metastasio, one of ‘the airs in which Pacchierotti’s natural sweetness of voice, taste, expression, and general powers of pleasing seem to have made the deepest impression’ (Mercer ii. 891 n. a; GMO; LS 5 i. 218). 42 Probably FB’s slip for Francesco Durante (1684–1755), Italian composer. His XII duetti, based on airs from cantatas by Alessandro Scarlatti (1660–1725), were published in 1776 (GMO; Mercer ii. 426).

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[The top of the leaf is cut away.]

Friday [28 Feb.]. I went, by long appointment, to Lady Rothes, w & Miss Thrale, & I passed a very agreeable Evening. The Company consisted of Mrs. Montagu, Mrs. Carter, Miss More, Miss Streatfield, Mrs. Boscawen, Mrs. Price, Mr. & Mrs. Vesey, Mr. & Mrs. Pepys, Dr. Watson,43 Dr. & Miss Cadogan,44 Mr. & Mrs, & Miss Burrows,45 Mr. Wraxal, Mr. Coxe, Mrs. Perry, & others I did not know. I had, myself, no partial conversation with any body, but I was in a very good set, & fared much to my own content as an Hearer. Mrs. Vesey renewed acquaintance with me, & invited me to an assembly for the 11th of March. Mrs. Ord reproached me gently for not having been to her since I came from Twickenham: but never mentioned the Cambridges to me. She has had them at her House, without asking me, which I am glad of, as I had rather meet them occasionally, than as a thing of course. Miss More said she had heard of me from Mr. Cambridge, who had told her he had lately been very happy in having me all to himself. Lady Rothes was very elegant, & I kept with my dear Mrs. Thrale all the Evening. |

43 Richard Watson (1737–1816), D.D. (Cantab.), 1771; Bishop of Llandaff (ODNB). 44 Frances Cadogan (1747–1819), Cadogan’s only daughter, who m. (1788) William Nicholl (1751–1828), barrister of the Middle Temple, afterwards mayor of Cowbridge, Glamorganshire, and recorder of Cardiff (YW xi. 33 n. 29). 45 Maria Burrows, née Smith (1739–91), m. (1762) the Revd John Burrows; and Amy Burrows, sister of John Burrows (see above, p. 236 n. 65). FBA later referred to Maria Burrows as ‘a wit among the former Bas bleus’ (JL ix. 431).

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To Susanna Burney Phillips AJL (Diary MSS II, paginated 1787–[92], Berg), 11 April 1783 2 single sheets 4to, 8 pp. pmk 11 AP Addressed: Mrs. Phillips, / at Mrs. Hamilton’s, / Chesington, / Kingston, / Surry. Endorsed (by SBP): Recd Apl 12th. 1783 Annotated (by FBA): all March, 1783, Mrs. Phillips was in London

I have much, very much to write to you already, my sweet Susy, — but nothing that I am more interested in than in what I want to hear of my beloved Daddy — You will indulge me, I am sure, for [xxxxx 1 word] on Sunday [6 Apr.], & therefore I will resume my Journal, — in which there is a Gap that will make my accounts, for some Time at least, fully intelligible only to Yourself: but when & what you read to your Coterie, you must stop & explicate as well as you can. If I help furnish you with matter of conversation, my little obscurities will be as useful & amusing as my copiousness. Tell them so. Read, mean while, whatever you wish of all the Conversation I may write, be they with whom they may, but omit my comments, & faithfully tell me what are made by your hearers, whom I have no objection to knowing matters of fact, though I wish to conceal from them opinions thereon. When You left us, Friday [4 Apr.], Charlotte & I strolled leisurely Home, & here we found Mr. Twining & James Strange.46 I leave you to suppose how much of my attention the latter gained: however, the lady was, meanwhile, occupied by him, & Mr. Twining seemed to bear the division of notice with much serenity. He stayed till Dinner, & his society was one of 46 James Charles Stuart Strange (1753–1840), son of the Burneys’ friends Robert and Isabella Strange and brother of Mary Bruce Strange (see above, p. 274 n. 42). He had obtained a writership in Madras in 1772 through an influential relation and came home to England with a fortune in 1780. In 1785 he married Margaret Durham (d. 1791), daughter of James Durham of Largo, Fife, and returned to India with her (HP; see also EJL i. 98 n. 2; ODNB).

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the best regales I could have had after what I had just lost. The moment Dinner was over, I went to Mrs. Thrale, to spend the rest of the Day with her. Her Children were rather better,47 & we were very comfortable: till, between 7 & 8 o’clock, the Butler came into the Room, & said ‘Ma’am, Capt. FitzGerald48 desires to be introduced to you.’ Mrs. Thrale said she did not know him, but had him admitted. He proved a very tall, handsome [At least 1 2/3 lines are cut away.]

came to enquire after a Mr. Smith Stafford,49 with whom Mrs. Thrale had some little acquaintance. She told him she knew nothing of him; but yet the modest Irish man stayed: he seated himself by Mrs. Thrale, & seemed determined to make a visit. Mrs. Thrale, therefore, began talking of the Weather, & Mrs. Siddons; & the Gentleman appeared much at his ease. Not at all ambitious to see any more of him myself, I went & made private enquiries about the Coach, which I found was to be had, & therefore ordered. I returned, & found him still there. Tea was ordered. He then made an effort to go. Mrs. Thrale faintly | asked if he would stay Tea? for which I much blamed her, as he instantly consented. Just then came in Mr. Sharpe,50 the surgeon. I rose to take leave. The moment he heard my name, he desired to be introduced to me. He then gave me a very polite & pressing invitation to a large music Party at his House,51 to which my Father had promised to go. I thanked him, & excused myself, & ran away. I found only 47 Cecilia Margaretta (1777–1857) had come down with the whooping cough while Henrietta Sophia (1778–83) was suffering from swollen glands, whooping cough, and measles; Henrietta would die later this month (TSP, p. 237). 48 Perhaps Gerald Fitzgerald, Lt and Capt., 14 July 1780, in the 1st (the Duke of Gloucester’s) Regiment of Foot Guards (AL 1785, p. 56). Though FB obviously does not know him, a possible Burney connection is George Kien Hayward Coussmaker, a Burney acquaintance who was also a Lt and Capt. in the same regiment (see EJL ii. 237 n. 66). 49 Edward Smith (or Smythe) Stafford (1747–1802), originally of Maine in Ireland, an army colonel, and high sheriff, co. Louth. In Thraliana, writing in Exmouth, Devon, July 1788, HLTP mentions that Smith Stafford lives on ‘new Norfolk Street’ (ii. 718). See Piozzi Letters i. 265 n. 13. 50 William Sharp (c.1729–1810), noted surgeon, who had previously treated Henry Thrale. See EJL iv. 130 n. 25. 51 The Sharp family were well known for their musical talent. See EJL iv. 130 n. 25.

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Charlotte at Home, & Drunk Tea very comfortably: my mother was at the Strange’s. The things were but just removed, when there was a rapping at the Door: & presently I heard Mr. Cambridge’s voice in the Passage. After missing me 5 Times successively, I quite rejoiced he should come so opportunely; &, fearful that he should be sent away, I opened the Parlour Door as soon as the street Door was shut: I had, however, no occasion for my eagerness, — there he stood, & entered the Room with a smile of the utmost complacency. I received him with great pleasure, — & did not at first see he was followed by his son, who came in so quietly that I did not hear his step. He comes if my [xxxxx 2/3 line] other, that [xxxxx 2 lines]. Mr. C. could not disguise his satisfaction at finding the party thus small; but Mr. G. C. seemed both to feel & to look a little queer, as if he thought it possible it might now be supposed he did not come here solely to see the master or mistress of the House! ‘Mrs. Burney, said Mr. Cambridge, I am told is out.’ ‘Yes, — but I soon expect her Home.’ ‘So I suppose,’ said he, & took a Chair & drew it as close to mine as it could well be drawn. His son seated himself next him, at a little distance [xxxxx 2 words] opposite me . They had been dining at Soame Jenyns’, & had walked so fast, for fear, I suppose, they should be too late for the lady, that Mr. C. was almost out of his Breath, though his son, from his lightness & height appeared as well as if he had crept the whole way. I enquired how he had liked his Hampshire expedition? & he spoke of it in very good spirits. He then enquired of me about Mrs. Thrale, & I told him but for an adventure, I should still have been with her. Mr. C. desired me to recount it which I did: but when I came to my own elopement | Mr. G. C. exclaimed ‘Why I never heard any thing so cowardly in my life!’ — ‘O, cried I, I could not see why I should be drawn into a scrape, because Mrs. Thrale was!’ — ‘O most Cowardly indeed! — cried he, — so you left them together? — Why it will be all your own fault if Mrs. Thrale should be Mrs. FitzGerald in a Week!’ — ‘Well, indeed I had quite enough of him, cried I, for he insisted upon dangling down stairs with me.’ — ‘Did he Hand you?’ — cried he starting forward, with a look of no little surprise at his assurance. ‘Yes, answered I, a ceremony I always hate. And when we came to the Hall, the Coachman

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was out of the way, & it was 10 minutes, | I believe, before he could be found. But I could not make him go up stairs, & I did not dare go myself, as I knew Mrs. Thrale would not have let me get away again. So I thought if he would stay, he must! I gave myself very little trouble about the matter. He amused himself with asking me whether I went to Bath with Mrs. Thrale, & such sort of questions, — & then Home I came.’ — [xxxxx 6½ lines] ‘Now, then, said Mr. C., for your secret.’ — I told you, I believe, that [I] promised him a sight of M. de Warville’s52 Letter. You will explain its subject to my dear Daddy, &c. I charged him neither to shew nor mention it, & put it in his Hand for his private amusement. [xxxxx 1 line] I shewed them both a new facetious Note I had just received from Miss Monckton,53 to invite me to her assembly next Sunday:54 ‘but, happily, said I, I am already engaged to Mr. Pepys.’ I also told them I was to make, at last, my so long postponed entrée at Mrs. Vesey’s on Tuesday [8 Apr.]. [xxxxx 3½ lines] I told them , too, of Miss Monckton’s having told my Father she must make a party for me to meet the Dutchess of Marlborough55 at her House, & of my dislike to the scheme. They both joined in encouraging me to like it better, & not to give it up, & Mr. G. C. said ‘The Dutchess is herself so well bred, &, at the same Time, so shy a Woman, that I am sure she will do nothing to distress you.’ — Charlotte had now stept out of the Room; & Mr. C. eagerly told me he had been to Mrs. Ord, to enquire how my meeting had gone off at the Hervey’s.56 This, also, you will expound to the circle. ‘I 52 Jacques-Pierre Brissot, called Brissot de Warville (1754–93), French philosophe, author and later leader of the Girondins. Brissot, currently in London, had written to CB on 16 Mar. 1783 asking for a portrait of FB, which he intended to have ‘elevated in the Paris Pantheon’ (Mem. ii. 334). See LCB i. 357 n. 1. 53 Missing. 54 6 Apr. 55 Caroline, née Russell (1743–1811), m. (1762) George Spencer (1739–1817), 4th D. of Marlborough. 56 At the house of Elizabeth Hervey (1730–1803), daughter of the Hon. William Hervey, 4th son of John Hervey (1665–1751), cr. (1714) E. of Bristol. FB also meets Anne Hervey, née Coghlan (d. 1786), widow of the Hon. Thomas Hervey (1699– 1775), 3rd son of John Hervey; and her only son William Thomas Hervey (d. 1791). In 1789, Horace Walpole refers to Elizabeth Hervey as her aunt’s and cousin’s ‘most kind friend’ and calls William Thomas one ‘of those worthless beings, whose flattery and scurrility are employed indifferently for half-a-crown’ (YW xxxiv. 86–7). Anne Hervey, daughter of an Irish counsellor of law, had been publicly disavowed and

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wanted, he said, to hear how it was, & went on purpose; but I did not know how to introduce it: however, most luckily, she mentioned it herself, which made it all easy.’ He then proceeded to tell me, that even Mrs. Ord thought I might have done with them, & to give me to understand that he thought it most expedient I should have nothing more to do with them. I am very much obliged to him for taking this serious interest in my affairs, & I told him I was very glad of his information concerning Mrs. Ord, as it relieved me from the fear of having any further trouble with them, which only in compliance with her I should have consented to take. ‘I am quite glad, said he, to have had this opportunity of saying this to You, if I had not seen you alone, I could not have done it, & I don’t know how I could have managed, for I wished very much to tell you.’ How good natured this zeal to prevent my further connection with these odious people! but how like only himself his calling me alone when with his son, yet not when with my sister! ‘But that I could not refuse Mrs. Ord, said I, I would never have gone once, for you shall hear what inducements I had given me to make the acquaintance. She told me that I should meet with Mrs. Hervey, the Aunt of Mrs. E. Hervey, who was not only a troublesome, but a dangerous woman, whom every body shirked, & who would never be spoken to but for her Niece, & who she | advised me to refuse making Acquaintance with, by steadily saying I was engaged every Time she should invite me: Mrs. E. Hervey, whose House we went to, though her own character is unblemished, she merely wished me to go to once, that she might not be made my Enemy; & she told me I should also meet Mr. Tom Hervey, Mrs. Hervey’s son, who I must upon no account ever even speak to in any other House! & that if he came to ours, he was to be sent from the Door, — or, if he forced himself in, he was, without any ceremony, to be turned out! — now, really, berated by her husband before their reconciliation on his deathbed (YW xx. 103 n. 15, xxxix. 248 n. 34). She had a reputation as being both ‘improvident’ and ‘spirited’; before her marriage the novelist Henry Fielding, seeing her and Hervey across a public room, allegedly called out ‘why don’t you take that bold girl into some byeplace and give her what she wants’ (ODNB, s.v. Hervey, Thomas).

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to begin an acquaintance with such a plan! — I would have been engaged for ever, if Mrs. Ord had not herself given way to them.’ ‘And this fellow, cried Mr. C., Mrs. Ord tells me would insist upon talking to you?’ ‘Yes, — incessantly. I suppose he already knew none of the others would hear him! How ever, he was not much better off with me, for I merely answered when I could not help it. And so drily! —’ ‘He is a fellow, said Mr. G. C. who cannot be shirked too directly, for if he was to be kicked round a Room one way, — he would still come back to be kicked round it the other! — Had You no Company besides? ‘Yes, Lady Aylesbury57 & Mr. Cumberland.’58 I then gave some account of the visit, which I believe I gave to You before: & then Mr. C. said ‘I am perfectly satisfied with the reason you gave me, that Night at Mrs. Thrale’s, for Albany’s rising madness. I have been reading that part all over again, & I find nothing can be better done. I like it more & more. But I was startled at the Character at first. But George has got an account of exactly such a man! — George shall tell it you!’ ‘The man, said Mr. G. C. is an old half pay officer. His name, I think, is De la Port;59 he almost lives in St. James’s Park, where he wanders up & down, looking about him for any objects he thinks in distress. He then gives them all the money he can spare, & he begs for them of his friends. He once borrowed a sum of money of Mr. Larpent,60 from whom I had this account, &, some Time after, he paid him half, & said I return you all I spent upon myself, — the rest You will be paid in another Place! — He composes prayers for poor & 57 Caroline, née Campbell (1721–1803), m. 1 (1739) Charles Bruce (1682– 1747), 3rd E. of Ailesbury, 1741; m. 2. (1747) the Hon. Henry Seymour Conway (1719–95). 58 Richard Cumberland (1732–1811), playwright. 59 No one by that name is found among the half pay officers in Army Lists. 60 Presumably John Larpent (1741–1824), examiner of plays. He had married 1 (1773) Frances Western (d. 1777), daughter of Maximilian Western, whom FB had met at Teignmouth in 1773. The Mrs Larpent mentioned below would be his second wife (m. 1782) Anna Margaretta, née Porter (1758–1832), diarist and theatre enthusiast, who acted as his deputy (ODNB, s.v. Larpent, John, and Larpent, Anna Margaretta; EJL i. 293; YW xxii. 449 n. 7, 461 n. 3).

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sick people; he wears a very shabby Coat, that he may spend no more upon himself than is absolutely necessary; &, in his benevolence & singularity, there is an undoubted mixture of insanity. Mrs. Larpent, when she talked of him to me, said the resemblance to the Character of Albany was so very strong, that she thought it must certainly be meant for him, & desired me to ask Miss Burney if she did not know him: I ventured, however, to immediately answer I was sure she did not, merely from that circumstance, as I was certain she would not have put him in her Book if she had known him.’ I have written this purposely for my Daddy, for I believe you, my dearest Susy, heard him give me this curious history before. ‘I am very much obliged to you, cried I, for giving her that answer.’ ‘Not at all, cried he, I should have done the same for a stranger, if I had seen as well, by the Book, that the Characters were not Personal.’ Good enough, [xxxxx 2 words] — by the [xxxxx 2 words] little Compliment. ‘Is not this very striking? said Mr. C. And are not you very happy | to have drawn so original a Character, merely from your own discernment with human Nature, & then to find it actually exists.’ ‘‘Twas all a chance!’ cried I. ‘A Chance! repeated Mr. G. C. smiling, — yes, You have had such chances! I recollect no more of the conversation, though much more passed, for my mother did not return till ten o’clock. She was not, I believe, surprised at sight of our visitors, but was very gracious, & particularly to Mr. George C., as [xxxxx 1 word] as he had heard her late excuses, & very much, [xxxxx 3 words] it quite to my satisfaction. I met with great civility from all the people I had to do with, & civility is always so pleasant, that that alone would have made my home so comfortable to me. So it is, thought I [xxxxx 6-7 words]. I believe, too, it was instantly felt, for the lady began stirring the Fire with some emotion at his [xxxxx 2 words]. ‘Certainly, you, Sir, can never be in danger of wanting it.’

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Except for yourself, he [xxxxx 4 words] . Soon after, my Father also came in: he was in good spirits, & the Evening was very pleasant. He & Mr. Cambridge & my mother talked away very gayly. Mr. George Cambridge said very little, & to me not another syllable & I said less; but I worked, & was well entertained. I saluted Mr. C. as prophet. I [xxxxx 1 word] him [xxxxx 7-8 words] assuring him I could find no measure of [xxxxx 1 word] in them, though he by his selection & his wording had made them give me so much. I accepted, however, the invitations, & thanked him for them . Just before 12, they rose to take leave. My Father, [xxxxx 2 words], Heart was now opened, asked Mr. Cambridge if he would honour him with a visit next Sunday,61 but, he said, that was a Day in which he invariably kept at Twickenham. He did not make the same Compliment to his son which I think he must rather wonder at; however, all things considered, I am well satisfied he did not, as I would have an acquaintance with this family [xxxxx 6-7 words] &c. And now, my dear Susy, for a few private intimations; Mr. C. was all cordiality & — fondness, I had almost said, & Charlotte was so much struck with his manner of hanging over me, as to think his amazing partiality all on his own account, & more than was simply for the Book: when I think this, — & I think all sort of thoughts, I am more wretched than any thing ever made me for myself in my whole life. Even independent of our notions about the son, — might not the whole Family rue the Day they ever saw me, if there is the least Ground for this dreadful suspicion? I hope the very idea may strike you as purely ridiculous, & utterly impossible. It does myself always upon | second thoughts, — yet Mrs. Thrale, Capt. P, & Charlotte have now all severally started it. And, indeed, his behavior, his earnestness about me, — the wild incessancy with which he runs about talking of nobody else, & his eagerness to know the most minute of my concerns, — how can this be all for my Book? — And as to his son, — his Heart’s darling, his family’s Pride, his model of perfection — I can never,

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3 minutes following, think him so humble in his romantic singularity, as really to have in view the promotion of so disadvantageous a connection. The son looked pleased, & looked interested, but he was not gay, & he never seemed desirous to take the conversation upon himself. I could sometimes hardly even see him, for the eagerness with which his Father intercepted my view of all but him self, — & he sate as quiet, as mild, & as content, as if he had never had spirits for talking more. It was very much the same as the conclusion of the first Wednesday you was with us at Mrs. Thrale’s. Charlotte, who could look at him better, thought he seemed agitated & uneasy in general; & certainly from the Time my Father & mother came in, he took no manner of part in what went forward, but what was actually from good breeding necessary. I sate between my mother & Mr. Cambridge, who moved [xxxxx 2-3 words] she entered the Room, & I was, [xxxxx 3/4 line] for she rose, & moved about perpetually, & I was obliged to make way for her to [xxxxx 1 word] continually, that I should have gone. Charlotte, [xxxxx 3/4 line] Mr. C. was occupied by my Father &, but that I must then have placed myself next to Mr. G. Cambridge I did not think [xxxxx 1 word], otherwise, I was not without curiosity to know whether, if seated next him, he would have conversed with me with the same consideration now, as at our last meeting, or whether [xxxxx ½ line]. I have now, as well as I am able, made a present of his [xxxxx 1 word]. I [xxxxx ½ line], but now it is [xxxxx ½ line] & in the quiet of Chesington recollect all that you have heard from me, & [xxxxx 1 word] yourself [xxxxx ½ line] & then put this next meeting to the test, & then write very fully all [xxxxx 3-4 words]. Read all that is not in [xxxxx ½ line] & let me know if any comments are made on that [xxxxx 1 word] part of my [xxxxx 1 word]. I would have every light I could to guide me in the dark [xxxxx 3-4 words] I am in, that I dare [xxxxx 2 words] with the [xxxxx 1-2 words] that make it obscure. At one time there | was a great deal of talk about the news papers, — O what an agony I was in when they were named! — yet I am sure they have never seen that fatal

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paragraph:62 they could not behave as they do if they had: for, after all, can any reasoning, any supposition, make their behaviour other than extraordinary, & that alike if they have any, or if they have no meaning. I thank Heaven with my whole Heart that this is an affair in which I have been merely passive, however deeply concerned. What abundant reproach should I make myself for my own folly, & might the World make me for my own vanity, had I brought it on myself! — I believe, indeed, I could not have done it; Mr. G. C. is the last young man I ever saw in my life to be drawn in, & would be the first, I am certain, to detect the smallest impropriety, & to pay it with its due contempt. That however, can hardly be even possible to happen to one who has no views whatsoever, but who waits quietly till his own are devellop’d, before she will even ask herself what she wishes they should be. Indeed this is true, & indeed I could not, if I would, at this moment tell what I should do, were all power in my own Hands. My decision, indeed, would be immaterial for [xxxxx 1 word], I am sure, till that be the case. I must only hope & try to get out of this affair as quietly as I can for my own peace, & as honourably as I can for my own dignity. Spread about as it is, among almost all who know me, how very important is it to me to be careful & guarded in the most minute particular of my conduct & behaviour? — especially, as of all the few by whom I have ever hitherto been noticed, — I never before 62 ‘We hear, from undoubted authority, that two rising stars in the blue firmament are shortly to move in the same system: to the lady we are indebted for two much admired works; and though the gentleman has not yet favoured us with any printed production, yet the inhabitants of the parts adjacent to P[ortlan]d P[lac]e have long been instructed and improved by his learned discourses; we shall now no longer be in want of a pattern of conjugal behaviour, as the lady is well known to be the great reformer of this dissipated age!’ (Morning Herald, 22 Mar. 1783). The editors are indebted to Paula Stepankowsky for finding this ‘fatal paragraph’. As Ms. Stepankowsky notes, the same newspaper carried a lengthy account of CB’s life in the 18 Mar. issue, with mentions of FB, JB, and his other children. Two paragraphs above the ‘fatal paragraph’ there is an anecdote about CB and Merlin the inventor. It is possible that CB himself wrote the paragraph in a bid to further the ‘courtship’ of FB and GOC. GOC had his London lodgings in Duchess Street, which intersects with Portland Place, famous as the most fashionable street in the capital. The paragraph suggests that GOC delivered sermons in the neighborhood of Portland Place, though no other evidence has been found of his having done so. See P. Stepankowsky, ‘The “Fatal Paragraph” is Found!’, Burney Letter 7. 1 (2001), 1–2.

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felt any real hesitation whether the married or single life would make me happiest. Upon the whole, however, I certainly think the latter. Who could write that Paragraph? — What a never ceasing astonishment as well as grief & indignation does it give me! — to draw inferences so positive from mere common conversations! — I not only wonder who dared do the deed, but who could have the thought. Not, I think now, Mr. Seward, — for he would else have made a point of again seeing us together at Mrs. Thrale’s, where he was invited at our last meeting. Besides, he would naturally have called here to see how I looked after such a frolic. Upon the whole, I think it was surely Mr. Pepys. We were both invited to his House at the very Time, & he had been present at the 2 striking Evenings of the Lozenges63 | & the almost riotous gaiety at Mrs. Montagu’s. Thursday [10 Apr.] I have been interrupted — I have recd your Letter64 my dearest Love — & am quite happy in my beloved Daddy’s recovery. Give him my very best Love & best wishes, — Tell him I hope some of this account will help to amuse him, & tell him I long more than ever to see him, & will come to dear Chesington the moment I am able. My dear Kitty too I heartily congratulate. | [xxxxx 1 word] had yr [xxxxx 2 words] melancholy [xxxxx 1 word]. I shall not [xxxxx 3-4 words] till yr letter comes tomorrow [12 Apr.]. My dear daddy [xxxxx 4-5 words] & my Father all [xxxxx 6-7 words] full of good hopes, I fear for him.

63 Descriptions of the ‘2 striking Evenings’ have not been found in FB’s extant journals and letters. However, ‘fatally enough’, Richard Owen Cambridge must have supplied the lozenges (see below, p. 444). See also CJL ii. 99 where FB mentions the lozenges again after being presented with a box of lozenges by Queen Charlotte: ‘Not , I trust, will be the Lozenges, as some I formerly received!’ 64 Missing.

300

[St Martin’s Street, 12 April 1783]

To Susanna Burney Phillips AJL fragments (Berg), 12 Apr. 1783 Annotated (by FBA): Mr Pepys. Saturday. 5 Ap 83 The letter is pieced together from 8 or more incomplete and mutilated leaves, all with MS obliterations.

Your Letter of to Day [12 Apr.], my beloved Susy, has given me much hope & comfort,65 & therefore I will again resume my Journal, in hope you will be able to make out of it some amusement for my dearest Daddy. I am, otherwise, but little in a Writing mood: that hope, however, would put me into any mood. You will read first to yourself, to avoid mistakes, though I shall not exclude any thing I can possibly help, as I think at this Time You must more than ever want prog66 for my Daddy, & I more than ever wish to supply it. I must go back, therefore, to Saturday, April 5th 1783. I spent almost the whole Day with Mrs. Thrale. Mr. Seward drank Tea with us, but we had no other interruption. He looked very innocent of the suspected paragraph, said nothing of the Cambridges, & never started any subject that lead to any thing sifting or arch. I am almost clear it was not him, & was Mr. Pepys. But I will put together all my reasons for this opinion in some future Letter, & then beg You to judge them. I came Home early, in order to again see Mr. Twining, who calls & chats with such good humour & sweetness, that I shall regret most heartily his departure. Pray tell Daddy he is one of the Elect in his aversion to the Lady, which is so palpable that she is rarely civil, & turns from him with a violent sulkiness & dislike that would win even the Heart of [xxxxx 1 word]. [The rest of the leaf is cut away.]

65 66

Missing. i.e., ‘food for the mind’. See EJL iii. 270 n. 25.

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Sunday April 6. My dear Mrs. Thrale spent all the morning in my room with me,67 & Mr. Twining Dined & stayed all the Day with us. In the Evening, you know, I had an engagement. My Father sent me first, as he determined to stay till the last moment with Mr. Twining. [The rest of the leaf is cut away.]

I went, I must own, very uneasily, — this eternally grievous paragraph, my suspicion Mr. Pepys wrote it, & my certainty Dr. Pepys had his Head full of it, — added to my uncertainty whether it would be more or less pointed that [xxxxx 1 word] I should be there, made me almost lose my Eye sight when I entered the Room, where I literally could not distinguish a Creature, & felt like a thing brought into Company merely to pass examination. I was early, but yet I was the last; this Sunday Night’s sober club, meeting, I fancy, by 7 o’clock, & parting generally at [The rest of the leaf is cut away.]

Mr. & Mrs. Pepys received me very civilly, & would have carried me to a seat near the Fire; but I was glad, as I always am where I go alone, to catch at the first Chair in my way, & take possession of it, merely to sink from notice. They disputed the matter with me some Time, but I fastened upon a Chair, & they then gave it over, | [The top of the leaf is cut away.]

then took the next Chair. Here I cannot but remark how embarassment is forever defeating its own purpose! — there was no seat in the whole Room I should not sooner have taken, had I had my Wits about me, than one next his,68 — & yet upon that very seat must I light, & even insist upon having it! — was it not mortally provoking? — I was so much ashamed of it, that it made me turn away from him, & 67 Earlier that morning, HLT met with Piozzi for what she thought might be the last time. She writes that they ‘renewed with Fervour’ their vows, which they ‘will keep sacred in Absence, Adversity, and Age.’ She adds: ‘When all was over I flew to my Dearest loveliest Friend my Fanny Burney, & poured all my Sorrows into her tender Bosom’ (Thraliana i. 561). 68 i.e., GOC’s.

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think it necessary to give him the least attention in my power all the Evening. The Party consisted of Lady Rothes, Mrs. Thrale, Dr. Pepys, Mr. Wraxal, Mrs. Pepys, your humble, Mr. G. C. a stranger Gentleman, & a stranger lady. This was the order in which the little Circle sat. Mr. Pepys moved about from place to place. He came first & had some talk with me, when he saw me turn from my Neighbour & then I was attacked by Mr. Wraxal, who is so terrible a coxcomb that I could not persuade myself to keep up any conversation with him. When he left me, in despair, I believe, of finding any thing in me, I myself attacked Mrs. Pepys, as I much preferred her, all insipid as she is, to so conceited a spark. I did not dare sit silent, — & my Neighbour, I suppose, did not wish it, for he talked incessantly, almost, to the Gentleman & lady on his other side. Those Words in Mrs. Pepys’ Note,69 that she hoped I should not find her party the less pleasant for being very small, seemed to me now to be pointed at Mr. G. C. &, conscious as I was how much we were observed, I disliked saying a word to him, or hearing one from him. [xxxxx 1¼ line] so little. I never went through a more irksome task than finding subjects for her & I was so tired of her tame & namby pamby answers, that if I had been more at my ease, I believe they would really have lulled me to sleep! And, with all the exertion I could use, I was obliged, at last, to give it up. But it was not till the Evening was so far advanced, that I feared my continuing such a bore longer would be more suspicious than letting it alone. At length, therefore, I sate quiet, except that Mr. Pepys from time to time approached to chat. Mrs. Thrale would not, I suppose | because of my Neighbour: — & why she was so quee[rly] quiet even when I sate silent & unoccupied, — is what I know not: but it seemed to me, since I was still, as [xxxxx 1 word]. Furthermore, [xxxxx ½ line] it was pure malice! This lively confabulation, which held the greatest part of the Evening, having at length ceased, Mr. George Cambridge, who had been [1/3 line cut away] bours, turned to ask me how all my 69

Missing.

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[In the first line of the following fragment, the top halves of the characters are cut away.]

[xxxxx 1 word] against you next go to Canterbury!’ He knew I meant against he next [xxxxx 1 word] himself with [1-2 words cut away] in some [xxxxx 2/3 line] knowledge of the Italian language: you will explain to my Dear Daddy the sport he made himself at the Canterbury races. The superficial & [xxxxx 5-6 words]. He Laughed, & I asked him whether he had renewed his Italian studies with her when they met at Mrs. Ord’s. ‘No, said he, I had all my way to make again in renewing my acquaintance with her first, as I had made up but [xxxxx 1 word], & it is [xxxxx 2 words]! you have not found anything else out for me of Dr. Johnson.’ ‘No, for I have not had a Tete … Tete with him, & I cannot attack him before Company. I shall discover him, however, whether he will or not, when I meet with his [xxxxx 1 word], but who will be [xxxxx 2 words] named I often . [The rest of the leaf is cut away.]

The truth is, we had so long sat by each other, without speaking one Word, after I had taken my place, that we no sooner began talking, than I found we were watched by all present, for the 2 strangers, Lady Rothes Dr. Pepys, & Mr. & Mrs. Pepys were instantly silent — not one, probably, knowing that the other was thus observant, though I, already upon my guard, immediately remarked it in them all. I think I never felt less easy in my life! I really knew not, nor can recollect, what he said, or what I answered; but I am glad, at least, to remember that I spoke to him without any appearance of reserve, or alteration of manner, though so far removed from that inward gaiety which first made my conferences with him so pleasant. I have got, indeed, into a strange situation! & how I shall get out of it, I know not! — [xxxxx 3-4 words] of what he would [xxxxx 3-4 words] if I was [xxxxx 1 word] of [xxxxx 1 word] on Saturday. [4-5 lines are cut away.]

Some time after, we a little awakened, & talked about Dr. Johnson, for he is one of his warmest admirers. He has

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requested me to get him a list of his miscellaneous Works, as he wishes to collect them: & I have promised I will, as soon as I have a fair opportunity. ‘Though, indeed, I added, it will be very difficult, as I dare say he hardly knows himself what he has written, for he has made numerous Prefaces, Dedications, odd Chapters, & I know not what, for other Authors, that he has never owned, & probably never will own. Have | [The rest of the leaf and the top of the following leaf are cut away.]

‘No, — I am so scatter-brained I forgot it; — he sent it you did he not?’ ‘Yes, but I returned it as he said it was his only copy. I found, however, that it is printed in Davis’s miscellanies,70 & there you may have it.’ ‘O, indeed, said he, Laughing, why now, then, I must buy those miscellanies! & see too if there is any thing else in them I want.’ ‘I wish he would fairly collect his works himself. There is no knowing where to look for them, though I often find him out in places where I should not think of seeking him.’ ‘Why that is not very difficult, he is always so marked.’ ‘O yes, there is not great merit in it! — his style is [The rest of the leaf and the top of the following leaf are cut away.]

‘But I was sure, when I read it, the preface to Baretti’s Dialogues71 was his; & that I made him confess.’ ‘Baretti’s Dialogues? — What are they about?’ ‘A Thimble, & a spoon, & a knife & a fork! — they are the most absurd, & yet the most laughable things you ever saw. I would advise you to get them. They were written for 70 FB refers to Miscellaneous and Fugitive Pieces, published by Thomas Davies (c.1712–85) in 1773 in two volumes, which he advertised in the newspapers as ‘By the Authour of the Rambler’. The work contained a medley of SJ’s acknowledged writings, anonymous pieces, and ‘ghost’ writings, but also some writings in which he had no hand at all. A second edition came out the following year, with a third volume also containing pieces by SJ (ODNB; Life ii. 271 and n. 1.) 71 Easy Phraseology, for the use of Young Ladies, who intend to learn the colloquial part of the Italian language (London, 1775). It includes a Preface by SJ and a dedicatory letter by Baretti to Queeney Thrale. See DL ii. 206 n. 1. See also Life ii. 449: ‘I [Boswell] censured some ludicrous fantastick dialogues between two coach-horses, and other such stuff, which Baretti had lately published. He [SJ] joined with me, and said, “Nothing odd will do long. ‘Tristram Shandy’ did not last.”’

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Miss Thrale, & all the Dialogues are between her & him, — except now & then a shovel & a Poker, or a Goose & a Chair, happen to step in. [The bottom of the leaf is cut away.]

style when he writes for others.’ ‘I suppose he does not think it worth his while, & won’t be at the trouble.’ Here we ceased: for the moment he said nothing that required any answer, I turned again to Mrs. Pepys, & he, very readily, renewed his Chat with his Neighbours: & for this once, the spirit of the discourse was mine, not his, for he was grave, kept back in his Chair, & scarce ever looked at me while he spoke. But when, upon again turning from him, I looked at the [rest of line cut away] | [½ line cut away] I saw a most complacent smile on Lady Rothes & Mrs. Pepys’ Faces, not of rallery, but pleasure, for it said Well, — though they were quiet so long, they had not quarrelled! — What in the World could be more provoking! — & how strange a mistake is this that so many are making. I then again remained silent for a good while, or only forcing talk with Mrs. Pepys. Some time after, Mr. Pepys came up to me, & said ‘Was not that a charming Evening we had the other Night?’ ‘Yes, indeed.’ I answered. ‘It was quite delightful I think, said he, so select, & so quiet. I like those Evenings better than any other.’ ‘Where was this? cried Mr. George Cambridge, turning to us; Was it at Mrs. Thrale’s?’ ‘No, answered I, at Mrs. Chapone’s.’ ‘At Mrs. Chapone’s? — pray where does Mrs. Chapone live?’ I hope he intends to visit her! ‘In Stephen Street.’ ‘Stephen Street,72 — where is that?’ ‘Near Rathbone Place; but I know no more of it.’ ‘I know Rathbone place very well, — but for Stephen Street, — I never heard of it.’ 72 Built in about 1767, Stephen Street now connects Gresse Street and Tottenham Court Road. It formerly connected Tottenham Court Road and Rathbone Place, built in 1721–5 (London Encyclopedia, ed. B. Weinreb and C. Hibbert (Bethesda: Adler, 1986).

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[The bottom of the leaf is cut away.]

Not long after this, my dear Mrs. Thrale, with whom I had not had one word, said she must go to take leave of Mrs. Byron, & would then come back, & carry me to Argyll Street, where I had promised to spend an Hour or two, as it was her last Evening, for early on Monday morning [7 Apr.] she was to set out for Bath. This circumstance gave a melancholy cast to the Evening, & nothing but the recollection of how narrowly I had escaped losing her for a longer Time, & at a greater distance, could have made me bear it with sufficient composure for observation. As it was, however, I took it chearfully enough, from the contrast of the greater evil. | [3/4 line cut away] Mr. Pepys began an eloge of Mrs. Thrale, but my Heart was too full of more serious affection than to give vent to it, just then, in praise: & [The rest of the leaf is cut away.] |

‘Yes, — she goes to-m He then regretted her departure, & asked me after her sick poor little Children, who are left at Streatham, to nurse, & who are very bad indeed [xxxxx 1 word] sick with [The rest of the leaf is cut away.] |

[1 word cut away] could leave them, notwithstanding she stay the [rest of line cut away] as her never having had the Whooping Cough made it impossible for her to see them.73 Mr. Lock’s most wonderful son,74 the young Painter, was now talked of, & Mr. G. C. hastily joined the Conversation, extoling him loudly, & relating many of the subjects & designs of his Pictures. I never, I think, heard of so extraordinary a Genius. During this discourse, Mr. G. C. suddenly, & in a very low voice, a voice, indeed, but just audible, said to me 73 See Thraliana i. 565 n. 1: ‘My having never had the hooping Cough myself, prevented my giving Harriett personal Attendance all along: but Old Nurse waited on her to the last, & She had an Apartment provided close by the School, the Mistresses of which very tenderly watched her while Sr R. Jebb & Dr Pepys gave all the Medical Assistance which Money could obtain for her.’ 74 William Locke, Jr (1767–1847), artist. Educated at the Revd William Gilpin’s school at Cheam, he was also a pupil and friend of Henry Fuseli. He is best known for his drawings in the Fuseli style but also produced some paintings (ODNB).

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‘You should see his Works, I am sure! —’ As if he meant some compliment to my sympathy. I made some common answer, & he said nothing more. [¾ line is cut away] & the stranger |

to Lady Rothes, who immediately, & with her usual politeness, entered into Conversation with him . Lady Rothes & Dr. Pepys soon followed. And then nobody was left with the master & mistress of the House but Mr. George Cambridge & myself. It seemed awkward, to thus outstay Every body, but I waited not only for Mrs. Thrale’s return, but for my Father’s arrival. Mr. Twining was unleavable, as usual. ‘Come, said Mr. Pepys, now let us sit round this Table, & be comfortable. Miss Burney, where will you sit?’ | I immediately crossed over to Lady Rothes seat, which was at the head of the Room, for why should not I be grand? thinks I. The truth is, I was again, when her Ladyship & the Doctor went, close to Mr. G. C. & I again moved myself away from him. Mr. Pepys, very oddly, took a seat next but one to mine, leaving that next of all empty. His wife sat opposite me. | [2-3 words cut away] Soon after, my Father came. Mrs. Thrale still was the topic. And soon after that, a Note was brought me. It was from Mrs. Thrale, to beg I would join her at Mrs. Byron’s, as she could not return to take a formal leave. Her Note was a very affecting one. It was meant for the rest of the Company, as well as myself; but I felt that either to read or hear it would overset me, & I had no inclination for a Tragedy scene before witnesses. I therefore only begged my Father’s leave to go to her & rose. ‘Don’t forget us to-morrow.’ said Mrs. Pepys. You know I had been long engaged to meet the Chapone party again there. [The rest of the leaf is cut away.]

I stopt at Mrs. Byron’s Door for Mrs. Thrale, & we then proceeded to Lady Hale’s, to take up Queeny, who had spent the Day there. The moment Mrs. Thrale came into the coach, she cried out ‘How queer George Cambridge looked when he heard your name announced! — he turned his Head from

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side to side, — silly Rogue! He looked quite ashamed, — & confounded, & miserable!’ Why miserable? how odd! At Lady Hales! We went in. Much civil invites were given |

301

[St Martin’s Street], 12 April 1783

To Samuel Crisp ALS (Diary MSS II, paginated 1793–[4], Berg), 12 Apr. 1783 Double sheet, 4to, 2 pp. red wafer Addressed: Samuel Crisp Esqr, / at Mrs. Hamilton’s, / Chesington, / Kingston, / Surry. Annotated (by FBA): april — 12 1783 This is the last Letter I ever wrote to Mr Crisp FB’s letter is on the first leaf of the double sheet. The second leaf contains the address and CB’s ALS to SC, 12 April 1783, printed LCB i. 359. On the address page FBA has written this further annotation: This is the Last Letter, I ever had the happiness to write to my dear dear — invaluable Mr. Crisp. My answer [missing], through my beloved sister Susanna, was so fearful, that my Father permitted my instantly setting off for Chesington — Where I stayed to help — how mournfully! to close the Eyes of the kindest — Wisest — most scrupulously sincere & honourable, & most deeply sagacious, and most partially affectionate of Friends. With equal Grief — though less uncontrollable, was this all but matchless man mourned by my dearest Father — The all but excepts that dearest Father himself — Mr. Lock, and my own honoured nearly adored Husband. For equal unison of Head & Heart — of mind & manners, none have come within my intimacy, though some few others have excited a belief of similar worth. Amongst Females I have known more.

My dearest — dearest Daddy — I am more grieved at the long & most disappointing continuation of your illness than I know how to tell you, — & though my last account, I thank Heaven, is better,75 I find you still suffer so much that my congratulations in my letter to Susan,76 upon what I thought your recovery, must have appeared quite crazy, if you did not know me as well as you do, & were not sure what affliction

75 76

See above, p. 336 n. 64. See above, p. 336.

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the discovery of my mistake would bring to myself. I think I never yet so much wished to be at Chesington as at this Time, that I might see how you go on, & not be kept in such painful suspence from Post to Post. Why did you tell me of the Delanys, Portlands, Cambridges, &c, as if any of them came into competition with Yourself? — When you are better, I shall send you a most fierce & sharp remonstrance upon this subject; — at present, I must be content with saying I will undoubtedly accept your most kind invitation | as soon as I possibly can. Mean time, if my Letters will give you any amusement, I will write oftener than ever, & supply You with all the prog I get myself. Susan, who is my reader, must be your Writer, & let me know if such tittle-tattle as I can collect serves to divert some of those many moments of languor & weariness that creep between pain & ease, & that call more for mental food, than for bodily medicine. Your love to your Fanniken I well know makes all trash interesting to you that seems to concern her, & I have no greater pleasure when absent than in letting you & my dear Susan be acquainted with my proceedings. I don’t mean by this to exclude the rest of the dear Chesington set, — far from it, — but a sister & a Daddy must come first. God bless & restore you, my most dear Daddy, You know not how kindly I take your thinking of me, & enquiring about me, in an illness that might so well make you forget us all: — but Susan assures me Your Heart is as affectionate as ever to your ever & ever faithful & loving Child F.B. My Father will write for himself. [CB’s letter follows, dated Saty. Night — 12 apr. 1783. At its conclusion FB adds:]

I will write to Susy on Monday. F.B.

302

[Chessington, 14–15 April 1783] With Susanna Burney Phillips to Charles Burney or Charlotte Ann Burney AL (Berg), 14 Apr. 1783 Double sheet 4to, 4 pp. pmk 15 AP red seal Addressed: Dr Burney or / Miss Charlotte Burney / St Martin’s Street / Leicester Fields Annotated (by FBA): Susan concerning the last illness of my darling Mr Crisp

Monday eveg. [14 April]

My dearest Sir We are in hourly hope of seeing Capt. Phillips return wth r D  Warren77 & poor Fanny — but shd the latter have left town before this day’s post comes in, she will have missed a Letter I wrote yesterday,78 which if you open you will see how desperate things are — Our poor sufferer does not seem to get much worse, but Nature is I fear wholly exhausted, & that to recover him is quite beyond the power of Man! — He heard yr letter this morning, tho’ my voice failing me towards the end of it, I was obliged to sink some part of it, lest it shd excite an emotion in him wch might do him harm — When I had done reading it, ‘Well,’ sd he, ‘I have | Some that love me yet! — that’s great comfort! —’ — & a little after — ‘True friendship is I find to be purchased in this world!’ — He continues in his perfect Senses, & makes at times Such kind & grateful Speaches as affect every one round him to the greatest degree — In this particular he seems better than when I wrote yesterday — for he then refused to hear yr Letter or Fanny’s, & spoke not, but in answer to us, to anybody, & even to say yes or no he seemed reluctant — I wish & dread the 77 Richard Warren (1731–97), M.D. (Cantab.), 1762; F.R.C.P., 1763; physician in ordinary to the King; m. (1759) Elizabeth Shaw (ODNB). 78 Missing.

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14–15 April 1783

arrival of Dr Warren, & poor Fanny, whose heart will I know be half broken — however I must end this after they come. Pray give my love to Charlotte & tell her I beg she will acquaint my Sister79 of the contents of my letters to St Martin’s Street for | the present, as I have not time or Spirits to write a repetition of accounts so melencholy — let her tell her likewise I have recd both her kind letters, & will write as soon as I am able to herself. | [The following note is appended by FB.]

Most dear Sir, We are just arrived — & this dear Dr. Fordyce80 gives us some hope! — he says all is very bad, but not desperate — we are here in extacy — & have some thoughts of Burning Mr. Hemmings in Effigy at least, for he has given him over, & advised against having a Physician all the Time — God bless you Dearest Sir.

303

[Chessington,] 20 April [1783] To Charles Burney or Charlotte Ann Burney

AL (Berg), 20 Apr. 1783 Single sheet 4to, 2 pp. pmk 21 AP wafer Addressed: Dr. or Miss C: Burney / St Martin’s Street, / Leicester Fields Endorsed (by Charlotte Burney): Fanny concerning the last illness of my darling Mr Crisp

My dearest Sir, I intended returning to Town on Saturday [19 Apr.] with Dr. Fordyce, as I think my Daddy in as fair a way as we have any right to expect, but he has himself quite entreated me to stay a little while longer, & therefore we have now settled that I shall remain here till Friday morning.81 He is extremely EBB. George Fordyce (1736–1802), M.D. (Edinburgh), 1758; member of the Literary Club, 1774; F.R.S., 1776 (ODNB). 81 25 Apr. 79 80

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low, & speaks so little, & cares for so few things, that to refuse him whatever he will be at the trouble to ask is utterly impossible. I gave your kind message to him, but he only said ‘God bless him! —’ & shook his Head. — His recovery will be dreadfully slow, & frequently, I fear, retarded by little relapses. Dr. Fordyce, however, found him much better, & that he will recover, I do indeed believe. I will write again to-morrow. We had a visit Yesterday morning from Mr. Cambridge. Adieu, ever Dearest Sir. Sunday, April 20. Miss Charlotte Burney. I thank you, my love, for your Letter. I shall not now see you till Friday. Almost this moment, I gave my dear Father’s message to my Daddy, & then I said ‘& the Ottenburg82 says she hopes you will send your love to her?’ ‘Ay, sure!’ he answered, with a kind love, but to Day he is very silent & low spirited. Pray write whenever you have any thing to say, for we send to Kingston | Daily. God bless you, my dear Girl. I have writ my excuses to Mrs. Hervey. How shocked I am for the poor little Babes at Streatham!83 I had no notion that they were both in such a way! Always when George84 goes near Brooke Street, or near Wimpole Street, let him call.85 | [SC died on Thurs., 24 Apr. 1783, surrounded by FB, SBP, and the Chessington set; he was buried at Chessington on 2 May (BP, p. 85). Brief death notices appeared in the London Chronicle, 26–9 April, and the CAB’s nickname. On Good Friday, 18 Apr., HLT received a letter from John Cator informing her that Henrietta Sophia had died. On Friday night, HLT wrote to SJ: ‘My Children, my Income (of course) and my health are coming to an end Dear Sir — not my vexations. Harriet is dead, and Ciceley is dying; and Mr Cator writes me word I mustn’t sit philosophically at Bath, but come to London — (I cannot guess for what) to see them buried I believe’ (SJ, Letters iii. 14; cf. Thraliana i. 563 n. 2). HLT reached Streatham on 20 Apr. and found that ‘Cecilia however was mending, and it was now very delightful to me to find She would not die too, as we had been in great Anxiety for both’ (Thraliana i. 564–5). 84 Presumably a Burney man servant; not otherwise mentioned. 85 Presumably on Lady Hales (in Brook Street) and the Pepyses (in Wimpole Street). 82 83

350

20 April 1783

Morning Chronicle, Morning Post, and Parker’s General Advertiser, all 30  Apr. CB contributed a eulogistic obituary notice to the GM liii1 (1783), 452, and also wrote an epitaph which is on a monument put up in Chessington Church by Mrs Gast and Kitty Cooke, his residuary legatee (Mem. ii. 322–3). His will is PCC, 5 Sept. 1781, with a codicil dated 11 Oct. 1781, prob. 23 May 1783; the will was witnessed by JB, Charlotte Ann Burney, and Sarah Payne, and the joint executors were John Edison and Mrs Gast, who had read to him daily the prayers for the dying (Mem. ii. 316). FB returned to London sometime after the funeral, prompted by a letter from CB commiserating with ‘the violence & duration of yr sorrow’ but adding, ‘However as something is due to the living, there is perhaps a boundary at wch it is right to endeavor to stop, in lamenting the dead’ (LCB i. 361).]

304

[St Martin’s Street,] May [1783]

To Susanna Burney Phillips AJL (Diary MSS II, paginated 1801–[2], Berg), May 1783 Single sheet 4to, 2 pp. and 2 fragments

[xxxxx 2 words] her with some of [xxxxx 3 words] on Friday. At Lady Mary [Duncan’s]86 the Party was really pleasant & agreeable. It consisted of the Miss Bulls, Miss Louisa Harris, Miss Fouquier,87 a Venetian Prince, Count Benincasa,88 Mr. Nichols,89 Mr. Upton,90 & Pacchierotti. We had no music. There were two Card Tables, & three always out. I had therefore much sociable chat with almost all round. Count Inserted by FBA. Perhaps Jane Georgiana Fauquier (d. 1823), later m. (1786) George Venables Vernon (1735–1813), 2nd Lord Vernon, B. of Kinderton, 1780. 88 Count Bartolomeo Benincasa (1746–1816), Italian man of letters (Dizionario biografico degli Italiani). 89 The Revd Norton Nicholls (c.1741–1809), friend and correspondent of the poet Thomas Gray (ODNB). 90 Perhaps a connection of Clotworthy Upton (1721–85), cr. (1776) B. Templeton, whose wife Elizabeth was a friend of Frederica Locke (JL iii. 241 n. 16). Not further traced. 86 87

May 1783

351

Beneincasa being always at cards, I had only a Bow from him, though so much pains has been taken for our presentationing:91 & that I was very glad of. He seems a flashy, agreeable man, neither elegant nor vulgar, but sprightly, clever & entertaining. Miss Louisa Harris now was more sociable with me than ever before, for we had now opportunity for a long Tete à Tete: & it ended in her very civilly desiring our acquaintance might not drop, & asking leave to call upon me; which I graciously gave. I have, indeed, wished to know her & her sister,92 & them only, since my acquaintance with Mr. & Mrs. Lock. She said much to me of her sister’s being of the same mind, & was very good humoured, sensible, & chatty. Another time, Mr. Nichols was out. He is a Clergyman, & the same that is mentioned by Gray.93 He made up to me, thus. — ‘Have you heard of the Cambridges lately, Miss Burney?’ ‘I saw Mr. Cambridge a few Days ago, sir. —’ And then he began a long harangue upon the whole Family, especially the sisters. He has been acquainted with them, I find, many years & his respect & regard for them is such as might [1/4 line cut away] I think he seems an amiable & worthy man, but he is prosing & precise, & consequently tiresome. [The bottom of the leaf is cut away.]

How little is there in words, how much in manner. I found this was said so innocently, that I answered it pretty readily, — the very same words spoken, at the very same place, by Mrs. Lock, — how differently did they affect me! — And how much does this add to my conviction of the meaning with which she spoke them. Louisa Harris never named the family at all. I am much afraid of her, on account of her intimacy with Miss Gregory & Mrs. Chapone, — [xxxxx 3 words] — I earnestly hope she has escaped hearing these surmises.

FB’s humorous nonce-word; not in OED. Katherine Gertrude Harris (1750–1834), later m. (1785) the Hon. Frederick Robinson (1746–92). See EJL iii. 419 n. 59. 93 FB presumably refers to William Mason’s edition of The Poems of Mr. Gray (1775), which also includes letters by Gray to Nicholls. 91 92

352

May 1783

With Lady Mary, as usual, I had much entertainment. She has now invited us for every Wednesday to music. Pacchierotti was in very good spirits. I had much talk with Mr. Nichols upon Gray, whom he worships, & whom I most willingly paid adoration to: & then of Mr. Walpole,94 & the Castle of Otranto, & various such things. He has a good deal of taste, & if he was not so prim, & would speak faster, would be conversible enough — but I was glad to squeeze myself between the Miss Bulls, when we were interrupted, that he might not fasten upon me again. The Evening, nevertheless, was a good Evening, — It is not like the other places that have been better; & it is contrast that makes sadness, — as it is contrast that makes joy! — , May 3d — This morning Louisa Harris came. [xxxxx 1 word] now [xxxxx 1 word] is for it. She stayed an Hour, & it was spent very chearfully — we talked almost wholly of Lady Mary Duncan, & exchanged [xxxxx 2 words] of her, [xxxxx 6-7 words] the good qualities which joined in with | [The bottom of the leaf and the top of the next leaf are cut away]

and this time he95 told me how great a blessing it was to him that his Daughters had not married, lest they should have bad Husbands, & there were so few who could deserve them, [xxxxx 1 word] especially Kitty, that it was scarce to be hoped they shd meet | [The rest of the leaf and the top of the next leaf are cut away.]

Afterwards, when we were speaking of illness & of dying, he assured me that, however pleasant his life was just now, he should feel nothing in giving it up: for he could not tell what misery he might be saved by Death, nor what sin. And when this led me on to say I had never an illness in my life without thinking ‘Probably I had better die now,’ he joined in it, with such Christian reasoning, as almost surprised as much as it edified me. 94 Horace Walpole (1717–97), wit, connoisseur, and writer, published the Castle of Otranto in Dec. 1764 (with the imprint date of 1765). 95 Richard Owen Cambridge.

May 1783

353

Some time after, but I know not from what cause, he exclaimed, almost with horror at the very idea — ‘If You had a bad husband! — good God! what You would suffer! —’ Afterwards we grew gayer, & he told me stories of Mr. Trenchard very laughable. Among others, one of his being nearly taken in, by a Lord & Lady somebody, to marry a Girl who lived with them: ‘What, cried he, could be so infamous as such an attempt! to make him marry a Girl without any fortune! — when all the time he wanted a fortune! — I think that quite infamous, — except where there are superior talents, — and that. —’ How strange! how hard to construe! Another time, in speaking of Barry , he said ‘O, let’s go together to Barry’s Exhibition. 96 — we have so many places to go to-gether! — only now I’m afraid of going with you to Mrs. |

305

[St Martin’s Street, 24 May 1783]

To Susanna Burney Phillips AL fragment (Berg), 24 May 1783 Double sheet 4to, 2 pp. pmk 24 MA wafer Addressed: Mrs. Phillips, / at Mrs. Hamilton’s, / Chesington, / Surry. Annotated (by FBA): — 83 — 25 May Endorsed (by SBP): May 25. / 1783.

The Lady gave me a [xxxxx 1 word] from Mr. Cambridge, [xxxxx 3 words] that he had called, but said to my Father, ‘[xxxxx 4 words] is gone back to Twickenham, good [xxxxx 1 word], or you would not have had [xxxxx 3-4 words], I can 96 An exhibition of six mural paintings in the Great Room of the Society for the Encouragement of Arts, Manufactures, and Commerce. Horace Walpole attended it and in a letter to William Mason, 11 May 1783, gave it a mixed review (YW xxix. 299–301), but Sir Ellis Waterhouse calls the paintings ‘the most considerable achievement in the true “grand style” by any British painter of the century’ (Painting in Britain, 1530–1790 (Baltimore: Penguin, 1953), p. 199). CB appears in the fourth picture as the representative of music (see LCB i. 370 n. 8, 379–80). The exhibition opened on 28 Apr. (Morning Post, 29 Apr. 1783).

354

24 May 1783

tell you.’ So you see when he offered Thursday Evening for [xxxxx 1 word], he meant to have stayed on purpose for it. Mrs. Ord sent an invitation to me for Friday [23 May]: I had no engagement, but was in no humour to spend an Evening with her, so sent an excuse. I went at Night to Mrs. Walsingham’s. There was a grand concert of ancient music, & very superb Company: — Lord & Lady Amherst, Lord Vernon,97 Lord Grantham,98 Lord Bathurst, Ly Triphena Bathurst,99 Sr Wat & Ly Winne,1 Sr George Howard,2 Lord Walsingham,3 &c. Among my acquaintance, were Mrs. Hinchliffe, Bishop of Peterborough, Mr. Pepys. — I was also claimed by Lady Amherst, whom I did not know, & had like to have affronted, for I took her for Miss E. Hervey; but luckily I said nothing she could so interpret. Mrs. Bates sung extremely sweetly. I like her as well as her voice. While I was talking to her, a stranger Lady came up to me, & began talking to me of the music, & then said ‘When did y Mr. Cambridge, Miss Burney?’ I was extremely surprised, & in vain to see who she was, for I had no knowledge of her. I swered ‘lately,’ & she then very warmly sung his praises. As soon as I could get from her, I whispered Miss Boyle, Mrs. Walsingham’s Daugh who she was, & she said Mrs. Wilmot.4 She made an enquiry whi[ch] [rest of line cut away] me join her again, during the second act, & was marvellous civil, but very disagreeable. In the course of our conversation, she said she had seen me at Mr. Pepys. I then less wondered at her question, as the Night she met me there I was wholly monopolised either by Mr. Cambridge or his son, — by the latter so much the most, that I am doubtful which she meant to enquire after. ’Tis strange that Nobody has ever seen me with them, without See above, p. 350 n. 87. Thomas Robinson (1738–86), 2nd B. Grantham, 1770; Sec. of State (Foreign), 1782–3 (ODNB). 99 Henry Bathurst (1714–94), 2nd E. Bathurst, 1775; former Lord Chancellor; and his eldest daughter Lady Tryphena Bathurst (1760–1834) (ODNB). 1 Sir Watkins Williams Wynn (1748–89), 4th Bt, 1749; M.P.; m. (1771) Charlotte Grenville (1754–1832). 2 Sir George Howard (1718–96), army officer and M.P.; K.B., 1774 (ODNB). 3 Thomas de Grey (1748–1818), 2nd B. Walsingham, 1781 (ODNB). 4 Sarah, née Morris (c.1724–93), m. Henry Wilmot (1710–94), solicitor (LCB i. 413). 97 98

24 May 1783

355

thinking of them, & mentioning them to me, when they see me without them. Mrs. Wilmot asked the question with a sagacious smile that did not make it less odd. I had a great deal of chat with Mrs. Hinchliffe, who was very lovely & agreeable. The Bishop came & talked with me about Mrs. Thrale, whom he has just left at Bath, & he told me she was much better, & quite in agonies to see me. Mr. Pepys chatted with me, as usual, very much. Mrs Walsingham accused me of not knowing her the street, where she kissed her Hand to me, as I was walking with a young lady. That was my dearest Susan. I remember seeing somebody. The music was very fogrum.5 Friday morning I called on Mrs. Ord [xxxxx 12-13 words] very friendly. She talked a good while of Mr. Cambridge, & suddenly said, ‘Pray, do you at all know the Miss Cambridges?’ How strange when she so well knows I spent a week in their House. I said yes & gave them a good word. She seemed loath to quit the subject, & [xxxxx 2 words] upon it, so I changed it rather abruptly. She said, however, nothing more pointed. [The rest of the leaf is cut away.] |

306

[St Martin’s Street, June 1783]

To Susanna Burney Phillips AJL fragment (Berg), June 1783 2 single sheets 4to, 3 pp.

Thursday, June 19. I Dined at Sir Joshua Reynolds, — so did my father, where we met Mr. & Mrs. Elliot, Mr. Edward Elliot,6 the Bishop of Killaloe,7 & some I did not know. The Old-fashioned (see EJL i. 191 n. 26). FB presumably means Sir Joshua’s friends Edward Eliot of Port Eliot, Cornwall (see above, p. 233), his wife (m. 1756) Catherine Elliston (c.1735–1804), and their son Edward James Eliot (1758–97). 7 Thomas Barnard (1727–1806), D.D.; Dean of Derry, 1769; Bishop of Killaloe, 1780; Bishop of Limerick, 1794. A member of the Literary Club, he had just been elected F.R.S. (ODNB; EJL iv. 336). 5 6

356

June 1783

Day, however, was much saddened by missing Dr Johnson, who was to have been king of the Party here, & at our House next Day; — you must have heard ere now that he has had a stroke of the Palsy, &, — though not attended with any immediate bad symptoms, it has given a most| dreadful shock to himself, & a most anxious alarm to his Friends.8 Mr Seward brought the news here, & I instantly went to his House. He had earnestly desired me, when we lived so much together at Streatham, to see him frequently if he should be ill. He did not, however , admit me up stairs, but sent me down a most kind message, that he thanked me for calling, & when he was better, should hope to see me often. I had the satisfaction to hear from Mrs Williams that the Physicians had pronounced him to be in no danger, & expected a speedy recovery. The stroke was confined to his Tongue. Mrs Williams told me a most striking & touching circumstance that attended the attack; it was at about 4 o’clock in the morning; he found himself seized with a paralytic affection; — he rose, and composed in his own mind a Latin Prayer to the Almighty, ‘that whatever were the sufferings for which he must prepare himself, it would please Him, through the grace & mediation of Our blessed saviour, to spare his Intellects, & let them all fall upon his body!’9 When he had 8 SJ wrote to the Revd John Taylor, 17 June 1783: ‘It has pleased God by a paralytick stroke in the night to deprive me of speech’ (LSJ iv. 149). Two days later he wrote the following to HLT: ‘On Monday the 16. I sat for my picture, and walked a considerable way with little inconvenience.... I went to bed, and in a short time waked and sat up as has been long my custom, when I felt a confusion and indistinctness in my head which lasted, I suppose about half a minute.... Soon after I perceived that I had suffered a paralytick stroke, and that my speech was taken from me. I had no pain, and so little dejection in this dreadful state that I wondered at my own apathy, and considered that perhaps death itself when it should come, would excite less horrour than seem[s] now to attend it’ (LSJ iv. 151). 9 See SJ to HLT, 19 June 1783: ‘I was alarmed and prayed God, that however he might afflict my body he would spare my understanding. This prayer, that I might try the integrity of my faculties I made in Latin verse. The lines were not very good, but I knew them not to be very good, I made them easily, and concluded myself to be unimpaired in my faculties’ (LSJ iv. 151). The prayer reads: ‘Summe Pater, quodcunque tuum de corpore Numen / Hoc statuat, precibus Christus adesse velit: / Ingenio parcas, nec sit mihi culpa rogâsse, / Qua solum potero parte, placere tibi: Father Supreme, whatever be Thy care / Touching this body (Jesu, plead the prayer), / Spare me my mind, nor count it fault in me / If that I ask which most pertains to Thee’ (LSJ iv. 151 n. 6).

June 1783

357

composed this, — internally, — he endeavoured to speak it, — aloud, — but found his voice was gone! It soon, however, in some degree, returned, though with very imperfect articulation. Yet how delightful, how edifying, dearest Susy, this awful testimony of the true & unfeigned orthodoxy of the very first man now in the World! — Sir Joshua & I talked of hardly any body else, but this great & good man. I like Sir Joshua more & more; he & I are such good Friends you have no notion. I went away early, for I had promised Mrs. Vesey to meet Mrs. Garrick at her House, who came to Town for that Day from Hampton. I found her & Miss More, & Lady Claremont,10 & Horace Walpole, & Mr. Pepys, Miss Hamilton,11 Miss Gunning,12 & no one else. She was very kind to me, & invited me much to Hampton. Mrs. Vesey would make me sit by Horace Walpole; he was very entertaining. I never heard him talk much before; but I was seized with a panic upon finding he had an inclination to talk with me, — & | as soon as I could, I changed my place. He was too well bred to force himself upon me, & finding I shyed, he left me alone. I was very sociable, however, with Mrs. Garrick. Lady Claremont, Mr. Pepys & I out stayed the rest near an Hour. Mrs. Vesey would not permit me to go: but, when the others were gone, she exclaimed ‘Mr. Walpole is sadly vexed that Miss Burney won’t talk with him!’ ‘If she had anything to say, cried I, she would be very proud that he would give her hearing.’ ‘Why, dear ma’am, said Mr. Pepys, good naturedly, who can talk so called upon? I, who am one of the greatest Chatterers in the World, if set upon in that manner, — why I could not say a word.’ ‘What then, cried she, alarmed, is it, do you think, my fault that Miss Burney does not talk? — ’ 10 Frances Cairnes Murray (c.1733–1820), m. (1752) William Henry Fortescue (1722–1806), cr. (1777) E. of Clermont. 11 Mary Hamilton (1756–1816), great-granddaughter of the 3rd D. of Hamilton and niece of Sir William Hamilton (1730–1803), British Envoy to the Court of Naples; later m. (1785) John Dickenson (c.1757–1842). See JL i. 136 n. 7. 12 Charlotte Margaret Gunning (1759–94), later m. (1790) the Hon. Stephen Digby (1742–1800). See JL i. 137 n. 8; i. 161 n. 48.

358

June 1783

Friday June 20th. I went in the morning to Dr. Johnson & heard a good account of him. Dr. Rose, Dr. Dunbar,13 & Sam. Rose,14 the Doctor’s son, Dined with us. We expected the rest of our party early, though the loss of Doctor Johnson, whom they were all invited to meet, took off the spirit of the evening. [The rest of the page is mostly covered by an unfloated pasteover written by Mrs Barrett, describing Richard Owen Cambridge’s early arrival and suggestion that FB should write a play to make money. On the uncovered original page Cambridge says:]

[Nothing would] give me half so much fright — though I am sure you would succeed, & your success — it would make me happy, I promise you!

307

[St Martin’s Street, pre 24 June 1783]

To Sarah Rose ALS (Osborn), June 1783 Double sheet 4to, 2 pp. pmk PENNY PAID wafer Addressed: Miss Rose, / at Dr. Rose’s, / Chiswick. This letter was probably written not long before the 24 June 1783 wedding.

I was truly concerned, my dear Miss Rose, at my inability to wait upon you last Sunday, but I was really very unwell, & I am by no means yet recovered. Yesterday I spent at Twickenham, & unfortunately missed you by my absence. Today I am so very indifferent, that I must frankly own to you, unless I find in myself a considerable amendment, I shall by no means be equal to spending 2 or 3 days from Home. The less, indeed, in this failure will be all my own, as the least illness in my present low state of spirits depresses me so much, that it really renders me unfit for Company. Your House, too, at this James Dunbar (d. 1798), LL.D. See EJL iv. 205 n. 5. Samuel Rose (1767–1804), 2nd and only surviving son of Dr William Rose (JL iv. 131 n. 1). 13 14

pre 24 June 1783

359

Time, must necessarily be nothing less than quiet, & all my wish, if I am able to come to it, will be to add to its festivity & gaiety. If, therefore, I should not be better, I shall entreat your permission to defer my visit till your return from Birmingham. You will then be more tranquil, & the sight of this happiness in which I hope to see you living with my Brother, will more conduce to the restoration of mine than almost any other sight. But, in your present situation, you ought to have those only about you, whose presence will support & enliven you. | I write now with so bad a Headache, that perhaps by the appointed Day I may be sufficiently mended to lose my present dread of appearing a mere Kill-Joy in your House: I will settle, therefore, nothing, till I see how I then am. But you, my amiable friend, who have suffered so much & so lately from a nervous dejection of mind, must make all possible allowance for feelings of which you know so well the discomfort.15 For one Day I can exert myself tolerably, but in the case of three or four I fear I shall terribly sink. I rather, therefore, incline, if I thought you would kindly & feelingly forgive the change, & that your friends would then give me lodging, to make the delay I have mentioned. To the Ceremony, however, I will certainly come,16 & certainly attend you whither soever you please after it: but, believe me, if I keep composed & at Home in the mean Time, I shall be much more fresh, & more able to contribute to the general chearfulness than if I make previously an effort that may weaken my forces. And there is nothing I more wish than to show to all who look on, the true pleasure & affection with which I shall see the sweet & beloved Bride of my Brother enter the Family of His & Her affectionate & faithful sister, F: B.

15 In Feb. Rosette had gone to Northampton ‘for the recovery of her health’ (CB Jr verses ‘To Rosette, on her going to Northampton for the recovery of her health, Febry 17th 1783’ (Osborn)). The verses begin: ‘Adieu! — But haste to ease my fond alarms, / With health, with spirits, with thy wonted charms!’ 16 CB Jr and Sarah (‘Rosette’) Rose were married at Chiswick on 24 June 1783. The Whitehall Evening Post, 24 June 1783, presumably with accidental irony, identifies the groom as ‘the Rev. Mr. Charles Burney, M.A.’ The other London newspapers omit ‘the Rev.’, a title the disgraced Charles did not attain until 1808.

308

[St Martin’s Street, late June–early July 1783] To Susanna Burney Phillips

AJL fragments (Diary MSS II, Berg), June–July 1783 Double sheet and 4 single sheets 4to, 12 pp. Annotated (by FBA): Fragment Journals to Mrs. Phillips of 1783 23 June to July 7th Fragment Dialogue with Mr G. Cambridge on Mrs Vesey Lady Claremont. The Waldgraves Pacchierotti. Mrs Hamilton — Dickenson — Mrs Walsingham Fragment Dialogue with Mr  George Cambridge Walpole. Mr. Burke. Berquin Delany The opening fragment is dated 23 June by FBA. At least one leaf is missing from the beginning. FB is speaking with GOC.

‘You told me you had seen me with Miss More at Mrs. Delany’s when I was not there’. ‘Why once I saw you at Mrs. Vesey’s & , when you were stuck up in that corner, with Mr. Langton, & his Greek, & —’ ‘O yes, — & that Night she made me out stay every body, & assured me she had something to say to me. Accordingly I waited, & when every body was gone, I found she only had to request that I would promise to be of all her parties in future! — the last thing to be a secret in its effect! — I had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Walpole there, & of seeing more of him —’ ‘O, pray tell me, cried he, eagerly, of Mr. Walpole; — I wish vastly to know something of what passed; — you saw more of him, then? — did he answer to your expectations of him?’ ‘Yes, — he was very entertaining.’ ‘But — You heard him talk a good deal, then?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘And — was he in spirits?’ ‘I can hardly judge, as I never heard him talk before.’ ‘You have read his Works?’ ‘Yes. —’ I saw he was excessively curious for some particulars of what past, & I had enough to relate; but the lady [EAB] looked so impatient of every word not addressed to herself, that I would not venture to be more copious.

late June–early July 1783

361

When he had tried a little longer, but failed, about Mr. Walpole, he asked me who else I had met at Mrs. Vesey’s? ‘Lady Claremont.’ I answered. ‘O, she’s always there!’ ‘She’s an odd woman, I think.’ ‘Yes, she’s odd; & she’s violent, & she’s masculine. She was a very extraordinary favourite with the Queen of France,17 — but the Queen of France does not see with my Eyes.’ ‘There is a queer dryness in her that I hardly know what to | make of. The Time somebody was saying how well Sir Joshua Reynolds managed his Trumpet; Yes, said she, vastly better than Mrs Vesey, but the reason is Mrs. Vesey is rather awkward. Mrs. Vesey, at the very Time, was close to her, but not quite understanding her, put up her Trumpet to her Ear, & said Lady Claremont, I did not hear that well, did You say I was very awkward? — No, answered she, very composedly, I only said you were rather awkward. O, cried poor Mrs. Vesey, instantly, never awkward? No, no, cried she, drily, I neither said you were very awkward, nor never awkward, but rather awkward. And she spoke all this with the same calmness as she might to any third Person.’ ‘Poor Mrs. Vesey! cried he, but her management of her Trumpet is truly ridiculous. She thinks if she only holds it in her Hand, ’tis enough, for she never seems to know which end of it she puts to her Ear. And sometimes it unscrews in the middle, & she never finds it out, but goes about with the half of it her Hand has secured, & then wonders she hears no better! She has, also, a Drawr full of Ears, upon which she makes occasional experiments; she has Brass Ears, & silver Ears, & Glass Ears, & Ears of all sorts!’ Here, again, came in the lady; but again, by the very first moment in his power, he returned to the subject of Mrs. Vesey, & to enquiries of whom I had seen, & what had passed. ‘Why the Night I went there from your House, said I, Soame Jenyns was there. —’ ‘Was he indeed! — Well! — & had you much talk with him?’ ‘No, none at all.’

17

Marie-Antoinette (1755–93), Queen of France.

362

late June–early July 1783

‘None at all! — ha, ha, — & after so much trouble as was taken to introduce you, & put you together!’18 ‘He did not even see I was there & should not have seen.’ ‘If I had been of that party,’ cried he, laughing, ‘I would certainly have told him!’ — | [At least one leaf is missing. FB may have recorded her visit on 27 June to Mary Hamilton, whom she visited again on 30 June (below). Miss Hamilton noted in her diary: ‘June 27th. Miss Burney for an hour, very pleasant agreeable conversation.’]19

made me promise to drink Tea with her the next Day. I did so, & mother went, & dear Etty met us. Mr. & Mrs. Pepys were also there, & we had much [xxxxx 2 words]. Saturday, June 28th. I sat for the last Time to Mr. Bogle, & my miniature is now improved into a flattered Picture.20 I don’t know whether Mr. Bogle or his Wife are most fond, or most proud of it — but I feel always teized by their having it & not my Susan. — Sunday, June 29th. This day was appropriated for a large party. It was to be our leave-taking Concert with sweet Pacchierotti!21 — Our Company was Mrs. & Miss Ord, Mr. Pepys, Miss & Mr. , Mr. S: Hoole, Bessy Kirwan, Mrs. Hawkins, Bessy Burney, Cos. Richard, & Mr. Burney & Hetty. Some mention had been made by the lady of asking Mr. George Cambridge to this party, as Mrs. Ord & Mr. Pepys were his friends: but thank Heaven it was not put in practice. I would not for the universe have had him again invited to this House, — whatever was his plan in staying away that Friday22, nothing that I can possibly help shall interfere in On 17 Jan., at Anna Ord’s. See above, pp. 276–81. Mary Hamilton, ed. E. and F. Anson (London: John Murray, 1925), p. 136. It is reproduced as the frontispiece to EJL i. Also in M. Doody, Frances Burney: The Life in the Works (New Brunswick: Rutgers University Press, 1988), between pp.  98 and 99; C. Harman, Fanny Burney: A Biography (London: HarperCollins, 2000), between pp. 132 and 133; and on the dust-jacket of H. Davenport, Faithful Handmaid: Fanny Burney at the Court of King George III (Thrupp: Sutton, 2000). 21 Pacchierotti, who sang at the Opera in the winter seasons, spent his summers on the continent. 22 The exact date of ‘that Friday’ is unclear. It appears that GOC failed to turn up for a particularly significant event at St Martin’s Street and that FB interprets his absence as a personal affront. 18 19 20

late June–early July 1783

363

opposing it. & I don’t know any mortification that will be so severe, as seeing him again by any means but his own seeking. If he wishes to shun me, he surely knows why, & I am the last person in the world to willingly defeat his purpose. Sweet Pacchierotti came very late. Bertoni was with him. Our music did not begin till near 10 o’clock. He was not at all in spirits, & not, for him, in voice. He sang Mi donne me rende, a tenor song from Arteserse; Bertoni’s Dolce speme, & some other things; & he made much sport, & mingled with it much exquisite taste, in mimicking various Performers. But he was by no means in a happy humour. He made me some such speeches of his misery! — tying every word to some animated expression of his partiality to me, which without the least reserve, he now declared to me might, in some other situation, have made the whole blessing of his life! — I was almost shocked to hear him: for he mixed his avowals of regard with such fervant prayers for his speedy Death, that it was hardly possible to sit still by him: & he never a moment left me, but when he was singing. — Poor sweet Pacchierotti! what a strange World is this! how few people in it are contented! he grows more & | more open & unguarded, as the Time of his departure draws near, from a kind, I suppose, of indifference to what is thought of him, that springs from being, upon this subject, quite desperate — at least, I know no other way of accounting for the dismal, yet passionate speeches, he now takes every opportunity of making me. He has done thus, indeed, ever since he was first seized with that vehement suspicion about Mr. G. C. — his whole behaviour has been altered since that Time. Mr. Mathias,23 I to like vastly well, his sister stands still with me. Misses Kirwan & Burney could not but be happy. Mrs. & Miss Ord made it a leave-taking visit, as they go out of Town the Tuesday following for the summer. 23 George Augustus Vincent Mathias (c.1763–1848) (JL i. 221 n. 2). Like his sister Albinia, he was a friend of CAB, who describes him as ‘excessive comical’ and ‘the drollest of the droll’ (ED ii. 302). Meeting him again in 1786, FB writes that ‘[h]e really deserved our Charlotte’s good opinion, in its fullest possible event. He stayed with me more than an hour, though he came only for a minute; but so much he found to say, and all so lively and well worth hearing, that I was pleased with his stay, and encouraged him to lengthen it’ (DL iii. 142).

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I was very glad Mr. Pepys was of the Party, because I wish Mr. G. C. to know there was nothing of peculiarity in inviting him. Bessy, Mrs. Hawkins, & Hetty had dined at the Bishop of Winchester’s, where I had been much invited, by the Bishop, whom I met accidentally at Mr. Burney’s, & unluckily, he had not heard me tell him I was engaged, & therefore had expected me, & I had more scolding messages sent me by Mrs. North. In particular, Bessy told me that Mrs. North sent me her compliments, & her good wishes that I might never prove as inconstant to any other Gentleman24 as I had done to the Bishop. I hope, then, that Bessy does not comprehend what she said herself, for Mrs. North’s meaning I cannot doubt: however, I have since found she has only been sly, not innocent, which has much vexed me. Yet there is little chance she should not hear what did. Monday, June 30th. I had the Coach at my service, & made various Visits. I called on my new acquaintance, Miss Hamilton, who already insists upon being my friend, writes me with such notes as only affection, it should seem, could dictate. But for this affectation — it can be nothing else in one almost a stranger to the tone of my voice, I should like her very well. I have mentioned already my invitation from Mrs. Walsingham to Thames Ditton, & she, also, signs herself affectionately mine: — so let but my Old | Friends be as faithful, as my new ones are fond, & I cannot lament for Friendship. Tell my dear Kitty this, & ask if she is firm? I shall be to her so long as I exist, & indeed I do not doubt her return. Read to her any thing I write that you think will have any chance to entertain her, & give her my best love, & tell her I desire it. She, like you, will certainly perceive the want of spirit there now is since [the loss of my dear Daddy, in]25 my communications, but you neither of you will wonder. I called, also, on Mrs. Delany, whom I visit with more pleasure than any Acquaintance I now have in Town. I then went to Sophy Streatfield, & heard her miseries; poor Girl! — what a warning to all women to rather be chosen than chuse! 24 25

i.e., to GOC. Inserted by FBA.

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She has suffered mortifications almost intolerable to herself,26 — to me they would have been wholly so. I went also to Mrs. Byron, Lady Frances Burgoyne, Miss Benson, & Mrs. Vesey. Wednesday, July 1st.27 I was again at Mrs. Vesey’s, where again I met Mr. Walpole, Mr. Pepys, Miss Elliot,28 Mr. Burke, his Wife & son, Sir Joshua Reynolds, — & some others. Mr. Burke was extremely kind to me, but not at all in spirits: he is tormented by the political state of his affairs,29 & loses, I really believe, all the comfort of his life, at the very Time he is risen to the station his ambition has long pointed out to him. I had the satisfaction to hear from Sir Joshua that Dr. Johnson had Dined with him at the Club. I look upon him, therefore, now, as quite recovered. I called the next morning, to congratulate him, & found him very gay & very good-humoured. Saturday, July 5th. My Father & I went to Dinner at Winchester House, Chelsea;30 Mrs. North was rather cold at first, & reproached me with my long absence, but soon made up, & almost forced from me a promise to go to Farnham, as the only condition of her forgiveness.31 My Father intends going, & therefore I believe it to be | inevitable. We met not a Creature but our cousin Richard of Worcester,32 & the Day passed over pleasantly enough. She said nothing to me in the rallying way, which I had some what expected, as Hetty says she very lately 26 FB refers to Streatfeild’s relationship with Dr William Vyse (1741–1816). See EJL iii. 304 n. 87. 27 Sic in MS, FB’s slip. Wednesday was the 2nd of July. 28 FB describes her later as a ‘sort of yea & nay young gentlewoman’ (see below, p. 430). Probably Isabella Elliot (1749–1803), an acquaintance of Horace Walpole and sister of Edmund Burke’s friend and political follower Sir Gilbert Elliot (1751– 1814), 4th Bt, later E. of Minto (YW vi. 415; HP; ODNB; see also will of Isabella Elliot, PCC, prob. 8 July 1803). 29 Burke was unhappy with his role in the Fox-North coalition that had overthrown the Shelburne administration. In Feb., he had become once again paymastergeneral, a position which he had lost the previous year. He was heavily criticized for re-appointing two clerks, John Powell and Charles Bembridge, who had been dismissed for fraud. See ODNB; HP. 30 The London residence of the Bishops of Winchester. 31 FBA substituted the following for the deleted passage below: ‘She is clever, bright, pleasing, excentric, & amusingly whimsical: & she is also beautiful: but her manner has something in it alarming, that seems always upon the Qui vive; & she is tainted with the faults of loving Gambling & Coquetry. And all this my Susan will be sure, invites not a cordial return to her advances.’ 32 Richard Gustavus Burney (1751–90), one of FB’s Worcester cousins.

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said to her When did you see young Cambridge? — does that affair go on? — do you think it will do? — How crass! Very disagreeable! Hetty only said she had not seen him a great while, & knew nothing of the matter. An answer very little satisfactory to me, & I have begged her wholly to deny it, if appealed to again. I would I could tell what she had said to Mr. G. C., that occasioned his saying she has not forgot you — but is it not provoking to find she regards the affair as too serious to make sport about it with me. Sunday, July 6th. We have now a new man who is always at our House, M. Berquin,33 a French author, who came here a Week or two since to present to Mlle Berni his work, which is called L’Ami des Enfans. We had a droll interview enough, but I cannot give the Time for writing it: but he desired my mother to deliver me the Books, with a thousand fine speeches, & never once suspected I was the Mlle— though I was in the Room all the Time. I have since made some acquaintance with him, but his rapture when I talk to him is too great to be excited often, therefore I am chary of my words. O you would laugh to see how enchanté he thinks fit to appear. His Book, however, is extremely pretty, & admirably adapted to its purpose, that of instructing not only in French, & Reading, but in Morals, all the Children who meet this their true ami. [Monday,] July 7th. I spent the whole Day with sweet Mrs. Delany, whom I love most tenderly. I always long to ask for her blessing. We had no Company but Mrs. Sandford,34 an old lady who was formerly her Elève, & who seems well worthy that Honour. In the Evening, indeed, came in Mr Walpole, gay, though caustique, polite, though sneering, & entertainingly Epigrammatical. I like — & admire — but I could not Love, nor Trust him. |

33 Arnaud Berguin (1747–91), French author of popular moral tales and romances for children. From Jan. 1782 to Dec. 1783, he published at Paris in twentyfour monthly installments his L’ami des enfans, which was also published in London in 1783. The London edition lists both CB and FB among Berguin’s subscribers. See CB to Thomas Twining, 25 Dec. 1784: ‘I love you the better for liking Berguin’s touching simplicity’ (LCB i. 463). 34 Sarah (‘Sally’) Chapone (c.1732–93), god-daughter of Mary Delany; m. (1764) the Revd Daniel Sandford (JL i. 77 n. 3). Mrs Delany writes (in 1759) that ‘our friends’ describe her as ‘a very worthy and agreeable young woman, and remarkably well-behaved’ (Delany Corr. iii. 578).

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[The following undated single sheet 4to, 2 pp., Berg Diary MSS II discard, is appended here as possibly belonging to the preceding ALS, describing events between 8 and 10 July 1783.]

The rest of the folks were Dr. Garthshore,35 Mr. Sastres, Mr. Seward, Mr. & Miss Mathias, Mr. & Miss Kirwan, Mr. Barry, & young Hoole. As soon as Mr. Charles Cambridge arrived, my Father asked after his Brother: ‘He is gone to pay a visit to my mother, at Twickenham,’ he answered. I had a great deal of discourse with Mr. Cambridge about my Journal; & he charged me to see much of Miss Baker,36 & opened his Heart to me upon several subjects, with his accustomed openness & trust. I had some Talk, too, with his son who, though a sweet young man, does much better at Twickenham, & at Home, than at a Conversatione. Dr. Garthshore bored me to Death with Compliments about Cecilia, & talked to me till I could hardly stay in the Room for sickness & ennui. I should have liked to have given a specimen of my own Mr. Meadows, by abruptly walking away from him! Mr. Mathias brought me a drawing of Mr. Hobson, done by a fellow of Trinity College, Cambridge. A mighty good Character. One thing happened that provoked me horribly; this was an invitation from Lady Mary Duncan ‘to the charming Cecilia, that is, Miss Burney’ —! For a Concert on Monday, — | [The verso of this leaf has many unrecovered obliterated words and phrases. The subject matter is clearly FB’s perplexity over George Owen Cambridge’s behaviour towards her, which she takes as an affront. Uncensored and recovered phrases and passages include:]

ever fresh surprise . . . flattering speeches — speeches which his expression made highly flattering . . . he seemed quite happy to take upon himself . . . though afterwards, finding I did not receive it as a compliment . . . And his But I don’t lament it, was spoken with a meaning & vivacity that even put me out 35 Dr Maxwell Garthshore (1732–1812), M.D., F.R.S., fashionable physician to the British Lying-in Hospital (ODNB). 36 Sarah Baker (c.1744–1835), daughter of the Revd Dr Francis Baker (c.1704– 49), Rector of St. Michael’s, Cornhill, and Minister of Barnes, Surrey. In later years she seems to have been nurse and companion to the eldest Cambridge daughter, Charlotte (JL i. 81 nn. 5, 6).

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of Countenance. Why, too, give me to understand he could not sleep for thinking . . . For such is the only interpretation I can put upon what he said. And why, after eagerly saying I was the first thought in the morning, . . . What then, perhaps, I would believe him, as if I had rather a way of dis-believing him? . . . He cannot suppose I do not notice such conduct, . . . he must be sure of the contrary, — | [The following discarded fragment, Diary MSS II (Berg), is presumably addressed to SBP and dates from early July. FB had visited SJ on 2 July (see above). FB’s conversation with SJ took place either on that date or on a later visit before SJ’s excursion to Bennet Langton on 10 July (see below, p.  388). William Bowles had invited him to his seat at Heale House, Wiltshire, where he would finally arrive on 28 Aug. SJ seems to have initially heard Bowles’s invitation by word of mouth and received a formal invitation by letter while with Langton (LSJ iv. 177 and nn. 2, 4). FBA gives a version of this conversation in Mem. ii. 346-7.]

He means, said I, to go, when he returns [from Langton], to Mr. Bowles, in Wiltshire. I told him I had heard that Mr. Bowles was very much delighted with the expectation of seeing him, — & he answered me ‘He is so delighted, that it is shocking! — it is really shocking to see how high are his expectations!’ I asked him why; & he said ‘Why if any man is expected to take a leap of 20 Yards, & does actually take one of Ten, — every body will be disappointed, though Ten yards may be more than any other man ever leapt!’

309

[St Martin’s Street, July 1783]

To Susanna Burney Phillips AJL fragments (Diary MSS II, Berg, paginated 1809–[28], foliated 1, 25–26), July 1783 9 single sheets 4to, 18 pp. Annotated (by FBA): , , Pacchierotti Dr. Garthshore Count Neal Sam. Hoole & Aurelia 11 July 1783. 15. July 1783 Fragment Journal of a visit to Twickenham Meadows. continuation — visit to Twickenham. Twickenham Meadows Visit. 17. July 18 July. 19 July — 83 — Miss Baker. Lady Mary Duncan. Pacchierotti — Mrs. Delany. Cambridge. Barry

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I sent you off, my Love, a very abrupt pacquet yesterday, but I was unwilling to lose the Post, & I am sure there was prog plenty. As to my being so much behind the present Time, that seems what I hardly ever can keep writing regularly enough to prevent. Don’t think me sheepish for sending a Frank of Mr. Lewis’s37 from Winchester House, because the Bishop was absent. As you have heard, however, of the [xxxxx 1 word] return 2d visit, which may well have excited your curiosity, I will continue writing with all the speed I can till I bring you to that period. [Friday,] July 11th. We had a party again at Home, consisting of Count Neal,38 a German Nobleman my mother has met at Mr. Anguish’s,39 Mr. Strange & his son James, Dr. Gathshore [sic], Young Hope,40 Lord Hopton’s son, who came from Lausanne with Dick,41 Mrs. Paradise, Mr. Sastres, Mr. Barry, Mr. Berquin, Young Trevelyan,42 & Pacchierotti. In talking over this Party, my mother proposed inviting Mr. G: C: — I have been frightened! — to have him called back to our Family, by our Family itself! — it is not to be expressed the sickness of Heart I felt at the thought. He could never 37 Edward Lewis, M.P. FB doesn’t want SBP to think she was too shy to ask the Bishop for a frank; she evidently had a supply from Lewis and uses one. See EJL iv. 456 n. 65. 38 ‘Count O’Neal’ is gazetted as one of the notables arriving at Bath later this month (Morning Post, 1 Aug. 1783), and in 1791 probably the same ‘Count Neal’, back in Germany, attended the Duchess of York and was presented by her with a gold snuff box (The Star, 31 Oct. 1791). He has not been further traced, but he or an ancestor was presumably one of the many disaffected (or fugitive) Irish who had moved to the Continent to offer their services there and were rewarded with a title. 39 Thomas Anguish (c.1724–85), F.R.S., a Master in Chancery. See EJL ii. 131 n. 57. 40 John Hope (1765–1823), the son of John Hope (1704–81), 2nd E. of Hopetoun. In 1784 he was appointed cornet in the 10th light dragoons; he would have a distinguished military career, becoming full general in 1819 (ODNB). He succeeded as 4th Earl in 1816. 41 i.e., Richard Thomas Burney. John Hope had been educated at home and then travelled on the continent with his younger half-brother Alexander and their tutor, Dr John Gillies. ‘Dick’ had been sent abroad to study at Geneva in 1781, and SJ wrote to HLT, 30 June 1783, that ‘Dick Burney is come home, five inches taller’ (LSJ iv. 161; EJL iv. 252, 495). 42 Presumably a son of Sir John Trevelyan (1735–1828), 4th Bt: either John (1761–1846), 5th Bt, 1828; Walter (1763–1830); George (1764–1827); or Willoughby (c.1768–85).

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know it was not by my connivance, — I took, however, so much pains to mention that I knew all the Cambridges were not of Town, & never came from Twickenham at this Time of the year, that the idea was dropt. You will easily believe with how much [xxxxx 2 words] I should have [xxxxx 1 word] Him [xxxxx 5-6 words], but for the utter impropriety in seeing him, while he seems, thus, determined to Fly. We had no attempt at music, though we had Pacchierotti, for we ventured not to ask him to sing again so soon after his last indulgence to us. I had a great deal of talk with him, in the same melancholy & pointed style as I have already mentioned to you. He always enquires very much after you, & I always give, or make, messages from You to him, such as I know well you would chuse that he should hear. We have all, yet, some hope for him for next Year, but no certainty.43 | Count Neal paid me Compliments about my Book with such volubility, & Dr. Garthshore with such deliberation, that, between them both, I was quite seriously tormented. How people can suppose this the way to delight, I cannot imagine! for myself, I grow less & less gratified every word I hear upon the subject. I have always forgot to mention to you a Poem by Young Hoole, called Aurelia, or the Contest.44 He sent it me, — & I soon found the reason. His Aurelia runs through the hackneyed round of folly & dissipation, & then appears suddenly to her, in a vision, — the Guardian Power, whose secret sway The wiser Females of the World obey. This Guardian Power tells her what he has done for his favourites; that he gave to Dudley’s Wife45 A nobler fortitude than Hero’s reach, And virtue, greater than the sages teach. — Pacchierotti did, in fact, return to sing at the Opera for the 1783–4 season. Aurelia; or, the Contest: an Heroi-Comic Poem; in Four Cantos (London, 1783). The poem was published on 14 May (Gazetteer, 14 May 1783) and reprinted in Hoole’s miscellaneous Poems in 1790. FB’s quotations are from pp. 61–3 and are verbally exact, except for ‘bad’ which should read ‘bade’. 45 Lady Jane Grey (1537–54), m. (1553) Lord Guilford Dudley (d. 1554). After the accession of Princess Mary to the throne in 1553, Lady Jane and her husband were convicted of high treason and executed the following year. A brilliant student, she refused to recant her Protestantism and met her end bravely. 43 44

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Then, skipping suddenly to modern times, that He instructed Streatfield, the learn’d, the gay, in blooming Years — to assist the Poor, to attend the sick, & watch over her dying old Tutor, Dr. Collier.46 — Then, that He directed Carter’s piercing Eyes To roll inquisitive through starry skies; — that He — to Chapone the important task assign’d To smooth the Temper, & improve the mind. that He told More to guide unthinking Youth, — &c And then he says I stood, a favouring muse, at Burney’s side To lash unfeeling wealth, & stubborn Pride, Soft Affectation, insolently vain, And wild Extravagance with all her sweeping train; Led her that modern Hydra to engage, And point a Harrel to a mad’ning Age: | Then bad the moralist, admir’d & prais’d, Fly from the loud applause her talent rais’d. And then the Coterie concludes with Mrs. Montagu. What think you of this our Guardian Genius? Bertoni is gone; he called to take leave, & seemed sorry to go. He desired many compliments to Mrs. Phillips. Saturday, July 12th. My Father & Charlotte & I went again to spend the Day at Winchester House. We met Dr. & Mrs. Warren, & 2 of their sons,47 & Mr. Sayre,48 an agreeable young 46 Dr Arthur Collier (1707–77), former tutor of both Sophie Streatfeild and HLT, who describes him as ‘a Man of perfect Worth, profound Erudition, and polish’d Manners’ (Thraliana i. 297 n. 1). In a marginal note to her edition of Letters to and from the late Samuel Johnson (1788), she records that Streatfeild told her that Collier ‘died in her arms, and was buried at her expense’ (Autobiography, Letters and Literary Remains of Mrs. Piozzi, ed. A. Hayward, 2nd edn. (1861), ii. 34–5). 47 The Warrens had eight sons, but FB probably met the two eldest, Richard (1763–1820) and Charles (1764–1829). The others ranged in age from sixteen down to four. 48 John Sayer (c.1752–1831), of Wick House, Worcester, and Park Crescent, Portland Place, London; eldest son of Joseph Edmund Sayer, barrister; M.A. (Cantab.), 1777; called to the Bar, 1778.

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man, Brother to Mrs. North’s sister’s Husband.49 Hetty went with us, & Richard & Bessy were already there. We had a good sort of day enough, — the Bishop is a sweet Creature. After Dinner, Bessy told me she had something to communicate very good, but was so long in tantalizing before she would bring it forth, that I told her it never would answer, & that she was as teizing as Mrs. Hawkins. I meant when she had tormented me by saying she had heard of an intended connection, yet refused to let me know how. Bessy instantly called out ‘O, I know of that — but when is it to be: —’ You may imagine my answer, & imagine my vexation, to find how they all settle my affairs. What she had really to say was some civilities of Mr. Sayre’s. In the Evening, my Father, Hetty, Charlotte & I went to Le Tessier’s.50 I told you how much I was entertained with Jerome Pointu51 — but I forgot to mention how I have, since, been delighted with L’Avocat Patelin,52 which he read incomparably. To Night, however, he charmed me more than ever, by Le Roi a la Chasse.53 His talents are truly wonderful, & I 49 Edmund Sayer (c.1756–1832), 2nd son of Joseph Edmund Sayer; M.A. (Cantab.), 1780; called to the Bar, 1780; assumed the surname of Poulter, 1778; Rector of Crawley, Hants, 1778–90; Rector of Meonstoke, 1791; Vicar of Alton, 1816. He m. (1780) Ann Bannister (c.1754–1839), Henrietta North’s younger sister. See IGI; GM l (1780), 202; cix2 (1839), 100. 50 Anthony A. Le Texier (c.1737–1814), French actor and theatre manager, renowned for being able to put on a play by acting all the different parts himself, had come to England in Sept. 1775. Horace Walpole, writing to the Revd William Mason, 18 Feb. 1776, called him a ‘real prodigy, who acts whole plays, in which every character is perfect’ (YW xxviii. 245). For many years he put on plays and gave solo readings at his house in Lisle Street (ODNB). 51 A one-act French farce which Le Texier had apparently most recently performed on 16 Apr. (Morning Herald, 12 Apr. 1783). The work, by Alexandre-LouisBertrand Robineau, called de Beaunoir (1746–1823), had its debut on 13 June 1781 at the Théâtre des Variétés-Amusantes at Paris (C. D. Brenner, ‘Some Notes on Volange and Janot,’ Modern Language Notes 50. 1 (1935), 20; E. B. Abbott, ‘Robineau, dit de Beaunoir, et les petits théâtres du XVIIIe siècle’, Revue d’histoire littéraire de la France (1936), 20–54, 161–80). 52 L’Avocat Patelin (1706), a comedy in three acts by David-Augustin de Brueys (1640–1723), French theologian and playwright. Advertisements in the newspapers indicate performances by Le Texier on 9 Apr., 14 May, 11 June, and 3 and 10 July. 53 ‘READINGS, Lisle-street, Leicester-fields, (Positively the last Reading this Season) THIS DAY, will be read, the Comedy called LA PARTIE DE CHASSE D’HENRY IV ... The Readings will begin at Half past Eight o’clock precisely’ (Morning Chronicle, 12 July 1783). This three-act comedy, by Charles Collé (1709– 83) was first performed in 1764.

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have never, but from Garrick & Pacchierotti, received equal pleasure in public.54 Sunday, July 13th. To Day, by appointment, we had the Company of the [xxxxx 2-3 words]. And [The bottom of the leaf is cut away.]

The Bride55 behaved very well, — she has not been here since her illness. I saw many things like your description of her, — I was now quite frightened, & quite frightened for poor Charles! Good heavens, what an Helpmate! — discontented, demanding, scheming, selfish & extravagant! — poor fellow — how hard a lot to be tied to such a Thing for life! & she thinks her past can authorise all the expence, & all the [xxxxx 1 word] she can display. Her Letter to me from Chesington56 was claiming me as her Bosom friend, — foolish Girl! What chance can she think she has to a partnership with You! — You, my sweetest Susan, who rise upon me every Day, by your admirable, I will say your exemplary conduct! — I begin to yearn to see my best loved Girl, — I would I had had that meeting upon the Common, — to wait till winter will be very hard indeed, — & to come to Chesington! — but surely I think my Father will carry me there. If he does, I shall try to live out of Doors, for I shall hate every Room in the House.57 — Yet I had rather be with my Susan even there than go to any other place. However, I can neither go nor stay by my own arrangement, & therefore ’tis needless to [xxxxx 1 word] my wishes. Capt. Phillips has just informed me, — not, dear Girl, in exceeding spirits, that again he escapes this Plymouth

54 Le Texier had sought out and received Garrick’s patronage when he first came to London, and he was acting manager of the Opera for the 1778–9 season when Pacchierotti sang there for the first time. Besides performing in Lisle Street, he was a frequent guest of the Thrales, Horace Walpole, and other notables; performed in front of George III; and took part in amateur theatricals at various country houses (ODNB). 55 Sarah Rose Burney. 56 Missing. 57 Because of SC’s death.

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threat58 — how tormenting to have so much trouble, fatigue, & expence about it. — I am interrupted now, acceptably, by your Letter by the Post,59 but quite frightened my Pacquet for [xxxxx 1 word] is failed, — I hope you have it now, — pray let me hear. It ought to have arrived on Friday. But why does my dearest Susy Grudge me her letters? if I did send up to the present Time, what [The bottom of the leaf is cut away. The following pages describe a visit to Twickenham Meadows, the Cambridges’ estate.]

‘But what shall we do, said Miss Baker, about this Walk?’ ‘Why I think it looks very pleasant; if you are not afraid.’ ‘Not at all:’ cried he. ‘It’s windy, said Mr. G. C. very windy; — it will make you very blowsy, if you mind that.’ ‘I am going to Mrs. Vesey’s to night.’ ‘Nay, then, you can’t walk!’ ‘O, I should not mind that.’ ‘She would like you, perhaps, the better!’ ‘Very possibly, but I should not, for my own sake, chuse to try that; I only meant to say I should not mind that engagement, because she is so little punctual herself, that I need not scruple giving it up. Yet I have really taken a kind of fancy to her. She is so excessively good natured.’ ‘O, its impossible not to like her, though she is the most scatter-brained, blundering Creature in the World.’ ‘I heard a most curious dispute, a little while ago, at her House, between her & Dean Marlow,60 about marriage, whether old men were better married or single. Mrs. Vesey said an old man must be very unhappy, if he was not married. An old man, said the Dean, must be very unhappy if he is married; No, cried she, for if he is married, he can have Company! — Well, cried the Dean, & if he is single, he may go into Company: — Yes, but if he is married, he may have Company at his own House; — Ay, but if he is single, he may 58 Probably an unwelcome assignment to Plymouth. The Phillipses had been worrying about this possibility at least since the previous Sept. (see above, pp. 117–18). 59 Missing. 60 Richard Marlay (c.1728–1802), Dean of Ferns (Ire.), 1769; Bishop of Clonfert, 1787; Bishop of Waterford, 1795 (JL iii. 37; GM lxxii2 (1802), 691).

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get it at other people’s, — What, then, cried she, in great dismay, you don’t think Mr. Vesey the better for having me? —’ ‘What a curious Character she must be!’ said Miss Baker. ‘That is an excellent trait of it,’ said Mr. G. C. ‘O,— and when we were coming away, cried I, she asked 4 or 5 of us to stay supper: I was one of the Number: — but I had promised to go Home, & could not. However, it is so disagreeable to parade through a large Company, that I commonly stay among the last, before I can contrive to sneak round to ring the Bell: so it happened then, — & the Coach was not come, so I was obliged to wait. Sir Joshua Reynolds, | the Bishop of Killaloe, Dean Marlow, & Miss Georgiana Shipley were the party: & when the orders were given for supper, Mrs. Vesey, with great simplicity, said ‘Now I have got no supper for you, — I am afraid you will find nothing to Eat! To tell you the truth, I knew there was such a bad supper, that I was afraid of telling the servants you stayed; so I only went down to them, & said I think you had better put some more knives & Forks upon the Table, for it’s Ten to One but Mr. Vesey may keep some body! —’ They laughed heartily enough at this trait, which is really strongly characteristic of her simplicity & good nature & absurdity, the three striking principles of her composition. By the way, if you read any of these things to Capt. Philips, give my love to him, & a strict charge that he never repeat them, as I would not for the Universe have any one know I write these Journals. ‘Well, — but — said Mr. George Cambridge, when we had done Laughing about Mrs. Vesey, would you give me some little hint what this scold is to be about?’ Do you know, my dear Susy, I really believe, by his letting it keep so long, & his asking only for a hint, he imagined it was something I would not explain fully before Miss Baker? ‘Why for letting us come here!’ said I. He looked quite thunderstruck at this answer, for which I can assign no supposition but that he so much misunderstood me, as to imagine I meant for letting our visit be made at all, which, indeed, would have been an accusation to him that might well be an Humiliation to him. ‘I am sure it has been extremely inconvenient.’

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‘No, indeed, said he, now better understanding me, it was only a little unfortunate about my sisters, but else —’ ‘O, neither Mr. nor Mrs. Cambridge, interrupted I, expected us; they quite built upon your stopping us.’ ‘It was only, said Miss Baker, upon your own account.’ Mr. G: C. himself looked at a loss what to say. ‘We were not in the least expected, continued I, Mr. Cambridge | [At least one leaf is missing.]

them spirits — it has done them good.’ ‘But if they did not think so, cried I, why should You chuse to settle it?’ ‘Why, — but I did not suppose it had depended upon me, — I merely thought my Father’s saying to me, George, don’t let them come if it Rains, was meant to prevent my making a point of your coming.’ ‘Well, why there is something in this,’ cried I, appeasing my wrath.61 ‘O, now, cried he, leaning over Miss Baker, & clasping his Hands with animation, now You give me courage, I can speak! — I concluded my Father was only afraid of my doing mischief, & meant that if I met — met any of you any where, I should not unsettle any thing he had arranged with you for I took it for granted he had mentioned the Rain himself.’ ‘No, never. But I am quite satisfied now!’ ‘I thought he had only feared I should make some alteration in his schemes, by thinking I might be eager, — & desire you not to mind the Rain.’ ‘Well, there is more in that than in all you have said before! so now we’ll make .’62 She laughed, but looked very well pleased, & we dropt the subject. 61 Like the wrathful God of the Old Testament reconciling Himself to his people. See Paradise Lost, Bk. 3, where Christ offers himself as a sacrifice to propitiate the sins of humanity: ‘He to appease thy wrath, and end the strife / Of mercy and justice in thy face discerned, / Regardless of the bliss wherein he sat / Second to thee, offered himself to die / For Man’s offence’ (lines 406–10). 62 Proverbial. ‘To make hay while the sun shines’, i.e., ‘to lose no time, to seize or profit by opportunities’ (OED, s.v. ‘hay’ n.1 3).

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But what do you think of his Father’s fearing his eagerness? This Quarrel over, ‘Pray tell me, cried I, shall you be one of the Knights of the Golden Spur?’ ‘The Golden Spur?’ ‘Yes, — I hope you will be of the order.’ ‘Pray what order is it?’ ‘Why the Lady Waldegrave’s63 were affronted, lately, in the Park, by the mob, who followed them about, till they were forced to | take refuge in their carriage —’ ‘But what did they do to provoke this mob?’ ‘I cannot tell, but I suppose they were rather giddy , for so I have generally seen them: however, some Gentlemen, Mr. Wyndham64 among them, persuaded them, afterwards, not to mind the mob, & therefore they conquered Mrs. Keppel,65 who was with them, & left their carriage, & returned to the Park.’ ‘O, did they so! — Nay, then, —’ ‘Why then the only thing was which was most powerful, the Lady Waldegraves, or the mob, for this was a kind of bravery that made it a fair Contest. The Mob, however, again got the better, & the Gentlemen who attended the Ladies had a scuffle, & were a little beat; — upon which they have agreed to associate, & form an order, & be always in readiness in the service of the Fair, & call themselves the Knights of the Golden Spur:66 so I beg you’ll be one . 63 The three beautiful daughters of James Waldegrave, 2nd E. Waldegrave (1715– 63), and his wife Maria Walpole (1736–1807), niece of Horace Walpole, now Duchess of Gloucester: Lady Elizabeth Laura (1760–1816), m. (1782) George Waldegrave, 4th E. Waldegrave, 1784; Lady Charlotte Maria (1761–1808); and Lady Anna Horatia (1762–1801). See EJL iv. 66, 316. 64 Most likely William Windham (see above, p. 221 n. 32). Possibly the Hon. Charles William Wyndham (1760–1828), 3rd son of Charles (1710–63), 2nd E. of Egremont, and brother of George O’Brien Wyndham (1751–1837), 3rd E. In 1785, Walpole notes that he attended a party given by Laura Keppel (YW xxxiii. 482). In the same year, he was arrested for riot (although he claimed to be an innocent bystander) (YW xxv. 565). 65 Laura Walpole (c.1734–1813), niece of Horace Walpole, m. (1758) the Hon. Revd Frederick Keppel (1729–77), Canon of Windsor; Bishop of Exeter, 1762; Dean of Windsor, 1765. 66 A parodic reference to the papal Order of the Golden Militia, or the Golden Spur. Its membership, limited to 100 knights worldwide, consists only of ‘those who have distinguished themselves in an eminent degree, and either by feat of arms, or

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‘O, certainly, I’ll be Chaplain of the Order, or Prelate: I suppose they would not admit me as any thing else.’ ‘No; Chaplain will do vastly well. And you are thenceforth to be always ready, upon Call, in defence of distressed damsels.’ ‘But pray who is to decide what damsels are distressed?’ ‘O, — themselves, I suppose.’ ‘If the Lady Waldegraves & Miss Keppel,67 we shall have enough to do!’68 ‘O yes, they will keep you in pretty good | employment.’ ‘I remember a little while ago, at Ranelagh, they came to the paying place just as I did, & they were Laughing so violently, & so loud, they could not stand, but fairly leant against the Wainscoat, to Laugh on at their ease! & they said they had been Laughing just in the same manner all the way they came! Afterwards, I went into the Room just before them, & Lord Peterborough,69 & two or three men were standing by the entrance, & I heard them say I am sure those are the Waldegraves by that noise!’ ‘I believe they have been very much neglected in their educations, & as they are very beautiful,70 & much admired, their vanity has been too much for them.’ ‘I believe so; I remember, too, another Time, at Ranelagh, they were Laughing, & making Signs, & pointing, with two or by their writings, or by any other conspicuous work, have spread the Catholic faith and by their bravery have safeguarded, or by their learning made illustrious, the Church of God’ (‘Catholic Encyclopedia: Pontifical Decorations’ (Web)). 67 Laura Keppel (1765–98). In 1784 she eloped with the Hon. George Ferdinand Fitzroy (1761–1810), 2nd B. Southampton, 1797; M.P., army officer. Horace Walpole writes that ‘for such an exploit, her choice is not a very bad one.... Mrs Keppel has been persuaded to pardon her’ (YW xxv. 508). 68 Maria Walpole, who m. 2 (1766) William Henry (1743–1805), cr. (1764) D. of Gloucester, wrote to her aunt Jane Clement (c.1722–98) in May 1776 complaining of Laura Keppel’s treatment of the cousins (the three Waldegrave sisters and Miss Keppel): ‘Mrs Keppel is very good to my girls; but oh! my dear Aunt, why will Mrs Keppel always suppose that girls are disposed to do wrong? She writes me word that four girls are too much for any one person to take care of: four bad girls are certainly too great a charge, but four such girls as the Cousinhood, might be a pleasure instead of a constant state of anxiety as Mrs K. makes it. She writes as if they showed a perpetual propensity to behave ill! ... my sister certainly has not a good temper’ (YW xxxvi. 326). 69 Charles Henry Mordaunt (1758–1814), 5th E. of Peterborough, 1779. 70 Horace Walpole describes Laura Keppel, however, as ‘a beautiful girl, and more universally admired than her sister or cousins the Waldegraves’ (YW xxv. 508).

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three men, Wyndham among them, the whole Evening; not walking round with them, & talking, but making Signs, & Laughing from one corner of the Room to the other!’ ‘Pray, cried Miss Baker, was that Lady Waldegrave who went into Mourning for the Duke of Ancaster71 among them?’ ‘Did she go into Mourning for him?’ cried I. ‘Yes; said Mr. George C:, He had said civil things to her, such as men often do without any meaning, & she took it in her Head to fall in love with him; but he —’ | ‘Took it into his Head to die’ cried I.72 ‘Yes, & then she sent for his Heart! And desired to have returned to her a Locket of her own Hair, which she said he used to wear about his neck: but his Valet sent to enquire what was the Colour of the Hair, as he found so many Lockets, he could not distinguish which it might be! — However, as | [The bottom third of the leaf is cut away.]

up my Mind to another bad Day for to-morrow. I thought there was some Fête in agitation, by its Raining so furiously. And what is it to be for?’ ‘I can tell you that, cried I, for I have heard it just now; Somebody of the Name of Pitt, but nobody can tell whether he is any Relation or not, however, the Name is sufficient, was married last Autumn;73 so this Fête is in Compliment to the Wedding!’ Robert Bertie (1756–79), 4th D. of Ancaster, 1778. GOC (and presumably many other gossips about town) was mistaken about the Duke’s intentions. According to Horace Walpole, the Duke’s family acknowledged that he had meant to marry Lady Anna Horatia Waldegrave, and the Duchess Dowager of Ancaster approved ‘of my niece going into mourning, which she does for six months’ (letter to Horace Mann, 30 June 1779 (YW xxiv. 494)). A week later he wrote to Mann, ‘[t]he Duke of Ancaster is dead of a scarlet fever, contracted by drinking and rioting, at two and twenty. He was in love with my niece lady Horatia, the Duchess’s third daughter, and intended to marry her. She is a beautiful girl, like her mother, though not of so sublime a style of beauty. I much doubt whether she would have been happy with him, for though he had some excellent qualities, he was of a turbulent nature; and though of a fine figure, his manners were not noble’ (YW xxiv. 498–9). 73 Presumably referring to the wedding of William Morton Pitt (1754–1836), M.P. for Poole, on 26 Oct. 1782 to Margaret Gambier (d. 1818), youngest daughter of the late John Gambier, Esq., governor of the Bahamas (GM lii (1782), 503; HP). His father, John Pitt (c.1706–87), of Encombe, Dorset, was cousin of William Pitt the elder (Lord Chatham) and kinsman of George Morton Pitt (1693–1756), 71 72

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‘To a Wedding in last Autumn cried he; — where can you have heard this?’ ‘From Mrs. Cambridge; & she heard it from the Wax Chandler.’ ‘Well, he ought to know, to be sure; & I believe it from the badness of the Weather.’ He then asked me when I had seen Miss Streatfield? ‘Not this great while, I answered; indeed I ought to call upon her, & have intended it some Time, but some way or other, been prevented. I am in arrears with almost every body I know , & have been long, — & now I shall have them all leaving Town. —’ ‘And then it will be too late; cried he; & that will be a most happy excuse for you?’ ‘Why yes; for then the business must be deferred till next season.’ ‘You spoke just now of Miss Georgiana Shipley; do you know [The bottom third of the leaf is cut away.] [The top left-hand corner of the leaf (the start of the first three lines) is torn away]

after spending about an Hour in [torn away] he left it without having spoken to me. [torn away] first question was about You & Capt. Phillips. I told you were both well. ‘But where, cried he, is Captain Phillips?’ ‘At Chesington, sir.’ ‘But why do we never see him?.’ ‘Indeed, I don’t know.’ ‘Why he was never away so long as this before.’ ‘It is very long, indeed,’ said Mrs. Cambridge. ‘He might as well be at Plymouth for us: cried he. Do you know any reason why he never comes?’ governor of Fort St George (Madras) in India, who had bought an estate in Twickenham. The current owner of the estate was Sir George Pocock, who m. (1763) Sophia Pitt Drake (c.1731–67), widow of Commodore Digby Dent and stepdaughter of George Morton Pitt (Memorials of Twickenham, p. 213; HP; ODNB; IGI). Coincidentally Sophia’s half-sister Harriot (1745–63) had m. (1762) Brownlow Bertie, uncle of the 4th D. of Ancaster, who succeeded his nephew as 5th D. in 1779.

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‘O dear no! — accident, I am sure, or perhaps business that I may not have heard of .’ Soon after he asked if we should like to Walk, to which we most readily agreed. The Day was very fine, though uncommonly Windy. Mrs. Cambridge declined accompanying us: & Mr. Cambridge did the Honours by himself. The place looked, indeed, infinitely beautiful, but it would be simple to give you any account of it, for much as it seems beautified since you saw it, even a Winter view is a thousand Times more clear & intelligible than any written Description. Mr. Cambridge was in excellent spirits, & spared no pains to shew every thing to the utmost advantage. We had not strolled far, before we were followed by Mr. George. No sooner did his Father perceive him, than hastily coming up to my side, he began a separate conversation with me, & leaving his son the charge of all the rest, he made me Walk off with him from them all. It was really a droll manœuvre, but he seemed to enjoy it highly, &, though he said | not a Word of his design, I am sure [end of line torn away] of his own old trick to his son, when [torn away] in saying to the Relater ‘Tell the [torn away] And if George was in as good humour with his party, as his Father was with his Tête à Tête, why all were well pleased. As soon as we had fairly got away from them, Mr. Cambridge, with the kindest smiles of satisfaction, said ‘I give you my Word I never was more pleased at any thing in my life, than I am now at having you here to Day!’ I thanked him very heartily, & very seriously assured him how much I missed him in London, both at Home, where he used so often to call, & at all the Conversationes, where I used so often to meet him. And nothing, I am sure, can be more true. I told him, too, that I had felt so glad at seeing him again, after so long an absence, that I had really half a mind to have made up to him myself, & shook Hands. He looked quite delighted: indeed his kindness for me is excessive: ‘You cannot imagine, said he, how you flatter me! — & there is nothing, I do assure you, of which I am prouder than seeing you have got the better of your fear of me, & feeling that I am not afraid of you.’ ‘Of me, sir? — but how should you be?’

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‘Nay, I give you my Word, if I was not conscious of the greatest purity of mind, I should more fear You than any body in the World!’ Which had the greater Compliment, Susy, he, or me? ‘You know every thing, every body, he continued, so wonderfully well! You make all your Characters say & do exactly what such Characters | would &, must say & do. I can’t think, I can’t imagine how you can be so very clever! Whatever would be best to be thought of, either place or thing, that you are sure to think of, whether it is an Assembly Room, or Broad St. Giles! — I am now reading Evelina, — I read you every Day constantly! — When I cannot see you, I read you: for the next thing to your Conversation is your Books.’ How charming, Dearest Susy, that this prevention74 still subsists! I should begin, now, to think losing it a great hardship. He then went on, talking over Evelina, as if this had been the first Time he had ever mentioned it: & it would be difficult to say which he praised most extravagantly, the Book or the author. We then, I know not how, fell into discussing the characters of forward & flippant women; & I told him it was my fortune to be, in general, a very great favorite with them, though I felt so little gratitude for that honour, that the smallest discernment would shew them it was all thrown away. ‘Why it was very difficult, said he, for a woman to get rid of those forward characters, without making them her Enemies. But with a man it is different. Now I have a very peculiar happiness, which I will tell you. I never took very much to a very amiable woman, but I found she took also to me, & I have the good fortune to be in the perfect confidence of some of the first women in this kingdom: but then there are a great many women that I dislike, & think very impertinent & foolish, — &, do you know, they all dislike me too! — they absolutely cannot bear me! — Now I don’t know, of those two things, which is the greatest happiness.’ How characteristic this! do you not hear him saying it? — | We then talked over, by name, the people we meant, each with the utmost reliance that all we said would be held sacred.

74

i.e., ‘a prejudice, bias, or prepossession’ (OED, s.v. ‘prevention’ n. 8).

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He is ready, indeed, to confide to me his most secret opinions of every body he knows. When we had strolled through the Wood in coming round by the meadow we nearly met, though on the inside the Hedge, the Party we had thus shirked. Mr. Cambridge took no notice of this, but proceeded in his Chat & his Walk, as if they had not belonged to us. At last, however, Mr. George, looking over a little Gate that led into the meadow, hallowed out to his Father ‘shall we come out this way to you, sir?’ ‘No, no, answered he, go on! — We shall come round t’other way, & join you, by & by.’ And thus, having dismissed them, he very composedly led me away, — not the other round to join them, but to a seat under a clump of Trees, where we coolly & comfortably reposed ourselves: & Mr. G: C. had still all upon his own Hands the doing the Honours to the whole set, except me. We now renewed our conversation upon various of our acquaintance; particularly Mr. Pepys, Mr. Langhton, & Mrs. Montagu. We stayed in this Field, sitting & sauntering, near an Hour. We then went to a style, just by the River side, where the Prospect is very beautiful, & there we again seated ourselves. Nothing could be more pleasant, though the Wind was so high, I was almost blown into the Water. He spoke, again, highly of my Susan, — & said kind things of Charlotte, whose good humoured Countenance he admired. While we were here, the Party suddenly came upon us; — & Mr. G: C., who was foremost, advancing with quickness up to me, | exclaimed ‘How well you manage with the Wind! — but how it has blown you about! — and yet you bear it so patiently, — I never in my life saw any body manage so well with it.’ I did not say you are partial, sir! — but I thought it. This was the first Time he spoke to me. ‘O, I like it, cried I, — for though it is a little troublesome, it is very refreshing, & the heat would be intolerable without it.’ We now went on, all together; not, I believe, much to the joy of Mr. Cambridge; who meant nothing less than such a junction. I whisked away from Mr. G: C. the moment I had answered him; & walked as close as possible to the edge of the Water. He kept on with the Group.

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We had not continued thus more than 10 minutes, before Mr. Cambridge again came to my side, &, quickening his pace, again led me on, leaving them once more to themselves. He now traced to me great part of his life & conduct in former Times, & told me a thousand excellent anecdotes of himself & his associates. He summed them all up in a way that gave me equal esteem & regard for him, in saying he found society the only thing for lasting happiness, — that if he had not met a Woman he could permanently love, he must, with every other advantage, have been miserable; but that such was his good fortune, that ‘To & at this moment, he said, there is no sight so pleasing to me as seeing Mrs. Cambridge enter a Room! And that after having been married to her for 40 Years! — And the next most pleasing sight to me, is an amiable woman.’ He then assured me that almost all the felicity of his life both had consisted, & did still consist, in Female society. It was, indeed, he said, very rare, but there was nothing like it. ‘And if agreeable women, cried I, are rare, much more so, I think, | are agreeable men. At least, among my acquaintance; they are very few, indeed, that are highly agreeable.’ ‘Yes, & when they are so, said he, it is difficult for you to have their society with any intimacy or comfort; there are always so many reasons why you cannot know them.’ Ah, thought I, your family would have taught me that, had I never suspected nor believed it. He very kindly regretted seeing so little of me, & said ‘This is nothing! such a visit as this; — If you could come, now, & spend a month with us, — that is what I want! — if you could but come for a month! —’ We continued chatting till we came to the end of the meadow: & there we stopt, & again were joined by the Company. Mr. Cambridge now proposed the Water, to which I eagerly agreed. He sent Mr. G: C. directly to the House, for a man to row. My Father seconded the plan, — but my mother did not chuse it. We would then have given it up, but Mr. Cambridge said ‘Why George can stay & take care of Mrs. Burney.’ She faintly opposed, & he faintly offered it: we then all proceeded to the Boat. Mr. Cambridge made apologies to my mother, but said his son should shew her about the place, &

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we would not long be away. She then again desired to be left alone. Mr. G: C. then, hastening to the Boat, said to his Father, ‘Mrs. Burney says she will be so good as to do without me, — so —’ ‘No, no, George, cried he, you must stay with her.’ ‘Certainly, sir, —’ cried he, with as good a grace as possible. And then he Handed us into the Boat, & we rowed off. He called out to his Father ‘You must not be out long, sir, for Dinner will soon be ready.’ & then he resigned himself to the Lady . We had an exceeding pleasant excursion, we went up the | River beyond the Duke of Montagus,75 & the Water was smooth & delightful. Methinks I should like much to sail from the very source, to the mouth of the Thames. When we returned at the foot of the steps leading to the Dining Parlour, we were met by my mother. We stood there some time, admiring the prospect. I know not, indeed, but for the necessity of following the rest, when I should have gone into the House. Just as we had ascended the steps, I was exclaiming ‘What a sweet scene!’ when I was answered by Mr. G: C., who, opening the Glass Door, said ‘And here is another scene which I hope you will not dislike.’ Not understanding him, I looked round, — but I found he meant the Dinner by what he added, — ‘’Tis a scene, though, which I fancy you never take any interest in.’ I assured him he was mistaken, & we all went to the Table. I sat between Mr. Cambridge & my Father . During Dinner, Mr. G: C. was extremely attentive to me, — enquiring what I would have, ordering the servants to carry me sallad, &c, — & exclaiming, when I refused ‘What! done already! —’ While he was wholly regardless of all the others. I had now a good deal of Talk with Mrs. Cambridge, & chiefly about my dear Susan, whose Health, & her Child’s, she enquired about very minutely. Mr. Cambridge told an absurd story of Dr. Monso,76 a strange gross man, who, at 75 The villa at the foot of Richmond Hill of George Brudenell (after 1749 Montagu) (1712–90), 4th E. of Cardigan, cr. (1766) D. of Montagu. 76 Messenger Monsey (1694–1788), physician to Chelsea Hospital. He was known for his eccentricity and coarse manners and fell out with David Garrick after

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Mr. Garrick’s Table, called out to a very timid young woman to help him to some Greens; she did her office slow & awkwardly, & he called out again, in a loud Voice ‘You trollop, some Greens, I say! —’ The man, it seems, was a humourist! — O from such humourists Heaven shield us! I would rather live with the Dullest of the Dull. But when he had told the Tale, turning to me, he said ‘Now if you were so spoken to! — What would you do?’ | Every body shouted at the Notion. ‘If he was to meet Miss Burney, he continued, nothing more likely than that he would make such an address to her. And I only wonder which way she would look!’ ‘I should like, cried Mr. G: C. to see it: —’ Mere puff, this! — if you had seen his Face while the thing was only talked of, you would have been sure he would have found no fun in it: for there was an interest, & an agitation in his look that was noticed by Charlotte as well as me, & that convinced me he would have had more resentment than sport in such a scene. ‘But what would she do?’ cried Mr. Cambridge, ‘Sink, I believe,’ said my Father. ‘I wonder what would become of the operation of helping; said Mr. G: C. — how would that go on?’77 ‘Go on? cried my Father, — no, she would go off,78 I fancy?’ I let them settle it all their own way. ‘Dr Burney, said Mr. Cambridge, a little later, I have had my Horse 3 Times saddled, on purpose to go & wish your son joy of his marriage, but the Weather is so hot, I have not had courage to mount it.’ How obliging & good this! Soon after Dinner, Mr. G: C. was again called out. He was busy I fancy in preparing for his Journey, which is not only to

a quarrel (ODNB). He is probably the unnamed dinner guest of the Garricks’ who swore at a lady, described in EJL iii. 390, where the editors conjecturally identify the guest as William Kenrick. 77 i.e., ‘proceed’ (OED, s.v. ‘go’, v. 86 ‘go on’ e). 78 Several meanings of the word might apply: ‘to depart (often implying suddenness or haste)’, ‘to pass into unconsciousness’, or ‘to reprimand angrily’ (OED, s.v. ‘go’ v. 85. ‘go off’ a, h, and n).

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Oxford, where he has a fellowship, but to his living in Hampshire.79 When we had done munching Fruit, & prating, Mrs. Cambridge took us, my mother, Charlotte & me, up stairs, & we toured our old Rooms that we inhabited in February. ‘How happy I should be, said Mrs. Cambridge, to have the same party in here again! Then she shewed us 2 small heads of her 2 sons,80 — both of them wretchedly done. We then went out upon the Lawn, where we already found | my Father & Mr. Cambridge. Mr. G: C. had left them to write a Letter. We had scarce moved 10 paces, before Mr. Cambridge again walked off with me. He took me to a seat that had a very fine view of Petersham Woods, & there we renewed our confabulation. He then told me again how much he wanted me to come to Twickenham for a month. I am sure he is sincere, for, indeed, he says nothing of that sort, without meaning more than he says. I evaded any positive answer; but told him, in general, I should soon leave Town, & that I should go, this summer, to Chesington & to Farnham. ‘This Mrs. North, said I, is the most peremtory woman in the World, & will not be denied.’ ‘She never liked me, said he, very calmly, she is one of those Women I spoke to you of, that I am so happy as to be disagreeable to. Only for George’s sake, I think it right to be civil to her, because the Bishop has so much in his power. George called there yesterday, &, upon that account, proposed a civility for Mrs. North, which was that she might come & ride about here, & see the Place, if she liked it.’

79 No record has been found of GOC having a fellowship at Oxford or a living in Hampshire. He graduated with an M.A. from Merton College on 30 June 1781, and his earliest known ecclesiastical office was the rectorship of St Michael’s, Mile End, Colchester, to which he succeeded in 1791 (Altick, p. 34). 80 FB is perhaps unaware at this time of the existence of the eldest son, Richard Owen Cambridge, who had gone to Eton, married, and had a son, also named Richard Owen, who was born in 1766 and was buried at Twickenham in 1775. In her journal for 28 Apr. 1784 (Berg), FB writes ‘Mr. Cambridge called: in high spirits, & gay humour.... He told me, in confidence, he was to carry back Mrs. Cambridge, his son’s widow.’ Presumably, this son had died before FB became acquainted with the Cambridge family.

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A wondrous stretch of civility, to be sure, Mrs. North will think that! ‘But when, asked he, do you go to Chesington?’ ‘Indeed, I don’t know myself.’ 81 ‘Mrs. Cambridge & I intend going there, to see your sister. My sons have both got Gigs, now, & so they can drive us.’ [2-3 words cut away] how happy you would be in their visit. | [The top of the leaf is cut away.]

for a little while, & then Mr. G. C. came out across the Lawn. I saw him stand, for a minute, looking at each party; considering, I suppose, which Trio he should make a quartetto. The decision was in our favour. No sooner, however, did he take a seat next my Father, than Mr. Cambridge, lowering his voice, again renewed a separate conversation with me. It was comical to excess his avidity to keep me all to himself! [xxxxx 6 lines] tearing away a rose Tree to let me have a passage another way, — again led me off! — He now shewed me, saying I deserved to see every thing, a note from Mr. Gibbon, sent to engage himself to Twickenham on the unfortunate Day he got his Ducking.82 It is the most affected little piece of writing I ever saw. He shall attend him, he says, at Twickenham & upon the Water, as soon as the Weather is propitious, & the Thames, that amiable Creature, is ready to receive him. Nothing, to be sure, could be so apt as such a reception as that ‘amiable Creature’ happened to give him! Mr. Cambridge said it was ‘God’s revenge against conceit’! We had [The bottom of the leaf is cut away. The editors tentatively insert here the following two paragraph fragments, Diary MSS II (Berg). SJ visited Bennet Langton at Rochester between 10 and 23 July (LSJ iv. 165 n. 5). The son referred to would be George Langton (b. 1772).] 81 FB travelled to Chessington early in Aug. as indicated by a letter from HLT to FB (Berg), 11 Aug. 1783: ‘More Commissions my dearest; Oh no, no, you are at Chessington, so you are’. That FB remained at Chessington until early Oct. is indicated by two letters from HLT to FB (Berg), one dated 29 Sept. and enquiring ‘where you go from Chesington’ and the other dated 8 Oct. with the Chessington address crossed out and replaced with ‘St Martin’s Street’. 82 FBA writes that ‘the celebrated Gibbon ... in stepping too lightly from, or to a boat of Mr. Cambridge’s ... slipt into the Thames; whence, however, he was intrepidly and immediately rescued, with no other mischief than a wet jacket, by one of that fearless, water-proof race, denominated, by Mr. Gibbon, the amphibious family of the Cambridges’ (Mem. ii. 341).

July 1783

389

He began talking of Dr. Johnson, & asking after his present Health. ‘He is very much, I answered recovered, & now out of Town, at Mr. Langhton’s. And there, I hope he will entertain him with enough of Greek!’ ‘Yes, said Mr. Cambridge, & make his son repeat the Hebrew alphabet to him!’ | Thursday, 17th. I went with my dear Father to Day to Dine & spend the Evening at Lady Mary Duncan’s. How vexatious never to have made this visit, till it was necessarily the last in which I could see Pacchierotti there! He was in such good humour, & more tolerable spirits than I have lately seen him in. Lady Shaub,83 mother to Mrs. Lock, & Miss Shaub,84 her sister, & Sir John Elliot,85 made all the Dinner party. The two Miss Bulls came in the Evening. Pacchierotti did not sing one song accompanied, but he sang several little airs, & Ballads, English, Scotch, French & Italian, most deliciously. I had a very agreeable Day, & I saw he was quite delighted that I made one of the party, & that added to my delight almost its sum total, — though add is a little Irish there.86 O how the Miss Bulls do idolise him! They profess thinking him quite angelick, & declared they should even look upon it as a favour to be beat by him! I laughed violently at this extravagance, & vowed I would tell him. They desired no better; — We called him to us, — but I was really ashamed myself, when I found they were not; he leant down his Head very patiently for an explanation. ‘Do, tell him!’ cried they, both together, — ’ ‘What? cried he, what does the sweet Miss Burney say?’ ‘O lord!’ cried one, — ‘O dear! cried the other, — how he speaks to Miss Burney!’ ‘Miss Burney, cried he, quite warmly & undaunted, — is a Treasure! —’

83 Marguerite de Ligonier du Buisson (c.1713–93), m. (1) ___ de Pesne; m. (2) Sir Luke Schaub (1690–1758), diplomat. In 1758, she was given an apartment in Hampton Court Palace where she lived until her death (JL iii. 2 n. 6; ODNB). 84 Amelia Henrietta Schaub (1731–1829), elder sister of Frederica Augusta Locke, m. (30 Oct. 1783) Edward Brereton (1728–1801) (IGI; GM xcix1 (1829), 188; will, PCC, prob. 23 Feb. 1829). 85 Sir John Eliot (1733x6–1786), physician to the Prince of Wales; cr. (1776) Kt, (1778) Bt (ODNB). 86 i.e., a little muddled, illogical.

390

July 1783

‘O dear! — only hear him, Lady Mary! exclaimed Miss Catherine Bull, he says Miss Burney is a Treasure!’ ‘Well? — & is it not true?’ said she, graciously. | ‘O, Lord Yes! said she, half laughing, yet in a repining voice, but I don’t like to hear him say so!’ This was our sort of Chat almost all the Evening, with various imitations, & light summer singing from Pacchierotti. Miss Bulls made me make many promises about our future acquaintance, & Lady Mary was all graciousness & intimacy. Friday, July 18th. I called in the morning upon my dear Mrs. Delany, who received me with the utmost kindness, & whom I really love even more than I admire. I appointed to spend Tuesday [22 July] with her. And so I would any other Day she had named, or even any Week. It is sweet, it is consolotary [sic] to me to be honoured with so much of her favour as to see her always eager to fix a Time for our next & next meeting. I feel no cares with her: I think myself with the true Image & representative of my loved Grand mother Sleepe , & I seem as if I could never do wrong, while I keep her in my mind: & as if to suffer it were immaterial, if only in Worldly considerations. These thoughts, & this composure, alas, will not last long! — but it is pleasant to feel it even if for a few Hours. I wish you knew her. I would not give up my knowledge of her for the universe. Nothing has so truly calmed my mind since its late many disturbances as her society: the religious turn which kindness & wisdom from Old Age gives to all commerce with it, brings us out of anxiety & misery a thousand Times more successfully than gaiety or dissipation have power to do. I called also on Miss Baker. & she & I would have talked about the Miss Cambridges, but her mother is so loquacious, we could scarce talk about thing: & listening did entirely pay our silence. I settled to drink Tea with her on Wednesday [23 July]. | Saturday, July 19th. This morning I had a very great gratification: a Letter was brought into my Room, & the maid said it came from Mr. Cambridge, but that the messenger was gone. I opened — & will copy it.87 87 FBA later added the sentence: ‘The lines were suggested by my Father’s Portrait in Barry’s great Painting.’

July 1783

391

‘When Cloe’s picture was to Venus shewn, Surprise’d, the Goddess took it for her own. Prior.88 When Burney’s picture89 was to Gibbon shewn, The pleas’d Historian took it for his own. ‘For who, with shoulders dry, & powder’d locks, E’er bath’d but I?’ He said; & rapt his Box. Barry reply’d, ‘My lasting Colours shew What Gifts the Painter’s pencil can bestow. With Nymphs of Thames, those amiable Creatures,90 I plac’d the charming minstrel’s smiling features: And let not, then, his bonne fortune concern ye, For there are nymphs enough for You & Burney. Is it not excellently comical? I like it excessively, & I like being entrusted with it yet more. I am sure he knows I confide with you every thing, — but I dare say no further, so you must take all upon yourself & dear Capt. P. — who must swear not to acknowledge having seen the lines, if he values my future Fame & Honour. I must now drop Journalizing, for no one Day has been particularly worth recording, & so I will bring you to the 88 ‘Venus Mistaken’, The Literary Works of Matthew Prior, ed. H. Bunker Wright and Monroe K. Spears, 2nd edn (Oxford, 1971), i. 277, lines 1–2. 89 ‘Commerce, or the Triumph of the Thames’, one of the paintings in Barry’s exhibition (see above, p. 353 n. 96), in which CB is depicted with Sir Francis Drake, Sir Walter Raleigh, John Cabot, and Capt. James Cook amidst a group of water nymphs rising from the river. Horace Walpole writes of it that ‘Doctor Burney is not only swimming in his clothes, but playing on a harpsichord, a new kind of watermusic’ (YW xxix. 300). FBA writes that the painting ‘caused no small diversion to the friends of the Doctor; and, perhaps, to the public at large’ because ‘Mr. Barry, after a formal declaration that his picture of the Triumph of the Thames, which was painted for the Society of Arts, should be devoted exclusively to immortalizing the eminent dead, placed, in the watery groupes of the renowned departed, Dr. Burney, then full of life and vigour’ (Mem. ii. 341). Barry explained that ‘As music is naturally connected with matters of joy and triumph, and that according to all necessary propriety, the retinue of the Thames could not appear without an artist in this way, I was happy to find that there was no necessity for my co-operating with those who seem inclined to disgrace our country by recurring to foreigners, whilst we can boast a native, so eminently distinguished for his musical abilities as doctor Burney’ (An Account of a Series of Pictures in the Great Room of the Society of Arts, Manufactures and Commerce, at the Adelphi, by James Barry, R.A. (London, 1783); qtd. in Scholes ii. 14– 15). The painting is reproduced in Scholes ii. facing p. 14, plate 23. 90 See above, p. 388.

392

July 1783

present Time by a general abridgement of things as I recollect them. Pacchierotti is gone; — & I most provokingly, missed seeing him at his leave-taking visit, which has vexed me exceedingly. | [At least one leaf is missing.]

Three meetings in Four days, — not one of which he91 might not have avoided with ease, — as well as the Friday shirk. 92 — His spirits, too, once more restored, — his looks recovered, — & his embarrassment conquered! For this Day there was none, — he had the highest Colour all the Time in his Cheeks, but it seemed the glow of pleasure & gaiety. He has not spoken to me so entirely without confusion once before since my fatal Journey to Chesington.93 From that Time, indeed, to this morning, he has been grave, absent, embarrassed, or distant, commonly; &, when by losing his caution, or his dejection, he has been chatty & communicative, it has, still, never been without some apparent restraint, or uncomfortable consciousness, till now; for even when animated, he has not been gay, nor when spirited, looked happy. That, however, was the true epithet for his Countenance this morning, — Countenance, voice, and manner — all spoke glee, good humour, & vivacity. Account to me, if possible, for this change not only in him, but his conduct. This sudden readiness to come to the House, after an apparently voluntary estrangement, — whence can it proceed? This determination to promote my intercourse with Miss Baker, what is that for? Does he mean, now, to be once more upon that footing in the family he mentioned to Mrs. Thrale & does he intend to visit once more in the House as if nothing has happened? Yet, if once he thought it proper to fly, what has past lately to alter that opinion? Perplexed I am eternally — but not more than perplexed, I thank Heaven! — if my Heart were seriously touched, — my dear Susan, these inconsistencies & uncertainties would tear 91 92 93

GOC. See above, p. 362 n. 22. In Apr., when SC was dying.

July 1783

393

it to pieces. I am truly happy in being of a Nature so little inflammable for Love, though so ardent in Friendship. To be passive is, as yet at least, as far as I have felt — & even that only to Mr. G. C. |

310

[Chessington, ? September 1783]

To Hester Maria Thrale ALS (Houghton), ? Sept. 1783 3 single sheets 8vo, 5 pp. Addressed: Miss Thrale, Bath

In truth, my dear Miss Thrale, I must acknowledge myself far more afflicted than astonished at the contents of your Letter.94 I have been longing this great while to hear from yourself how things went on, but knew not which way to beg you would acquaint me with any particulars. I have often repented that I had not entreated you to write to me before we parted:95 — yet I had then hoped matters would have taken a quieter, happier turn. — I could not, indeed, have believed, at a distance, the miserable encrease of all that distress I had so much too soon flattered myself was diminishing. Never, however, my dear Miss Thrale, apologise for writing to me, upon any subject, for I must always be happy to see your Hand, & to be assured you do not wholly forget me. You do me but justice in relying upon my inviolable secrecy & discretion, & I have known you too long & too intimately to have the least fear or doubt of yours. I shall write therefore, with the same openness & trust you have done yourself. | Your account of your beloved Mother, though nothing more than I can gather from every Letter she writes me herself, makes me quite wretched for her, & gives me at the same Time the sincerest pity for you. Good God, what an infatuation has seized her! how strange, how incurable! Oh how 94 95

Missing. In Apr., when HLT and her family moved from Argyll Street to Bath.

394

? September 1783

much exultation should I have lost, had I foreseen this Time when you came to me with the joyful news that all was over!96 — You tell me you know she is determined to marry him. Trusted by her, however much against my will, I must never have told you this, but at the same Time, I cannot deny it: She never writes without confirming it, though I always pretend not to understand her, & have repeatedly entreated that if she will not listen to my advice, she will forbear telling me her designs. Your proposal of speaking to her at once, & bringing matters to a crisis, seems kind to all parties — & yet, the step to which it will lead is so utterly wrong, so opposite to All I can endure to think of, so contradictory to all I have incessantly exhorted & supplicated in turn — that I cannot bring myself to second it. | Yet that something should be done seems really necessary — & if she is so bent upon her scheme — why, as you say, wear out herself & you for no end? — how can she suffer herself, noble-minded as she is, to be thus duped by ungovernable passions! — O Miss Thrale, live single for-ever, rather than first marry with that conscious indifference for which your poor Mother pays so dearly & so late! Had she consulted her inclinations when young & not then have scorned & derided all personal preference, she would now look forward with prudence, & back with affection.97 Upon the whole, though I don’t like your consulting Mr Seward, the case is so desperate, that it seems the least bad thing to try. Some thing, perhaps, may occur to him, that we, too deeply interested to see things clearly, may have missed. She has much regard for him, & had rather he should know her affairs than any other person. Indeed her present dreadful state demands the utmost circumspection in whom should be consulted, for the least addition of wrath | to her present feelings, might have consequences I dare not think of. She proposed consulting Mr S: herself; & unluckily, I advised her 96 See Thraliana, 29 Jan. 1783: ‘I flew to my Daughter’s bed in the morng [27 Jan.] & told her my resolution to resign my own; my dear, my favourite purposes; and to prefer my Children’s Interest to my Love’ (i. 559). 97 Referring of course to HLT’s loveless match with Henry Thrale.

? September 1783

395

not, thinking it would be merely spreading the affair for nothing. As you say he is acquainted with it, I shall, in my next Letter,98 counsel her to speak out to him, — & I think, then, you had best talk with him openly, state the affair, & let him negociate between you. You can be no worse. He is benevolent & good natured; & if anybody can think of any compromise, he will.99 Your own plan seems to me too hazardous — too big with important consequences for trial. Yet I wish you much to come to some explanation, & greatly approve your desire of it. Only you cannot be too cautious, for a thousand reasons. She presses me extremely to come to Bath,1 &, if I were mistress of my own Time, I should not have waited even to answer your Letter. But as that journey is very uncertain, don’t wait a moment in your operations with expecting it. If your own scheme appears to you better, don’t scruple following it. But I earnestly entreat you to let me hear as soon as possible what you decide upon. My best prayers for the poor misguided Sufferer, & for you & your sisters will attend your Trial, & I shall be truly anxious to hear your resolution, —

Missing. HLT wrote in Thraliana, 23 Oct.: ‘Seward is come to Bath; by compassionate Attention to my Illness, and serious anxiety for my Recovery; by repeated Offers of Service proceeding from cordial Friendship, he has at length persuaded me to trust him with the Secret of my Love for Piozzi: he will assist us I am sure, & smooth the Difficulties in our Passage to each other’ (i. 574). The following week she wrote (HLT to FB, 1 Nov. 1783 (Berg)): ‘If you knew the Agonies of my Soul you would come to me; Mr Seward’s being here is not the same Thing at all: he sometimes jokes, & sometimes teizes me, I dare not disoblige him by talking in another Stile when he is in a merry humour — — He is Beneficence personified, that he is; but willing to assist, he is more willing to part us; and is in haste for Decision to rid himself of the very Business he plunged into from that restless Curiosity after the Future, & weariness of the Present which impelled him. — eager to begin a Thing, equally eager to end it any way, I tremble at his Precipitation, and scarcely dare trust him, tho’ I love honour; and am boundlessly obliged to him.’ 1 See, e.g., HLT to FB, 29 Sept. 1783 (Berg): ‘I am sorry you do not long to see me; and am tired of swearing that you are the only Creature in the World (save one) that I would wish to see: I am serious my Dearest Friend, and most sacredly believe that your Company would console me, & that nothing else can.... the Instant it is convenient to you, and will not produce any disagreable ado among your Family & Friends, I must hope you will come hither — Shall I fetch you? I would with Pleasure’. 98 99

396

? September 1783

I am my dear Miss Thrale, Believe me, affectionately yours FB.2 P.S. You say you know my good will to your cause, — you know, too, my strong and faithful affection for your dear Mother, — these two things joined, must tell you how uneasily I shall wait your answer. Direct to me here3 — no, — that may excite wonder. — You should have had this answer immediately, but I had no means till now of sending it by your direction. I would I could see you all! & endeavour to soothe my poor unhappy, ungovernable yet ever beloved friend into something at least more like calmness; — as well as to consult & consider with you upon all you have suggested. She has long been as dear to me as a sister, & her wretchedness is a perpetual open wound to me. She is not now herself, — O no! — bear with her as you can, dear Miss Thrale, for highly, capitally as she has been to blame, her sufferings are far beyond her errors. I grieve truly for you all round! —

311

[St Martin’s Street, 3 October 1783]

To Susanna Burney Phillips AL incomplete (Diary MSS II, Berg, paginated 1829–[30]), 3 Oct. 1783 Single sheet 4to, 2 pp. Annotated (by FBA): Journey from Chesington to Town. Fielding’s Dramatic Works. 3d Oct r

Ah my Susy — how I miss you already! — how I want you by my side — I have been repeating, internally, all Day long these heart-felt lines — I priz’d ev’ry Hour that past by Beyond all that had pleas’d me before,

2 3

This valedictory line is squeezed into the bottom of the page. i.e., to Chessington.

3 October 1783

397

But now they are gone! — & I sigh And I grieve that I priz’d them no more —4 for I seem dissatisfied with myself, & as if I had not made the most of being with you. — Yet I am sure I cannot tell how I could have made more, — Were I but certain of meeting you again in any decent Time! — but I have a thousand fears that something will interfere & prevent that happiness. — And there is nothing like being with you, my Susy, — to me nothing in the World! — That kind Kitty! — I found a Basket filled with all sort of good things from her; — I believe she has determined I never shall be ill again; or at least have no illness for which she has not prepared | a remedy. Really between her kindness & the dear Capitano’s Cosmetics, I shall expect to become stout & beautiful. I don’t know which will happen first, & I am determined not to ask which is most probable. My Father & I began first upon Berquin, to drive you all a little out of our Heads. And then, when we were a little soothed by his feeling & elegant writing, we had recourse to Pasquin,5 to put us in better spirits. And so we laughed. But I must own I too frequently meet with disgust in all Fielding’s Dramatic Works, to laugh with a good Heart even at his Wit, excellent as it is: & I should never, myself, think it worth wading through so much dirt to get at. Where any of his best strokes are picked out for me, or separately quoted, I am always highly pleased, & can grin most cordially: but where I hear the bad with the good, it preponderates too heavily to suffer my mind to give the good fair play. [The rest of the letter is missing.]

4 Cf. William Shenstone, ‘A Pastoral Ballad’ (1733), Pt 1, lines 21-4 in Poetical Works (London, 1780), ii. 50. 5 Henry Fielding, Pasquin, a dramatick satire on the times; being the rehearsal of two plays, viz. a comedy call’d the Election; and a tragedy call’d the Life and death of Common-Sense. It was first performed at the Haymarket, 5 Mar. 1736, and published by J. Watts at Wild Court near Lincoln’s Inn Fields (London Daily Post, 3 Mar. 1736; Country Journal, 6 Mar. 1736; LS 3 i. 558).

312

St Martin’s Street, 25 October [1783]

To Hester Maria Thrale ALS ( Houghton), 25 Oct. 1783 3 single sheets 8vo, 5 pp. seal Addressed: Miss Thrale, Bath

Octr 25th St Martin’s Street.

Certainly, most certainly, my dear Miss Thrale, I could not join in Mr. Seward’s shocking sentence, that you should sooner see the poor self-deluded Mrs. T: in the state he speaks of, than contribute to relieving her from it her own way!6 — Repugnant to all our thoughts, all our hopes, & all our judgments as her own way is, I should think you unnatural & impenetrable, & myself savage & barbarous, to carry our antipathy to her views to such fatal lengths. O what a situation it is, where an evil so desperate is the only alternative that can be yet worse than compliance! — I am amazed at Mr. Seward, — I thought him softer minded. His surprise, his aversion, his horrour of such a scheme, were all but of course, because he is Mrs. Thrale’s Friend, — & as such, must revolt from all things that lead to her disgrace & 6 See HLT to FB (Berg), 3 Dec. 1783: ‘When [Seward] came first hither ... he sought every Opportunity to teize me out of a Confession I had no mind to make, but by urgent Intreaties, & repeated Promises of Service — he gained it. Well! The First Breach of Trust he could be guilty of, he committed instantly, & ran with the Story to Queeney from whom I had insisted on his concealing it.... I am sure that he sees as plainly as I feel, that the Alternative is either Death or Piozzi; yet he was not sooner in London than he wrote word that “you & he were of opinion I must sacrifice all my Hopes Coûte qui Coûte.” to wch I replied — naturally enough — “that the Sacrifice had been already made, & the Costs were o’paying as fast as they could.” ... He is an exceeding odd Man, & loves some great Ado; would be happy to ... hear that I had destroyed my Life by some desperate Act — he has a taste for Suicide, & recommends it.... He knows as well as you know, that I am & have been content to bear Absence, Anxiety, & Affliction, rather than gratify my Wishes at the expence of my duty; but he knows too that I do it in hope of Release, & that I shall at length be dismissed from such Misery to a state of Consolation in this World, or Happiness in the next.’

25 October 1783

399

downfall: but to | tell her Daughter to be passive, though she expire before her Eyes, is surely stretching his sense of propriety into inhumanity. And so, because for 6 months you have been so wretched, you may continue so 6 years? Your inability to shew him the cruelty of such a notion again surprises me. It seems to me that however eagerly I would try to save any poor Creature from falling into a Fire, I should be yet more active to snatch any one already there out of it. But perhaps he thinks that, like the Eels, you are used to flaying.7 — Well — I am much disappointed, — & very much terrified at the idea of speaking to Mr. C[rutchley]. — what end upon Earth can be answered by letting poor Dr. Johnson into such a secret? — Fury, rage, madness, almost, will be all that can follow. If you can prevent this measure, indeed I think you had far better. This dear soul is not their Ward; they cannot prevent her marrying, though they may, with added dishonour & | hazard, hurry her into it. Any thing will be better than this turbulent measure, which cannot end in doing good. I see, my dear Miss Thrale, you have far more affection for your dear unhappy mother than she gives you credit for: I see it with added esteem & regard for yourself. When you say you ‘sometimes think her peace of mind should be purchased at almost any rate,’ — you touch me more than I can express. Your account of her Health, too, & of your fears about it, — O how it grieves me! — I would her Eyes could at least be opened to your behaviour in this business, — but there is a film before them, & she sees nothing. May it soon, or never be removed! — I often think with dread of what her feelings will be, when, all opposition being conquered, she considers what she has done! — And this thought weighs yet more powerfully than any other against our leading to an action that will so ill bear retrospection. I say our, | my dear Miss Thrale, for who in the World but yourself can be so deeply 7 The saying is proverbial, but FB probably alludes specifically to an ‘Instance of ... Insensibility’ recorded by HLT in Thraliana, 7 Mar. 1778: ‘Mr [William Weller] Pepys asked a pretty Girl who was skinning Eels the corner of Newport Alley one Morning, how She could be so cruel to poor Innocent Animals? why I don’t think it hurts them much Sir sayd She; they be used to it’ (i. 236). The story no doubt became an in-joke among the Thrales and their friends.

400

25 October 1783

interested in her conduct or her happiness as I am? — not even your sisters for her sake, for they are too young to see any evils but their own in this unhappy business, & they did not, as we did, know her in her better Day. See but how Mr. Seward has given her up, though trusted by herself, & though the only person she expected would side with her! — Poor mistaken — misguided — undone dear Soul — yet do not, if possible, suffer her to be exasperated by an uproar among the Guardians. How will her agitated mind, & heated Brain, bear it? And they can neither detain her if she chuses to go, nor better your situation if she chuses to live on as at present. My late Letters to her8 have all been expostulations upon her encouraged misery, — but I find they have no weight. Her answers shew me that, as much as your accounts. I cannot now think of any thing to propose, but I am eager | to send this Letter, to conjure you to try again to stop Mr. Seward from making this fresh horrour. God bless you, & direct you better than I can, my dear Miss Thrale, & let me have what new notions you may be struck with, as soon as you can find leisure, for you will much oblige me by continuing your communications, & our mutual consultations, till something strikes one of us that seems more likely to succeed, or till kinder chance does the business for us. — Believe me always affectionately yours FB. I only meant not to direct to me here at once: I dare not trust the penny post with a Letter of such consequence.

8

Missing.

313

[St Martin’s Street,] 29 [or 30] October [1783]

To Susanna Burney Phillips AL incomplete (Diary MSS II, Berg, paginated 1831–[32]), 29 Oct. 1783 Single sheet 4to, 2 pp. Annotated (by FBA): Dr. Johnson Diary Resumed

Thursday, Octr 29th9 I sent one Letter to You, my dearest Susy, Yesterday — if You should only receive it at the same Time with this, I beg you to read this last, otherwise you will understand neither. I have now news to surprise you indeed, — This morning at Breakfast, Mr. Hoole called. I wanted to call upon Dr. Johnson, & it is so disagreeable to me to go to him alone, now poor Mrs. Williams is Dead,10 on account of the quantity of men always visiting him, that I most gladly accepted — & almost asked, his squireship. We went together. The dear Doctor received me with open arms. ‘Ah, Dearest of all dear ladies! —’ he cried, & made me sit in his best Chair. He had not Breakfasted. ‘Do you forgive my coming so soon?’ said I, — ‘I cannot forgive your not coming sooner,’ he answered. I asked if I should make his Breakfast, which I have not done since we left Streatham; he readily consented. ‘But sir, quoth I, I am in the wrong Chair.’ For I was away from the Table. ‘It is so difficult, said he, for any thing to be wrong that belongs to you, that it can only be I am in the wrong Chair, to keep you from the right one.’ And then we changed. You will see by this, how good were his spirits & his Health.

9 A slip; 29 Oct. was a Wed., 10 She died on 6 Sept.

and 30 Oct. a Thurs.

402

29 or 30 October 1783

I stayed with him two hours: & could hardly get away; he wanted me to Dine with him, & | said he would send Home to excuse me: but I could not possibly do that. Yet I left him with real regret. When I came Home, I went up to my mother who has stayed up stairs these two Days, though not in Bed, & is wofully in the suspense & horrors. While there, I heard a loud knocking at the Door & presently was summoned to Miss Baker & the Miss Cambridges — suppose but my astonishment. I never felt much greater. I went down, — the Parlour was happily clear of all folks but themselves. I fear I received them with some distance of manner — I have so long thought them distant, almost cold to me, that I could not help it. However, they were so open, & so civil themselves, that though, at first, it only encreased my wonder, by again crossing my expectations, it made my strangeness by degrees wear away. We met with a rather odd mixture of awkwardness & cordiality. The Miss Cambridges both were infinitely better for their Journey, & their spirits were quite high. Miss Baker looked pale & ill, which I was very sorry to see. They enquired a good deal about my Health, & I told its whole History. They then told theirs of their Brixton expedition, with the utmost openness & good Humour. Miss Baker apologised for not having called sooner, & told me she had been ill, which prevented her. I saw she spoke truth, & was really concerned to find her looks, at least, by no means recovered. How well you guessed she had wanted [xxxxx 1 word]! How much uncomfortable conjecture this knowledge would have saved me, had I had any means of obtaining it sooner! I feel, however, quite happy to be now convinced no cabal was formed against visiting me. Miss Kitty was all gaiety & agreeability, & Miss Cambridge grew more & more chatty, animated, & pleasant — very [xxxxx 1 word] &c. [The rest of the letter is missing.]

314

[St Martin’s Street, pre 31 October 1783]

To Frances Brooke ALS draft (Berg), pre 31 Oct. 1783 Single sheet 4to, 2 pp. Annotated (by FBA): To Mrs. Brooke This draft letter is written on the address leaf of an AL from an unknown correspondent to FB in St Martin’s Street, franked by Jervoise Clarke (?1733–1808), currently M.P. for Hampshire (HP). The letter actually sent is missing. FB declines Mrs Brooke’s invitation to collaborate on a new periodical. In her response, 31 Oct. 1783 (Berg), Mrs Brooke expresses her regret, says that she will ‘take the whole upon myself’, and asks FB and CB to keep it secret, ‘as I do not intend to be known’. In any case, it was never published (ODNB). Both FB’s draft and Mrs Brooke’s reply are in the scrapbook ‘Fanny Burney and Her Friends 1759–1799’. FB had first met Mrs Brooke in 1774 (EJL ii. 4). This is her only extant letter to her.

Dear Madam, I should long since have waited upon you, but that I have been confined to the House by illness, from the time of my return to Town, till this last Day or two. I much wished to have talked over with you the scheme you have had the goodness to propose to my Father, but as I missed the pleasure of seeing you yesterday, & am not sure when I can call again, I must take the liberty to trouble you with a few lines upon that subject. I should be very happy to enter into any plan with Mrs. Brooke, & I think myself much honoured by her very flattering proposition: but I must frankly own I am at present so little disposed for writing, that I am certain I could produce nothing worth reading. I have bid adieu to my Pen since I finished Cecilia, not from disgust, nor design, but from having fairly written all I had to write; it was the same for 2 or 3 years after I had done with Evelina; & I am as unwilling now as I was then, to deal hardly with an empty Brain. If any | thing again occurs to me, I shall again venture to try its success — if

404

pre 31 October 1783

nothing — it is surely most judicious, & certainly most pleasant to myself, to remain perfectly quiet. I must beg you, therefore, to pardon my declining your kind offer, though I shall always be indebted for your attention to me. I am, Dear Madam, Your obliged & most obedt sert F.B.

315

[St Martin’s Street, November 1783]

To Hester Maria Thrale ALS (Houghton), Nov. 1783 3 single sheets 8vo, 5 pp. seal Addressed: Miss Thrale, Bath

I hope you have not been angry at my silence, my dear Miss Thrale, — though indeed I am not in good humour with myself for it: but nothing upon Earth occurring to me new or fresh upon the subject of our correspondance, I have been willing to wait till I could gather, either from further information, or from further reflection, something worth your attention. I have waited, however, in vain, & will therefore wait no longer, lest you should misconstrue my silence from not knowing its cause. Your account11 of Mr. Seward did indeed amaze me. Expressions & counsel so unfeeling I could only believe from such authority as yours. And poor Mrs. T. thinks him her first

11

Missing.

November 1783

405

friend, & says his behaviour has been angelic!12 — How every way is she deluded, & how all ways by herself! — Nov. 15th — I have been interrupted, & have now something indeed to communicate, — my dear Miss Thrale, Dr J: knows of this horrible affair! — I have seen Mr. Seward, — it is he who has told me this, though he has not told me by what means | he gained the intelligence. He does not, however, know its present state, but concludes it is all over.13 O would it were! — The dread this news has given me of his sight is inexpressible. I am sure I shall feel & look as if a culprit myself when I appear before him: which must be soon, as I have been out of Town, & not called upon him, this fortnight. In what way he will take it, I know not, — Heaven forbid he should examine me upon it! — Is it not terrible that I should now be ashamed of being the chosen friend of one in whose friendship I so lately gloried? — & you, my dear Miss Thrale, — how truly do I compassionate you! — Mr. Seward says we are all to be levelled by something or other, — in truth I think we are all to pay for our greatest delight by the greatest suffering. I dare not tell Mrs. T. of this discovery, — she is so warm, so unguarded, so exquisitely susceptible, that I fear her knowing it. Mr. Seward urges me vehemently to go to Bath, — but what can I do there? I have no weight in fact, though I | seem to have the greatest. Dear, lost, infatuated soul! — she calls upon me for-ever; & yet never listens to me when called. But come I will, the moment it is in my power, though with no view but to let her open her loaded bosom into my unwilling Ears. All you say of her Health makes me tremble, & those emotions you so often feel to end all are not more natural than humane. — If I did not believe she would herself repent hereafter, — but I am sure she would. She must come to her senses some time: for it can never be, however she may flatter herself, that the whole World is mad, & she alone reasonable.

12 See HLT to FB, 25 Oct. 1783 (Berg): ‘I have spoken to Mr Seward, he is an Angelic Creature, & will do me all the Good he can: he is sorry we parted, as he finds me unable to support the Distance and difficulty of Communication. He is generous, tender and precipitate, a Character I have the best Reason for delighting in.’ 13 SJ apparently continued to believe this until HLT sent him, on 30 June 1784, an official announcement of her impending marriage to Piozzi (LSJ iv. 338 n. 1).

406

November 1783

Your Letter was extremely interesting to me: how could you apologise for its length! The Plan you talk of must surely have only been the plan of a moment. She has never hinted of it to me, nor did Mr. Seward. I think it the worst of all. Her reputation must be utterly gone, if P. should come to England, for this year’s scheme, since I am certain they would meet eternally; and | no innocence in the World could support her character, after all that has passed, if they make any further interviews. — My wonder will never cease at her blindness to her own destruction, — with the first understanding in the World, there is not a Child who could not guide her in common affairs, — & with the best Heart, there is not a villain who could spread such misery. — Certainly I see the necessity of keeping a profound secret whatever you communicate to me, — Mrs. T. could only be agitated with fresh torments if she knew we now had any intercourse, — yet my own conscience is perfectly at rest in consulting upon this subject with the Daughter of my best friend: especially as she desired us to consult together, & formally committed us to each other. Our opinions have always been the same, — but all we have been able to urge has always been unavailing — My greatest terror is for her life — or what is yet more valuable, — & if she will make this evil inevitable, all that our interference can do, will be to soften matters as much as we can, if to oppose & resist is out of our powers. — Mr. Seward behaved extremely well in his conference with me, — I fancy since he talked so hardly with you, he has relented. He is naturally good natured & benevolent, though sometimes warped by strong character & singularity. At least he appears so to me, for he spoke of your poor mother with much kindness & Justice, though with all that blame which no one — not I, — can ever parry. — O far from it! the higher my value of her, the more strongly I feel the total wrong of all her behaviour through-out this unhappy business. I wish I had something more to say or to advise, — but to keep all quiet while we can is all that I can think of. Something decisive seems now brewing, — every thing portends a crisis, — I dread what it may prove, — let us, however, unite all that we can to save her at least from what so horribly

November 1783

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threatens her, — I mean despair, — as to ruin, — I fear it is but the other alternative! — Heaven aid us here at least; — Adieu, my dear Miss Thrale, & pray let me hear as soon as you can find leisure, — & you will much oblige yr affete servt FB.

316

[St Martin’s Street], 22 November [1783] To Susanna Burney Phillips

AJL (Diary MSS II, Berg), Nov. 1783 Single sheet 4to, 1 p., single sheet folio, 2 pp. pmk 22 NO red seal Addressed: Mrs. Phillips, / at Mrs. Hamilton’s, / Chesington, / Kingston, / Surry. Endorsed (by SBP): Novr 23d 1783. The top of the first leaf is cut away.

Wednesday, Nov. 19. To night at home, [xxxxx 8-9 words] yet no time for that. I received a Letter from Dr. Johnson which I have not by me, but will try to recollect.14 To Miss Burney. Madam, You have now been at Home this long time, & yet I have neither seen nor heard from you. Have we quarrelled? I have met with a vol. of the Philosophical Transactions which I imagine to belong to Dr. Burney. Miss Charlotte will please to examine. Pray send me a Direction where Mrs. Chapone lives: & pray, some time, let me have the honour of telling you how much I am, madam, your most humble servant, Sam: Johnson. Bolt Court, Nov. 19, 1783. 14 The original of the letter is in the Houghton Library and is printed in LSJ iv. 242. FB’s paraphrase is close, though SJ says simply that ‘I have sent a book which I have found lately’. FBA wrote on the MS: ‘F.B. flew to him instantly and most gratefully’ (LSJ iv. 242 n. 1).

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22 November 1783

Now if ever You read any thing more dry, tell me? — I was shocked to see him undoubtedly angry, but took courage, & resolved not to make a serious defence: there fore thus I answered.15 To Dr. Johnson. Dear Sir, May I not say dear? — for quarreled I am sure we have not. The bad Weather alone has kept me from waiting upon you — but no Lyon shall stand in the way of my making your Tea this afternoon, — unless I receive a prohibition from yourself, & — then, I must submit: for what, as you said of a certain great lady, signifies the Barking of a Lap Dog, if once the Lyon puts out his Paw?16 The Book was very right. Mrs. Chapone lives at either No. 7 or 8 in Dean Street, Soho.17 I beg you, sir, to forgive a delay for which I can only ‘tax the Elements with unkindness,’18 & to receive with your usual goodness & indulgence your ever most obliged, & most faithful humble servant F: Burney. St. Martin’s Street. Nov. 19, 1783. To Bolt Court, therefore, I went, — & with open arms was I received: nobody was there but Charles & Mr. Sastres, & Dr. Johnson was, if possible, more instructive, entertaining, good-humoured, & exquisitely fertile than ever. He thanked me repeatedly for coming, & was so kind I could hardly ever leave him. [The bottom of the leaf is cut away.]

An engagement of long standing obliged me to go this afternoon to Mrs. Fitzgerald: while I was dressing, I was called down, — to Mr. Cambridge, — I made all the haste in my power, — but before I could get ready, he was gone! I leave you to The original MS is missing. ‘This bore reference to an expression of Dr. Johnson’s, upon hearing that Elizabeth Montagu resented his Life of Lord Lyttleton’ (Mem. ii. 357 n.). 17 SJ wrote to Hester Chapone on 20 Nov. returning the MS of a tragedy written by Lord Carlisle (LSJ iv. 10, 245). 18 ‘I tax not you, you elements, with unkindness’ (King Lear 3.2.16). 15 16

22 November 1783

409

judge if I was vexed. Charlotte saw him, & he told her he had no power to wait two minutes, but he looked so disappointed at not seeing me, that that was some consolation to me. My father had sent in the morning to Dutchess Street, to enquire about Mr. G. but had had no intelligence. Charlotte asked Mr. Cambridge about him, & he answered that he was better, & had rode out that morning, & hoped to do duty in Town next Sunday. This, too, was good news, yet I was much provoked. I had but a [xxxxx 1 word] Evening at Mrs. FitzGerald’s; however I was not in natural spirits for hallowing a great deal at a little. But the first news I heard, when I returned, was that Mr. Cambridge had called again while I was out! — He did not even come in, but left his Compliments, & said he was going out of Town the next Day. He enquired Where I was, perhaps if at Mrs. Ord’s, or Vesey’s, he would have followed me! — I am sure I was so mortified, I was almost ready to follow him was it not an [xxxxx 1 word]? I quite longed to write a Note to him. Friday, Nov. 21. I was engaged to Dine with Mrs. Ord: & spend the Evening with the Pepys! And, again while I was dressing, — to my great surprise, I was summoned to Mr. Cambridge! I put on a large Cap, & leaving all my costly robes, flew down to him, — he was alone, & received me with such smiles! — I determined to run all risks about my engagements, rather than lose a moment of his society, so down I sat, at his desire, close by his side, & we had a conference worth Gold. I had not then, thank Heaven, had these dreadful Letters19 from Bath, & therefore I was in excellent spirits. So was he, & we were both as open, unguarded, honest & comfortable as happiness — for such it was,— could desire. I [xxxxx 2-3 words] thank Miss Cambridge for her Letter, & told him I had half been inclined to answer it. — he insistently begged I would, & said nothing could make her happier — &, in short, I promised to do the deed. He enquired with infinite kindness after you & Capt. Phillips, & then he entered into family discourse, & his own situation, with the most undisguised openness, & 19 HLT wrote alarming letters on 20 Nov. and 21 Nov. (Berg) describing the illness of her daughter Sophia (1771–1824). Mary Hyde (Lady Eccles) conjectured that ‘Sophy’s fits, followed by loss of consciousness, suggest a cerebral irritation, a virus brain fever or a bacterial abscess of the middle ear’ (TSP, p. 239).

410

22 November 1783

noble confidence: & went still further in his communications than ever; declaring I was the only person to whom he could trust such sacred secrets. I know he meant you & I, who he knows are one. I told him I hoped he had left all his Family well? ‘Why, you know, he answered, with a smile, how crabby a fellow George is? but he rode with me to Putney Yesterday, for the first essay of his mounting a Horse, & he hopes to be well enough to do duty on Sunday in Town.’ He then very much lamented the delicacy of his Constitution, & how much his mother’s fidgeting tormented him when ill. I quoted to him Mr. G.’s speech about his mother & Mrs. [xxxxx 1 word], & he looked delighted. | He gave me a very gay history of having passed the morning between Mr. Batt, Sir James Harris, & Lady Townshend; & talked about Cecilia as if for the first Time: declaring there could be no other such Book. He said a thousand things of his wishes to see me often at Twickenham [xxxxx 1 word] not [xxxxx 1 word] his difficulties about it with his unaccountable wife. He talked to me even of Miss Kitty, though not quite openly, & very seriously. He told me if I would write some time to Mrs. Cambridge, she would be more glad, perhaps, to see me than Miss Baker. But this was some thing too much, & I told him I did not desire that. He then assured me she never wished to see Miss Baker, though she loved her next to her own daughters — &, in emotion, said she made all her family miserable by her perverse temper. — At last, Mrs. Ord’s Coach was announced, — I was very sorry, — he jumped up, & scolded me for letting him stay; but again charged me to write, which I promised readily. ‘I give you my word, said he, in taking leave, I wish your connection in my house to be encreased of all things:’ & then he added ‘I do assure you we are extremely flattered by your partiality to us all, & very much obliged to you for it.’ In short, it was a charming visit, & quite a cordial to me. Before I could get to Mrs. Ord’s, I was stopped by Lady Hales & her Daughters but I have no room to write about them. I had a very comfortable stay with Mrs. Ord: but was more surprised than pleased, to hear her, when Miss Ord left the Room, very markedly say ‘You don’t know any thing of the Cambridges?’ ‘Yes, I answered, I saw

22 November 1783

411

Mr. Cambridge this morning.’ ‘Did you indeed? And — how is Mr. George? is he well?’ — ‘Not well, — but better.’ — A silence which I did not like followed, — & she then added, — ‘It has been much thought, — you know I say any thing to you, — it has been much thought that Mr. George Cambridge is much attached to you; —’ she stopt, & looked at me. I stared, — I had hoped I had concluded all these suspicions before. She laughed a little, & went on — ‘For my part, I begin to think the attachment is Mr. Cambridge’s! —’ ‘Yes, cried I, I hope so! —’ — ‘And is not Mrs. Cambridge jealous?’ ‘I hope not, for I shall never refrain giving her equal reason.’ — ‘Well, he is certainly very much in love with you; a young man does not dare say such things; but yet — it is very plain that that young man thinks —’ ‘No, indeed, cried I, hastily, I must beg your pardon; I believe he thinks no more of any such thing than I do. —’ ‘O fie! — don’t tell me so, — you know that is not true.’ ‘I know that we are very good friends, & very sociable, & intimate.’ ‘O, that he admires you no one wonders, — & he is a charming young man.—’ ‘All the Family are charming, —’ ‘O, ho, not a word for him for the World! —’ ‘Why you know him, so it is not necessary. —’ ‘Well, I don’t believe Mr. C. will be easy till he connects you with his family.’ My Father’s love, & he begs to know if he left any [xxxxx 1 word] business behind him?

317

[St Martin’s Street, late November 1783] To Susanna Burney Phillips AJL incomplete (Diary MSS II, Berg), late Nov. 1783 Single sheet folio, 1 p., single sheet 4to, 1 p.

I left off in a Dialogue with Mrs. Ord that gives me much vexation: it concluded by her only wishing him a good living, & repeating to me her total disbelief that any thing else was waited for on the part of him or his Father. I assured her to the contrary, but she only shook her Head at me.

412

late November 1783

Should I ever again see him in her presence, what an awkwardness this affair will give me — I fancy, however, he will spare me that pain, by avoiding me before such a witness. I have never once seen him, since the beginning of April, any where but in his House, or mine, & I see no reason why this caution should [xxxxx 1- 2 words] now [xxxxx 2 words] . In the Evening [Fri., 21 Nov.], I accompanied Mrs. Ord to Mrs. Pepys. There we met Dr. Pepys & Lady Rothes, & Mr. Brown: & had a very sociable Evening. Mr. Pepys read to us Miss More’s Bas bleu20 again. I longed to ask for a Copy, but did not dare, to send to Twickenham. Dr. Pepys had a long private conference with me concerning Mrs. Thrale, with whose real state of Health he is better acquainted than any body: — & sad, indeed, was all that he said! — Not a syllable [xxxxx 2 words], however, passed about the Twickenham family. There are some new lines added to the Bas Bleu, upon Wit & Attention: & Mr. Pepys chose to insist upon it I had sate to Miss More for the Portrait of Attention, which is very admirably drawn: but the Compliment is preposterous, because the Description is the most flattering.21 I would there were no 20 The poem was written in Bristol in July 1783 and circulated in MS until it was published at London on 10 Feb. 1786 with Florio as The Bas Bleu: or, Conversation. Addressed to Mrs. Vesey; Public Advertiser, 10 Feb. 1786). In a letter to HLT, 19 Apr. 1784, SJ wrote: ‘Miss Moore [sic] has written a poem called Le Bas blue which is in my opinion, a very great performance. It wanders about in manuscript, and surely will soon find its way to Bath’ (LSJ iv. 317). In it, Elizabeth Vesey, Anne Boscawen, and Elizabeth Montagu, the blue stockings of the title, have prevented the triumph of bad taste in society by instituting elegant conversation. 21 The portrait concludes the poem: This charm, this witchcraft? ’tis ATTENTION: Mute Angel, yes; thy looks dispense The silence of intelligence; Thy graceful form I well discern, In act to listen and to learn; ’Tis Thou for talents shalt obtain That pardon Wit wou’d hope in vain; Thy wond’rous power, thy secret charm, Shall Envy of her sting disarm; Thy silent flattery sooths our spirit, And we forgive eclipsing merit; The sweet atonement screens the fault, And love and praise are cheaply bought. With mild complacency to hear, Tho’ somewhat long the tale appear, —

late November 1783

413

greater resemblance to the Portrait she has given of Wit, to Mrs. Thrale! — but indeed there the likeness is but too strong.22 Saturday, Nov. 22d I passed in nothing but sorrow — exquisite sorrow, for my dear unhappy friend — who sent me one Letter that came early by the Bath Diligence, & another by the Post.23 — But of these things no more. I forgot to mention that as soon as I came Home from Mr. Pepys, I wrote to Miss Cambridge24 on Friday Night [21 Nov.]. It was very late, & I was very much hurried, but I had promised Mr. Cambridge, & I would not break my word. I sent my Note from Dr. Johnson to Miss Kitty as I had undertaken to send her something about him & she had urged me to describe the visit, be it without form, & without much to say, but I was glad to thank her for her kind Letter,25 & I told her that Mr. Cambridge himself had written & I would. Happy in their friendship & intimacy & earnestly as I wish it, I would not for the universe press too forward for it. I am indeed, [xxxxx 1-2  words] & so to require more encouragement from this Family, than from any in the world, in order to be easy or comfortable | [The top of the leaf is cut away.]

[xxxxx 4 lines] to remove — why it only makes me miss You the more for generous tendencies, & sweet & kind [xxxxx 1 ½ lines]. All, however, that hangs upon my mind, I cannot now explain to you, — Yet, — you will not wonder I am not quite happy, when I tell you that Mrs. Ord acquainted me she did not think Mrs. Thrale could live! — I have long had a ’Tis more than Wit, ’tis moral Beauty ’Tis Pleasure rising out of Duty. (pp. 88–9, lines 335–51). In a letter to Sir William Weller Pepys, 10 Sept. 1800, Mrs Hartley writes: ‘I remember Miss Burney’s silence well. It had every engaging expression, of modesty and of intelligent observation’ (A Later Pepys, ed. Alice C. C. Gaussen (London: Bodley Head, 1904), ii. 158). 22 The poet cautions Wit to sacrifice to Virtue (‘At once the rising thought to dash, / To quench at once the bursting flash! / The shining Mischief to subdue, / And lose the praise, and pleasure too!’), adding that Attention alone can give Wit the seal of social approval (lines 306–9 and ff). 23 HLT’s letters of 20 and 21 Nov. (see above, p. 409 n. 19). 24 The letter is missing. 25 Missing.

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late November 1783

distant fear of losing her, — but now I see — O I have had to Day from her two Letters that have half killed me, — I see she has hardly any expectation of living,26 — yet I cannot even go to her — I am opposed by obstacles to which I am forced to submit, though there is nothing upon Earth that, if left to myself, I could not wish to give her that proof of my never, never dying affection. Her strong Constitution, however, may perhaps yet hold out, — sweet Heaven grant it! — she ceases, now, to press my journey, — I have told her the instant I can, I will come, — & she tells me my love is the balm of her life,27 — If you were to see her Letters, you would not wonder at seeing me what I now am, — though I bear up the best I can against an evil to which some things reconcile me, — yet, upon the whole, — it will be a stroke that this World can never remedy. — Those I love more than her are few, & I have always loved them more, therefore, though they would be yet heavier losses, they do not, cannot alleviate hers, — but why torment my best of all, & dearest of all friends with a subject involved in as much mystery as wretchedness? — Till now, I have steadily disguised & kept to myself this misery, which many a long month has saddened me, — and you, therefore, will be much astonished as well as grieved for me. — Ah, — a fuller explanation will but be added concern, — & therefore for the short time it may yet be avoided, I will be quiet: nor should I have said thus much, but in return to your tender exhortations to openness, which forces from me the cause of | [The bottom of the leaf is cut away.]

26 See HLT to FB, 21 Nov. 1783 (Berg): ‘I write in Bed, where when I cannot be useful I lie, that I may not perplex at least as I did two Nights ago, when a sudden Attack on my shattered Nerves called her [Sophy’s] Physician from her, & he actually held me in his Lap. Death however only shakes his Dart hitherto, & has not yet resolved to seize or spare his Victims. I could wish to live, and bid Farewell to one kind Friend or two; but if not, Thy Will Oh Lord be done!’ 27 See HLT to FB, 21 Nov. 1783 (Berg): ‘Be content, I love you more than Words can tell, I am satisfied of your Affection for me, and glory in it: nay, upon my Word I thank God for it, your Love is the Balm of my Life.’

318

St Martin’s Street, 22 November [1783]

To Hester Maria Thrale ALS (Houghton), 22 Nov. 1783 3 single sheets 8vo, 5 pp. seal Addressed: Miss Thrale, Bath

Nov. 22d Martin’s Street.

Your last Letter,28 my dear Miss Thrale, is a shocking one indeed! — & your sweet unhappy mother’s two last have half distracted me. I long, however, to know from you, upon whose judgement I can rely, how your sister Sophy really is.29 Mrs. Thrale is so soon alarmed, & her quick feelings so dreadfully magnify all ills — except in one case, — that I must hope she is here more frightened than there is occasion. I saw, by her answer, how much she was offended with the Letter you mention her reading to you, & I am deeply grieved to have given her, how ever unjustly a moment’s uneasiness.30 All I hear of her, — & chiefly your own Letters, fill me with the most horrible apprehensions. Never, never repent

Missing. See HLT to FB, 20 Nov. 1783 (Berg): ‘I think nothing but of Sophy; my poor Sophy will die, and all the doctors in Bath will try in vain to save her — — yet sometimes I flatter myself with better hopes — — Oh Burney! She lies just as her Papa did, waking into such Fits! Oh my God! Woodward says they are Hysterical, but Dobson who we hardly suffer a Moment out of our Sight, calls the Disorder Asphyxia and gives her Ether, & every thing which can arouse Sensation. Seized only o’Tuesday, She has had already five dreadful Struggles, with Screaming & Languor succeeding each other by Turns. We are all greatly distress’d, the Girls behave like Angels but what will be the End God knows.’ 30 FB’s letters to HLT at this time are missing, but HLT had repeatedly communicated her fear that she had lost FB’s affection: ‘Have you quite done with me dearest Burney?’ (HLT to FB, 10 Nov. 1783 (Berg)); ‘you are ashamed to speak of me ... and afraid to hear of me’ (HLT to FB, 16 Nov. 1783 (Berg)); ‘how ... should I help lamenting when I feared your Disavowal of [your love]’ (HLT to FB, 21 Nov. 1783 (Berg)). 28 29

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22 November 1783

that you made the concession you acknowledge,31 — who can keep unmoved to a situation of such danger & anguish? — I am touched to the Heart by all that you relate to me,— I think, now, quite with you, that something speedily, instantly, indeed, should be decided upon, — & if indeed it is utterly impossible to save her so much valued life by any means but her own, O let her pursue them! — | I am in a state of terror about her now I can hardly bear. — Lady Hales called yesterday, & she & Miss Coussmaker declared to me they thought she could hardly recover, — Mrs. Ord tells me the same thing, — Oh Miss Thrale! — what a conclusion to all the scenes of wretchedness we have undergone! —not one of which you & I, at least, would have endured, had we looked forward to such a catastrophe. I see how you are melted by every sentence in your Letter, — & I feel myself utterly conquered, steadily as I have held out. — to have her die of a broken Heart — O are not all her plans paradise to that? I would not do wrong, & I would not distress you, who have confided in me, & whom I so truly pity, — but let me tell you what I now most wish, — if she marries him, I should wish her not to leave this Country. — I fear you will object to this, — but indeed it appears to me better than a banishment in her present state of Health. The disgrace to you will in nothing be prevented by her living in Italy, — her sufferings, depend upon it, will be dreadful, though she foresees them not, — | & will it not be dreadful to us to know she is pining where no one can hear her? — true, she puts herself in that wretchedness, — but yet, — she is your mother, she is my friend, — such a mother, & such a friend as but for this one blemish the World could scarce equal, & therefore her wilfulness can no longer irritate us, when we look upon her as paying for it. I don’t mean that you should all live together — that can never be expected, &, blaming her conduct as I blame it, I should be 31 That Piozzi be recalled to England. HLT wrote on 30 Nov. that Queeney ‘beg’d me ... not to sacrifice my Life to her Convenience; She now saw my Love of Piozzi was incurable She said, Absence had no Effect on it, and my Health was going so fast She found, that I should soon be useless either to her or him’ (Thraliana i. 581–2). She writes that Queeney begged her ‘Yesterday’ [29 Nov.], but evidently Queeney had made the concession earlier, and presumably repeated her concession on that date.

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the last to propose it, — but if she stayed in England, you would see her sometimes, & hear from her often, & know how she was treated, & soften, hereafter, her decline of life. The World, believe me, would all reverence your notice of her by & by, though now it will write in opinion that she forfeits all claim to it. Perhaps in Devonshire — perhaps privately, in London, — but all that might be arranged when more thought of. But if you are totally averse to this scheme, don’t you think Paris would be better, because nearer, than Italy? — Mr. Seward mentioned that. But indeed I think myself she might live a returned life here as well as any where. Tell me openly | all you think of it. — I fear it will only shock you, — & I will not, therefore, hint at it till I hear from you. Never be sorry at your kind interference, — I rejoice in it for your own future reflections as well as for the relief I hope it will give your poor mother. I am wholly of your mind about a speedy decision, — I fear, indeed, that speedy or none, is the alternative. — Had the cause been a better one, the struggles she has voluntarily sustained, would surely have sainted her. Being such as it, surely, was they palliate her misconduct, — for she has not yielded weakly or lightly to her inclinations, — she has tried to conquer them, till she has scarce life left for further contest. — Fear nothing for yourself, except her loss,— the World will be all your friends, — justice, humanity, Reason & Truth must make them so: I, — who, as her chosen friend, am most deeply involved in this unhappy business, next to yourself & sisters, shall ever be the first, & the ablest, because the best informed, & the best-believed, to attest your right behaviour. And all that you can do for your poor fallen mother will be all to your own Honour. But pray don’t keep your Letter in reserve, if any thing occurs to make you write twice before you hear from me; you must have most to say, as my Letters can but be comments. I have seen Dr. Johnson, — he sent me a Letter of reproach for my long absence: but he received me with even more | than his usual kindness, & never mentioned the subject I so much dreaded. I fancy he concludes all is now over! — I shall long much to hear, & from you, how your sister does. If any thing should occur here about Dr. Johnson, I shall

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instantly communicate it to you, — to her I dare not, unless forced to it, — I have entreated Mr. Seward to be cautious. Adieu, my dear Miss Thrale, — & believe me very sincerely yours F.B.

319

St Martin’s Street, 29 November [1783] To Susanna Burney Phillips

AJLS (Diary MSS II, Berg), 29 Nov. 1783 3 single sheets folio, 5 pp. pmk 29 NO red seal Addressed: Mrs. Phillips, / at Mrs. Hamilton’s, / Chesington, / Kingston, / Surry. Annotated (by FBA): — 83 Mrs. Thrale Ly M. Duncan Mrs. Chapone — Miss Cambridges 25 Novr 83 Endorsed (by SBP): Novr 30th 1783.

St. Martin’s Street, Nov. 24th

Alas — my dearest Susy, it was not money that stood in the way of my going to my poor Mrs. Thrale, — things are not forward enough to have brought that into consideration: but it is most sweet in You to obviate that grand difficulty, were I happy enough to be arrived at it. I have, you know, in my Father’s Hands a hoard of my own, which I would exhaust upon this occasion with the utmost thankfulness, — but other, & more powerful objections, now arise to my going, — my Father is bent against it, & entirely for my sake, — I see his reasons, I am convinced they are right, — yet my going, I feel, would not, could not be wrong, the sweet Creature’s state of mind & Health, & her earnestness to see me, considered. I must let matters, for a little while, take their own course. If Sophy Thrale, who is now extremely ill, should not soon mend, my Father’s kindness of Heart will lead him to agree to my Journey: but I hope no measure will be the result of such fresh misery. I will now say no more on this sad subject,

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as I can only write to make your wonder & perplexity encrease, except that if I obtain consent, & find it more easy to make use of your money than my own, I will not scruple looking upon it as the same. I hope, however, to have no occasion, not, believe me, from pride, but from justice; for I can never think it right for any body, save from absolute necessity, to find a shilling beyond what they can call their own. A thousand thanks, to you, my dearest love, for your most kind deposit, which — if ever on that alone hangs my departure, I should, indeed, be inexpressively grateful for. I am sorry not to be more explicit, but I should not give You more pleasure if I were. I can only, now, tell you that I love Mrs. Thrale with a never to cease affection, & pity her more than ever I pitied any human Being — &, — if I did not blame her, — I could — I should, I believe, almost die for her! — | I am extremely sorry, my dearest Susy, that in the late distress of my mind about poor Mrs. Thrale, I mentioned any thing that has so much interested you to know more. It is too true that many know all, — but none from me. I am bound, & should be miserable not to say, if called upon, & not to know, if not called upon, that no creature, not even You to whom I communicate every thing else, nor the trusty Charlotte with whom I live, & who sees my frequent distress upon this subject, has tempted me to an explanation. General rumour I have no means to halt spreading: but I should not have made the confession that money was not only wanting for my Journey, had not your injunctions made me see you would think me cruel rather than compelled, if I do not either go, or tell you why. Though now, however, her [xxxxx 3 words] is considerably better, & shall, I hope, [xxxxx 1 word] something more. I am still as much bent as ever to go to her if I can obtain leave, — but I will mention no more of the matter, since the difficulties under which I labour not to offend or afflict that beloved friend, & yet to do nothing wrong, are by no means new, though of late they have grown doubly painful. I will now only say further, that though her failings are unaccountable & most unhappy, her virtues & good qualities, the generosity & feeling of her Heart, the liberality & sweetness of her disposition, — would counter-balance a thousand more. This I say, lest you should think some thing

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worse than truth: something stranger you cannot. I am very sorry not to satisfy you more; but when you weigh what I have said, you will be sensible I have reasons to preserve silence, though to me, believe me, ’tis by far most painful, & has long been most cruel. I think I left off my Journal on Monday [24 Nov.] with the account of Miss Cambridge’s most flattering & kind Letter. 32 Tuesday, Novr 25th. I had some little expectation, by what he had said the day before, that Mr. Cambridge would call again: but I was obliged to go to Lady Mary Duncan, whose visit my Father grew angry that I did not return. She admitted me, & kept me full 2 Hours: she is really entertaining — very entertaining, though not very respectably always, as every thing she says has some mixture of absurdity in the manner, — even When the idea is faultless. She much invited me to frequent visits, & was excessively civil & courteous. Our talk was all of her late Sir William,33 & Pacchierotti. She runs from one to the other with a most ludicrous facility, as if well content they should share her favour, divide her thoughts, & keep the use of her Tongue wholly to themselves. | I called next on Mrs. Chapone, to apologise for refusing her Thursday’s invitation, & so forth. In the course of my visit, while we were speaking of Mrs. & Miss Ord, she said: ‘I am surprised Miss Ord does not marry; I don’t think it prudent for a young lady to go on so, & do nothing for her future establishment.’ I thought by her looks she had some thing more upon her mind, & immediately answered that Miss Ord was very able to live comfortably & happily without marrying: & that I could not see how that could be so necessary for her. Her looks now grew more marked, &, after a little hesitation, she said: ‘I am very happy to hear You are more discreet.’ ‘Me? cried I, staring; no, indeed; if that is the mark of prudence, no one can want it more.’ ‘O — but I am told to the contrary. —’ 32 33

Missing. Sir William Duncan had died nine years previously. See EJL iv. 110 n. 64.

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‘And by whom?’ cried I, ready to die with vexation. ‘By — by every body, — Report, Rumour, the World. —’ ‘Well — then, Report, Rumour, & the World are all mistaken; I am perfectly imprudent, I do assure You! —’ She Laughed, & after a little more talk to the same purpose, the subject was dropt. — but not out of my mind, — I have seldom been more disturbed or concerned. I knew too well who & what was meant, to make further enquiry, though I was very earnest & positive in my denials. Mrs. Chapone, I suppose, has heard this cruel report at the Pepys, & her own observations I doubt not confirm it; for she happened, most unfortunately, to sit next me at Mr. Pepys, on that Evening when Mr. G: C. there, as one other at Mrs. Montagu’s, braved all difficulties to talk with me, & stood facing me, & chatting, all the Night: & though Mrs. Chapone frequently offered to join in the discourse, we were both in too high spirits for her seriousity, & rattled away without minding her. I came Home not much exhilarated: I had hoped this Winter had begun so quietly! & two attacks already! both stronger than any I ever had before! — I can hardly tell you my disappointment & chagrin. As soon as I returned, I heard Mr. Cambridge had called! — how I was sorry to have missed him. Mrs. Vesey, also, had been, & Mrs. Ord; & Miss Baker, with Mr. Cambridge. How intent he is on our intimacy. I would not take off my Hat, therefore, but went on to the salt office.34 She was not returned, but I sate some Time with Miss Baker, & Miss Yorke,35 a pretty young woman, who was on a visit there.

34 The Salt Office, currently located in Buckingham Street, York Buildings, administered a highly complicated tax on salt. It later relocated to the new Somerset House. Sarah Baker was the housekeeper there, with a salary of £100 per year. See London Calendar (1784), p. 149; Parker’s General Advertiser, 30 Oct. 1783; L. M. Bates, Somerset House: Four Hundred Years of History (London: Muller, 1967), p. 138; FB to SBP, 20 Aug. 1786 (Berg). 35 Perhaps Caroline Yorke (1765–1818), daughter of the Hon. Charles Yorke (1722–70), m. (1790) John Eliot (1761–1823), 2nd B. Eliot, 1804; cr. (1815) E. of St Germans (YW xlii. 238 n. 1; Delany Corr. vi. 238). It is unclear whom Miss Yorke was visiting, but it is suggestive that there are two John Elliot(t)s listed as having posts in the Salt Office along with Miss Baker, one as assistant secretary and the other as correspondent. These may have been otherwise unrecorded early positions or sinecures of her future husband.

320

St Martin’s Street, 25 November [1783]

To Sarah Rose Burney ALS (Osborn), 25 Nov. 1783 Double sheet 4to, 4 pp. pmk 27 NO POST NOT PAID IV seal Addressed: Mrs. Burney, / at Mrs. Morgan’s36, / Chiswick.

Nov. 25th St. Martin’s Street I am glad nobody persuaded you to burn this Letter,37 my dear Rosette, — it is, indeed, a very sweet one, & my immediately answering it will, I hope, at once remove all the doubts at which you hint in it: indeed I have never deserved to raise them, & you do me but justice in supposing it has not been in my power to spend more Time with you. Let me beg you, my dear Mrs. Burney, not to impute to change & neglect, — words which I do not like to see you use, — an absence which you have no reason to attribute to such causes. You have only to recollect all that has passed from the beginning of our acquaintance, to satisfy your suspicions, & to justify me from deserving them. You well know, from the moment you first favoured me with a Letter,38 which I look back to as the opening of | our connection, till the very Day before your Marriage, you were constantly inviting me to your House, & I was as constantly compelled to make excuses for not waiting upon you. Does not this remembrance assure you, at least, that there is no change? let it, then, at the same Time, assure you that there shall be none. I have always with great difficulty quitted my own Home for more than an Evening’s visit & much as I have, formerly, been 36 CB Jr and Rosette were still living at Mrs Morgan’s the following Mar. She has not been further traced. 37 Missing. 38 See above, p. 119.

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with my friend Mrs. Thrale, I am now, you see, hardly with her at all. The reason of this is the marriage of Mrs. Phillips. Since that Time, I have left Home but very little, & only on very particular occasions, or through the means of very particular influence. Do pray consider this with candour, & forbear, even in your most inmost thoughts, to accuse me for what, on my own part, is | really unavoidable. With regard to Letters, indeed, I have less to say for myself, as there, I must acknowledge, I am at my own command. But punctuality, I have honestly owned to you, is not among the good things I can boast in Epistolary matters: & while you only share the same delays that my nearest & dearest Friends both bear & forgive, you will have, I am sure, too much candour & sweetness the first — &, indeed, the only one to resent them. Thus much in my own vindication, every word of which my Brother can strengthen: & pray give my kindest love to him, & tell him I hope to find him my advocate. You don’t tell me any thing of your Health, but you are very good to promise that you will call by the first opportunity. Nothing yet is decided concerning my going to Bath. | Mrs. Thrale’s Daughter is better: my Brother probably told you my distress about her illness when he was last in Town. Whether I shall be able to go to her at all or not, I am quite uncertain, though her invitations have been equally urgent & incessant ever since our separation. She knows me, however, too well to impute to any failure of friendship or regard my perpetual delays: you, too, will, I hope, soon do me equal justice, & neither attribute absence nor silence to any causes worse than necessity or want of Time in my dear Rosette, yours ever sincerely, F.B. I beg my be respects & Compts to Dr. & Mrs. R Mr. & Mrs. Griffiths:40 & my love to isters.41 39

IGI).

Sarah, née Clarke (c.1726–1805), m. (1755) William Rose (JL iv. 131 n. 1;

40 Elizabeth, née Clarke (d. 1812), sister of Mrs Rose; m. (1767, as his 2nd wife) Ralph Griffiths (ODNB; GM lxxxii2 (1812), 197). 41 Her sisters were Anne (d. 1808), m. (1780) Edward Smith Foss (c.1756– 1830); Harriet (living 1814); and Elizabeth (c.1770–1802) (JL iv. 131 n. 2; GM

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[The Journal for 1783 resumes.]

Wednesday, Nov. 26th. I forgot to mention Mrs. Vesey invited me to her assembly, but I sent an excuse. I came Home so sick from Mrs. Chapone, with the apprehension of perhaps meeting Mr. G. C. in public Company, that I only rejoiced I escaped an Invite from Mrs. Montagu before I knew he was to be there. What I shall do I know not, — what I can do to silence a report so full of mischief. What on Earth can thus have kept it up? | Mrs. Ord called upon me again. We had a long Tete à Tete; she takes quite a maternal interest in me & my affairs. She said, thank Heaven, not a word of Mr. C. She said that she was going to Mrs. Montagu at Night, & would carry me, but I believe Mrs. Montagu knows nothing of my being in Town, & I shall wait till I meet her some where, for I have no Time, nor desire, to call & announce myself. She then made the same offer for Mrs. Chapone the next Day, where I would meet the two Miss Harris’s, but I excused myself. The thoughts, however, & the fears, which occured to me about both those visits tormented me inexpressibly. If any body at Mrs. Montagu’s should attack Mr. C. or his son about me as they do me about them! but what I most dreaded, & still dread, is that Mrs. Chapone should communicate her suspicions, or rather her opinions, to the Miss Harris’s who would undoubtedly rally the Miss Cambridges about them! O — I quite sink at the notion! I had intended answering my Twickenham letters,42 but I lost all inclination for the correspondence, not, I am sure, that I do not seek it, & most highly, & wish for it most earnestly, but because I fear a misconstruction hereafter of my readiness. It is not possible for me to tell you half the uneasiness this fear gives me. It would hardly allow me 2 Hours sleep all night. — Thursday, Nov. 27th. To Day, as I was writing a little of [xxxxx 1 word], a Carriage stopt at the Door, & I was told Miss lxxii1 (1802), 92; T. Faulkner, History and Antiquities of Brentford, Ealing and Chiswick (1845), p. 338; will of William Rose, PCC, 23 Dec. 1784, prob. 7 Aug. 1786; will of Sarah Clarke Rose, PCC, 9 Mar. 1802, prob. 1 Mar. 1805; Harriet Rose to Sarah Rose Burney, 23 Apr. 1814 (Osborn)). 42 All the Twickenham letters mentioned here and following are missing.

29 November 1783

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Cambridge was in it, & called to know if I could go with her to Romney’s!43 — Imagine my surprise! Down I flew, & went into the Coach, & I believe I shook Hands with her a dozen Times in a minute, I was so glad to see her; & so much astonished, & so much gratified that she should call. Mrs.44 & Miss Baker were with her. It is well I like Miss Baker, or what could I do, brought to me as she is thus continually? Miss Cambridge was very kind, lively, & agreeable. She was only come to Town for a few Hours, with her sweet sister, who was ill, at Mrs. Baker’s, & who came only to consult Sir John Elliot! I was very sorry indeed for this. But she was going, she said, for a quarter of an Hour to Romney’s, & thought I would perhaps join her party; which her Father, who she had left at the salt-office with Kitty, had encouraged her to expect. You may believe I did not disgrace his prophesy. I put on my Hat & Cloak, & went with them instantly. I apologised for not having yet answered her Letter, which I promised to do speedily: she was extremely flattering upon the subject, & said things of her own share in the correspondence so very modest, that she made me quite ashamed to hear her. We chatted at a great rate, though I could not recollect half that I wished to say to her; I told her so, & she answered ‘I am very glad of it, because I hope, then, you will write the rest.’ She again asked me to get her the Bas bleus, but added ‘Though don’t mind if you can’t, for you can send us what we value much more in your own Letters.’ In short, she could not be more obliging or cordial. She talked very much, & very warmly of you, & said they all built upon a speedy visit from Capt. Phillips. I have no room to speak of Romney’s Portraits, but that I was very much charmed with them. They set me down at Home, & I promised to drink Tea with Miss Baker on Monday [1 Dec.]. I was quite sorry to part with Miss Cambridge: | Not less was I rejoiced at this timely mark of her distinguishing regard! It is, indeed, as you say, singular. I was so much pleased, that I was going to answer her letter the same day, but I checked myself, & waited till Friday [28 Nov.]. Should this terrible 43 To the studio of Sir Joshua Reynold’s chief rival, the portrait painter George Romney (1734–1802), in Cavendish Square. 44 Henrietta, née Pye (d. 1793), m. (1742) the Revd Dr Francis Baker (JL i. 81 n. 5).

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rumour reach their ears, they shall not have to recollect an eagerness they may misinterpret. She never once mentioned Mr. G: not how he did, where he was, if he had been at Mrs. Montagu’s the Day before, nor if he was to return to Twickenham with them. Friday, Nov. 28th. I went to the Rehearsal of Silla45 with Mrs. & Miss Ord. Pacchierotti never yet sung so well!46 his voice was clearer, purer, more heavenly toned than ever! The first woman47 has great powers, but I don’t much like her. Some of the music is delightful, other parts flat & trite. Mrs. Ord talked to me of her rout at Mrs. Montagu’s, but said nothing of the C’s. I asked if the Party was super? ‘No, said she, but very pleasing. There was Lord Stormont,’48 — & then she named a score or two of folks. But not a word of the C’s, — but when she had finished her list, she added. ‘And I believe there were some others, that I forget.’ Miss Ord, then biting her Thumb, & looking down, said ‘There were — Mr. Cambridge — es.’ the last syllable almost died away unpronounced. ‘Yes, said Mrs. Ord, calmly, there was Mr. Cambridge & his son.’ But not a word more. Odd! but she means all in zealous kindness, whether she is open or reserved. I was very glad Mr. G. C. has [xxxxx 1 word] her Company, as well as myself without our meeting. I have been calling on Miss Gregory, purposely to an invitation for the present. I went to 45 Silla, a pasticcio by Pasquale Anfossi and several others; libretto by Giovanni de Gamerra; musical direction by Anfossi. It opened at the King’s Theatre, Sat., 29 Nov. 1783, and was performed nine times in the 1783–4 season (LS 5 ii. 661–70 passim). 46 In the role of Cecilio. 47 Caterina Lusini (fl. 1779–93), Italian soprano, in the role of Giunia. She sang at the King’s Theatre this season only. She had been engaged by the manager, Giovanni Gallini, as first woman but was afterwards demoted to second woman (C. Price, J. Milhous, and R. D. Hume, Italian Opera in Late Eighteenth-Century London: The King’s Theatre, Haymarket, 1778–1791 (Oxford: Clarendon, 1995), p. 299). She had sung with Pacchierotti at Lucca in 1780, returned to sing in Italy, and was active at Kassel in Germany in 1792–3 (Highfill; J. Schuster, Creso in Media (Naples, 1779); D. A. von Apell, Gallerie der vorzüglichsten Tonkünstler und merkwürdigsten MusikDilettanten in Cassel von Anfang des 16. Jahrhunderts bis auf gegenwartige Zeiten (Kassel, 1806); F. Guidotti, ‘Quando gli Anziani andavano a Teatro’ (http://www.luccamusica.it/2003/marzo%202003/marzo6.htm)). CB, who attended the 3rd performance of Silla, said of Lusini that ‘she is often near right, but never quite right in anything’ (LCB i. 405). 48 David Murray (1727–96), 7th Visc. Stormont, 1748; 2nd E. of Mansfield, 1793; diplomat, politician (ODNB).

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Miss Cambridge when I [xxxxx 2 words] & then went to drink Tea with dear Dr. Johnson, who was so kind! & so much in spirits! — & so admirably instructive! — I had a charming, a delicious Evening with him. Yet the conversation was too local for writing. Saturday, Nov. 29. What was my surprise this afternoon, to receive a Letter from Twickenham, from Miss Kitty Cambridge! — & before my answer to her sister was received! — a most sweet Letter it is, — short, but easy, natural, affectionate, & lively. I am greatly pleased with it, indeed. To tell you the truth, I could hardly keep from crying over it, I was so much delighted at such repeated & undeserved marks of the Cambridge family’s good opinion at a Time when the World seems, I know not why, combined to part me from them. For if they should hear these reports, what can follow? O that they may not! I am more & more deeply interested every moment in wishing to keep well with them. How extraordinary is the tendency which all of this Family shew to think well of me, & to know me intimately. Miss Kitty has no motive for writing but kindness; she is a most amiable & excellent Creature & her kindness is of a sort I earnestly wish may last our lives. The Friendship of her sister I shall be more grateful for [xxxxx 1 word] of [xxxxx 1 word]. I have not [xxxxx 1 word] since I fastened on Mrs. Thrale. Adieu, my dearest love, — write to me on larger paper [xxxxx ½ line] F.B. Love to Cappy & Kitty49 — I shall send Berquin very soon, I hope. Kiss dear Baby, I doat on all you but [xxxxx 1 word] that sweet little Creature.50

49 50

i.e., Capt. Phillips and Kitty Cooke. Baby Frances was 13 months old (see above, p. 121 n. 85).

321

[St Martin’s Street, 8–22 December 1783] To Susanna Burney Phillips

AJLS (Diary MSS II, Berg, paginated 1835–50), 8–22 Dec. 1783 10 single sheets 4to and fragments of another sheet, 20 pp. Annotated (by FBA): Fragment Journal. 8 Decr 1783. Mrs. Vesey, Mr Cambridge Mrs. Vesey, in continuation. Mrs Burke Mrs Vesey continued new illness of Dr. Johnson Dr. Johnson & Mrs. Montagu Mr. Cambridge Journal Fragmt Mr. Cambridge Mr. Burke 17 Decr The first week of Dec. is missing.

Monday, Decr 8th continued. When I came Home from Mrs. Ord’s, I found a Letter51 from Miss Kitty Cambridge. A long & very sociable & kind one. She says that her sister would have answered my former Letter52 immediately, but delayed it out of consideration for you, — knowing that you would hear of its safe arrival by certain members of the Family, who, though not wholly engaged in the Coalition, are a good deal interested in the productions. The whole Letter you will have by my next parcel. You cannot imagine how pleased I am that Mr. G. C.’s visits are so public, & so [xxxxx 2 words], indeed, that they could [xxxxx 2-3 words] of the second Sunday [7 Dec.],53 as this Letter was written on Saturday [6 Dec.]. — I hope to Heaven Mrs. Ord made none of her impertinent sallies as they Walked Home together — I don’t know whether I felt most provoked or ashamed: I wonder what Mr. G. C. [xxxxx 3 words] I should suppose, though, I neither saw in his face, nor heard in his voice [xxxxx 1 word] upon his returning to me both with perfect gaiety & good humour. I sincerely hope they may never meet here again! [xxxxx 5 words] that [xxxxx 2 words] much pleasure in the society of Mr. G. C. there Missing. Missing. Apparently GOC had called at St Martin’s Street on two consecutive Sundays. See below, p. 463, where FB refers to the ‘felicitous 12 days ... which included the 2 Sunday evenings here.’ 51 52 53

8–22 December 1783

429

should be so many people before whom I cannot bear to meet him! — & now Mrs. Ord [xxxxx 1-2 words] to add to the number! — I dare say he spoke in mere spite for being left out, but how could he be taken except in a general communication of mine in Company, to [xxxxx 2 words]? When he has me to himself, he is always happy to engage & talk [xxxxx 3 lines] | Tuesday, Decr 9th This Evening I went to Mrs. Vesey’s, at last. I was obliged to go alone, as my Father could not be earlier than 9 o’clock, an Hour too fine ladyish for me to chuse visiting at. But as I cannot bear entering a Room full of Company sola, I went soon after 7. I found, as I wished, no Creature, but Mrs. Vesey, & Mrs. Hancock,54 who lives with her. I soon made my peace, for several delays & excuses I have sent her, as she is excessively good natured, & then we had near an Hour to ourselves. And then, the first Person who came, — who do you think was? — Mr. Cambridge Senr! — I leave you to guess whether or not I felt glad: & I leave you, also, to share in my surprise upon finding he was uninvited & unexpected! — for Mrs. Vesey looked at him with open surprize. As soon as the salutations were over, Mrs. Vesey, with her usual odd simplicity, asked him what had put him upon calling? ‘The desire, cried he, to see you! — But what! are there only you three? — nothing but women?’ ‘Some more are coming, answered she, & some of your friends; so you are in luck.’ ‘They are men, I hope, cried he, laughing, for I can’t bear being with only women!’ ‘Poor Mr. Cambridge! cried I, what will become of him. I know not indeed, if the three Women now present overpower him!’ 54 Mrs Handcock (d. 1789) was one of the three unmarried sisters of Elizabeth Vesey’s first husband William Handcock: Susan, Dorothy and Susanna (YW xxxi. 232 n. 2). Since Susan presumably died in infancy, Vesey’s companion was probably Dorothy or Susanna. See Betty Rizzo, ‘The Domestic Triangle: The Veseys and Handcock’, in her Companions Without Vows: Relationships Among Eighteenth-Century British Women (Athens: University of Georgia Press, 1994), 218–39, 366–70. Rizzo, however, mistakenly lists the three unmarried sisters as Susanna, Dorothy, and Abigail (219); Abigail, the eldest of the Handcock sisters, married Mark Rainsford.

430

8–22 December 1783

‘To be sure they do; cried he, for I like nothing in the world but men! So if you have not some men coming, | I declare off!’ Mrs. Vesey & Mrs. Hancock stared, & I laughed; but neither of us could discover what he was aiming at, though he continued this raillery some time, till he exclaimed ‘Well, I am sure of one friend, however, to stick by me, for one has promised me to come.’ ‘And who is that?’ said Mrs. Vesey, staring more. ‘Why a Christian-maker.’ ‘A Christian-maker? — Who’s that?’ ‘Why one who is gone to Night to make 2 Christians, & when they are made, will come to see if he can make any more here.’ ‘Lord! — who is it?’ ‘My son.’ ‘O! — well, I am always glad to see him.’ — Here was a [xxxxx 1 word] so all this sport was a [xxxxx 2 words] to take off from the awkwardness of Mr. G. C.’s following his Father where neither was invited! I felt a little queer to be sure — for why was this? Not, however, much mortified, nor with delight [xxxxx 1 word] . Mr. Cambridge then ran on with other such speeches, but Mrs. Vesey sate gravely pondering; & then called out. ‘Pray how did your son know I should be at Home?’ ‘Why he does not know it, answered Mr. C. but he intends coming to try.’ She said no more, but I saw she looked extremely perplexed. To be sure their appointing to meet at her | House, both uninvited, yet when she was at Home with Company, might well appear strange to her. Soon after, Miss Elliot entered. She is a sort of yea & nay young Gentlewoman, to me very wearisome. Mr. Cambridge, during the reception, came up to me, & whispered with a laugh ‘I called upon your friend Mrs. Ord this morning, & she told me you would be here to Night!’ I laughed & thanked him, & we were going on with our own chat, when Mrs. Vesey, as if from a sudden thought, came up to us, & patting Mr. Cambridge on the arm, said ‘I dare say you came to meet Miss Burney! —’

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‘Me? — no, cried he, with astonishing readiness, I came to see Miss Elliot! —’ And, immediately quitting me, he went to talk with her. This was rather a Home stroke, to be sure; yet I really believe accidental. Soon after came Mrs. Walsingham, & insisted upon sitting next me, to whom she is most marvellous civil. The Cambridges [xxxxx 1 line] me [xxxxx 1 word] sweetly what I wished. Then came Mr. Vesey, with Sir Joshua Reynolds, & Mr. Richard Burke. I was very glad to see Sir Joshua, who came up to shake Hands with me; while Mr. Richard Burke called out aloud from the other end of the Room — in his Irish facetious way, ‘O ho! — I shall go round to speak with Miss Burney!’ I so hate these public addresses, that I received him | with the most chilling gravity; & after he had leant over my Chair a minute or two, with enquiries about my Health & my Father, he quietly went away, & liked his reception too little to return. The next were Mrs. Burke & her son. I should have liked much to have sate by the former, who spoke to me with the greatest politeness, but I was hemmed in between Mrs. Walsingham & Miss Elliot. Young Burke almost instantly came to the place Mr. R. Burke had quitted, & was in a humour to be so extremely civil & gallant, that I saw Mr. Cambridge fasten his Eyes upon him with the utmost attention. That did not add to my delight in his notice, but, on the contrary, made me very cold & dry, to provoke him to a retreat. It was all, however, in vain; he was determined upon fastening upon me, & got himself a Chair, which he fairly squeezed in between Miss Elliot’s & mine. I was thus obliged to talk with him, though Mr. Cambridge’s attention made me do it with much reluctance. The Young Lady Spencer55 came next, & then Mrs. Pitt:56 & they two formed a trio with Mrs. Walsingham, so that I got rid 55 Lavinia, née Bingham (1762–1831), m. (1781) George John Spencer (1758– 1834), 2nd E. Spencer, 1783. 56 Probably Anne Pitt, née Wilkinson (1738–1803), m. (1771) Thomas Pitt (1737–93), cr. (1784) Lord Camelford, B. of Boconnoc.

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of one persecuter: for really all those who force people into conversation deserve no better name. Lady Spencer brought with her a collection of silver Ears, to serve instead of Trumpets, to help Deafness. They had belonged to the late Lord,57 & she presented them to Mrs. Vesey: who, with great naiveté, began trying them on before us all: & a more ludicrous sight you can not imagine. | Sir William Hamilton58 followed; & then a Coterie was formed at the other side the Room, by all the men but Young Burke; who would not quit my Elbow. At last, Mrs. Vesey came up to him, & said ‘Mr. Burke I can’t let you sit there any longer with that Cold.’ ‘O, ma’am, cried he, gallantly, I can’t be cold by Miss Burney! —’ ‘Yes, but I mean your Cough, answered she; I am so afraid of that. Pray go to the other side.’ ‘No, no, thank you; — I like my place vastly well.’ ‘But I can’t think of letting you stay in it. I am sure you will be worse again.’ ‘Why, to be sure, you may think I stand little chance of being better for sitting by Miss Burney! — however, I can’t give it up.’ This dispute lasted sometime: & then Mrs. Vesey, turning to me, said ‘Miss Burney, pray move over to that other side.’ I begged to be excused, & assured her I did very well. For at the other side there were only men. ‘O but, cried she, if you don’t move, Mr. Burke won’t, & then he’ll encrease his cold.’ I was now obliged to interfere in my own defence, &, at length, he was compelled to give way, & join the rest of the men. I was heartily glad, for Mr. Cambridge then [xxxxx 5 words] Miss Elliot then came next to me again, & worried me with most uninteresting proseing, never allowing me to listen for two minutes following to either Sir William Hamilton, or my 57 John Spencer (1734–83), cr. (1761) Visc. Spencer, (1765) E. Spencer. He had died at Bath after a long illness on 31 Oct. (ODNB). 58 Sir William Hamilton (1731–1803); diplomat and art collector; KB, 1772. See EJL i. 217 n. 85; ODNB.

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dear Mr. Cambridge, though they were both relating anecdotes the most | entertaining. During this came Mr. George Cambridge. The sight of Mrs. Vesey rising to receive him with one of her silver Ears on, & the recollection of several accounts he had given me of her wearing them, made me unable to keep my Countenance from the moment of his entrance: &, as I did not for a long while hear his voice, I dare say he was in the same situation. A little, too, perhaps, he might feel embarrassed from the consciousness of coming undesired. Mrs. Vesey offered him a Chair next to Miss Elliot; but while she was moving to make way for him, down dropt her Ear! — she stooped to pick it up, & in so doing, brushed off of her Chair a Cushion which she always has removed as she moves herself to sit upon. Mr. G. C. picked that up for her, &, after some apologies, they both sate down, with decent gravity. He spoke immediately to Miss Elliot, whom I found he knew, but not to me, for I looked another way, to hide my treacherous muscles. He then made apologies to Mrs. Vesey for not having waited upon her sooner, but protested he had not been able to call before. I was mighty glad she did not say to him what she had said to his Father! As soon as I felt my Face tolerably decent, I looked around me. He instantly said ‘How is Dr. Burney?’ ‘Better, I thank you.’ ‘I hoped to have met him here?’ ‘Why, he said he would be late.’ ‘I am extremely glad to hear that.’ I then turned off quite, — for what a speech was that | of expecting to see my Father, from an accidental Call? I hope to Heaven nobody heard it: if they did, they must conclude it was with me this visit had been arranged! — I then gave all my attention to an account Sir William Hamilton was giving of the Calabrian Earthquake,59 & Mr. 59 The earthquakes in Calabria and Sicily had begun 5 Feb. 1783. Hamilton, the British envoy to Naples, visited the devastated regions and published An Account of the Earthquakes in Calabria, Sicily, &c. As Communicated to the Royal Society (Colchester, 1783). In his Account, dated ‘Naples, May 23, 1783’, he reported that aftershocks

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G. C. Talked with Miss Elliot, [xxxxx 2 words] though, for he could not do otherwise — till Mrs. Vesey called out to ask me if I had seen the Balloon at the Pantheon?60 ‘No, ma’am.’ ‘Shall you like to see it? Shall I call upon you, that we may go together?’ ‘You are very good, — I shall like it very much.’ ‘I can’t hear her! I can’t hear a word! cried the poor lady, & turning to Mr. G: C. Pray what does she say?’ ‘She — she says, — she shall like it very much! —’ Just then my Father came in. He was the last. And he instantly joined the other men, & so, soon after, did Mr. George Cambridge: happy, no doubt, to remove where he need not find Conversation for Miss Elliot, nor Ears for Mrs. Vesey. There was then a very good discourse, but Miss Elliot would not let me hear it. And, in the new arrangement, Young Burke returned to me again! — Again I saw Mr. Cambridge watching us: [xxxxx ½ line] not hope to [xxxxx 2 words] I was now quite stupid to get quit of him, but he could not have stayed more resolutely, had I been all life & spirit. And this lasted till the Party broke up. Mrs. Burke went first, but not till she had repeated her | invitations to see her at Whitehall. Her son went off with her as did Mr. R. Burke, which occasioned the men to [xxxxx 1 word] . Lady Spencer & Mrs. Pitt soon followed. And then Mr. George C. came continued into Mar. and that 32,367 lives were lost (pp. 1–3); see also YW xxv. 374–6, 383 and newspaper accounts of the earthquakes cited in the notes. Grief-stricken by the death of his wife Catherine the previous year, Hamilton had applied for a leave of absence from Italy and arrived at London in Aug. It was about this time that he met his future second wife, the notorious Emma, Lady Hamilton, who became mistress of Lord Nelson (ODNB). 60 A ‘Grand Air Balloon’ or ‘Grand Aerostatic Globe’, 16 ft. in diameter, exhibited at the Pantheon from 6 Dec. 1783 through 8 Jan. 1784 (Morning Herald, 6 Dec. 1783–8 Jan. 1784). It was designed by Count Francesco Zambecarri (1752–1812) an Italian adventurer, who was assisted in the construction and with the cost by Michael Biaggini (fl. 1777–99), an Italian tradesman in London (Daily Advertiser, 10 June 1777; Gazetteer, 10 Nov. 1783; London Directory, 1799, p. 25). England was currently in the grips of a ‘balloon mania’, begun with the successful public launching of a large balloon by the Montgolfier brothers in France the previous June. See J. E. Hodgson, The History of Aeronautics in Great Britain (London: Oxford University Press, 1924), pp. 101–2; LCB i. 403 n. 11; YW xxv. 449–50 and nn. 7–8.

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[The remainder of the leaf is cut away.]

I told him very much, & he then took the Chair, half behind, half beside me, that young Burke had put between Mrs. Walsingham & me. [At least 1 line is cut away.]

He was going to answer, when Mrs. Vesey interrupted him — by saying ‘Did you know Mr. Wallace,61 Mr. Cambridge?’ ‘No, ma’am.’ ‘It’s a very disagreeable thing, I think, said she, when one has just made acquaintance with any body, & likes them, to have them die!’ [1 ½ lines are cut away.]

this speech set me grinning so irresistably, that I was forced to begin filliping off the Crumbs of the macaroon Cake from my muff, for an excuse for looking down. As soon as I recovered a little gravity, I [At least 1 line is cut away.]

at him, I saw his own Face almost convulsed with restrained laughter, & was forced to fall to filliping again with all speed, &, in order to say something; for an employment for my mouth I cried — rather mal’apropos, ‘This muff was brought me by my Brother; it’s the sea otter.’ ‘Is it? cried he, recovering. I did not imagine they had brought any skins of the sea otter Home large enough. I have often wanted to know what that muff was.’ ‘O yes, all the Voyagers supplied their friends with muffs.’ ‘I thought they had disposed of all skins of any considerable size at China.’ ‘Many of them did: but my Brother has a Notion it was not officer-like.62 Though if you [xxxxx 1 word] an [xxxxx 61 James Wallace (1729–83), of Carleton Hall, Cumb.; M.P.; K.C., 1769; solicitorgeneral, 1778–80; attorney-general, 1780–Apr. 1782, May 1783–d. Wallace had died on 16 Nov. (ODNB; HP). 62 JB had presumably given FB her sea otter muff upon his return from Capt. Cook’s last voyage of discovery in 1780. Sir Ashton Lever’s Museum exhibited ‘the Skin of a Sea Otter, from the South Seas, being one of those collected by Capt. Cook, on his last voyage.... The fur is remarkable for its delicate softness, and the

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1 word] opinion of his general Character by that, it may be a very wrong | [At least 1 line is cut away.]

though he had not that easy sense & look of happiness which had so much pleased me on Friday. I had a long Letter63 yesterday, from Miss Kitty, & I was not only glad, but surprised, for I had feared she was too ill to have written so much. She goes on so as if she was well. She writes me | not [xxxxx 2 words] in the [xxxxx 1 word] of the time. She was [xxxxx 1 word] for it since she must do some thing, & so she might just as well do that there. You [xxxxx 1 word] then the last [xxxxx 1 word] of [xxxxx 2 words]. [At least 1 line is cut away.]

one.’ ‘O, but, I have a very good idea of his Character from your story of his being presented to the king — which indeed is one of the best, & most Characteristic stories I ever heard.’ ‘I told it horribly, though, for I left out half the circumstances.’64 [At least 1 line is cut away.]

[xxxxx ½ line] I [½ line cut away] ‘Well then, you must tell it again.’ ‘No, not I, you have [xxxxx 2 -3 words] of it.’ [At least 1 line is cut away.]

‘Why [rest of line cut away] skins are in such high esteem in China, that the prime ones have produced there at the rate of twenty pounds sterling each, and upwards’ (A Companion to the Museum ... (1790), p. 7). A contributor to the General Evening Post, 1 Sept. 1785, wrote that the natives ‘willingly part’ with the skins ‘for mere trifling toys and trinkets’ and that a seaman at Canton ‘sold his stock alone for eight hundred dollars’. It is possible that JB himself gave the sea otter skin to Sir Ashton Lever (see LCB i. 316). 63 Missing. 64 FBA’s substitution for this last sentence indicates that she is referring to JB: ‘You remember, my Susy, the Nose presentation of our dear James to the king?’ The date of the presentation has not been found, nor the circumstances ascertained, though JB’s ‘Character’ seems to have enabled him to rise above them; evidently his ‘Nose’ was somehow involved.

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‘Why, I had his Letter but yesterday. I could not be so expeditious as that. [¾ line cut away] upon you so, that [At least 1 line is cut away.]

I told him then of some new members for Dr. Johnson’s Club.65 ‘I think, said he, it sounds more like some Club that one reads of in the Spectator, than like a real Club in these times; for the forfeits of a whole year will not amount to those of a single night in other Clubs.66 Does Pepys belong to it?’ ‘O no! he is quite of another party! He is Head man on the | side of the defenders of Lord Lyttelton. Besides, he has had enough of Dr. Johnson! for they had a grand Battle upon the Life of Lyttelton at Streatham.’67 ‘And had they really a serious quarrel? I never imagined it had amounted to that.’ ‘O yes, serious enough, I assure you! I never saw Dr. Johnson really in a passion but then: & dreadful, indeed, it was to see! I wished myself away a thousand times. It was a frightful scene. He so red, poor Mr. Pepys so pale!’ ‘But how did it begin? What did he say?’

65 Despite his poor health, SJ had recently organized a new literary club, which met at the Essex Head in Essex Street in the Strand, three times a week. See SJ to Sir Joshua Reynolds, 4 Dec. 1783 (LSJ iv. 256–7; Life iv. 253–4). 66 ‘We meet thrice a week, and he [who] misses, forfeits two pence’ (SJ to Sir Joshua Reynolds, 4 Dec. 1783 (LSJ iv. 257)). GOC may have been thinking of the Two Penny Club in the Spectator, No. 9 (Life iv. 254 n. 1). 67 The life of George, 1st B. Lyttelton (1709–73) had been published in May 1781 in vol. 10 of SJ’s Prefaces, Biographical and Critical, to the Works of the English Poets. Early in 1783, a separate edition of The Lives of the Poets was published in four vols. large octavo. FB recounts in detail SJ’s acrimonious attack upon Pepys, which occurred at the Thrale residence at Streatham in June 1781, in EJL iv. 366–71. For an account of the ‘War’ between SJ and the Lytteltonians, see EJL iv. 366 n. 92. For an example of the offence taken by defenders of Lord Lyttelton, see Lord Hardwicke to Elizabeth Montagu, 20 Feb. 1781: ‘I beg leave to send you the unpublished vol. of Dr. Johnson which contains Lord Lyttleton’s life; a more unfair and uncandid account I never read, and he (the Dr.), deserves to be severely chastised for it’ (Mrs. Montagu ‘Queen of the Blues’: Her Letters and Friendships from 1762 to 1800, ed. R. Blunt (Boston, 1923), ii. 110). See also Elizabeth Montagu to William Weller Pepys, 14 Aug. 1781: ‘I am very glad you had a battle with Dr. Johnson; he is too vain to guess the odium and contempt he has incurred by his character of Lord Lyttelton and some other men whose works deserved a better critic, and lives a more candid biographer’ (ii. 160).

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‘O, he came to the point without much ceremony! He called out aloud, before a large Company, at Dinner. What have you to say, sir, to me or of me? Come forth, man! I hear you object to my life of Lord Lyttelton. What are your objections? If you have any thing to say, let’s hear it. Come forth, man, when I call you!’ ‘What a call, indeed! — Why then he fairly bullyed him into a quarrel?’ ‘Yes. And I was the more sorry, because Mr. Pepys had begged of me, before they met, not to let Lord Lyttelton be mentioned. Now I had no more power to prevent it, than this macaroon Cake in my Hand.’ ‘Certainly not. If you had made any such request to Dr. Johnson, he would but have given you some odd speech, & then gone on his own way.’ ‘Mrs. Thrale, perhaps, might have interposed; but a very provoking accident happened to herself. She had called for | a Tumbler of Water, & the Butler, by mistake, gave her a Tumbler of Champagne; but she drank it entirely off without finding out what she was about. For she does every thing with that sort of impetuosity, — but the moment she had finished, she called out What is it you have given me? — & she grew so extremely frightened when she found it was Champagne, that she did nothing but terrify herself, & pour down Water, Glass after Glass, all Dinner Time. And that occupied her so entirely, that she could attend to nothing at all else. Otherwise she might perhaps have had power to call them to order.’ ‘It was behaving ill to Mrs. Thrale, certainly, to quarrel in her House.’ ‘Yes; but he never repeated it; though he wished of all things to have gone through just such another scene with Mrs. Montagu.’68 ‘Why I wonder he did not; for she was the Head of the set of Lytteltonians. ‘O, he knows that; he calls Mr. Pepys only her prime minister.’ And what does he call her?’

68

FBA added here: ‘and to restrain was an act of heroic forbearance.’

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‘Queen, to be sure! Queen of the Blues! She came to Streatham one morning, & I saw he was dying to attack her. But he had made a promise to Mrs. Thrale to have no more quarrels in her House, & so he forced himself to forbear. Indeed he was very much concerned, when it was over, for what had passed: & very candid & generous in acknowledging it. He is too noble to adhere to wrong.’ | ‘And how did Mrs. Montagu herself behave?’ ‘Very stately, indeed, at first. She turned from him very stiffly, & with a most distant air, & without even courtsying to him, & with a firm intention to keep to what she had publicly declared — That she would never speak to him more! However, he went up to her himself, longing to begin! & very roughly said ‘Well, madam, what’s become of your fine new House? I hear no more of it?’ ‘But how did she bear this?’ ‘Why she was obliged to answer him; & she soon grew so frightened — as every body does, — that she was as civil as ever!’ He laughed heartily at this account. But I told him Dr. Johnson was now much softened. He had acquainted me, when I saw him last, that he had written to her upon the Death of Mrs. Williams, because she had allowed her something yearly which now ceased.69 ‘And I had a very kind answer from her,’ said he — ‘Well then, sir, cried I, I hope peace, now, will be again proclaimed;’ ‘Why I am now, said he, come to that Time when I wish all bitterness & animosity to be at an end. I have never done her any serious harm, — nor would I; — though I could give her a bite! — but she must provoke me much first. In volatile talk, indeed, I may have spoken of her not much to her mind; for in the tumult of Conversation, malice is apt to grow sprightly; & there, I hope, I am not yet decrepid! —’ He quite laughed aloud at this characteristic speech. | ‘I most readily assured him that I had never yet seen him limp! but I did not dare make this speech at Twickenham, because Mrs. Montagu is a great favourite with Mr. Cambridge.’ 69 SJ to Elizabeth Montagu, 22 Sept. 1783: ‘... your Pensioner Anna Williams ... received your bounty with gratitude, and enjoyed it with propriety’ (LSJ iv. 203). The ‘small annuity’, which had begun in 1775, had doubled her income (LSJ iv. 203 n. 1).

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‘O but I wish you had! — it is so excellent a speech.’ ‘Why I read it to your sister very willingly, but I was afraid it would only provoke Mr. Cambridge.’ ‘Why — he would have taken sides with Mrs. Montagu, to be sure; but still he would have laughed very heartily at the speech.’ ‘Why, what’s that upon your muff? cried Mrs. Hancock, is it a Glass, Miss Burney? Pray give it me.’ I now saw that Mrs. Hancock had taken the place of Miss Elliot, that entertaining lady having, quite [xxxxx 1 word] retired. I would not, however, give her my Glass, — but Mr. George Cambridge, without speaking, took it from me at once, & plopping it hastily on the Chimney piece, returned to his place. This interruption, however, made me turn toward Mrs. Hancock, for I thought I had now had talk enough with my other Neighbour. But I was obliged almost instantly to turn back again, by an enquiry whether I had yet seen the Duke de Chaulne?70 ‘No, cried I, but he is to drink Tea with us on Thursday [11 Dec.].’71 ‘On Thursday? —’ ‘Yes: —’ ‘And will Dr. Johnson be with you too?’72 ‘I hope so; at least I hope that, else the other will not. But | 70 Louis-Marie-Joseph-Romain d’Albert d’Ailly (1741–92), duc de Pecquigny; duc de Chaulnes, 1769; experimental scientist (LCB i. 370 n. 9). 71 FBA quotes the duke’s reply to the invitation for Thursday tea: ‘The Duke of Chaulnes’ best compliments to Doctor Burney. He shall certainly do himself the honour of waiting on him on Thursday evening at the English hour of tea. He begs him a thousand pardons for the delay of his answer, but he was himself waiting another answer which he was depending of’ (Mem. ii. 339). The meeting between the duke and FB was unsuccessful: ‘The Doctor ... ushered his noble guest to the family tea-table; where an introduction took place, so pompous on the part of the Duke, and so embarrassed on that of its receiver, that finding, when it was over, she simply bowed, and turned about to make the tea, without attempting any conversational reply, he conceived that his eloquent eloge had not been understood; and, after a little general talk with Mr. Hoole and his son, who were of the evening party, he approached her again, with a grave desire to the Doctor of a second presentation. ‘This, though unavoidably granted, produced nothing more brilliant to satisfy his expectations; which then, in all probability, were changed into pity, if not contempt, at so egregious a mark of that uncouth malady of which her country stands arraigned, bashful shyness’ (Mem. ii. 339–40). 72 The duke had dined with CB and SJ on Sun., 7 Dec., but as CB reports, ‘The dinner did not go off so light as the last Balon; the inflammable Air of Johnson, that

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[At least 1 leaf is missing.]

Friday Decr 12 continued. I had the happiness to receive Mr. Cambridge alone, all being gone up stairs before he came. He was in the sweetest good humour & good spirits imaginable; but I must give a [xxxxx 1 ½ lines] . [1½ lines are cut away.]

He most comically congratulated himself upon finding me alone, ‘For now, says he, you will talk to me; when others are by, you will not.’ [1½ lines are cut away.]

But in the midst of this, — how introduced I cannot recollect, he said things that made me stare! — for he gave me a most grave & serious caution to converse as little as possible with young men! This to me, commonly reckoned so reserved & shy, quite amazed me: but, certain he had some motive & meaning, I listened without making any defence, lest I should check him from explaining himself. Explanation, however, I got none, but what I had recourse to my own mind for finding. It appeared to me that his Head was still impressed with what had passed at Mrs. Vesey’s, where he watched & examined me, I believe, all night: but whether he was then alluding to a caution for my sake against young Burke, or for his son’s against his son, puzzled & distressed me. Finding how quietly I heard him, perhaps he imagined what I was suggesting, for, with far more oddity, in order, I believe, to colour this oddity, he abruptly mentioned Mr. Marsh,73 a young man whom he had been very useful & kind to, though he did not like him, & he bid me by no means encourage him to any intimacy! was to lift us all up, was damped by sickness. He spoke but little, & that not in his best manner’ (LCB i. 403). FBA adds, that ‘The Duke, however, was too enlightened and too rational a man, to permit this failure of his expectations to interfere with his previously formed belief in the genius and powers of Dr. Johnson, when they were unshackled by disease’ (Mem. ii. 339). 73 Charles Marsh (1735–1812), M.A. (Cantab.), 1760; F.SA., 1784. The only son of a London bookseller, he had been made a clerk in the War Office through Richard Owen Cambridge’s interest but later quarreled with his benefactor. He retired from the War Office after many years’ service with a pension of £1000 per year (ODNB; GM lxxxii2 (1812), 26).

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Heaven help me! I had never even heard his name! ‘Being intimate, continued he, with George, & having, in some measure, the run of my House, You might perhaps be led to chat with him, & that, — but I would advise you not, by any means. Many Young men will be apt to follow you, for nothing but your being the fashion, & without knowing any thing of your merit; & such young men may do you much harm, in talking of you, & saying how they know you, & that, —’ He always says & that when a little embarrassed. I only made general answers, but I sate upon Thorns to understand him better: & to know whether he was meaning to guard me against young Burke, or to make me comprehend I had better not talk with Mr. G: C, nor any young man. — Instead, however, of clearing up my | doubts, when he said something more to the same purpose, he mentioned Mr. Piccard,74 his Wife’s Nephew, & said ‘And I would never have you let him come about you, or be at all upon terms of intimacy with you. There is more danger than you are aware of, in the acquaintance of young men. They are very apt to do mischief, even when they don’t intend it. But there are so few that know how to speak of Women, without hurting them, that you cannot be too cautious. I [1 line is cut away.]

many [xxxxx 1 word] to you. I said he was very good; & I should certainly have contrived to mention young Burke myself, had I not feared he thought of another: for I was cruelly vexed he should think this caution necessary. But presently, — he added — ‘Now my sons, — may be trusted: Charles & George are not capable of doing you any harm. —’ 74 George Pickard (1756–1840), B.C.L. (Oxon.), 1781; rector of Warmwell, Dorset, 1780–1840. He was the son of Richard Owen Cambridge’s sister-in-law Henrietta Trenchard (c.1732–87) and her husband Jocelyn Pickard (c.1726–88). The Cambridge family properties passed to GOC in 1802, to Charles Cambridge in 1841, and then to George Picard’s son George (b. 1808) in 1847. By the terms of Charles’s will, the Pickard family assumed the additional name of Cambridge. See R. D. Altick, Richard Owen Cambridge: Belated Augustan (Philadelphia, 1941), p. 145; GM lvii1 (1787), 365, cx2 (1840), 439; IGI.

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At any other time, I might, perhaps, have cavilled at this, — but now, I felt quite relieved, by such a proof that Mr. G: C. was not in his Head, — or, rather, was in his Head, as an exception to his charge, that I felt quite delighted in hearing him. ‘They, continued he, are young men you need never fear; they know so exactly what ought to be said, that they never say what is wrong. With them you may always be safe: but it is quite different with others, — with Marsh & Piccard. — & that —’ How extraordinary! — I was now upon the point of letting him know how little I had desired the attentions of young Burke, when Charlotte & Dick came into the Room, & the subject was dropt. Pray tell me what you can make of this: & if you think with me that Marsh & Piccard were mere noms de guerre, mere names that first occurred, to avoid personally pointing at Young Burke, as he cannot be sure what place he has in my favour? For that he was thinking of him is all the clue I can get to unravel this twisted skeine. But to recommend to me to be so sociable & trusting with his sons, — with Mr. George, I might say, since the other he knows I never meet, — is it not strange? & just after a conversation75 that had made me forget even his being in the Room, such rattling spirits had it put me in! | He stayed with us till 12 o’clock, — but the conversation grew chiefly his own, for I was sorry not to mention young Burke, & satisfy myself more clearly if he alluded to him, & that a little lowered my flights. He talked much of the happiness they had all had at Twickenham on Thursday [11 Dec.], though he regretted not coming here. They had nobody but Miss Baker, ‘& wished, he said, for nobody but You, I give you my Word! —’ When he was going, he asked me most kindly when I thought I could really visit Twickenham again? I evaded any positive answer, but said as soon as I could. After Christmas, then, he said, he hoped for no more delays: & he told me he was going back to Twickenham for the Holydays, 75 On Sunday, 7 Dec., between Anna Ord and GOC when she found him at St Martin’s Street (see above, p. 428).

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& took leave of me for a long while. I was very sorry to part with him, indeed. Saturday, Decr 13th You will believe I was more surprised than displeased to be called this morning to Mr. Cambridge again! & again to be alone with him. ‘I have got, said he, one quarter of an Hour before I set out, — & as I find you alone, it is worth millions.’ Dear Creature! how delightfully partial he is! He had a bad Cold, & I had told him the Day before I should get him some Lozenges, as he furnished me with them last Winter, — fatally enough, Heaven knows!76 but this morning he brought me some, though I have no Cold, & said I must keep them for a charm. Again he returned to speak of Marsh & Piccard! desiring me to take as little notice of them as possible! — & then went on to much general caution! — I died to mention young Burke at once, — but I had not the courage, lest he should misinterpret my eagerness. Though I wish I had, too! ‘In talking with young men, he continued, there is always some risk, — & it is better to avoid it. They may often want to know You for no reason but to talk of you. You have a very large acquaintance, — & your House is very well manned — but young men coming to it —’ ‘Dear sir, interrupted I, nobody has a less acquaintance of young men! Scarce any ever visit us!’ ‘So much the better! a great deal the better! for what I have said to you of Marsh & Piccard, is not to prejudice you against | them, for they are as good sort of young men, especially Piccard, who is very amiable, as any I know, — but it is the same with all young men, — they will all be likely to follow you only for fashion. And then you may be hurt by them. — My sons, now, — Charles is as harmless; — & though he does not know as much of the World as Piccard, yet he would be instinctively certain never to speak of you but so as to do you Honour.’ Strange, & most strange! so now he most particularises Charles: this cannot be natural, knowing so well I never see him! — I, therefore, cannot but understand him as only meaning Mr. G:! — & is it not most wonderful, my dearest Susy, that he should bid me fear an intimate intercourse with all others but Him — from whom alone I have ever suffered any 76

See above, p. 336 and n. 63.

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doubts, suspicions, or reports? — yet with Him only I can be safe! — can he know of the Paragraph, & say that? — Can he be ignorant of it, & act with the strangeness & alteration which last April I saw in him! I parted with him again, even more reluctantly than before. In the Evening, I went, with Mrs. Crewe’s Ticket into Mrs. Fitzgerald’s Box, to the opera, Silla. Pacchierotti sang sweetly. I don’t like the first woman, or, at least, I like her but seldom. And there is nothing else. I went on Sunday [14 Dec.] to [2 ½ lines are cut away.]

poor Miss Cambridge. She makes enquiries about Mrs. Delany which lead me to suspect the 2d Sunday’s Conversation was partly reported to her: & then she says ‘So I hear you threaten with the Brown Room:77 the threatened, however, has done nothing, lately, to deserve it, & is as well, tho’ not so stout, as we wish him.’ Is not this an odd paragraph from her, — the name so avoided! — & see how those dry speeches still rest upon his mind. I must never behave so to him again! I wish, [xxxxx 2-3 words], I had not done that thing! |

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[St Martin’s Street,] 15 December [1783]

To Hester Maria Thrale ALS (Houghton), 15 Dec. 1783 3 single sheets 8vo, 5 pp. seal Addressed: Miss Thrale, Bath

Decr 15th

I thank you most sincerely, my dear Miss Thrale, for so kindly speeding to me what you call pretty good news:78 O what times are those when such news should be thought pret77 A room in the Cambridges’ house at Twickenham ‘appropriated for all the Invalids of the House, when first able to leave their Bed Rooms’ (FB to SBP, 17 Feb. 1785 (Berg)). 78 The letter is missing.

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ty good, either for you to write, or me to receive! But we so entirely agree in thinking her life & her reason must at all events be saved, that this, as things now stand, is as good as we must expect. I entreat you not to suppose me less anxious for your Letters, because slow in sending my own: for as all the information must come from you, & as I have nothing but comments to return, I only fear tiring you with repeating over again & again opinions & regrets you know before you read them. Depend upon it, however, that should any thing happen here, relative to Dr Johnson, or any other person or thing, that should first come to my knowledge, & appear to me interesting to you, I will write it instantly. I feared you would not like my scheme about the residence.79 Indeed I do not like it myself, but only I have a dread inexpressible of her leaving us all. I lament most truly being away from her now; but | what must I do when you are absent from her too, & when nobody is with her in whom we can trust, or have any interest or influence, & when we can know only how she does by her own Letters, which we well know are merely pictures of her mind & state of Health & feelings at the moment she writes them, not accounts such as may be relied upon of her well or ill doing in general? — Besides, how can she ever tell us if she does ill? She is shutting herself out of all power of complaint, — ‘tis a melancholy, a most heartless prospect! Sweet soul, & simple as headstrong, to plunge herself thus into a Gulph of which no one can see the depth! What a Night was that you described! — between her & your sister, what must you have gone through! — Let me most heartily congratulate you on the recovery of the latter. Poor thing, — I never read nor heard of so shocking an illness & attack. If Mrs Thrale is so all alive to the danger of any of you now, what will she be when she feels she has deserted you! — I used to represent that to her, but she was then insensible to | all apprehensions but upon one subject: & now, it is too late. — we have tried all that opposition could do, & we have rather to lament than rejoice in our most fruitless &

79

See above, pp. 416–17.

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unhappy & short conquest. She must act in her own way from this Time forward, — to sooth her mind & her feelings is all we can now attempt. I can never express half as strongly as I wish the relief & consolation I receive from finding, my dear Miss Thrale, that you & this dear unhappy mind are so much more what I have always wished you, than you have now for a long while been before. Consciousness, shame, remorse, all smothered, yet none of them destroyed, kept her aloof from her once darling Daughter, — & distress, irresolution, & perplexity of every sort, kept you aloof from her. You acted most generously in being the first to struggle against these mutual barriers, & I am sure it will be a comfort to you hereafter, greater than it can be to your mother now. She mentions you now with the most grateful kindness in all her Letters.80 And this most desirable change makes me bear my own absence from her far better than I did | before it took place, because her want of me can by no means be so strong or so essential. I quite applaud your spirited speech upon her encreasing misery, without any encreasing occasion, & I congratulate you upon its effect. That she should be rather more naturally cheerful than she was, is indeed something to rejoice in. But I am very sorry for you about the Bill.81 For Heaven’s sake, 80 See, e.g., HLT to FB, 3 Dec. 1783 (Berg): ‘I take your advice about talking to my Tit ... I have ... much Alleviation from her Friendship, & Sophy’s: they are endowed with an Understanding very superior to common Minds, indeed they are extremely estimable Creatures; & much wiser than any Woman of twice their Ages, with whom one has any Chance of conversing.’ 81 Presumably the attorney’s bill for the settlement of Henry Thrale’s estate. In a note dated 1 Dec. 1782, HLT wrote that ‘[John] Cator said ... that the Attorney’s Bill ought to be paid by the Ladies [her daughters] as a Bill of Mr Thrale’s — but I replied that I might remarry, & give my Estate away — besides if I should leave it to Hester says I — why should Susan & Sophy & Cecilia & Harriet pay the Lawyer’s Bill for their Sister’s Land? he agreed to this Plea, & I will live on Bread & Water but I will pay [Christopher] Norris myself — ‘Tis but being a better Huswife in Pins’ (Thraliana i. 552 n. 4). In Apr. 1784, outlining her finances in detail, she wrote to FB: ‘The Hertfordshire Copyholds sell for 850:£ which we hope will pay for the Attorney’s Bill’ (HLT to FB, 15 Apr. 1784 (Berg)). And in 1786: ‘How glad I am now that all Debts are discharged ... & that I paid the Attorney’s Bill even before I married Mr Piozzi’ (Thraliana ii. 667). It appears that at the time of FB’s letter Queeney thought that she and her sisters were faced with paying the bill. The rest of the paragraph suggests that she was so enraged with her mother that she was entertaining notions of moving away from Bath with her sisters. See FB to Hester Maria Thrale, 21 Feb. 1784.

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my dear Miss Thrale, what is your own purpose, besides escaping from a Town you so much dislike? — I am most sincerely in pain for you every time I think of this, — & I should think of it much more, but for the horrible circumstances, the Heart-breaking steps that must precede this difficulty. In the midst of such serious calamity, how provoking to be tormented with people you wish to avoid! — I well know the sickening drag upon the spirits of such situations. Permit me to offer my advice in one thing that regards only yourself, & throw it aside or not, according as it strikes you. I doubt not but you will be sifted by many, but I think it will be most to your advantage to confide in none. The | Time is past, by your own concurrence past, that any measures can be taken to break this chain, & therefore the quieter things are kept till the last moment, the better it will be for the peace of poor Mrs. Thrale, who will be actually torn to pieces should the new project be discovered: & the less you are supposed to previously know of it, the less can be said or conjectured or annotated upon, — & censure is so much readier than indulgence, that in all things where the public will have a voice, we are safest while we keep it most in ignorance even of our best intentioned actions or views. Every thing you now say that has any reference to this subject, will be every where repeated, when the matter is blazoned; though it may all be, in fact, to your Honour, there is much risk of malignity where many tongues tell the same Tale. Pray excuse this hint, which I only give to you because it is what I think right for myself. Adieu, my dear Miss Thrale, — & the oftener you can find leisure to let me know how you go on, the more you will oblige your affectionate F.B. Dr Johnson continues silent on the subject, & I am sure thinks the matter blown over. — ah! — [FB’s journal for 1783 resumes:]

[½ line cut away] quite quiet. Tuesday [16 Dec.] I spent the afternoon with Dr. Johnson, who indeed is very ill, & whom I could hardly tell how to leave. But he is rather better since, though still in a most alarming way! Indeed I am very much afraid of him! — He was very, very kind. — O what a cruel, heavy loss will he be! —

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[The rest of the leaf is cut away.]

Wednesday, Decr 17th continued. I spent this Day with Mrs. & Miss Ord quite alone, & very comfortably. Just before I went, Mr. Payne brought me £50 for the 4th Ed. of Cecilia.82 Thursday, Decr 18th I called this morning upon Mrs. Walsingham & Mrs. Byron. I used all the evasions I could to excuse meeting Lady Carlisle,83 but as I could not say my motives, I have been obliged still to leave it as a thing to be done sometime. That, however, must not be the case; for if I would avoid a Mrs. Demi-rep,84 surely I will a lady of that unhappy family, as the higher that Race rise, the worse I think of all who associate with them. In the Evening, after many appointments, I went to Mrs. Chapone’s. I found Mr. & Mrs. Cole,85 whom I never saw before, Mrs. Boscawen, Mrs. Levison, her Daughter, Mr. & Mrs. Burrows, Mrs. Amy Burrows, Mrs. Scot, Mr. Seward, Mr. Pepys, Mr. Mulso. I was much surprised to see Mr. Seward in such a Blue set. Mrs. Amy Burrows told me that Mrs. Barbauld86 was coming to Town for a short time & said civil things of her desire to know me; & when I returned the same, proposed a Published by Payne and Cadell in 5 vols. in the new year. Isabella, née Byron (1721–95), sister of Admiral John Byron (1723–86), m. 1 (1743) Henry Howard (1694–1758), 4th E. of Carlisle; m. 2 (1759) Sir William Musgrave (1735–1800), 6th Bt. As early as 1748 Lady Mary Wortley Montagu had opined that Lady Carlisle’s ‘Inclinations ... are very gay’ (Complete Letters, ed. R. Halsband (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1965–7), ii. 312). She separated from her second husband after only a few years and led an amorous life on the Continent where she became notorious for her entourage of ‘barons’, including most notably a long-time attachment to a pretended ‘Baron de Wenheim’. She had returned to England (without the ‘Baron’) in Nov. 1783. See W. H. Smith, Originals Abroad (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1952), pp. 97–112. 84 FB probably refers to Henrietta Charlotte Dallas (c.1764–93), who m. George Anson Byron (1758–93). Byron had fallen in love with her in Jamaica and married her after only 10 days’ acquaintance. Her mother-in-law, FB’s friend Sophia Byron, had branded her to FB as a ‘little low dirty Girl’, though she was in fact the daughter of a wealthy physician and granddaughter of a colonel. See EJL iv. 79 and nn. 71–2, 361–3 and n. 75. 85 Charles Nalson Cole (c.1722–1804), B.A. (Cantab.), 1743, barrister; m. Anne Hester Abdy (1733/4–1805/6), dau. of Sir William Abdy, 4th Bt; close friends of Elizabeth Boscawen and Mary Delany (Delany Corr. v. 319 et passim; GM lxxiv2 (1804), 1248; IGI; will of Anne Hester Cole, PCC, 21 Dec. 1805, prob. 1 Feb. 1806). 86 Anna Laetitia, née Aikin (1743–1825), m. (1774) the Revd Rochemont Barbauld (1749–1808); poet and miscellaneous writer. See EJL ii. 21 n. 50. 82 83

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meeting at her Brother’s87 House, to which I willingly agreed. The Evening, all together, was most amazing heavy, though every body was obliging & well disposed. But nothing did well, — there was neither life nor spirit in the Leaders or their followers. Mr. Burrows took it in his Head to talk of nothing but Young Hoole’s Aurelia, & put me abominably out of Countenance, by calling upon me, jocosely, to repeat my own share in that poem! — he is a man of a good deal of humour, but so extremely facetious & course, that my spirits are quite as much elated by his neglect as his attention. Poor Mrs Chapone was not well enough to Head her own Corps, as she is abler to do with truly dignified humility. | [The rest of the leaf is cut away.]

You find, my dear Susy, Mr. G. C. is not bent upon a total retreat; This is the first time he has come with his Father since last April. It was really provoking to be out. The preceding Thursday88 when he knew we were at Home,89 he would not come; why, therefore now? I wish much to know what you think of all this; pray tell me quite truly. Friday, Decr 19th — This morning I was made some amends. Mr. Cambridge Senr came again, & I had a charming Tête à Tête with him. I told him how sorry I was to have missed him the Night before. ‘Why yes, said he, George & I thought we should just have caught You. I was determined to try all times, till I could, because I am only in Town for to Day.’ He then repeatedly hoped he did not disturb me, which I assured him he could never do, & then we began our usual conversation upon every sort of thing that came uppermost. Neither of us however, was half satisfied, when Miss [xxxxx 1 word] entered the Parlour with Mrs. [xxxxx 1 word]. He then whispered me he would call again, &, after a little general talk, to save appearances, off he went, & when he returned I was fortunately alone, & how sociable we then [xxxxx 1 word] 87 88 89

The Revd John Burrows. 11 Dec. He knew because she had told him (see above, p. 440).

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were! This dear Creatures visits are really the delight of my life. They give a spirit to my present existence that it would ill dispence with. He charged me to write often to his Daughters, & to love them. ‘Yes, cried I, I love them for letting me love you.’ He laughed very much, & said ‘Why Mrs. Cambridge, too, thinks nobody can esteem or value me too much, only she would not always have me make too much of them. — But Charlotte & Kitty are so pleased with your Letters! do love them! —’ I promised I would — & so, I honestly do. Some time after, he said ‘Gay as you may think me, I am always upon the Watch for evil. Only I do not look for it, like the Croakers, it. And for this purpose I am constantly turning about in my own mind every possible evil that can happen, & then I make it my whole business to guard against it.’ And it was with this view I spoke to you about those Young men, — Marsh & Piccard; — for, after all, except at my House, you may never see them.’ Who else will [rest of line cut away] [At least 1 line is cut away from the top of the leaf.]

You have heard the Whole story of Mr. Burke, the Chelsea Hospital, & his most Charming Letter? To Day he called, & as my Father was out enquired for me. He made a thousand apologies for breaking in upon me, but said the Business was finally settled at the Treasury.90 Nothing could be more delicate, 90 Edmund Burke’s last act as Paymaster General in the Fox-North Coalition Ministry was to secure for CB the appointment of Organist at Chelsea College with a salary of £50 per year. His letter to CB, written 19 Dec., is printed in Mem. ii. 374 (where it is misdated as 9 Dec.) and reprinted in Correspondence of Edmund Burke, ed. T. W. Copeland et al. (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1958–78), v. 120. It begins: ‘I had yesterday [18 Dec.] the pleasure of voting you, my dear Sir, a salary of fifty pounds a year, as organist of Chelsea Hospital. But as every increase of salary made at our Board [of Chelsea Hospital] is subject to the approbation of the Lords of the Treasury, what effect the change now made may have I know not; — but I do not think any Treasury will rescind it’. The ‘increase of salary’ proposed by Burke was from 20 to 50 pounds per annum. This new salary was confirmed by the Treasury Board meeting the same day as Burke’s letter, 19 Dec. (Correspondence v. 120 n. 2; see also LCB i. 409). Burke presumably hurried over to inform CB of the good news.

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more elegant than his manner of doing this kindness. I don’t know whether he was most polite or most friendly in his whole behaviour to me. I could almost have cried when he said ‘This is my last act in office: —’ he said it with so manly a chearfulness, in the midst of undisguised regret. What a man he is! — [rest of line cut away] At Night [20 Dec.] I went to the Opera.91 Sunday [21 Dec.] was [xxxxx 2 words]. Monday, Decr 2192 I went, at last, to the Pay-office, to call on Mrs. Burke. I was let in. She received me with the most distinguished politeness, & behaved with just the elegance of one who felt obliged, by having obliged. She is a sweet Woman. How happy I am for Mr. Burke that she is. It was melancholy, however, to visit her in a place she was so soon to quit. This whole family are highly inclined to take to me in the same cordial way the Cambridges have done. I see it in them all, & very gratefully. I afterwards called on Mrs. Chapone, & returned the Burrows’s visit. Tuesday, Dec. 22d 93 made a thousand visits: in this order, — Mrs. Anguish,94 Mrs. Turner,95 Mrs. Barwell, Miss Gregory & Mrs. Montagu, Mrs. Pepys, Lady Rothes, Lady Frances Burgoigne, & Mrs. North: & all of them were out. Just before Christmas, nobody is to be at Home! — then I went to Miss Streatfield, & there I stayed all the rest of the morning, for she told me her whole story & all her adventures. Marvellous! — She has now, tall expectations that Dr. Vyse will relent, — he permits her, she says, to wear his Hair! — & shewed it me in a Ring! O what things did she say! — Well, — poor thing, she

For Silla again (LS 5 ii. 667). FB errs in her dating. Monday was actually 22 Dec. Actually, 23 Dec. Sarah, née Henley (d. 1807), wife of Thomas Anguish (see above, p. 369 n. 39). 95 Presumably Catherine Turner, née Allen (d. 1796), wife of Charles Turner (d. 1792), Collector of Customs at Lynn and an old friend of CB (EJL i. 9 n. 27). In 1775, FB mentions the Turners as being ‘in Town for the Winter’ (EJL ii. 82); their residence was probably in Queen Square (see JL iv. 163 n. 5). 91 92 93 94

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deserves, at least, the man she has for 8 Years condescended to avow publicly for her Choice! & her Hope! I was surprised to find Mr. Cambridge had again called while I was out. He had enquired if I should be at Home in the Evening, & promised to call again. I was at Home, & alone, & had 2 or 3 Hours of as enlivening &, to me, delightful conversation with him as ever I have had since I knew him. He talked to me again of Mrs. C., with the utmost openness. And he talked too, of poor Miss Molly, & told me many anecdotes about her, which I heard with true pity for them all. But what most I was sorry for, was his account of sweet Miss Kitty, whose sufferings have lately been very acute, & who, he told me, he had left very ill with a cold & Fever besides! — so that now, he said, the House was not even fit or able to receive me if I could go: but all his best hopes seemed engaged in its being soon changed for the better, in my going, & your meeting me again, which he talked of with a fervour that quite enchanted me. He told me, with his usual, but unexampled simplicity of openness, various circumstances respecting his management about me at Twickenham! He said he had quite provoked Mrs. Cambridge lately, by over-praising Sally Baker, because | she wanted him to praise Miss Gundry,96 ‘but my view, says he, was to keep her off from being incensed at what I say of you! You told me, you know, that you loved Charlotte & Kitty for letting You love me, — now, to tell you the truth, they are a little apt to say how much I take to you, — & that; — & that they never knew me have such a favourite as you yet, — & so forth; but the thing is, they are ill, poor things, & that makes them not what they would be if well, for the mind will be a little affected by the body. Though Kitty has the most angelic patience, too, that a human being can have! but all I mean is,

96 Mary Gundry (1743–1836), only daughter of Nathaniel Gundry (1701–54), judge and politician, who m. (1742) Mary Kelloway (c.1717–91). Both she and her brother Nathaniel Gundry (c.1747–1830) subscribed to Camilla. She and her mother lived at Richmond, Surrey (will of Mary Gundry, PCC, 9 July 1832, prob. 18 Oct. 1836; GM lxi2 (1791), 1159; c2 (1830), 93; ODNB; D. Lysons, The Environs of London (London, 1792–6), i. 458; IGI).

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that as to your coming to Twickenham, if I was passive, they would be the first to clear away all rubs & difficulties, but it is so notorious among them my wishing it, that now they leave that all to me! — However, you must only pity them for this, for it is merely the effect of ill Health.’ Was there ever such artless confidence! — Can I help more & more valuing his regard Daily? ‘Kitty’s illness, indeed, makes us all miserable,’ he continued! She is so sweet a Creature, & bears it so patiently. We hardly dare think of what we fear,97 — I know how sorry you must be for us! — but don’t let it prey upon you, — I hope all will soon be better, — & that we shall have another happy meeting, & get your Susan to come to you at Twickenham. I do assure you, in my various uneasinesses, there is no expressing the comfort I receive from having made this fortunate acquaintance with you two! As to Susan, I protest I think her one of the first women I have ever known in my life!’ I could hardly keep the Tears from my Eyes at his condescending kindness! — to talk of our comforting him! & plan our mutual happiness in again meeting under his roof! What a liberal Heart he has. F

323

[St Martin’s Street, late December 1783] To Susanna Burney Phillips AL (Berg, Diary MSS II, foliated 30–32), late Dec. 1783 Single sheet and 2 double sheets 4to, 10 pp. red seal Addressed: Mrs. Phillips, / at Mrs. Hamilton’s, / Chesington, / Kingston / Surry — Annotated (by FBA): The Pepys. Decr 25. — 83.

I shall now proceed with Xmas Day. [1/3 line cut away] in my last sheet with what infinite cour 97

She died the following June.

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We went at night, according to appointment, to the Pepys. We found only Lady Rothes, Sir Lucas Pepys, for Dr. Pepys has just been made a Baronet,98 Lord Leslie, a Youth of about 18, son of Lady Rothes, Mr. Montagu, Mr. Wraxal & the master & mistress. Mrs. Walsingham & Miss Boyle went to one side of the Room, & I was placed next Lady Rothes on the other. All the Pepys’ were in good humour & good spirits; their new dignity has elated without making them impertinent. Mr. Montagu came immediately to my other side, & there planted himself, talking to me without intermission. He is a well bred & sensible Young man, but tiresome to me from his | eager passion to discuss opinions & sentiments in which I have little or no interest, being chiefly political. During this [The middle 2/3 of the leaf is cut away.]

& ill; though [rest of line cut away] very delicate, or how very careless he is! I don’t know whether he bowed to me or not, for I could not see as I did not look at him. I was unwilling to take the smallest notice of him, till I could discover in what manner he himself meant to behave. We had parted at Mrs. Vesey’s99 better friends than ever; — & as such we should again have met, but for that Duke de Chaulne business. 1 His call here on Thursday [18 Dec.] had told me he meant not to drop the acquaintance, but as I had not seen him, I could not tell in what manner he meant to keep it up. I was glad, therefore, that he came, — though I can never see him before the Ords & Pepys but with difficulty & pain. | Tired of Mr. Montagu’s discussions, I said little & little, less & [1/3 line cut away] too & at length [rest of line cut away] 98 He was nominated by the King on 19 Dec. and formally invested on 22 Jan. 1784 (Morning Chronicle, 22 Dec. 1783). 99 On 9 Dec. 1 11 Dec., when GOC did not come to St Martin’s Street even though he knew the Duke de Chaulnes was to be there.

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I wished him at York2 a thousand times, for I was in no humour for such long prosings; but he was so very civil, & so entirely free from airs of any sort, that it was impossible to decline talking with him, though I could hardly give sufficient attention to him to answer with any meaning or consistency. I saw he sometimes wondered at me, but he worked on, hoping, no doubt, I should improve. Alas,— | he was sadly disappointed, for I only grew heavier & heavier. [Most of the rest of the leaf is cut away]

her acquaintance, am [rest of line cut away] first moment, therefore, that Mr. Montagu [rest of line cut away] enough to understand what was saying, I clapt in, as Dr. Johnson calls it. He was giving an account of a Robin Red-brea — that had come into the Library at Twickenham. I asked him how long ago? — He had left it there, he answered, — & said not a word more. I was a little disconcerted, but finding Mr. Montagu again Hallowing me, I gave him a short answer, & | then began a little account of the Birds at Chesington, addressing it entirely to Mr. G: C. — He gave me an exceeding civil attention, & now & then a monosyllable; but nothing — not a word more. This coldness silenced me, — not only then, but, I think, for-ever from beginning myself even to know him. Young Montagu again attacked me, & I had now no resource, therefore I was forced to go on with him as well as I could. Mr. G: C. with a very calm air & manner continued talking with Lady Rothes: but, to judge by his voice, it was not with more pleasure than I felt myself from talking with Mr. Montagu. But what to think I knew not; whether this strangeness was from a kind of punctilio not to take me from Mr. Montagu, — or from a new excited fear of observation, — or from indifference? Some time after, [xxxxx 3-4 words] about moving & Mr. G: C. went to assist: Mr. Montagu budged not — he then took a seat between Mr. Montagu & Mrs. Pepys, & had a good deal 2 i.e., far away; similar to wishing someone at Jericho. FB may have been thinking of Richardson’s Sir Charles Grandison in which Lady G. wishes the tiresome Aunt Nell ‘in Yorkshire fifty times’ (2nd edn (London, 1753–4), vol. 5, p. 2).

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of chat with the latter, to whom, indeed, he almost wholly spoke, or was wholly silent, which most frequently happened, as he was not in one of his rattling fits. In sitting down, he flung himself unto the back of his Chair just as he used to do at Twickenham, when he was not in spirits, & I never in my life saw a young man sulk longer. He lent so entirely back that I never even saw him, though next to him but one, & though Mr. Montagu is scarce half his height. Mr. Pepys now read some political tracts, to which we all listened: & Mr. Montagu did his best to make me talk upon their merits with him: though I protested myself totally ignorant of all political subjects. But compliments & fine speeches can be made aprôpos to every thing; so they filled up all vacancies of better matter, & effectually kept off silence: & | he is so profoundly civil to me, he often makes me ashamed. Some little debate arising about these tracts, Mr. Montagu went to the Table, behind which Mrs. Walsingham & Mr. Pepys were seated, to look at them. Lady Rothes went also, & seated herself for the rest of the Evening at the other side of the Room. Sir Lucas soon after took her place; & Mr. Montagu returned also to his. It was odd to me to have Mr. G: C. only separated from me by an empty Chair, yet not speak: but he was determined to be polite, I suppose, to Mr. Montagu, & let him resume his place at pleasure. Stiff, however, as he was, he did not seem to enjoy his stiffness: he lent so entirely backward, that I never once saw him, after he took his new place, except as Mrs. Pepys, latterly, spoke to me across both the Gentlemen, to ask some question about Mrs. Ord. I then perceived how grave he looked. What could make him so serious? — probably meeting no one with whom he could talk, that he wished to talk. I had then a little chat with Sir Lucas about Mrs. Thrale; but Mr. Montagu soon calling me from him, insisted upon more fully discussing something I had hastily said about politics; not worth repeating, however. In short, he really plagued me intolerably. Just like Young Burke at Mrs. Veseys, the more I endeavoured to have done, the more determined he grew to keep me engaged. What a Lesson & incitement to coquetry! — had I wished to engage him, perhaps he had fled.

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[xxxxx 1 word] Mrs. Walsingham’s Coach was now called. She had promised to carry me home. Mr. Pepys, however, produced something, but I was too distant to see what, which made Sir Lucas, also, go to the Table, & Mr. Montagu & every body followed, but Mrs. Pepys & Mr. G: C. & myself. When they had been gone about a minute, Mr. G: C. | though almost without turning toward me, said ‘Have you seen my Father lately?’ ‘Yes, answered I, I saw him on Tuesday. But what have You been doing, preaching or hunting, to get all this cold & coughing?’ As I made this answer, he slipt into Mr. Montagu’s place, & brightened up into all his usual smiles & good humour. His smile, indeed, had as much of pain as of pleasure in its expression; — what it meant, I can not tell, but it was a look of so much unaccountable consciousness as I cannot easily, if ever forget. It soon, however, wore off, & every fresh speech grew gayer in its delivery. ‘I have no Cough, answered he; this is merely the remains of the old Cold.’ ‘No, no, it is not, cried I, for you had got the better of that at Mrs. Veseys, which is more than a Week ago.’ ‘Well, however, cried he, laughing significantly, I have not been in the Brown Room! I’ll tell you how I caught this Cold; it was by calling upon You! — that wet night [Thurs., 18 Dec.], with my Father.’ Was this to make me now sorry for him? but mark how times are changed, — upon me, he now says openly, — a short while ago he would only say St. Martin’s Street, or your Family, even when it was palpable he meant only me. To what can this alteration be owing. ‘Nay, that was no fault of mine! cried I — I was spending one of the dullest Evenings myself I ever passed.’ ‘Well, but that was the fault! answered he; if you had not spent that dull Evening, I should not have caught this Cold, for then I should have got out of the Wet.’ ‘But pray, cried I, have You heard any thing from Twickenham to Day? — How is poor Miss Kitty?’ | ‘No, not to Day; I left it yesterday morning.

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‘O, that will do for my [xxxxx 1 word] — ‘ ‘Yes, interrupted he, that is later than any Letter you have had. —’ ‘Tell me, then, how poor Miss Kitty does?’ ‘Not well at all!’ answered he, sighing. ‘So Mr. Cambridge told me; — I was both grieved & disappointed at his account of her.’ ‘And she has now, added to her own disease, one of my sort of Colds & Fevers, which hangs upon her very heavily.’ ‘I am very sorry, indeed! — I can never help wishing, when any body so amiable as she is suffers, so cruelly, that, if there must be suffering, it would fall any where else.’ ‘We should all, said he, with a tone of affectionate sadness, have been glad to have borne it for her!’ We went on upon this unhappy subject a little longer, till feeling that we were growing sadder by talking of it, I said, a little provokingly, ‘I am the more concerned, because she does nothing to deserve being ill.’ ‘No, indeed, answered he, warmly, she does nothing to deserve any ill!’ How amiable — how delightful is his [xxxxx 2 words] for this [xxxxx 1 word] sufferer. — But Mrs. Pepys now went also to the Table, — & we were alone; — I would have gone too; but I was sure I should instantly have been seized upon by Mr. Montagu; & I did not think it necessary, since I could not be silent, to sacrifice my whole evening from Mr. G: C. to him. At the same time, however, I dreaded any serious conversation, & therefore, in the same light style, which I fear he will think rather perverse, I again answered ‘No, — she neither preaches nor hunts!’ | ‘Nay — cried he, rather gravely, preaching I cannot help!’ ‘But she, cried I, does nothing she can help that would hurt her: so that I am always doubly unwilling to have her ill, because I find it impossible not to be sorry for her.’ ‘What an abominable cruel speech! cried he, casting up his Eyes, & laughing, — so then I must never expect the smallest pity? —’ We ran on with this a little while, & then l told him I had again seen Miss Baker, &, at last, very comfortably.

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‘I know you have!’ cried he, smiling. ‘And I exactly followed all your injunctions about her: I quite drove out of my Head all that I had heard of her, & began with her anew.’ ‘I am very glad of it! I am quite happy at it! — I called there the other Day, & soon found how it was: I made some enquiries that —’ ‘I never liked her so well before. We prated away together for a couple of Hours as hard as we could; & I found her all that you have all said of her.’ ‘I was just going to have told you so, cried he, laughing, if you had not spoken first; for I was sure of it by what I had heard; I had asked two or three questions from which I could draw very certain conclusions.’ ‘Well, I was very much obliged to you for putting me in the right way —’ ‘O, I am so glad you spoke to me! I would not but have had you for the World! you might else only have supposed something was lurking in concealment, — something more deep —’ ‘O Yes! I should have concluded that all was deeper & deeper, slyer & slyer!’ | He laughed quite heartily at my taking such an idea of Miss Baker, — & his spirits returned with such gaiety, that I was quite vexed to see Mrs. Walsingham rise to take leave. I was obliged, therefore, to rise too; [xxxxx 1 word] though we went on with our conversation, for not knowing I had come with Mrs. Walsingham, he had not any notion I was going with her, & therefore he only rose too out of general civility. ‘I have made an appointment, continued I, to meet Mrs. Mowbray3 at her House next Monday.’4

3 Perhaps Finetta Pye (1719-1810), m. 1 George Cruickshank (d. 1765), Holland merchant; m. 2 (1766) William Mowbray (c.1734-1809), of Greek St., Soho Square, London (Mark Noble, Memoirs of the Protectoral-House of Cromwell (London, 1787), ii. 109-10); IGI; GM lxxix1 (1809), 590; lxxx2 (1810), 389; will of George Cruikshank, PCC, 20 May 1763, prob. 16 Sept. 1765; will of William Mowbray, PCC, 10 Apr. 1806, prob. 26 June 1809). 4 29 Dec.

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Mrs. Mowbray is an odious Woman, still worse than Mrs. Jones,5 whom I know he dislikes very much. He stared a little; — & only said ‘Have you?’ ‘Yes; Don’t you like Mrs. Mowbray?’ ‘N—o! — cried he, laughing — but why are you to meet her?’ ‘Because I have met Mrs. Jones twice, & her but once; so it’s her turn.’ And then I marched forward to the Group, for all were now standing. ‘O ho! cried he, following me, so it’s only from that inference then?’ I was now walking away from him, without waiting to make any further answer; — still, however, keeping close to me, & not, I believe, perceiving my design, he said ‘But now — you must always come to me to confession? — — will you?—’ ‘Yes, — if you will always do me as much good as you have done in this.’ ‘O — I dare say I shall, — at least I hope so.’ During this last question, as I was now advanced to the Group, Mr. Pepys turned round short upon us, & then, still shorter, from us: — which I was much provoked at, & immediately | joined into the clump. Upon which, as I expected, Mr. Montagu again spoke to me: but my Neighbour was in no humour to retreat, &, before I could well answer Mr. Montagu, he said ‘your Brother was so good as to call upon me the other Day. I was quite sorry I was out, but I hope it won’t discourage him from calling again. I know how little he is in Town, but when he does come, I hope he will let me see him.’ I thanked him; indeed, I believe he never mentions poor Charles but with a view to particularly oblige me. ‘But what, cried he, is become of Capt. Phillips! is he carried off in an air Balloon? — he never comes to Twickenham now.’ ‘Come Miss Burney! cried Mrs. Walsingham, — where’s your cloak?’ Off I now flew, without making any answer, leaving him, probably, in some surprise at my abruptness. 5 Possibly wife of the ‘John Jones, Esq.’ who subscribed to Camilla. Not further traced.

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But that was not an House in which I dare behave to him as I wish. Mr. Montagu fetched me my Cloak, & we now made our reverences, & went our ways. So much for this visit, & for one pacquet. Pray let me hear your sentiments of it, just as they occur upon first reading. You see, at least, no design of flight, — the repeated solicitation for confession seems to intend nothing less. He certainly suspects that his Father talks rather strangely to me. But certainly his desire of my trust & communication are just what I should wish. Much, however, as I am always rejoiced to converse with him thus openly, I should have quitted both him & my place, rather than have sate even those few minutes chatting with him separately, in the presence of the Pepys, had I not the whole Evening before been engaged with Mr. Montagu; for as nobody could know how much I wished to get rid of him, my instantly flying from Mr. G. C. | would surely have looked more strange than my keeping quietly in a seat I had occupied the whole Night, without seeking or changing, & taken up with just those who had come to me. This being really my opinion; my inclination, to be sure, did not welcome it for the sight first of his gravity, & next of his rising spirits, I must surely have been stone to have seen & not to have felt. If, indeed, they were not imaginary, for frequently I doubt all that appearances give me to judge from — the Duke de Chaulne — I can never think of him, & not conclude all to be fancy that does not show indifference. Undoubtedly, however, he has still no distrust of the Pepys, nor the smallest caution in his behaviour before them. If he had, he would not have followed me & retarded my leave-taking. I saw Sir Lucas, when we joined in the Group, look at us both with a sort of pleased attention, while his Brother watched us with a slyer circumspection. Their Ladies I did not remark. These are cruel draw backs to my comfort from this acquaintance. I have no Time to write more at present, but just to thank you for your Letter by dear Etty — for I am now at Mrs. Ord’s, — but in full persuasion I shall find a Letter from you at Home when I return; I genuinely wanted to send you this & will write more when I can.

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Heaven bless you, my love. Etty’s best love — she is here. Also Mrs. & Miss O.’s best Compts.

324

[St Martin’s Street, late December 1783 – early January 1784] To Susanna Burney Phillips

AJL (Berg, Diary MSS II, foliated 33-34), late Dec. 1783 - early Jan. 1784 4 single sheets 4to, 8 pp. Annotated (by FBA): Fragment Journal Mrs. Ord’s. 26 Decr 83 Mrs. Ords. Mr Pepys. Dr. Johnson. illness To Decr 30–83 Endorsed: Jany [cut away] 1784 All but the first letters of the 3-line address is cut away. This AJL, evidently sent in early Jan. 1784, is included in the present volume for 1782-1783 since it mainly describes events at the end of Dec. 1783, with a brief mention of 3-4 Jan. 1784.

I came Home from the Pepys’s on Christmas Day, full of new opinions & conjectures, — Flight, I saw, was no longer what I had to expect, — at least not at present, — my alarm was great for the sweet suffering Miss Kitty, my whole Heart was sad for all her affectionate Family. — was sorry, you will say, for myself? — it is long — long since I have been that, — one wholly tranquil, singularly felicitous 12 days6 excepted, which included the 2 Sunday evenings7 here; the meeting at Mrs. Ord’s & Mrs. Vesey’s, & which finished on the Day [11 Dec.] we received the Duke de Chaulne — for that was the Day which broke the spell, which destroyed the illusion that flattered me with the pure & permanent Friendship of the Person upon Earth I most gladly have received — into the first rank of my best chosen Friends. — But there he was safe lodged neither more nor less,— & for ever to remain! — You will think, perhaps, I do not write in spirits, & in Truth I think so too, — & turn, therefore, to digression, & let me go on with my narrative.

6 7

i.e., from 29 Nov. until 10 Dec. 30 Nov. and 7 Dec.

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Friday, Decr 26th I had a double engagement for to Day, — in the Evening, to meet Pacchierotti & Miss Bulls at Lady Mary Duncan’s, & to Dine with Mrs. Ord, who was also to have a party, but which I had not power to stay with. She expected, she told me, the Marquis Durazzo:8 an Italian Nobleman, who was to be brought by Mr. Seward, — the Pepys & Mrs. Chapone. At Dinner we had only Miss Ord,9 who is a Cousin of Mrs. Ord, herself, her Daughter, & my Father: & we did very sociably. Mrs. Ord grows more & more kind to me, & I now look upon her as a firm & zealous friend for life. I am sure I hope so. Mr. & Mrs. Pepys came early in the Evening. I was in a great Chair at one side the fire, &: as Mrs. Pepys took the other side, her sposo sate down by me, & confined himself to me wholly; & was in higher spirits, & more entertaining, than I have ever seen him. The Marquis, Mr. Seward, Mrs. Chapone, Mr. Mulso, & Mrs. Buller came afterwards: &, as the last entered, I ran away from the great Chair, & got next to Miss Ord | upon a sofa; but Mrs. Ord soon called me back, as Mrs. Buller went to the opposite side, & Mr. Pepys had only Mr. Mulso for his Neighbour, to whom he scarcely speaks; — indeed he is so muzzy,10 who can speak to him? &, as I resisted taking again the Post of honour, Mrs. Ord came & Handed me back. Mr. Pepys & I then began a mutual flash, I assure you, & wondrous sprightly we were. About 10 minutes after, Mr. Cambridge was announced, — & entered. It was Mr. G: his Father is still at Twickenham. Mrs. & Miss Ord had named over all their party to me, except him, — I had not, therefore, at all expected him. But what think you of her a second time inviting us to meet each 8 Count Giacomo Durazzo (1717-94), Italian diplomat, theatre director, librettist and art collector (GMO). The London newspapers had recently announced (s.v. Vienna, 29 Oct.) the award by the Emperor of the Great Cross of the Order of St  Stephen to ‘Count Durazzo, Ambassador at Venice’, and other dignitaries (Morning Chronicle, Morning Herald, 17 Nov. 1783). 9 Presumably another of the Orde family, of whom Thomas Orde was a ‘near Relation’ of Anna Ord (see above, p. 186 and n. 41). Possibly his sister Anne Orde (?1758-1824) (IGI; GM xciv2 (1824), 645; will of Anne Orde, PCC, 23 June 1817, prob. 2 Dec. 1824). 10 i.e., ‘spiritless’, ‘confused’, ‘unfocused’, etc. (OED, s.v. muzzy, adj. 1. b).

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other? She must surely have concluded, from our first meeting, that nothing or that every thing was settled between us! — she would not, else, promote an acquaintance which she so lately thought so interestingly circumstanced. Cruel! — cruel, indeed! — What can I say to undeceive her? — What, indeed, do to avoid deception myself? He took the very place I had just left. I am sure I wished Mr. Pepys at Jericho for never [xxxxx 3 words] made Mrs. Ord bring me [xxxxx 1 word] He made his with great gravity, & looked as serious & as little pleased or happy as he had done the Day before. How I wished to enquire how his beloved Kitty went on! — but I was sitting in state, & the furthest from him of any body. I felt deplacé, too, in such a grand fauteuil. Whether he bowed to me, or not, I was too far from him to distinguish; &, with Mr. Pepys incessantly talking to me, I had no opportunity to curtsey to him; — by some strange fatality,[xxxxx 3-4 words] to him — & I [xxxxx 1 word] to nobody else, — & I was [xxxxx 2 words] to almost everybody. I am very much grieved at it, but these watchful observers make me tremble at common civility. Perhaps this is [xxxxx 2/3 line] from whom, [xxxxx 1 line] from me. | As we were all in one great Circle, no parties could be formed. I was therefore kept wholly to Mr. Pepys. Mrs. Ord once made an attempt to separate us, though she had insisted upon putting us together, — she came up to us, & said ‘Come, come, I believe you are only cross questioning her, so I think now I shall part you.’ However, he, as bound in gallantry, I, as tied by civility, refused to move. [The rest of the leaf is cut away; at least 1 line is cut from the top of the following leaf.]

for his spirit & his pride are easily stirred — but he must, I think, know, that it is restraint, not impertinence nor caprice, which occasions my shirking him. Yet the conclusion of the preceding meeting, & his present uncommon seriousness, gave to me [xxxxx 2 words] desire to behave to him with chearfulness & friendship, — but think how I was situated, — Mrs. & Miss Ord & Mrs. Pepys I was certain were all attention to me; Mr. Seward had not seen us together since he

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informed Miss Thrale of his Notions, — Mrs. Chapone sate facing me in silent & most profound observance, & Mr. Pepys never for a moment took his Eyes off my face! — It seemed, therefore, that now, or never, I must shew them my indifference & their mistake, — for what is not Love, they will think indifference; — & therefore I used every effort, & strained every nerve, to flash away with Mr. Pepys just as I did before Mr. G. C appeared, & I exerted myself so successfully that I can reasonably hope [xxxxx 1 line] my thoughts. I had [xxxxx 2 words] this consolation, in owing what I [xxxxx 2 words] liked, & what, [xxxxx 4 words] by his apparent low spirits, my very [xxxxx 1 word] recoiled at, — for how much did I long to talk to him of his sister, & with, if possible, [xxxxx 3 words] I could have sate & cried with him for her [xxxxx 3 lines] talked very little, & that little wholly without exertion. I never saw him, & little himself so [xxxxx 1 word] of his own importance to his party. Certainly [xxxxx 5 words] that weighs so heavily on his spirits! What [xxxxx 7 words] but I will not think of such [xxxxx 1 word] | [At least 1 leaf is missing.]

It was really a singular notion of Mrs. Ord’s, who, till the entrance of Mr. G. C., would not suffer me to quit Mr. Pepys: & after his entrance, I would not suffer myself. Did she, like me, think he looked comfortless? And would she, if she did, make me, try to enliven him? — But though I will not [xxxxx 2  words] deny I was [xxxxx 1 word] vexed at being so engrossed by Mr. Pepys, I have not been so well pleased with him these many months; for there was something far more delicate in his adhering to me now, than there would have been in his quitting me. I do assure you I believe Mr. Pepys to have a real & solid regard for me, notwithstanding it is to him I attribute the most cruel action that ever had been done to me:11 I think he was led to it inconsiderably, from an earnest curiosity to discover by our Countenances whether his surmizes were just: & the malicious manner in which the article is written, I impute to a view of disguising his own style under 11 The insertion of the ‘fatal paragraph’ into the Morning Herald the previous Mar. (see above, pp. 334–5).

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that of the common news-paper Cant. At least, if things are not so, he is the most consummate Hypocrite, & most causeless Enemy, that ever any human Being met with! for he appears to esteem & regard me beyond almost any body. Had he foreseen the consequences, & known the real mischief, which at times it has occasioned me, & the uneasiness [xxxxx 1-2 words] which it never lets sleep, I do sincerely believe he would rather never use a pen again, than have been the wilful Author of such unprovoked [xxxxx 4-6 words] | never again bear talk in the same tone with him. On, therefore, we flashed, till my Father crossed over to me, & said we must go to Lady Mary’s. We intended to have made off unobserved, but as soon as I rose, Mr. Pepys, still talking, rose too; & then Mr. Seward crossed over to speak to me, & every body rose. Mr. Seward about never finding us at Home, & talked to me of our dear Mrs. Thrale. Mrs. Ord then came, & pressed warmly to see me again soon, & then I stole out of the circle, behind the Chairs. Mr. G: C. did not follow Mr. Seward’s example, — he stood still in his place, &, if I saw not falsely, with an air of embarrassed uncertainty what to do. Indeed I am greatly mistaken if he was pleased at seeing me thus decamping, before he had once spoken to me. He did not, like the rest, keep up a conversation with his next neighbour; he said not a word to any body, but looked after me as I moved, as if upon the very verge of approaching me, but, by something, with-held. Just as I came next but one to him, in gliding behind the Chairs — I was stopt, by my Father, in my way out, to be introduced to the Marquis Durazzo; but only Bows & Courtsies ensued. Miss Ord then came out of the ring, to enquire about my Cloak: it was upon the sofa, beyond Mr. George Cambridge, — I ran past to get it, — he turned round, to see what I was about, & I made him a Reverence in re-passing, which he returned, & then away we went. I was very sorry to have no opportunity of asking after Miss Kitty. Was not this a mortifying meeting? If you had seen with how irresolute an air he followed me in my retreat with his Eye, & turned entirely round to look after me, you must have concluded he was provoked at my departing in such a manner. — yet he [xxxxx 1 word] in the summer, the [xxxxx

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3 words] in the winter, — these are recollections to make me always ready to attribute to mere imagination, or reshape those visits, suggestive of partiality, which they always | contradict. Yet I must think had he that very regard for me, I have for him, & which I thought so lately he really had, he would have come to speak to me, as Mr. Seward did. By the way, this is the first Week I have not written to Twickenham since I left it: but I have not heard, & am sure they are all too much engaged about their beloved Kitty to think of me or my Letters. Saturday — Dec. 27. Miss Baker called this morning, in most extreme bad Weather, on purpose to tell me the sweet Twickenham sufferer was rather better, & to make excuses from Miss Cambridge about not answering my Letter, as she was constantly nursing. How kind of Miss Baker, & how good of Miss Cambridge! — Indeed they are, alltogether, the best people in the World. Mr. George Cambridge, she told me, had called upon her Yesterday, to know if she had heard of Kitty, as he had not. So he knew at Mrs. Ord’s she was better, — for all he seemed so out of spirits. She made me a very short visit, charged me not to forget Monday,12 & left me much obliged, &, indeed, revived by her news. At night I went to the Opera.13 Sunday [28 Dec.] passed no how — Monday Decr 29. I received a Letter from Twickenham, most unexpectedly, & most welcomely, just as I was setting out for Miss Baker’s — I carried it to read there, & found Miss Baker in the same employment, — think how pleased I was to find it from Miss Kitty herself! — a very long Letter, — the longest & most agreeable she has written me yet: sweet Creature that she is! how impossible it is to keep ones Heart from her! — though I fear, I actually fear giving it to her, in a state of Health threatening so much distress. At the conclusion of her Letter, she says — ‘Charles is gone into Dorsetshire, to begin the New Year; George is to give us a sermon at the Chapel14 to-morrow, which poor I cannot be allowed to hear; but a greater Lady 29 Dec. To see Silla yet again (LS 5 ii. 668). Twickenham Chapel, where GOC would become the minister in 1805 (JL vi. 713 n. 32). 12 13 14

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will, for Mrs. Siddons is here on a visit at Mr. Hardings,15 & probably will | [At least 1 line is cut away from the top of the leaf.]

And then, over the leaf, she writes ‘Since the above, George has been here, & tells me how kind Mrs. Walsingham was to him; & that Capt. Phillips is very busy about something, but he could not learn what; & that you are to drink Tea at the salt office on Monday [29 Dec.]. Pray give my compliments to Mrs. Mowbray! — Perhaps as it is Christmas, Mrs. Jones may come too; if you are in luck, she will.’ — How he has told all that passed! — he pretends he remembers nothing. Mrs. Walsingham’s kindness I could not for my life make out. There is much kindness about you & Capt. Phillips. But you shall have the Letter by the first opportunity. [At least 1 line is cut away]

Tuesday, Decr 30. I went to Dr. Johnson, & spent the Evening with him. He was very indifferent indeed. There were some very disagreeable people with him;16 & he once affected me very much, by turning suddenly to me, & grasping my Hand, & saying ‘The Blister I have tried for my Breath has betrayed some very bad tokens, — but I will not terrify myself by talking of them: — ah, — priez Dieu pour moi!’ You may believe I promised that I would! — Good & excellent as he is, how can He so fear Death! — Alas, my Susy, how awful is that idea! I was very quick in to answer Miss Kitty’s letter, which I was greatly obliged to her for, as she was still very far from well. I told her I could understand nothing of Mrs. Walsingham’s kindness.

15 George Hardinge (1743–1816), judge and writer; solicitor-general to Queen Charlotte, 1782–94; M.P. Hardinge lived at Ragman’s Castle, Twickenham from 1783 until his death (ODNB; YW xlii. 483). 16 SJ had complained to HLT 3 days earlier (27 Dec. 1783): ‘Visitors are no proper companions in the chamber of sickness. They come when I could sleep, or read, they stay till I am weary, they force me to attend, when my mind calls for relaxation, and to speak when my powers will hardly actuate my tongue’ (LSJ iv. 265).

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Wednesday, Decr 31. We had all the Ipswich17 Family. I [rest of line cut away] | I went afterwards, by long appointment, to Mr. Burrows’s to meet Mr. & Mrs. Barbauld. Mr. Barbauld is supercilious & conceited: his Wife soft-mannered, gentle, smiling, — yet argumentative, precieuse, & extremely affected. Mrs. Chapone carried me. She has just the same opinion of Mrs. Barbauld as myself. I [xxxxx 1 word] to [xxxxx 2 words] at Ipswich, & I [xxxxx 4- 5 words] the [xxxxx 1 word] very sociably. They are good, amiable girls [xxxxx 1 word] , though I think Mrs. Chapone herself is the most superiorly unaffected creature you can conceive, & full of agrémens from good sense, talents, & conversational powers, in defiance of Age, infirmities, & uncommon [paper worn away]. I really love as well as admire & esteem her. [Several lines are cut away.]

spoilt & altered in company. Saturday [3 Jan.] again the opera,18 — Sunday [4 Jan.], nothing — I left this for answering your Letters, my dearest Susy, but it is not allowed me to have time — Mrs. Meeke is just arrived again, — I will answer in my next & now can only thank. Pray continue to read the following paragraph to Capt. . A Friend of Capt. Phillips would be highly obliged to him if he could make an anchor of led19 for a small boat, to be only 2 inches long.20 I have not time now to explain for whom & what, but if he is able to do it, I shall be extremely glad. Will you tell me in your answer yes or no? I believe I shall send you 1 more solitary Volume on Friday:21 If I hear from you before, send you either a Letter or parcel. |

17 Presumably Mary and Isabella Hatley and other of their relations (see above, p. 84 n. 84). 18 Again Silla (LS 5 ii. 670). 19 Lead, of course. The passage is obliterated, but this indeed appears to be the spelling, though OED does not give it as a variant past the 16th century. 20 Obviously for a toy boat. 21 9 Jan.

APPENDIX 1 UNDATED IT EMS FROM 1 7 8 3 This appendix consists of discarded leaves and fragments of leaves that belong in 1783 but cannot be placed with any chronological certainty. The first seven items are in Diary MSS II, Berg. The last is a fragment of an ALS from FB to HLT, Osborn.

IT EM 1 The opening speaker is Richard Owen Cambridge, talking about his wife and his son George. ‘Mrs. Wright’ is Patience Wright, née Lovell (1725– 86), wax modeller, who had recently returned from Paris and set up an exhibition of wax work figures at her house in Cockspur Street, Haymarket (ODNB; Public Advertiser, 27 Aug. 1783, Morning Herald, 6 March 1786, BCEN): ‘My wife’s odd Jealousy, said he, I must sell you a new Tract of; when I told her I would return to Day to Dinner, Ay, says she, that’s because George comes back to Day! — So she’s jealous of Him! —’ So you find, my dear Susy, Capt. P. need not be detained any longer. He [Richard Owen Cambridge] pressed me much to go to Mrs. Wright, to see both her & her Wax Work, & proposed coming to carry me the next Day. But he is not at all aware what a staring it would make, our going only as two, if we met any of our acquaintance. I believed it for that reason. — At last, he said Sally Baker could be of our party; — then I was ready enough, — but it was left undecided at last. He is, however, very earnest for Sally & me to go to Twickenham together for one Hour: & I wish that most earnestly. I was very sorry when he went away. I had, on Monday, a sweet Letter from Miss Cambridge, with much of you in it. You shall see it by the first opportunity. One paragraph says |

IT EM 2 The following two fragments seem to follow each other. FB and CB are returning to London from a visit to the Cambridges at Twickenham. Mr Colman is of course George Colman the elder, dramatist:

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An odd thing enough, of its sort, happened now. I proceeded with these two Gentlemen to the Coach, & just as I passed a little Gate, which Mr. George held for me, Mr. Colman, who had been talking with my Father, abruptly came up, & seized my Hand, to Hand me into the Coach. As I had been the Guest of Mr. Cambridge & was actually walking with him & his son, this | When we were all seated, & going off, Mr. G. C. came up to the Coach Door, & said ‘If you should meet Charles riding home, he will be very proud of a Bow from you.’ ‘I hope we shall meet him, said my Father, but do pray, now, let us see You when you come to Town.’ ‘You may depend upon me!’ cried he gayly. ‘Well, pray let us!’ ‘Yes, — Sundays are the most likely Days for me, now.’ To be sure, they are not for my Father. ‘Well, said my Father, but when I & that little party I mentioned to you, I hope we shall see you. I will let you know.’

IT EM 3 See above, p. 382, where Richard Owen Cambridge praises Evelina: Then he [Richard Owen Cambridge] also said ‘that makes the wonderful merit of your Book, — if you’ll excuse my just mentioning it! — for you see with such exact discrimination all classes of Characters, & let the Individuals pass unnoticed.’ And Mrs. Cambridge is so afraid of you, lest you should see her faults. ‘I must, said I, see, myself, only her excellencies!’ He enlarged a great deal more about Miss Baker, & praised her with great warmth & affection, but he said so much of this keen insight into frailty, that, to own the truth, I did not think the Portrait so inviting as it |

IT EM 4 We talked — Mr. Cambridge & I, next, upon the effect of manner in a beginning acquaintance: & what power some people had, by that alone, of immediate captivation. ‘What a charm, cried he, is that in your sister Mrs. Phillips! What a peculiar felicity she has in her manner! She cannot even move, she cannot get up, nor sit down, but there is something in her manner that is sure to give pleasure.’

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At this, I flew into a great passion! ‘I must not, he continued, talk of you, — but your diffident manner gives great pleasure to every body.’ — At this I felt a little appeased.

IT EM 5 In the afternoon, I went to Drink Tea with Dr. Johnson: he was unluckily out, & I was forced to make my visit to Mrs. Williams.

IT EM 6 This fragment concludes an AL to SBP at Chessington. FB’s Sunday sitting at John Bogle’s for her miniature portrait took place sometime between her return to London after SC’s burial (on 2 May) and her final sitting on 28 June: Sunday. I had to spend this day almost wholly at Mr. Bogle’s. I am forced into complying to have the Picture painted. Miss Gregory called upon me before I went. I saw she wished to be wicked, but the Lady [EAB] had not left the Room, & therefore she did not dare. I am very sorry Mr. G. C. looks thin, — I am afraid his mind has been but ill at ease, though differently agitated from formerly. If his determination, however, is shaken, as I believe it to be, there is rectitude as well as consciousness in thus wholly dropping the acquaintance. As he must not only have meant to call when he told me so on Sunday morning, I suspect some raillery passed at Mr. Pepys that has made him think it right to change his mind. Adieu, my sweet Susy, — my love to the dear Captain & dear Kitty, & remember me to Mrs. Ham. & Mrs. Gast. |

IT EM 7 [xxxxx 1 word] me. Does not this surprise you, my dear Susy? — an invitation from Mrs. Ord once more to us both! — I pray she can no longer bear [xxxxx 2 words] uncertainty about us. But he does not say whether he would go or not. And I can hardly tell all together, whether to wish it or not. ‘I will tell you a little trait, cried I, of Mrs. Vesey. She has been once to call upon me, & she has sent me two cards of invitation: I was out when she called, but I wrote an answer, that I was very sorry I could not wait upon her: well, after all this, she met Mrs. Ord at

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Mrs. Montagu’s last Wednesday, & went up to her, & asked her whether she knew if I was come to Town! —’ ‘O — she behaved in such a manner that Evening! Cried he, — I was very glad you were not there, — I could never have kept my Countenance if you had been there; I was quite glad you were not. — She shifted her party so often, turned round & round, held her Trumpet to half a score people in a minute, — heard nothing, tried for everything, &, at last, got into the middle of a large & formal Circle, where by catching a word or two from every one, she was so distracted, & bewildered, that I never saw a more laughable sight.’ And then her [xxxxx 1 word] comically took her off, in all her various turning & | [The top of the leaf is cut away.] that he [George Owen Cambridge] told me next a characteristic stroke of Mr. Walpole’s. It is the custom, you know, among the macaronies, to wear 2 Watches, which it is always observed never go together: ‘So I suppose, says he, in his finical way, one is to tell us what o’clock it is, & the other what o’clock it is not.’ And another Walpolian Mr. G. C. told me upon the Duke de Bouillon, who tries to pass for an Englishman, & calls himself Mr. Godfrey. ‘But I think, says Mr. Walpole, he might better call himself the Duke of Mutton Broth.’ ‘How Miss Kitty, cried I, who has such a taste for Mr. Walpole’s peculiarities, must enjoy these two traits!’ ‘O, she laughed at them for half an Hour. I assure you, when you write, if you were so good as to tell them any of these sort of Characteristic strokes, there are no two people in the World would enjoy them more, or be made happier by them.’ Droll enough the general interest that seems taken in my keeping this Correspondence up! I am sure I shall not check it, however. While these little anecdotes were going on, Mr. Devaynes, who had been up stairs with my mother, came into the Room. I never saw any thing like his stare at Mr. G. C. — We all 3 stood up while he talked to us. He began a pompous account of his Patients up stairs, said my mother was materially better, but my Father must take James’s powder, ‘And if that has no effect, we must do |

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IT EM 8 This item is a fragment of an ALS from FB to HLT, Osborn: If any thing in the World, most dear Madam, can equal the extraordinary kindness you shew me in Writing so often at this critical & interesting Time, it is the pleasure & the gratitude with which I receive your Letters. | of thanks & heart-felt congratulations from your truly obliged FB. to my infinite regret this morning I missed Sir Rd Jebb, [half-line cut away] ther have seen

APPENDIX 2 FANN Y BURNEY’S ME E T I NG WITH MA R Y D E L A NY The following is another version by FB of her meeting with Mary Delany on 19 Jan. 1783 (see above, pp. 283–94). It is an AJL, 5 double sheets 4to, 18 pp., foliated 1–5, inserted between pp. [1778] and 1779 in Diary MSS II (Berg). Addressed to SC (‘my dear Daddy’) at various points, it nevertheless was almost certainly composed after, and possibly long after, his death. It contains latter-day embellishments to the account sent by FB to SBP, which was certainly read out loud to the circle of ‘Chesington Auditors,’ including SC (see p. 286). This version was probably the draft used by FBA as the basis for her account of Mary Delany in Memoirs of Doctor Burney; compare the references to James Thomson (see below; Mem. ii. 306). At a still later date, FBA made some revisions to this draft. Incorporating FBA’s revisions, we reproduce this version partly as an interesting stylistic bridge to the Memoirs. Mrs. Chapone, who has a most liberal mind, & is as full of good nature as of good sense, was enchanted with her commission, & we arrived in St. James’s place, where Mrs. Delany resides, in high spirits & high Expectations. Mrs. Delany was alone in an apartment entirely hung round with pictures of her own painting, & Ornaments of her own designing, partly from the antique, & partly fanciful; but all equally in the chaste style of true & refined taste. As soon as our names were given in, she came to the door of the room to receive us; which as much surprized me from its really undue civility, as from the report I had heard of her being blind. Blind, however, she certainly is not; for she is neither led about the room, nor seems at a loss how to move, nor afraid of making any mistake; &, if we may judge by the play of her own features, she certainly has not lost the view of her neighbours. The fine perception, however, by which she painted, drew, cut out, worked, & Read, is wholly dimmed, | & of all those accomplishments in which she most excelled, she is utterly deprived. How can one help lamenting that such must be the natural & inevitable routine of time! Do you remember my dear Dr. Johnson’s saying, after drinking my health, on the first Day we dined together at Streatham, what pity it was that there was no wishing a young Lady to be well, without wishing her to grow old?

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Mrs. Delany is still tall, though some of her height is probably lost. But not much, for she is remarkably upright. She has no remains of Beauty in Feature, but in countenance I never but once saw more; & that was in my sweet maternal Grandmother. Benevolence; Softness, Piety & Gentleness are all resident in her Face: & the Personal resemblance with which she struck me to my dear Grandmother in her first appearance, became so much stronger through all that issued from her mind, which seems to contain nothing but purity & native humility, that I almost longed to embrace her; — and I am sure if I had done so, the recollection of that saint-like woman would have been so tender, that I should never have refrained from crying over her. | When Mrs. Chapone, with a kind look that seemed to convey Here she is at last, presented me to her by name, she took my hand, saying ‘Miss Burney must pardon me if I give her an old-fashioned reception; for I know nothing new.’ And she kindly saluted me. You may believe I did not retreat. I only longed to exclaim ‘Ah my dear Grandmother! how I rejoice to see you once more.’ She then, after making Mrs. Chapone go to the sofa, led me herself to a Chair next to her own, saying, ‘Can you forgive, Miss Burney, the very great liberty I have taken with you of asking you to my little Dinner? But you could not come in the morning; & I wished so impatiently to see one from whom I have received such very extraordinary pleasure, that I could not bear to put it off to another day — for I have no days, to throw away! — And in the Evening I may perhaps have company; & I hear so ill, that I cannot, as I wish to do, attend to more than one at a time; for Age makes me stupid even more than I am by Nature: & how grieved & mortified I must have been to have known I had Miss Burney in the room, & not to have heard what she said!’ | You, almost alone, my dear Daddy, will read without surprize words of such sweet diffidence from Mrs. Delany, her time of life, her station in life, her high estimation in the World, & her rare acquirements considered: but a character of innate modesty must so always have been hers, that to you this account may seem mere reminiscence. For myself, I was secretly, & in my secret heart, ejaculating all the while ‘my dear Grandmother! even in the other World have you kept for me this soft partiality?’ I do not know whether you ever saw my darling Grandmother, my dear Daddy; but I think you once did: Imagine her, then, before you, with all the polish of high life & Education, & you will see Mrs. Delany as well as read her words. For myself, I am so much in love with her, that I have talked of no one else since I have had the happiness to behold her.

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What! not of Mr. Burke? you cry. O Yes! I don’t mean not of Mr. Burke! And I don’t mean not of Dr. Johnson! And I don’t mean not of . . . | And I shall not tell You, my Daddy, who else I don’t mean! Mrs. Chapone then regretted that she had an Evening engagement that would force her away at half past seven o’clock. ‘Half past seven? cried Mrs. Delany, smiling; Oh fie, fie! — why Miss Larolles would not for the World go any where before Eight!’ How surprized was I at this sally from Mrs. Delany. Mrs. Chapone then made me look at the paintings, which I greatly admired; particularly a copy of Vandyke’s Saccharissa, of which the original, Mrs. Delany told me, had been lent to her by the Waller family in whose possession it still remained, at Beconsfield. I was much interested, also, by a Portrait of Madame de Sevigné; & while I was remarking the gaiety of her countenance, Mrs. Delany, with an arch look, cried: ‘Yes; it is very — enjouée, — as Captain Aresby would say!’ You may think whether or not this unsurprized me! Presently after, she pointed out some picture — I did not see what — to Mrs. Chapone, & said ‘I hardly know how it is, but I can never, of late, look at that Picture without thinking of poor Belfield!’ Seeing me quite start, she smilingly said: ‘You must forgive us, Miss Burney! it is not right, I own, to talk | of these people to you; but we don’t know how to speak at all now, without naming them, they are so always in our minds.’ At Dinner, I began a subject! . . . My dear Daddy, she remembers You perfectly; & took a deep interest in hearing of my dear Father’s attachment to you, & of the connexion to which it had led with all his family; especially when Mrs. Chapone, who warmly kept up the subject, with a thousand questions, found out that much of Evelina in private, & still more of Cecilia in public, had been scribbled at your residence at Chesington. I dare not, to you, narrate what a sudden volubility superseded my customary silence amongst strangers, because I know You have no taste for a surfeit; & it was but a livelier recital of all the sentiments, opinions, & feelings, which burst forth, on a similar sort of occasion, to Miss Gregory, at Mrs. Ord’s; but to these ladies, I appeared on the sudden to be treading on enchanted Ground; so easy, so flowing, so vivacious I instinctively became. You could not but have been diverted, to have witnessed the | eager attention with which they saw me mounted in such spirits & loquacity, by the mere spell of happy pleasure in discoursing of my Daddy & of Chesington. Mrs. Chapone made only one interruption, in asking: ‘Pray is he a Doctor Lyster?’

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‘I don’t know Doctor Lyster, ma’am;’ I answered, simply enough; for not thinking just then of the Book, I concluded she meant some acquaintance of her own. They both laughed; & told me they should soon teach me to remember Names better, if I lived with them. The Chesingtonian talk lasted till we returned to the Drawing Room, when Mrs. Delany shewed me her new invented Flower work; an art of her own creation. It consists of staining paper of all possible Colours, & then cutting it in strips, so finely & delicately, that when it is pasted on a dark ground, it has the appearance of being penciled, except that, in forming the Flower, it has a still richer & more natural look, from being raised. The effect, under her hand, & with her taste in the arrangement of the Flower, is highly beautiful. And this Art she invented at Seventy Five Years of Age! — What encouragement to a prospect of Longevity to see it thus capable of being met by strength of mind, vigour of Intellect, fertility of Imagination, & a force of Industry able to chace away its usual | grouping Attendants of Pain, Sickness, Infirmity, Feebleness, and Inertia. She told me it was so long before she got her Work into any system, that she finished only 4 Flowers in the first Year: but in the second, she accomplished 16, & in the third, 160. And after that, many more. They are all from Nature, the fresh gathered, or growing Flower being her immediate model, & always before her. And her collection consists of whatever is most choice & rare in Flowers, Plants, or Weeds: Field Flowers, let me rather call them, for Thompson says, the dull Incurious alone, stigmatize those native offsprings of Flora by the degrading title of Weeds. Her plan was to finish, Botanically, one Thousand, for a complete Flora, or Herbal: but the failure of her sight has stopt it, — though Twenty only are short of her original scheme. She has marked the place whence she took her model, with the date of the year, on the corner of each, in different coloured Letters: ‘but, said she, the last year, as I found that my Eyes grew very weak, & threatened to fail me before my plan could be completed, I cut out my initials, MD, in white — for I seemed to myself nearly working in my winding sheet!’ I could almost have cried at the mingled resignation & | spirit of her smile in making this melancholy speech. Mrs. Chapone enquired whether any cold had affected her Eyes? ‘No; she answered, chearfully, nothing has attacked them but my reigning malady, Old Age. ’Tis, however, what we all strive to obtain! And a very comfortable state I have found it. Yesterday, nevertheless, my infirmity was rather distressing to me. I received a Note from young Mr. Montagu, which required an answer, & which I

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could not even read: & my reading attendant, my good Astley, was, by great chance, abroad: my housemaid can neither write nor read; & my man happened to be in disgrace; so I would not do him the favour to be obliged to him: so I resolved to try, once more, to read myself; & I got my Glass: but it would not do! I then got a larger magnifier, & I saw the first word: but before I could make out the second, that became a blank! My Eyes, however, have served me so well hitherto, that I have no reason but to be content with them. I then, luckily, recollected that my Cook is a scholar! & I sent for her, & we made out the billet together, which was written for Mrs. Montagu, & deserved a better answer than I or my Cook, scholar as she is, could bestow. But my dear Niece will be with me shortly; & then I shall not be such a Bankrupt to my Correspondents.’ | In the evening came her dearly beloved Friend, & your former favourite Acquaintance, the Duchess Dowager of Portland. She is by no means so old as Mrs. Delany; but neither, in my Eyes, is her Face, when not in motion, by many degrees equally pleasing; Even when silent, the serene face of Mrs. Delany has something in it that looks angelical. The Duchess, however, when she speaks has immediately a new physiognomy, lighted up by sweetness, sense, & dignity: And those are exactly the words that belong to the description of her manners, which indeed are charming. Mrs. Delany, of the true old school of innate politeness, received her with as much respectful ceremony as if this had been a first visit, notwithstanding her Grace passes almost regularly every evening in St. James’s Place; but what she first took as an honour & condescendsion, she has so much true humility of mind as to hold to be rather more than less so in its continuance; not at all conceiving more highly of herself from being elevated by others. Mrs. Delany presented me to her Grace with great distinction; & most courteous indeed, was my reception. Mrs. Chapone was already well known to the Duchess, | but looked almost exulting with benign good humour at the junction of which she had been the instrument. The sweet Mrs. Delany, to dismiss all embarrassment, immediately entered upon a subject upon which she had already seen me even vivaciously at my ease; for she told the Duchess that I was acquainted with a Gentleman who had the honour to be well known to her Grace, Mr. Crisp. The Duchess instantly asked innumerable questions about him; Where he lived, how he had his health; what was his usual course of life; &c &c &, very particularly, whether he still retained his taste & fondness for the polite arts. I answered all so readily, & so copiously, as to make us at once quite upon good & pleasant terms. How much do I owe you, my dear Daddy, for saving me thus from the usual uneasy awkwardnesses & simple, yet painful

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confusions that I often think must make me seem to strangers a caricature — except in Beauty! — of my own Evelina. Yet I cannot surmount them. But You can hardly imagine the pleasure, ease, & happiness it was to me to talk of my Daddy to so elegant a Judge; — for she told me he was one of the most ingenious & agreeable men she had ever known; & that she sincerely regretted his having so abruptly sequestered himself from the society of his former friends. I spared not for boasting of my dear Daddy’s kindness to my father, my Family, & myself, You may believe. And, in the course of | this conversation, the Duchess rose with me every moment. I found her high bred, courteous, sensible & spirited; not merely free from Pride, but free from its mortifying deputy, Affability. Mrs. Siddons, in a short time, becoming, as she always does, the theme of discourse, I had no sooner joined my small, but warm mite in her praise, than the Duchess suddenly exclaimed: ‘No approbation can do her so much credit as that of so perfect a judge of Character, & of human Nature.’ I now felt both surprised & ashamed; but Mrs. Delany, with an arch laugh, said ‘Ah, madam! — have you then forgot the resolution with which your Grace protested against ever reading Cecilia?’ The Duchess laughed too, answering ‘No; I have not forgotten that I thought five Volumes quite unassailable: — however, I have paid the penalty of my want of foresight, for, since then, . . . . I have already read them three times.’ ‘O terrible! cried I; to make Five into Fifteen!’ ‘The reason, continued her Grace, that I held out so long against reading them, was remembering the cry there was about Clarissa & Sir Charles Grandison when they came out; & those, with all the World worrying me, I really never could read. I was teized at last into trying both of them; but I was so depressed with their tediousness | that I could never get through more than Eleven Letters with all the effort I could make. So much about my sisters & my Brothers, & all my uncles & my Aunts & my Grandmamas & my cousins.’ I was quite sorry here for Mrs. Chapone, who had been the intimate friend & correspondant of Richardson: which I feel sure her Grace did not happen to know. She looked hurt, & gently said: ‘But if your Grace had gone on a little farther, — at least with Clarissa, I am sure you must have been greatly affected; & charmed too.’ ‘O no! I hate any thing so dismal! cried the Duchess; every body who did read, had melancholy faces for a Week. Cecilia is quite as pathetic as I can bear; & more, sometimes; yet, in the midst of the sorrow, there is a spirit in the writing, as Mr. Burke observed, a fire of Contrast in the whole as a composition, that keep off that heavy

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depression given by Richardson. Cry, to be sure we did — Oh Mrs. Delany, shall you ever forget how we cried? But then, we had so much laughter to make us amends! We were never left to sink under our concern.’ I feel quite ashamed to write this, my Daddy — but how resistless to let you know such excess of goodness in Mr. Burke! He had told me of his conference with the ‘old Wits’ on this subject; but not of his own noble Noble kindness. Can it be wrong — ought it to be hid, that it should thus delight me? | But how you will honour my truly liberal Friend Mrs. Chapone, who, checking the unpleasant stroke just received to her own feelings, came forward to do pleasure to mine, in seconding the approvevance [sic] of the Duchess! ‘For my part, she said, When I first read it, I did not cry at all. I was in an agitation that half killed me, that shook all my Nerves, & made me unable to sleep at Night, from the torment of my suspence. I could not cry, from excess of eagerness; for the Catastrophe; for I would not peep: but the second time, when I knew the sum total, I cried at the distress ready to break my heart. Oh! that quarrel of Simkins with the Coachman! — nay, I cannot even now think of that moment for poor Cecilia without trembling.’ ‘How I wish, said the Duchess, smiling, Miss Burney could have been concealed in some corner, to have amused herself at the reality she had given to her characters & story, by hearing the excess of earnestness with which Lord Weymouth, & the Bishop of Exeter, & Mr. Lightfoot, & Mrs. Delany, & myself discussed the point of the Name! Nothing the most near to our own hearts & interests could have been debated more warmly. The Bishop was quite as eager as any of us. But what cooled us at last, & brought us to ourselves, was good Mr. Lightfoots fearing we were going to seriously quarrel! for while Mrs. Delany & I were disputing about Mrs. Delville, | he gravely said: Why, Ladies, this is only a matter of Imagination! don’t be so earnest. It is not a Fact!’ ‘The difference of opinion about the Name & the Fortune, said Mrs. Chapone, is endless. Most people of very high or old families, affirm it would have been base in the Delvilles to relinquish their ancient Name; but almost all others say it was idle & unjustifiable in Cecilia to resign her Fortune: but for my part, I always think that when the husband of her choice was in question, all that could have been unjustifiable would have been preferring the Fortune to the man.’ ‘Lord Weymouth, said Mrs. Delany, who admires Mrs. Delville the most of any character in the Work, says the only fault he sees in the Book is that she does not appear at the conclusion. Why then,

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my lord, said I, I can only infer from that, that when you have read five volumes . . . . your lordship is dissatisfied not to have a sixth.’ I must begin to spare you now, my dear Daddy — or rather my pen & my blushes — for when will you tire of Evelina or Cecilia? & I have no means to put you in possession of my introduction to your former friends, but such as they themselves have been so delighted as to put in my hands. And I have given you this flattering scene, | because I know how much you prefer Dialogue to Description: However, I must now, in decency, curtail my further memorandums for 4 or 5 pages, into 4 or 5 paragraphs: but I should be graceless, & even idiotical, not to place before you what I consider as the climax of all my undeserved, but cherished honours, since it caused, & you will not wonder, a pleasure so sensitive & so serious to my dear Father as to gush from his Eyes! — They went on, for I believe an hour or two, with every character & every scene in the five Volumes; always speaking to one another, without a look towards me, or any attention to my ‘Oh, ma’ams!’ or ‘how good you are!’ or ‘How little I merit’. . . . &c. &c any more than if I had not uttered them, been in the room, their own 3 heads being all nodding together, and all that seemed to occupy their consciousness: till the Duchess, at length, suddenly turning to me, cried: ‘Indeed, Miss Burney, much as we are indebted to you, I cannot refrain saying that you lost me two whole nights sleep, in totality, from the deep interest I took in that enchanting Cecilia’s afflictions.’ ‘’Tis very shocking, ma’am, said I, that I can hear this . . . and not be shocked!’ ‘But the Harrels! exclaimed Mrs. Delany; Oh! the Harrels’! | And now, my dear Daddy, come the last words, hear what I may, that I can ever write upon Cecilia. ‘O, if you speak of the Harrels, & of the morality of the Book, cried the Duchess, with a voice that became suddenly solemn, we shall, indeed, never give Miss Burney her due; ’tis so striking, so pure, so genuine & so instructive.’ ‘Yes, indeed, said the generous Mrs. Chapone, we may complain how we will of the torture she has given our Nerves, but we must all join in saying she has bettered us by every line.’ I cast back my head, & cast up my Eyes, with wonder & confusion, & pleasure, when Mrs. Delany, with the eagerness of fifteen — though 83! — exclaimed: ‘No Book ever was so useful as this, because none other, that is so good, has been so universally read by Young as well as Old!’ ‘It should be read, said the Duchess, with gravity, yet energy, for ever! It should be the study of youth. Both for Precept &

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Example. I know nothing to compare with it in its own sphere. Mr. Burke is of the same opinion. It is so innocent, & he says, so pure, with all its contrasts of gaiety & humour, that | if I had now the care of any young persons, it should be the first Book I would put into their hands.’ I now need write no more — I could, indeed, hear no more; I felt quite overcome, though from feelings of trembling extacy! at so solemn a sanction to the meaning & wishes of my poor Pen, from Characters so respectable, so moral, so high in public estimation, & so aged, with Mr. Burke as their guide. It was not without difficulty I could keep the tears from my Eyes; & my kind Father’s as I have told you, quite ran over. They all saw the Climax was at its Height, & was perfect, & suddenly dropping the subject, recurred again — to Mr. Crisp. Was this kind? was it elegant? O how truly so! Here, then, my dear Daddy, I close for ever my Pen as Panegyric Recorder of Cecilia. But think of Mrs. Delany at Eighty two! —

APPENDIX 3 ELIZA BETH MEEK E’S L E T T E R T O FANN Y BURNE Y This ALS to FB, single sheet 4to, 2 pp. (scrapbook (Berg), ‘Fanny Burney and family. 1653–1890’, p. 98) is the only extant letter from Elizabeth Allen (Bessie) Meeke, FB’s stepsister, who unexpectedly reappeared in England in Oct. 1782 (see above, p. 122). It is undated, but probably written sometime in 1783. The other letters mentioned here are missing. The ‘Sister’ is Maria Allen Rishton. Bessie accurately describes herself as having ‘a warm heart tho’ a light head’, qualities amply reflected in her letter. My Dear Miss Burney Pardon me for not sooner acknowledging your favor A Letter from my Sister since the one you mention has postponed the journey into norfolk & I have likewise the happiness of informing you that Meeke & I are likely to together again for better or worse as I have since recd a very submissive letter which I have acceded to might I beg you to hint this to my Mother & to beg she would not indulge her talents for embellishing at my expense as told you this affair I think I may venture to beg you would inform her of this believe me I sincerely felt the friendship of your former letter to me & must a few lines in answer to this you know I hope that I have a warm heart tho’ a light head & hope you not be offended at any omission | of mine I ever have it in my power to shew it I think no one has a more sincere regard than I have for a person whose name is fanny Burney I am yours forever EM —— My Compts to the Dr love to Charlotte & believe me yours ——

APPENDIX 4 FANN Y BURNEY’S SEC OND L E T T E R T O H EST ER L YNC H THR A LE ON 2 0 JU L Y 1 7 8 1 This is FB’s second letter to HLT on that date. The first letter is printed EJL iv. 413–14. Thought missing (see EJL iv. 415 n. 72), it was acquired by Miss Paula Peyraud, who sent the editors a photocopy for inclusion in this edition. It is reproduced in the auction catalogue of Miss Peyraud’s collection, Bloomsbury, New York, 6 May 2009, lot 192. The MS, now Rylands, is an ALS, single sheet 4to, 1 p., written at St Martin’s Street, addressed Mrs Thrale, / Streatham, / Surry. pmk PENNY POST PAID and docketed Friday, July 20th FB refers to the belated return from Scotland of her brother CB Jr. The words or parts of words in brackets are obscured by the seal and supplied conjecturally. This tiresome & tardy Charles has this moment sent us a Letter to acquaint us he shall yet be some Days longer ere he arrives. — Do you, Dearest Madam, sufficiently wish for me to take me during those Days, upon condition of my returning to this Home after he is come? — if so, — & if you chance to get this Letter Time enough for saying so, I will return to you in the Coach that brings my Father to Town to-morrow. Otherwise, with Dr. Johnson on Monday, — for I don’t like to make your Fly run on Sundays. But if [this] whisking backwards & forwards will only to[rment Yo]u — as it does our good Doctor — don’t then [accept] the proposal, & I will wait upon you steadily as soon as it is in my power, — for steadily & truly Am I your F.B. Friday, July 20th

4. Evelina in Mr Villars’ study. From a watercolour drawing by Edward Francesco Burney, 1780.

APPENDIX 5 EVELINA IN MR V ILLA R S’ ST U DY Reproduced on the facing page is a watercolour drawing by Edward Francesco Burney of Evelina in the study of Mr Villars at Berry Hill. A dejected Evelina is seated at the table, her work and a book neglected, not yet noticing Mr Villars standing in the doorway; a print of SJ is hanging on the wall to Mr Villars’ right (see Illustration 2). FB mentions the drawing in letters to SEB and SJ in April 1780 (EJL iv. 53–4, 70). Intended as an illustration to vol. ii of the novel, it was exhibited at the Royal Academy in 1780 but never published. The whereabouts of the watercolour was unknown until it surfaced at an antiques fair and was purchased by Hester Davenport, author of Faithful Handmaid: Fanny Burney at the Court of King George III (Stroud, Gloucestershire, 2000). The label on the print of SJ and the initials I.C. were added later; the initials were probably added by a dealer attempting to pass off the watercolour as by Isaac Cruikshank (1764–1811), the Scottish caricaturist. See Hester Davenport, ‘Two Edward Burney Illustrations for Evelina, Known and Unknown’ (Burney Journal 4 (2001), 4–11; idem, ‘Two Unhappy Beauties’ (Burney Letter 14. 1 (2008), 8). Reproduced here by the kind permission of Hester Davenport.

INDEX This is an index of all proper names in Fanny Burney’s text and of selected names in the introduction, annotations, and appendices. In general, women are given under their married names unless they first appear under their maiden names. Peers are listed under their family names with cross-references to their titles. For the most part, works are cited under the author (translator, editor), composer, or artist. Main biographical notes are indicated in boldface. Abel, Carl Friedrich (1723–87), composer 13 and n. Abington, Frances, née Barton (1737– 1815), actress 197 and n., 206 Adamberger, Valentin (1740 or 1743– 1804), tenor 236 and n. Aelfthryth (d. c.1000) 166–7 and n. Aguiari (or Agujari), Lucrezia (1743– 83), singer 278 and n. Allegranti, Teresa Maddalena (1754– c.1802), soprano 199 and n., 212–13 Andrews, Miles Peter (d. 1814), playwright 169–70 and n. Anstruther, Janet (1764–98) 128 and n. Ailesbury, Lady see Conway, Caroline, née Campbell (Bruce) (1721–1803) Ailly, Louis-Marie-Joseph-Romain d’Albert d’ (1741–92), duc de Chaulnes, experimental scientist 440 and n., 455, 462 Amherst, Elizabeth, née Cary, Lady (1740–1830) 312 and n., 354 Amherst, Jeffrey, 1st B. (1717–97) 312 n., 354 Ancaster, D. of see Bertie, Robert (1756– 79) Anfossi, Pasquale (1727–97), composer Silla 426 and n., 445, 452, 468, 470 Il trionfo della costanza 210 and n., 212, 281 Anguish, Sarah, née Henley (d. 1807) 452 and n. Anguish, Thomas (c.1724–85), F.R.S. 369 and n. Anstruther, Janet (1764–98) 128 and n. Arblay, Alexandre-Jean-Baptiste Piochard d’ (1754–1818), FB’s husband 345 Archer, Sarah, née West, Lady (1741– 1801) 23 and n., 263 Ashburton, John Dunning, 1st B. (1731– 83), M.P. 171 and n.

Astley, Anne (c.1748–1836), waiting gentlewoman 287 and n., 480 Auvergne, Jacques-Leopold-CharlesGodefroy de la Tour d’ (1746–82), duc de Bouillon 474 Baker, Henrietta, née Pye (d. 1793) 390, 425 and n. Baker, Sarah (‘Sally’) (c.1744–1835) 367 and n., 374, 375, 376, 390, 392, 402, 410, 421, 425, 443, 453, 459– 60, 468, 471, 472 Baker’s Days 100 and n., 104, 201 Baldwin, George (1744–1826), merchant, diplomat, writer 15 and n., 208 Baldwin, Jane, née Maltass (1763– 1839) 15 and n., 21, 33, 46, 208 Barbauld, Anna Laetitia, née Aikin (1743–1825) 449 and n., 470 Barbauld, Revd Rochemont (1749– 1808) 449 and n., 470 Barclay, David (1728–1809), banker and trader 48–9 and n., 297, 302 Barclay, Rachel, née Lloyd (1743–92) 297, 302 Baretti, Giuseppe (1719–89), writer 49 and n., 186, 341 Easy Phraseology 341 and n., 342 Barnard, Thomas (1727–1806), D.D., Bishop of Killaloe 354 and n., 375 Barrington, Hon. Daines (1728–1800), judge, naturalist, antiquary 183 and n. Barry, James (1741–1806), painter 3, 18, 186, 200, 353, 367, 369, 391 ‘Commerce, or the Triumph of the Thames’ 391 and n. Exhibition 353 and n. Barton, Charles William Newton (1762– 1808) 137 and n., 141, 144 Bartolini, Vicenzio (fl.1782–92), singer 254 and n.

490

Index

Barton, John (1759–1803) 137 and n., 141, 144, 155 Barwell, Mrs 199 and n., 250, 452 Bates, Joah (1741–99), organist 199 n., 203 Bates, Sarah, née Harrop (c.1755– 1811), singer 199 and n., 203 Bath 54, 57, 171, 249, 259, 329, 343, 355, 394, 423 Bathurst, Henry (1714–94), 2nd E. 354 and n. Bathurst, Lady Tryphena (1760–1834) 354 and n. Batt, John Thomas (1746–1831), barrister 187 and n., 410 Beaconsfield 478 Beauclerk, Lady Diana, née Spencer (1734–1808) 70–1 Beauclerk, Topham (1739–80) 70–1 Beauvoir, Mary, née Sharpe 49 and n. Benicasa, Count Bartolomeo (1746– 1816), Italian man of letters 350 and n., 351 Benson, Miss 133–5, 138, 141, 145, 147, 151, 158, 160, 162, 164, 208–9, 212, 323, 365 Berguin, Arnaud (1747–91), author 366 and n., 369, 427 L’ami des enfans 366 and n., 397 Bertie, Robert (1756–79), 4th D. of Ancaster 379 and n. Bertoni, Ferdinando Gasparo (1725– 1813), composer 324 and n., 371 Artaserse 22, 363 Cimene 239–40, 250, 254, 273 Il Convito 127, 199 Demofoonte 236 ‘Dolce speme’ 363 Ifigenia in Aulide 313 and n., 318–19 Medonte 127, 174, 177 and n., 258 ‘Mi donne me rende’ 363 Olimpiade 324 ‘La Primavera’ 324 Bewley, William (1726–83), surgeon, apothecary 166 Bilson, Mrs 97 Bingham, Margaret, née Smith (c.1740– 1814), Lady Lucan 39, 206–7 and n. Birmingham 358 Birmingham Boy 289 Blakeney, Edward 103 and n. Bogle, John (c.1746–1803), miniaturist 180, 186 portrait of FB 198, 254, 362, 473

Bogle, Marion, née Wilson (d. 1823) 18 and n., 180, 186, 362 Bouillion, Duke de see Auvergne, JacquesLeopold-Charles-Godefroy de la Tour d’ Boscawen, Frances, née Glanville (1719– 1805) 32 and n., 34, 36, 39, 58, 218, 280, 296, 301–3, 325, 449 Boscawen, George Evelyn (1758–1808), 3rd Visc. Falmouth, army officer 58 and n., 218 Boswell, James (1740–95), journalwriter, biographer 125 An Account of Corsica 33 Boyle, Charlotte (1769–1831) 203 and n., 204, 217, 354, 455 Boyle, Edmund (1742–98), 7th E. of Cork 67 and n., 68 Boyle, Richard (1762–88), army officer 217 and n. Boyle-Walsingham, Hon. Robert (1736– 80), M.P., naval officer 33 Boyle-Walsingham, Charlotte, née Hanbury-Williams (d. 1790) 33 and n., 202–6, 211, 213, 216–19, 312, 355, 431, 435, 449, 455, 457– 8, 460, 461, 469 FB dines with 265–7, 284, 364 Bowles, William (1755–1826) 368 Brighton (Brighthelmstone) 128–9, 132– 75, 186, 218, 249, 297 Assembly Rooms 134 Old Ship Hotel 130 and n. Brissot, Jacques-Pierre, called Brissot de Warville (1754–93), French philosophe 329 and n. Bristol, Lord see Hervey, Frederick Augustus (1730–1803) Bromfield, Robert (c.1721–86), M.D. 182 and n., 310 Brooke, Frances (1724–89), author 403–4 Brown, Mr 412 Brown Georges 317 and n. Browne, Anthony Joseph (1728–87), 7th Visc. Montagu 96 and n. Browne, Isaac Hawkins, the elder (1706– 60), poet 322 and n. Brudenell, George (after 1749 Montagu) (1712–90), 1st D. of Montagu 385 and n. Brûlart, Stéphanie-Félicité Ducrest, née de St-Aubin (1746–1830), author 178 and n. Adèle et Théodore 178 and n., 209

Index Buccleuch, Duchess of see Scott, Elizabeth, née Montagu (1743–1827) Bull, Catherine Susanna (d. 1795) 201–2 and n., 210, 215, 223, 250, 251, 254, 268, 323, 350, 352, 389– 90, 464 Bull, Elizabeth (c.1750–1809) 163 and n., 182, 210, 218–19, 223, 250–1, 268, 319, 323, 350, 352, 389–90, 464 Bull, Richard (c.1725–1805), collector 323 Buller, Susannah, née Yarde (1740– 1810) 32 and n., 33, 276, 279, 323, 464 argues with Richard Owen Cambridge 278–9, 281 on Cecilia 278 description of 277 Burgoyne family 33 Burgoyne, Lady Frances, née Montagu (1710–88) 365, 452 Burgoyne, Frances (1740–1810) 227– 8, 276 Burgoyne, Gen. John (1723–92), army officer 45 Burke, Edmund (1729–92), author, politician 68, 78, 96, 145, 174, 191–6, 365, 478, 481–2, 484 appoints CB organist at Chelsea Hospital 451 and n., 452 on Cecilia x, 87–8, 89, 92, 193–6 fan letter to FB x, 87–8, 89, 91, 93, 102 FB admires 59–60, 65, 91–2, 273 FB meets 61, 66, 69–71 SJ dines with at the Club 365 Burke, Jane Mary, née Nugent (1734– 1812) 69 and n., 78, 96, 102, 192–3, 207, 365, 431, 434, 452 Burke, Richard (1733–94), attorney 68 and n., 174, 431, 434 Burke, Richard (1758–94) 69 and n., 70, 174, 196–8, 206–7, 225, 365, 431–2, 434–5, 441, 457 Burke, William (1728–98) 174 and n. Burnett, James, styled Lord Monboddo (1714–99), jurist, lord of session 56 and n., 57–8 Burney, Ann (1722–94), FB’s aunt 9, 17, 72, 102, 236–7, 313, 322 Burney, Dr Charles (1726–1814) author, FB’s father 3, 10–11, 14, 22, 31– 2, 36, 38, 42, 43, 46–8, 51, 53, 60–1, 65–8, 71, 74, 78, 80–2, 99, 102–5, 107, 117, 122, 129, 166,

491

173, 177, 182–3, 186–7, 202, 207, 210, 215–16, 219, 222–3, 225–6, 240, 243, 245, 246, 247, 251, 255, 256, 261, 274, 281, 301, 313, 314, 316–17, 318–19, 320, 327, 328, 329, 334, 336, 344–9, 353, 365, 373, 384, 388, 391, 403, 407–8, 411, 418, 420, 429, 431, 433, 467, 472, 474, 481, 483–4, 485, 486 accompanies FB to gathering 5–6, 183–5, 203–7, 212–14, 218, 228– 31, 237, 323–4 accompanies FB to Mrs Ord’s 253–4, 276, 278, 280, 464 appointed as organist at Chelsea Hospital 451 and n., 452 attachment to Mr Crisp 229, 478 on Cecilia 16–19, 32, 47, 54, 67, 183 dines at Sir Joshua Reynolds’s 355 dines at Twickenham Meadows 385–7 dines at Mrs Walsingham’s 265–7 dines at Bishop of Winchester’s 295– 6, 365 discusses books 272 goes to Le Texier’s 372 Hist. Mus. 104 invites Norths to St Martin’s Street 269 invites Richard Owen Cambridge to St Martin’s Street 333 letter to FB 96–7 member of Royal Society 109 and n., 183 must take James’s powders 474 reads with FB 397 sorry for FB 281 spends day at Winchester House 371– 2 spends evening at Lady Mary Duncan’s 389–90 Burney, Charles (1757–1817) FB’s brother 11, 37, 80–1, 94, 146, 180, 240–1, 243–5, 247, 249, 253, 257– 8, 359, 386, 408, 423, 461, 486 expulsion from Cambridge 119–20, 146, 240 GOC meets 247 letter to FB praising the Cambridge family 261 visits the Cambridges at Twickenham 255 visits St Martin’s Street 215, 240–9 Burney, Charles Rousseau (1747–1819), musician, FB’s cousin 9, 17, 93, 215, 269, 295–6, 362, 364

492

Index

Burney, Charlotte Ann (1761–1838), FB’s sister 2, 4–5, 11, 14, 16, 18, 22, 23, 31, 47, 64, 95–7, 102, 146, 177, 179, 181, 183–5, 227, 256, 269, 274, 296, 299, 302, 304, 326, 328, 329, 330, 334, 348, 349, 383, 407, 409, 419, 443, 485 dines at Twickenham Meadows 385–7 goes to Le Texier’s 372 letter from FB and SBP 347–8 spends day at Winchester House 371–2 suspects Richard Owen Cambridge’s attentions to FB 333 Burney, Edward Francesco (1760–1848), artist, FB’s cousin ii, 9, 20, 34, 96, 101–4, 106–7, 109–10, 112–14, 152, 200, 216, 242, 487 in love with FB 116–17 Burney, Elizabeth, née Allen (Allen) (1728–96), FB’s stepmother 1–2, 11, 13–14, 16, 40, 47, 73, 76, 81, 90, 92–3, 118, 147–8, 163, 181, 187, 202, 224–5, 242, 249, 255, 261, 272, 274, 298, 310, 315–17, 320–3, 326, 332, 334, 353, 360–2, 384–5, 402, 473, 474, 485 dines at Twickenham Meadows 385–7 disagreeable 3, 62–3, 71, 81–2, 100, 103–7, 109–10, 111–12, 122, 207, 224 FB reads to 254 FB stays home with 178, 222, 265 GOC converses with 247 illness 74, 76–7, 79–83, 88–9, 96–7, 100, 105–6 invites GOC to St Martin’s Street 269 Mr Jackson will not speak to 256 proposes inviting GOC to St Martin’s Street 369 and Richard Owen Cambridge: converses with 323 recites poem to 322 visits the Stranges 328 Burney, Elizabeth Warren (‘Bessy’) (1755–1832) FB’s cousin 4 and n., 362–4 spends day at Winchester House 372 Burney, Esther (‘Hetty’), née Burney (1749–1832), FB’s sister 9, 10, 17, 21, 34, 38, 54, 61, 64, 79–80, 93, 97, 118, 215, 268, 269, 295–6, 313, 320, 322, 362, 364, 365–6, 462–3 goes to Le Texier’s 372

illness 179–82, 201 spends day at Winchester House 372 Burney, Frances (1752–1840), author at deathbed of Mr Crisp x, 349 attends ball 136–7, 153–7 attends church 221 attends concert of ancient music at Mrs Walsingham’s 354 attends opera: with CAB 4–6, 36–7, 177–8, 182, 199–201 with CB 254, 319 with Mrs Fitzgerald 177–8, 182, 199–202, 250 with HLT 258, 260, 263, 313 with Miss Thrale 258, 263 attends Mr Paradise’s party 22–7 attends Pepyses’ party 338–44 attends Lady Rothes’s party 218–19 attends theatre 208–9 attends Mrs Thrale’s party 183–5, 296–305 Aurelia, mentioned in 371 bathes in sea 140, 174, 176 catches a cold 312–13, 318, 322–3 Cecilia x–xi, 2, 7, 9–10, 12, 16–21, 28– 32, 34, 40–4, 46–8, 54, 59, 63–6, 71–5, 77–8, 83–4, 102, 107, 118–19, 124, 128, 133–5, 137, 140–1, 150–1, 153, 158, 160–2, 165–76, 179–80, 183, 188, 192– 5, 203–6, 210, 217–18, 220, 227–8, 233, 249, 249, 266, 276, 281, 289–94, 362, 367, 449, 478–9, 480, 483 characters in: Albany 47, 54, 77, 83, 175, 185, 227, 332 Albina (discarded name for Cecilia) 21 and n. Aresby, Capt. 285, 478 Arnott, Mr 12 and n. Belfield, Henrietta 40, 48 and n., 50, 52, 122–3 Belfield, Mr 40, 52, 54 and n., 83, 92, 285, 478 Belfield, Mrs 53 and n. Beverley, Cecilia 21, 43–4, 48, 50, 52, 86, 92, 135, 173, 218, 290–1, 293, 482, 483 Briggs, Mr 50 and n., 73, 83, 86, 92, 171, 195, 217–18, 232, 291–2

Index Coachman 290, 482 Delvile, Augusta 30–1, 40, 43–4, 47, 50, 86, 167, 179, 218, 291, 293, 482 Delvile, Compton 40, 43–4, 50, 73, 85–6, 160, 166–7, 169, 170–1, 173, 175, 218, 291–3 Delvile, Mortimer 30, 40, 43–4, 48, 50–1, 77, 84, 86, 92, 135, 194, 292, 293 Gosport, Mr 47 and n., 53 Harrel, Mr 12, 20, 40, 47, 58, 78, 84, 92, 170, 178, 194, 205, 293, 371, 483 Harrel, Priscilla 12, 40, 47, 92, 133, 170, 178–9, 205, 293, 483 Hill, Mrs 73 and n. Hobson, Mr 50 and n., 78, 83, 108, 170, 174, 233, 367 Larolles, Miss 47 and n., 53, 78, 83, 169, 205, 258, 263, 285, 292, 478 Leeson, Miss 40, 78 and n. Lyster, Dr 286 and n., 478–9 Meadows, Mr 40, 53 and n., 82, 134, 150, 153, 163, 165, 169, 171, 179, 205, 258, 263, 292, 367 Mears, Mrs 205 Monckton, Mr 48 and n., 78, 83, 165, 173, 179 Monckton, Lady Margaret 48 and n. Morrice, Mr 84 and n., 169, 171, 194, 292 Pemberton, Lady Honoria 48 and n., 50, 83, 84, 141, 169 Simkins, Mr 50 and n., 78, 84, 214, 233, 290, 482 Delvile Castle 32 and n., 48 payment for 4th edition 449 celebrity x–xi, 34, 36–7, 67, 107, 132, 134, 136–7, 146, 150–3, 155, 160– 1, 171–2, 175–6, 183, 192, 196, 198, 210, 215–16, 220, 231, 300 cited in OED 43, 86, 191, 244, 265, 280, 304 compared to heroines 68, 133, 210, 241, 367 as correspondent 4, 132, 168, 171, 423 dines at Sir Joshua Reynolds’s 355

493 dines at Twickenham Meadows 385–7 dines at Mrs Walshingham’s 265–7 dines at Bishop of Winchester’s 295– 6, 365 disapproves of HLT and Piozzi x, 123, 127, 398–400, 404–7, 412–20 discusses literature 44, 64, 138, 145, 159, 178, 259–60, 267, 366 embarrassment at public compliments 23–7, 102–3, 134, 140–1, 155–8, 162, 167, 170, 172, 185, 193, 206, 231–2, 249 en route to Chessington Hall 347, 348 Evelina x, 17, 23–7, 51, 57, 64, 68, 99, 118, 176, 217, 249, 266, 381–2, 403, 472, 478, 481, 483, illus 487, 488 Berry Hill 248 and n. Duval, Mme 310 Orville, Lord 25, 293, 321 fatal paragraph 334–5 and n., 336–8, 466–7 finances 74, 78, 86–7, 92, 96, 99, 118, 124, 130, 188, 195, 418–19 goes to Le Texier’s 372 letters: to CAB 93–4 to CB 72–3, 76–9, 79–81, 83–4, 88–90, 92–3, 142, 146–8, 160– 3, 171–4 to CB or CAB 347–8, 348–9 to Hester Maria Thrale 238, 305– 7, 393–6, 398–400, 404–7, 415– 18, 445–8 to HLT 1–2, 3, 7–8, 14–16, 28–9, 29–30, 40–1, 45–6, 46–7, 47–8, 54–6, 56–8, 58–9, 59– 60, 60– 1, 81–2, 100–2, 121–3, 126–8, 128–9, 130, 180–1, 211, 473–4, 475, 486 to Mary Cambridge 311 to Pacchierotti 209 to Sarah Burney 119–20, 252, 358–9, 422–3 to SBP 4–6, 8–11, 16–18, 22–7, 35– 8, 61–6, 66–71, 74–5, 94–6, 97–9, 102–7, 108–10, 111–18, 131–2, 132–5, 136–8, 139–42, 142–6, 148–60, 164–70, 175–6, 177–80, 183–7, 200–10, 212–22, 222–6, 226–37, 238–51, 276– 305, 307–20, 321–5, 326–36,

494

Index

337–45, 350–3, 353–5, 355–8, 360–8, 368–93, 396–7, 401–2, 407–11, 411–14, 418–21, 428– 44, 454–63, 463–70 with SBP 79–81, 347–8, to SC 30–4, 43–4, 52–4, 91–3, 124–6, 345–6 illness 141 as journal writer ix, 65, 66, 97, 99, 111, 131, 168, 200, 223–4, 283, 326, 337, 367, 375, 391–2, 420 Keeper of the Robes ix, xi lozenges 336 and n., 444 mentioned in newspapers 11, 32, 34, 36, 38–9, 64, 168–70, 445 meets Mrs Delany 283–94 meets Dowager Dss of Portland 284– 94 meets Soame Jenyns 276–8 meets the Norths 269–72 miniature of 198, 254, 362 plans visit to HLT 28, 29, 54, 59, 65, 89, 121, 124–6, 129–30, 182, 211 as playwright 207, 358 portrait frontispiece ii, 96, 101, 104, 107, 109, 112, 152, 198, 242–3, 272–3 reads with CB 397 rumours of relationship with GOC 316–18, 320, 321, 365, 372, 411, 420–1, 424–7, 428–34, 442–5 shyness 357 spends day at Winchester House 371–2 spends evening at Lady Mary Duncan’s 389–90 struggles to write 7, 9–10, 16, 28–9, 35, 40, 65, 92, 222, 403–4 suspects Richard Owen Cambridge’s attentions 333 uses Mrs Crewe’s opera ticket 258 uses Mrs Fitzgerald’s opera box 254, 312, 319 visits HLT 22, 33–4, 37, 132–75, 186– 7, 199–200, 212, 216, 220, 250, 253, 258, 268, 312, 313, 317–18, 320, 322, 327, 337 visits SBP 74 watched while conversing with GOC 340, 342, 462 wishes to spend time at home 136, 200, 219–20, 238 The Witlings x Burney, Hannah (‘Nancy’) Maria, FB’s niece 34 and n.

Burney, James (‘Jem’) (1750–1821), FB’s brother ix, 9, 34, 38, 45, 38, 45, 53, 66, 76–81, 106, 152, 174, 435–6 Burney, Rebecca (1724–1809), FB’s aunt 9, 17, 72, 102, 181, 201, 236–7, 313, 322 Burney, Richard Gustavus (1751–90), FB’s cousin 295, 362, 365 and n. spends day at Winchester House 372 Burney, Richard Thomas (1768–1808), FB’s half-brother 147 and n., 369, 443 Burney, Sarah (‘Rosette’), née Rose (1759–1821), FB’s sister-in-law 253 wedding day 373 Burrows, Amy (1730–1811) 236 and n., 325, 449 Burrows, Revd John (1733–86) 33, 227, 236, 325, 449, 450, 452, 470 Burrows, Maria, née Smith (1739–91) 325 and n., 449, 452 Butcher, Molly, maid 288 and n. Byrne, Charles (1761–83), giant 126 and n. Byron, Henrietta Charlotte, née Dallas (c.1764–93) 449 and n. Byron, Sophia, née Trevannion (d. 1790) 8, 15, 33, 51, 104, 184, 199, 208, 264, 296, 304, 343–4, 364, 449 Cadell, Thomas (1742–1802), bookseller 65 and n., 74, 99, 124, 159, 188 Cadogan, Frances (1747–1819) 325 and n. Cadogan, William (1711–97), M.D. 33 and n., 218, 325 Calais 122 Cambridge, Catherine (‘Kitty’) (1750– 84) 248 and n., 298, 311, 314, 318– 19, 351, 352, 355, 376, 390, 402, 410, 413, 424–5, 427, 436, 440, 451, 453–4, 458–9, 465, 467–9, 474 Cambridge, Charles Owen (1754– 1847) 242 and n., 318–19, 367, 387– 8, 468, 472 Cambridge, Charlotte (1746–1823) 248 and n., 298, 308, 310–11, 314, 318–19, 351, 352, 355, 376, 390, 402, 409, 413, 420, 424–5, 427, 445, 451, 453–4, 468, 471 Cambridge family 320, 325, 333, 337, 351, 370, 384, 452 CB Jr praises in letter to FB 261 CB Jr visits at Twickenham 255

Index Cambridge, Revd George Owen (1756– 1841) xi–xii, 208 and n., 227, 276, 279, 296, 298, 305, 318–19, 335, 354–5, 364, 374–5, 376–81, 383– 8, 409–12, 421, 435–45, 455–62, 464–8, 469, 471–2 appears uneasy 328, 334 on beauty 302 calls at St Martin’s Street 224–6, 237, 255, 269–72, 281, 314–16, 322–3, 328–33, 360–1, 450 coldness 456 commandeers chair for FB 263–4, 270–1 converses with EAB 247 converses with FB 228–30, 241–9, 255–6, 299–304, 328–33 converses with FB at the opera 260–3 discusses FB’s meeting with Soame Jenyns 280, 281, 299–301 entertains EAB 384–5 fatal paragraph 334–5 and n., 336 FB ignores 338–9 FB praises 249–50, 303, 260 Friday shirk 362–3 and n., 392 on Horace Walpole 474 Italian studies 340 letter to HLT 312–13 meets CB Jr 247 meets Pacchierotti 281–3 perplexing behaviour 392–3, 450, 473 queer look 344–5 rumours of relationship with FB 316– 20, 321–3, 333–4, 365–6, 372, 411, 420–1, 424–7, 428–34, 442–5 rumours of relationship with Queeney Thrale 317–18, 320 sulks 457 swollen face 309–14 on Mrs Vesey 474 watches FB and Soame Jenyns 278 on William Locke, Jr 343–4 Cambridge, Mary, née Trenchard (c.1717–1806) 248 and n., 308, 310, 313, 319, 321, 367, 376, 380– 1, 384–5, 387–8, 410–11, 442, 451, 472 jealousy 453, 471 letter to FB 318 Cambridge, Mary (‘Molly’) (b. post 1750) 248 and n., 311, 318–9, 351–2, 355, 376, 390, 451, 453

495

Cambridge, Richard Owen (1717– 1802) 208 and n., 228, 245, 247–9, 253, 255, 276–7, 281, 296, 299, 303, 309–11, 313–16, 318–19, 325, 346, 351, 353–5, 365, 376–7, 385–8, 390, 413, 420–1, 424–7, 429–34, 439–45, 450, 458–9, 462, 464, 471–2 argues with Mrs Buller 278–9, 281 aversion to insects 282, 302 calls at St Martin’s Street 212, 224–6, 273, 313, 314, 321, 322–3, 328– 33, 352, 353, 450–1, 453 captivated by FB 333 charmed by SBP 273 compares GOC to Lord Orville 321 courtship of Mary Trenchard 308–9 delights in female society 384 on forward and flippant women 382 on FB’s characters 382, 472 invites FB to visit Twickenham Meadows 297–8 pleasure at seeing SC 273 poem 391 reading Evelina 381–2 recites poem to EAB 322 recounts his life 384 on SC 279 suggests that FB write a play 358 supports the Blues 323 on SBP 472 suspicious attentions to FB 333–5 visits Chesington Hall 273, 349 walks with FB 381 Cambridge, Richard Owen, Jr (b. 1741) 242 and n., 387 n. Campbell, Susanna, née Torriano (b. 1747) 112 and n. Canterbury 340 Carlisle, Lady see Musgrave, Isabella, née Byron (1721–95) Carnevale, Signora Pietro (fl.1783– 92), Italian singer, actress 239–40 and n., 254, 273 Carracci, Annibale (1560–1609), painter 216 and n. Carter, Elizabeth (1717–1806), writer 32, 34, 36, 39, 152, 268, 325 Aurelia, mentioned in 371 Carter, Mary (‘Molly’) (1730/31–1812) 324 Cator, John (1728–1806), merchant, M.P. 400

496

Index

Cavendish Bentinck, Margaret, née Harley (1715–85), Dowager Dss of Portland xi, 192 and n., 194–5, 205, 227–8, 274, 284, 301–2, 346 FB meets 288–94, 480–4 remembers Mr Crisp 288–9, 480 Cavendish, William (1748–1811), 5th D. of Devonshire 165 and n. Chapone, Hester, née Mulso (1727– 1801), essayist 2, 32, 34, 36, 39, 55, 73, 134, 145, 152, 219, 227, 236–7, 250, 342, 344, 351, 407–8, 420–1, 424, 449–50, 452, 464–6, 470 Aurelia, mentioned in 371 calls with FB upon Mrs Delany 283– 94, 476–83 letter from Mrs Delany 275 letter to FB 274 Charlotte, Queen (1744–1818), consort of George III ix, xi Charlotte Augusta Matilda (1766– 1828), Princess Royal 298 Chaulnes, duc de see Ailly, Louis-MarieJoseph-Romain d’Albert d’ (1741– 92) Chessington Hall x, 1–2, 10, 74, 76, 113, 115, 195, 222–3, 228–30, 233– 4, 237, 241–6, 249, 261, 273, 281, 287, 307, 310, 334, 336, 345–6, 349– 50, 373, 380, 387, 392, 478–9 Chester, Bishop of see Porteus, Beilby (1731–1808) Chesterfield, Lord see Stanhope, Philip Dormer (1694–1773) Cholmondeley, Mary (‘Polly’), née Woffington (c.1729–1811) 77–8, 265, 269 Clarges, Louisa, née Skrine, Lady (1760–1809) 6, 65, 201, 215, 219, 221, 223, 235–6, 250–1, 324 Clarges, Sir Thomas (1751–82), 3rd Bt 127, 201, 215, 223, 250 death of 219, 221–3, 235–6 Clarke, Jervoise (?1733–1808), M.P. 403 Clerke, Sir Philip Jennings (1722–88), 1st Bt, M.P. 49 and n., 61, 98, 104, 129 Clermont, Lady see Fortescue, Frances Cairnes, née Murray (c.1733–1820) Clinton, Gen. Sir Henry (1730–95), K.B., army officer 272 and n. pamphlet 272 and n., 278, 281

Clive, Edward, 2nd B. (1754–1839) 114 and n. clothing 23, 153, 189–91, 409, 435 Club, The 365 Coffee Room, King’s Theatre 313 Cole, Anne Hester, née Abdy (1733/ 4–1805/6) 349 and n. Cole, Charles Nalson (c.1722–1804), barrister 349 and n. Collier, Arthur (1707–77), LL.D. 371 and n. Aurelia, mentioned in 371 Colman , George, the elder (1732–94), playwright 472 Compton, Revd James (b. c.1747) 220 and n., 221 Conway, Caroline, née Campbell (Bruce) (1721–1803), Lady Ailesbury 331 and n. Cook, Capt. James (1728–79), circumnavigator ix Cooke, Papilian Catherine (‘Kitty’) (1730–97) x, 2, 6, 17, 21, 31, 34, 107, 113–17, 141, 182, 195, 201, 230, 233–4, 261, 326, 329, 336, 346, 349, 364, 397, 427, 473 dislikes EAB 103, 106, 109–10 Cork, Lord see Boyle, Edmund (1742– 98) Cornewall, Sir George (1748–1819), 2nd Bt, M.P. 209 and n. Cosway, Maria Louisa Caterina Cecilia, née Hadfield (1759–1838), painter 251 and n. Cosway, Richard (1742–1821), miniature painter 251 and n. Cotton, Henry (‘Harry’) Calveley (c.1755–1837) 133 and n., 136, 138, 140–1, 145–6, 184, 208, 213– 14, 261 admires FB 152 Coussmaker, Catherine (b. 1760) 10 and n., 17, 264, 416 Coussmaker, Capt. George Kien Hayward (1759–1801), army officer 208, 268 and n. Cowley, Hannah, née Parkhouse (1743– 1809), poet, playwright 34, 36, 39 Coxe, Peter (1753–1844) 134 and n., 138, 146, 153, 159, 163 Coxe, Revd William (1748–1828), historian, travel writer 22 and n., 325

Index Crewe, Francis, née Granville (1748– 1818) 4 and n., 5, 11, 34, 36, 60–1, 199–200, 222, 258, 445 Crewe, John, 1st B. (1742–1829), M.P. 4 Crisp, Ann (c.1696–1776) 286 Crisp, Samuel (‘Daddy’) (c.1707–83) x, 2, 6, 10 and n., 18–19, 82, 96, 100, 104–6, 141–2, 195, 200, 222–4, 228–30, 233–4, 242–3, 247, 250, 258, 274, 286, 288–9, 294, 301, 308, 326, 332, 336, 340, 364, 477– 8, 480–4 aversion to EAB 100, 104–5, 109–10, 191, 337 on Cecilia x, 30–2, 34, 41–2, 47, 52–3, 73, 84–6, 166 death of x, 345, 349–50 dying 345–9 house at Hampton 113 illness x, 182–3 letters to FB 19–21, 30, 41–2, 84–7 portrait of 272 Richard Owen Cambridge praises 279 Virginia x, 20 and n. Crutchley, Jeremiah (1745–1805) 48, 104, 176, 305 and n., 306, 399–400 Cumberland, Duchess of see Hanover, Hon. Anne (Horton), née Luttrell (1743–1808) Cumberland, Richard (1732–1811), playwright 331 and n. Cumberland, Sophia 268 Cumyns’s School 227 and n. Daisy, servant 306 Dalrymple, Sir Hew (1712–90), 2nd Bt 214 and n. Daniel, butler 51 and n. Darby, Letitia (‘Mrs Nominative Smith’) (d. 1825), 8 and n., 46 Dashwood, Helen Mary, née Graham, Lady (d. 1796) 143 and n. Dashwood, Sir Henry Watkin (1745– 1828), 3rd Bt 168–9, 172 D’Avenant, Corbet (1753–1823) 184 and n., 185 D’Avenant, Hester Salusbury, née Cotton (c.1748–1822) 12, 184–5 Davies, Thomas (c.1712–85), publisher 340 and n. Delany, Mary, née Granville (Pendarves) (1700–88) xi, 192 and n.,

497

194–5, 217, 227–8, 237, 295, 301– 2, 346, 360, 364–5, 445 description of 284, 390, 477 FB calls upon 366, 390 invites FB to dinner 275 letter to Hester Chapone 275 meets FB 283–94, 476–84 paper mosaics 287, 479 remembers Mr Crisp 286, 478 servant writes letter for 274–5 wishes to be acquainted with FB 274 Delap, Revd Dr John (1725–1812), poet, playwright 12, 33, 136–7, 159– 60, 162–3, 167–8, 313 Denoyer, Philip (d. 1788), dancing master 186 and n., 253 Denoyer, Sophia, née Sallier (c.1733– 1810) 186 and n., 253 Devaynes, John (c.1726–1801), apothecary 474 Desmoulins, Elizabeth, née Swynfen (1716–?86) 220 and n. Devonshire 172, 248 and n., 417 Devonshire, D. of see Cavendish, William (1748–1811) Dorsetshire 248, 468 Doughty, William (1757–82), painter, engraver 258 and n. Dudley, Lady Jane, née Grey (1537–54) 370 and n. Aurelia, mentioned in 370 Dunbar, James (d. 1798), LL.D. 358 and n. Duncan, Lady Mary, née Tufton (1723– 1806) 250, 254, 318, 323, 350, 352, 367, 389–90, 464 Durante, Francesco (1684–1755), composer 324 and n. Durazzo, Count Giacomo (1717–94), Italian diplomat 464 and n., 467 Edward, servant 288 Eliot, Catherine, née Elliston (c.1735– 1804) 355 and n. Eliot, Edward (1727–1804) 233 and n., 355 Eliot, Edward James (1758–97) 355 and n. Eliot, Grace, née Dalrymple (c.1754– 1823) 38 and n. Eliot, Isabella (1749–1803) 365 and n., 430–4, 440 Eliot, Sir John (1733x6–86), M.D., 1st Bt 390 and n.

498

Index

Ellerker, Elizabeth (1751–1831) 276, 296, 299, 304 Ellerker, Harriet (1759–1842) 148 and n., 149–52, 158–9, 161–2, 165, 167– 9, 173, 175, 237, 296, 304 Erskine, Hon. Thomas (1750–1823) 198 and n., 207, 214 Evans, Revd James (1737–1816) 50 and n., 184 Evelyn, George Raymond 144 and n. Evelyn-Leslie, George William, styled Lord Leslie (1768–1817) 145 and n. Exeter, Bishop of see Ross, John (1719– 92) Falmouth, Lord see Boscawen, George Evelyn (1758–1808) Farnham Castle, Surrey 201, 215, 268– 9, 271, 295, 364, 365, 387 Fauquier, Jane Georgiana (d. 1823) 350 and n. Ferrers, Lady see Townshend, Charlotte, née Ellerker (1754–1802) Ferrers, Lord see Townshend, George (1753–1811) Fife, James Duff, 2nd E. (1729–1809), M.P. 11 and n. Fielding, Henry (1707–54), novelist and playwright xi, 132, 397 and n. Pasquin 397 and n. Finch, Lady Charlotte, née Fermor (1725–1813) 266–7 and n. Findlater, E. of see Ogilvy, James (1750– 1811) Fisher, Thomas (b. c.1730), curate 131 and n. Fitzgerald, Capt. Gerald 327 and n., 328–9 Fitzgerald, Keane (1748–1831) 236 and n. Fitzgerald, Mary (d. 1823) 10 and n., 11, 177, 180, 182, 200–2, 211, 235–6, 239, 241, 243–4, 247, 250– 1, 254, 408–9 FB calls upon 265 offers opera box to FB 216, 222, 254, 312, 445 Fitzgerald, Mary Frances (d. 1855) 251 and n. food 131, 133, 143–4, 181, 224, 435 Fordyce, George (1736–1802), M.D. 348 and n., 349 Fordyce, Lady Margaret 157 and n., 213

Fortescue, Frances Cairnes, née Murray (c.1733–1820), Countess of Clermont 357 and n., 361 Foss, Anne, née Rose (d. 1808) 423 and n. Francis, Clement (c.1744–92), surgeon 299 French, Juliana, née Burke (1728–90) 239 and n. Gage, William Hall, B. Gage of Firle (1718–91) 213 and n. Gainsborough, Thomas, painter 216 and n. Galway, Lady see Monckton, Jane, née Westenra (d. 1788) Gamerra, Giovanni de (1743–1803), librettist 177 and n. Garrick, David (1717–79), actor, manager, playwright x, 36, 70, 233, 278, 289, 373, 386 Isabella; or; The Fatal Marriage 208–9 and n. The Jubilee 233 and n. Garrick, Eva Maria, née Veigel (1724– 1822) 33, 35–6, 54–5, 113, 357 house and gardens 113 and n. Garthshore, Maxwell (1732–1812), M.D. 367 and n., 369, 370 Gast, Sophia, née Crisp (c.1706–91) x, 20 and n., 101, 103, 106–7, 113–16, 141, 201, 222, 250, 275, 285, 289, 326, 329, 346, 349, 473 Genlis, Stéphanie-Félicité Brûlart de, née Ducrest de Saint-Aubin (1746– 1830) 128 and n. George, Burney family servant 349 and n. George III (1738–1820), King of England xi, 216 Gibbon, Edward (1737–94), historian 69 and n., 71, 195, 388, 391 Gideon, Charlotte Elizabeth (d. 1826) 216 and n. Gideon, Maria-Marowe (1767–1834) 216 and n. Gideon, Maria-Marowe, née Wilmot, Lady (1743–94) 22, 208, 212–14, 216, 219, 297, 304 Gideon, Sir Sampson (1745–1824), 1st Bt 22, 208, 212–14, 296 Gideon, Selina, (b. 1773) 216 and n. Gordon, Lord George (1751–93) 248– 9 and n.

Index Innocence Vindicated, and the Intrigues of Popery and its Abettors Displayed 249 n. Grantham, Lord see Robinson, Thomas (1738–86) Gregory, Dorothea (1754–1830) 28, 34, 56, 351, 427, 452, 473, 478 Greville, Frances (c.1730–89), FB’s godmother 11 and n., 34, 36, 39, 193 Grey, Thomas de (1748–1818), 2nd B. Walsingham 354 and n. Griffith, Richard (d. 1788), playwright 11 and n. Griffiths, Elizabeth, née Clarke (d. 1812) 423 and n. Griffiths, Ralph 423 and n. Gundy, Mary (1743–1836) 453 Gunning, Charlotte Margaret (1759– 94) 357 Gwatkin, Theophila (‘Offy’), née Palmer 61 and n., 66–9, 77–8 Gwin, Miss 236 Hales, Caroline (1772–1853) 264 and n., 268 Hales, Elizabeth (1769–1815) 264 and n., 268 Hales, Harriet (1770–1858) 264 and n., 268 Hales, Jane (1766–1848) 264 and n., 268 Hales, Mary, née Hayward (Coussmaker), Lady (c.1741–1803) 10 and n., 17, 33, 344, 410, 416 FB calls upon 264, 268 Hamilton, Mary (1756–1816) 357, 362, 364 Hamilton, Sarah (1705–97) x, 2, 6, 34, 103, 106, 116, 141, 163, 201, 222, 230, 233–4, 243, 326, 329, 346, 349, 473 Hamilton, Sir William (1731–1803), diplomat, art collector 432 and n., 433 Hampden, Catherine, née Graeme, Lady (1749–1804) 190 and n., 191– 3, 213 Hampshire 328, 387 and n. Hampton 243, 357 Handcock, Mrs 429 and n., 430, 440 Hanover, Hon. Anne, née Luttrell (Horton) (1743–1808), Dss of Cumberland and Strathearn 190

499

Hanway, Jonas (1712–86), merchant and philanthropist 253 and n. An Historical Account of the British Trade over the Caspian Sea 253 n. George Hardinge (1743–1816), judge and writer 469 Hare-Naylor, Georgiana, née Shipley (c.1756–1806) 33 and n., 68–9 Harris, Harriet Maria, née Amyand, Lady (1761–1830) 243 and n. Harris, Sir James (1746–1820), K.B. 410 Harris, Katherine Gertrude (1750– 1834) 351 and n., 424 Harris, Louisa Margaret (1753–1826) 164 and n., 350–2, 424 Hatley, Isabella (d. 1784) 104, 470 Hatley, James (d. 1787) 104, 470 Hatley, Mary 104, 470 Hatsell, Elizabeth, née Ekins (1735– 1804) 135 and n., 137–8, 141, 144–5, 147, 158–9, 162, 208, 212, 219 offers theatre box to FB 208–9 Hatsell, Mr 137 and n. 138, 141, 145, 147, 158–9, 162, 208–9 Hawke, Cassandra, née Turner, Lady (1746–1813) 11 and n., 23–7 Hawke, Martin Bladen (1744–1805), 2nd B. 11 and n., 25–6 Hawkesworth, Mary, née Brown (c.1722–96) 199 and n. Hawkins, Ann (‘Nancy’), née Burney (1749–1819), FB’s cousin 96 and n., 362, 364, 372 Hemming, Revd Samuel (c.1724–85), Minister of Twickenham Chapel 314 and n. Hemming, Thomas (1721–1810), apothecary, surgeon 76 and n., 348 Henry, Mrs, sempstress 178 Hervey, Anne, née Coghlan (d. 1786) 329 and n., 330 Hervey, Elizabeth (1730–1803) 329 and n., 330, 349, 354 Hervey, Frederick Augustus (1730– 1803), 4th E. of Bristol, Bishop of Derry 58 and n. Hervey, William Thomas (d. 1791) 329 and n., 330–1 Hessen–Rheinfels–Rothenburg, Maria Hedwig Eleonore Christine von (1748–1801), princesse du Bouillon 259 and n.

500

Index

Hinchliffe, Elizabeth, née Crewe (c.1744– 1826) 41, 55, 313, 354, 355 Hinchliffe, John (1731–94), D.D., Bishop of Peterborough 55, 199, 297, 354–5 Hobart, Albinia, née Bertie (c.1739– 1816) 169–70 and n. Hoole, John (1727–1803), translator 18, 225, 401 Hoole, Revd Samuel (1757/8–1839), poet 186 and n., 283, 362, 367, 370, 450 Aurelia, or, the Contest 370 and n., 450 Hope, John (1704–81), 2nd E. of Hopetoun 369 and n. Hope, Hon. John (1765–1823), army officer 369 and n. Hopetoun, Lord see Hope, John (1704– 81), 2nd E. of Hopetoun Housekeeper, comic character 309 Howard family 112 and n. Howard, Sir George (1718–96), K.B., army officer 354 and n. Hunter, Anne, née Home (1742–1821), poet 208 and n. Hunter, John (1728–93), anatomist, surgeon 208 and n. Hutton, James (1715–95), Moravian Churchman 78 and n. Hutton, Mr 208 and n. Ipswich 470 Isle of Wight 248 and n.

desires meeting with FB 268 meets FB 276–80 Jerningham, Edward (1737–1812), playwright and poet 258–60, 297, 299 Johnson, Dr Samuel (1709–84), author and lexicographer 1–2, 13, 15, 18, 19, 31, 48, 60, 133, 136, 141, 151– 5, 164, 168–72, 175–6, 186–7, 190, 195–8, 224, 240–3, 247, 253, illus 257, 265, 269, 272, 297, 301, 313, 340, 342–3, 358, 368, 399–400, 407–8, 413, 417–18, 437–9, 446, 448, 456, 469, 473, 476, 478, 486 blindness 154 on Cecilia 72–3, 77–8, 161, 175, 221, 226–7 Cecilia misattributed to 151–2, 161 deafness 169, 172 dines with Edmund Burke 365 FB visits 61, 220–1, 401–2, 408 illness 15, 56, 220, 240–1, 448 intimidating 139–40, 144–5, 147–50, 159–60, 162–3, 174, 437–9 on literature 47, 139–40 Miscellaneous and Fugitive Pieces 341 and n. suffers a stroke 356–7 visits Mr Bowles in Wiltshire 368 visits Mr Langton 389 Jones, Mrs 461, 469 Jones, Sir William (‘Oriental Jones’) (1746–94), scholar, jurist 58 and n.

Jackson, William (1730–1803), of Exeter, composer 231 and n., 255, 256 Jackson, Mary (c.1760–1808) 255 and n., 256 James’s Powders (medicine) 474 Jardine, Charlotte (d. 1792) 10 and n., 18 Jardine, Joanna (c.1769–1830) 10 and n., 18 Jebb, Sir Richard (1729–87), 1st Bt, M.D. 72, 123, 187, 296, 475 Jenkinson Charles (1729–1808) 33 Jenyns, Elizabeth, née Gray 276 and n., 277 Jenyns, Soame (1704–87), miscellaneous writer 214 and n., 272, 274, 281, 295, 300–1, 328, 361–2 on Cecilia 277–8

Kaye, John (c.1763–1827) 150 and n., 152, 155, 158 Keppel, Hon. Augustus (1725–86), First Lord of the Admiralty 45 and n., 46, 66 Keppel, Laura, née Walpole (c.1734– 1813) 377 and n. Keppel, Laura (1765–98) 378 and n. Killaloe , Bishop of see Barnard, Thomas (1727–1806) King, Capt. James 72 and n., 77–8, 96– 7, 102, 118 King’s Lynn, Norfolk 272 Kingston upon Thames, Surrey 222, 349 Baker at 104 Kingston Inn 222 Kinnaird, Hon. Margaret (d. 1800) 199 and n.

Index Kippis, Revd Andrew (1725–95), D.D., nonconformist divine, biographer 183 and n. Biographia Britannica 183 and n. Kirwan, Elizabeth (‘Bessy’) (c.1760– 1840) 22–3, 26, 37, 219, 362–3 Kirwan, Maria Theresa (d. 1824) 22–3, 26, 37, 363, 367 Kirwan, Richard (1733–1812), LL.D. 367 Knights of the Golden Spur 377 and n. Laclos, Pierre-Ambroise-François Choderlos de (1741–1803) 259 n., 260 Les liasons dangereuses 259 and n. La Fite, Marie–Elisabeth de, née Le Boué (1737–94) 55 and n. Lampe, John Frederick (c.1703–51), composer 202 and n. Pyramus and Thisbe 202 Langton, Bennet (c.1737–1801), Greek scholar 360, 368, 383, 389 Langton, George (1772–1819) 389 Larpent, Anna Margaretta, née Porter (1758–1832) 331 n., 332 Larpent, John (1741–1824), examiner of plays 331 and n., 332 Latona (frigate) 9 and n. Lausanne, Switzerland 369 Lawrence, Thomas (1711–83), M.D. 13 Layard, Charles Peter (1749–1803), D.D. 221 and n. Legros, Joseph (1739–93), tenor, composer 214 and n. Leslie, George William Evelyn, Lord (1768–1817) 145 and n., 455 Leslie, Lady Harriet (1777–1839) 145 and n. Leslie, Lady Mary 145 and n. Lever, Sir Ashton (1729–88), collector 237 and n., 316 Leveson-Gower, Frances, née Boscawen (1746–1813) 39 and n., 449 Lewis, Edward (d. 1791), M.P. 369 Lightfoot, Revd John (1735–88), naturalist 275 and n., 290–2, 482 Lindsay, Lady Anne 157 and n., 158, 213 Locke, Frederica (‘Fredy’) Augusta, née Schaub (1750–1832) 351, 389 Locke, William (1732–1810), of Norbury Park, art connoisseur and patron 321 and n., 351

501

Locke, William, Jr (1767–1847), artist 343 and n., 344–5 London: Argyle St 176, 211, 312, 343 Bolt Court 220, 407–8 Brooke St 349 Charles St, Berkeley Square 189 Chelsea Hospital 451 Cockspur St, Haymarket 471 Duchess St 280, 309 Lisle St 372 and n. Mortimer St 280 One Bell Inn 222 and n. Oxendon Chapel, Haymarket 221 and n. Pantheon 261, 296, 434 and n. Queen Anne St, Cavendish Square 310 Ranelagh Gardens 261 and n., illus 262, 378 Rathbone Place 342 St James’s Palace 318 St James’s Park 331 St James’s Place 283, 474, 480 St Martin’s Street 458 Stephen St 342 Stratford Place 204 and n. Wimpole St 349 Winchester House, Chelsea 365, 369 Lorenzini, Caterina (fl.1780–4) singer 37 and n. Lort, Revd Michael (1725–90, antiquary 296 and n., 298 Lowndes, Thomas (1719–84), bookseller 118 Lucan, Lady see Bingham, Margaret, née Smith (c.1740–1814) Lusini, Caterina (fl.1779–93), soprano 426 and n., 445 Lyon, Major 232 Lyttelton, Apphia, née Witts (Peach) (1743–1840) 33 and n., 36 Lyttelton, George (1709–73), 1st B. 33 and n., 437–8 Lyttelton, Thomas (1744–79), 2nd B. 33 and n. Lyttelton ,William Henry (1724–1808), 1st B. Westcote 58 Manners, Mary Isabella, née Somerset (1756–1831), Dss of Rutland 251 and n., 319 Manners, Robert (1758–1823) 168–9 and n., 172, 297

502

Index

Mannucci, Giovanni Tommaso (1750– 1814) 40 and n. Marie-Antoinette (1755–93), Queen of France 361 Markham, Alicia Henrietta (1771– 1840), 185 and n., 208 Markham, Rt Revd William (1719– 1807), Archbishop of York 225 Marlborough, Dss of see Spencer, Caroline, née Russell (1743–1811) Marlay, Richard (c.1728–1802), Dean of Ferns (Ire.) 374 and n., 375 Marsh, Charles (1735–1812), M.A., F.S.A. 441 and n., 442–5, 451 Mathias, Albinia (c.1760–1824) 256 and n., 362–3, 367 Mathias, George Augustus Vincent (c.1763–1848) 362–3 and n., 367 Mee, Mary (1752–1805) 239 and n. Meeke, Elizabeth (‘Bessie’), née Allen, FB’s stepsister 122–3 and n., 273, 283, 296, 299, 302, 304–5, 470 letter to FB 485 Meeke, Samuel (fl.1777–1802) 122, 485 Merlin, John Joseph (1735–1803), instrument maker, inventor 15–16, 180, 315–6 Metastasio, Pietro Trapassi, called (1698– 1782), poet, librettist 22, 36, 324 and n. ‘Misero Pargoletto’ 324 ‘La Primavera’ 324 Metcalfe, Philip (1733–1818), distiller 77 and n., 151–2, 154–5, 157, 159, 161, 163, 167, 190, 195, 197, 206 Middleton, Lady see Willoughby, Dorothy, née Cartwright (c.1733–1808) Millico, Giuseppe (1737–1802), singer and composer 151 and n. Mobray, Finetta, née Pye (1719–1810) 460 and n., 461, 469 Monboddo, Lord see Burnett, James (1714–99) Molière (Jean-Baptiste Poquelin) (1622– 73) 254 Monckton, Jane, née Westenra (d. 1788), Lady Galway 164 and n., 172, 189, 196, 198 Monckton, Hon. Mary (1748–1840) 164 and n., 165–6, 168–9, 172–3, 213, 312, 319, 328 hosts gathering 185–6, 188–98, 201, 206–7

Monsey, Messenger (1694–1788), physician to Chelsea Hospital 385 and n., 386 Montagu, D. of see Brudenell, George (after 1749 Montagu) (1712–90) Montagu (or Montacute), Lord see Browne, Anthony Joseph (1728–87) Montagu, Elizabeth, née Robinson (1718–1800), author 34, 36, 39, 125, 204, 208, 234–5, 265–7, 296, 299, 325, 383, 421, 424, 426, 438– 40, 452, 474, 479 Aurelia, mentioned in 371 on Cecilia 178–9, 192, 204–6 FB visits 56–8, 199 Montagu, Matthew, formerly Robinson (1762–1831) 57 and n., 265–7, 287, 455–9, 461–2, 479 Mordaunt, Charles Henry (1758–1814), 5th E. of Peterborough 378 and n. More, Hannah (1745–1833), writer 32, 34, 36, 39, 113, 152, 323, 325, 360 Aurelia, mentioned in 371 Bas Bleu 412–13 and n., 425 Morigi, Margherita (fl.1782–8) 174 and n. Mudge, Ann (1748–83) 18 and n. Mulso, John (1721–91), Prebendary of Winchester 227 and n., 236 Mulso, Thomas (c.1721–99), commissioner of bankruptcies, author 227 and n., 236, 449, 464 Murphy, Arthur (1727–1805), playwright 12, 33 Musgrave, Isabella, née Byron (1721– 95), Countess of Carlisle 449 and n. Musgrave, Mr 168–9, 172 Neal, Count 369 and n., 370 Newborough, Lady see Wynn, Catherine, née Percival (1746–82) Newborough, Lord see Wynn, Thomas (1736–1807) New Market Hill 149–50, 154 newspapers 128, 174, 197 misattribution of play to FB 11 Morning Herald 32, 38, 168–72 praise of FB 32, 34, 38 Nicholls, Revd Norton (c.1741–1809) 350 and n. friend of Thomas Gray 351–2 Noble, Francis (d. 1792), bookseller 44 and n.

Index Nollekens, Mary, née Welch (d. 1817) 237 and n. North, Brownlow (1741–1820), Bishop of Winchester 201, 215 and n., 268, 272, 295–6, 301, 302, 364, 369, 372, 387 meets FB 269–70, North, Henrietta Maria, née Bannister (d. 1796) 268, 295–6, 364, 387, 452 bouquet for FB 271, 301, 304 dislikes Richard Owen Cambridge 387 FB dines with 301–2 meets FB 269–72 scolding message and innuendo 364 Nugent, Lady Louisa (1761–1841) 219 and n. Ogilvy, James (1750–1811), 7th Earl of Findlater 11 and n. O’Hara, Miss 236 Oliver, Susy 280, 303 Omai (c.1753–c.1780), of  Tahiti 146 and n., 311 opera 4–6, 11, 36–7, 43, 127, 151, 163, 174, 177, 180, 182, 199–202, 210– 12, 215–16, 222, 239–40, 426, 445 see also Pacchierotti, Gasparo (1740– 1821) Ord, Anna, née Dillingham (c.1726– 1808), bluestocking 3, 7, 10, 17, 18, 33, 40, 54–6, 59, 179, 184, 208, 219, 226, 234–5, 239, 241, 247, 272, 294–5, 296, 299, 303–4, 310, 325, 362, 363, 409, 412–13, 420– 1, 426, 428–30, 449, 455, 457, 462–3, 464–7, 478 arranges meeting between FB and Soame Jenyns 268, 276–81, 330, 340, 343, 353, 355 FB dines with 409–11, 464 FB visits 47, 186, 209–10, 227–30 invitation for both FB and GOC 473 takes FB to meet the Herveys 329–30 Ord, Charlotte (1753–95) 33, 56, 362– 3, 410, 420, 426, 449, 455, 464–5 Ord, Miss, Anna Ord’s cousin 186 Orde, Anne (?1758–1824) 464 Orde, Thomas (1746–1807), politician, secretary to the Treasury 219 and n., 295 family of 295

503

Owen, Richard (d. 1748), attorney 308 and n. Oxford University 387 Pacchierotti (Pacchiarotti), Gasparo (1740–1821), singer 2, 10–11, 17– 18, 27, 37, 45, 46, 55, 64–5, 73, 163, 174, 199–202, 210, 212, 246, 250–1, 258, 264, 268, 274, 318–19, 350, 352, 369–70, 391, 420, 464 appearance in Cecilia 52 benefit night 254, 316, 320 and n., 321, 324 calls FB a treasure 389–90 calls upon FB 281–3, 316, 319–21 illness 127 jealous of GOC 363 leave-taking concert at St Martin’s Street 362–3 letter to FB 107 mourns Sir Thomas Clarges 219, 221–2, 235 partiality for FB 363 performs 22–3, 177–8, 182, 201, 236, 239–40, 389–90, 426, 445 sings at Bulls’s soirée 324 sings at Lady Mary Duncan’s 389 on superiority of Italy to England 282–3, 316 visits FB 71, 177, 180, 185, 209, 215, 235–6 Paisiello, Giovanni (1740–1816), composer La Frascatana 212 and n. Palmer, Mary (c.1750–1820) 61, 66–7, 77–8, 172 and n., 186, 204, 206–7, 221, 231–2, 297, 299, 301–2 Paoli, Gen. Pasquale (1725–1807), army officer, politician 33 and n., 125–6 Paradise, John (1743–95) 22 Paradise, Lucy, née Ludwell (1751– 1814) 22–7, 219, 319, 369 Parker, Mary, née Whitwell (1729–99) 184 and n., 185, 208, 296 Parker, Revd Dr William (1714–1802) 184 and n., 208, 296 Parr, Revd Samuel (1747–1825), LL.D, headmaster 240 and n., 246–7, 249, 320 Parry, Amelia (1767–1846) 213 and n. Parry, Sarah, née Hillier 325 Parry, Sophia (1765–84) 213 and n.

504

Index

Payne, Frances Lambertine, née Kolbel, Lady (d. 1830) 5–6 Payne, Martha (‘Patty’) (1757–1803) 179–80 and n., 199 Payne, Sarah (‘Sally’) (1759–1832) 199 Payne, Thomas (1719–99), bookseller 19 and n., 28, 32, 34, 38, 65, 74, 99, 124, 128, 188, 449 Peggy, Burney family servant 78, 98 Penn, Lady Juliana, née Fermor (1729– 1801) 214 and n. Pepys, Jane Elizabeth, née Leslie (c.1750–1810), Countess of Rothes 133, 141, 144–6, 159, 162, 184, 186, 199, 208, 227, 325, 339–40, 342, 344, 412, 452, 455–7, 462 Pepys, Elizabeth, née Dowdeswell (c.1748– 1830) 75–6, 133, 145, 159, 162, 180, 184–5, 199, 208, 218, 227–8, 236, 325, 338, 339, 340, 342, 344, 362, 409, 412, 421, 449, 452, 455–9, 462–4 Pepys, Sir Lucas (1742–1825), M.D., 1st Bt 133, 144–5, 159, 162, 184, 208, 227, 296, 338–40, 344, 412, 455, 457–8, 462 Pepys, William Weller (1741–1825) 12, 32, 35–6, 40–1, 45, 76, 123, 136, 138–40, 144–7, 159, 162–3, 180, 184–5, 208, 218, 227–8, 236, 265– 7, 296, 304, 316, 325, 329, 339–40, 342, 344, 354–5, 357, 362, 364–5, 383, 409, 412–13, 421, 437–8, 455, 457–8, 461–3, 464–7 on Cecilia 133–5 fatal paragraph, suspected of writing 336–8, 466–7, 473 on HLT 343 Pery, Diana Jane (1764–1839) 204 and n. Pery, Edmond Sexton (1719–1806), barrister, Speaker of the Irish House of Commons 204 and n. Pery, Elizabeth, née Vesey (c.1732– 1821) 204 and n. Pery, Frances (b. c.1768) 204 and n. Peterborough, Bishop of see Hinchliffe, John (1731–94) Peterborough, Lord see Mordaunt, Charles Henry (1758–1814) Petersham Woods, Richmond Park 387 Petty, Louisa, née Fitzpatrick (1755– 89), Countess of Shelburne 296 and n.

Petty, William (1737–1805), 2nd E. of Shelburne, Prime Minister 80 and n., 116 Phillips, Frances (1782–1860), FB’s niece 121 and n., 131, 200, 308, 385, 427 Phillips, Capt. Molesworth (1755– 1832), FB’s brother-in-law 1 n., 3, 6, 9, 11, 17–18, 22, 35, 62–5, 70–1, 75, 77–8, 106, 122, 131–2, 142, 152–3, 159, 201, 222, 225, 228–9, 242–3, 245–6, 249, 255–6, 260, 271, 314, 347, 375, 380, 391, 397, 409, 425, 427, 461, 469, 470–1, 473 on beauty 263, 302 letter to Cambridges 321–2 Plymouth ‘threat’ 117–18 and n., 373–4 suspects Richard Owen Cambridge’s attentions to FB 333 visits Burneys 202, 207–10, 215 visits Cambridges at Twickenham 297–9 Phillips, Susanna (‘Susan’) Elizabeth, née Burney (1755–1800), FB’s sister ix–x, 1, 34, 72–3, 82, 130, 146, 201, 215, 219, 222–3, 225, 230, 240, 245–6, 261, 297–8, 302, 313–4, 336, 345–7, 355, 380, 383, 385, 409–10, 413, 419, 423, 425, 454, 472 at deathbed of Mr Crisp 349 Bertoni sends compliments to 371 on Cecilia x, 80, 84 confinement 121 and n. FB visits 79–81 illness 61, 63, 121–2, 123, 126, 129, 182, 187, 200, 244 letter with FB 437–8 letters to FB 22, 74–5, 117, 200 marriage to Molesworth Phillips ix, 2, 3, 4, 35, 81, 95, 117 Pacchierotti inquires after 370 pregnancy 62, 94, 107–8, 118 Piccinni, Niccolò, composer La Cecchina, ossia La buona igliuola 212 and n. Pickard, George (1756–1840), rector 442–5 and n., 451 Pinfold, Charles (1709–88), LL.D. 180– 1 and n. Piozzi, Gabriel Mario (1740–1809), singer 13, 15 and n., 40, 129, 184, 213, 299, 301, 304, 306

Index Pitt, William Morton Pitt (1754–1836), M.P. 379 and n. Plumbe, Susanna, née Thrale (d. 1835) 153 and n. Plymouth 373, 380 Pohlman, Johannes (fl.1760–1807), pianoforte and harpsichord maker 10 and n. Poole, Charlotte, née White, Lady (1749– 86) 134 and n. Poole, Edward (d. by 10 Oct. 1795), M.D. 143 and n. Poore, Edward (c.1743–95), barrister 182 and n., 319 Pope, Alexander (1688–1744), poet 19 Port, de La, Mr 331 Port, Georgiana Mary Ann (‘Marianne’) (1771–1850) 287 and n., 480 Porteus, Beilby (1731–1808), Bishop of Chester 55 and n., 127, 255–6, 263 Portland, Dowager Dss of see Cavendish Bentinck, Margaret, née Harley (1715– 85) Poulett, Vere, 3rd E. (1710–88) 311 and n. Poulter, Ann, née Bannister (c.1754– 1839) 371 and n. Poulter, Edmund, formerly Sayer (c.1756– 1832) 371 and n. Pozzi, Anna (fl.1776–88), soprano 239 and n. Povoleri, Giovanni 41 n., 45 and n., 60 Price, Sarah, née Evelyn (1735–1826) 296, 303–4, 325 Price, Uvedale (1747–1829), writer 323–4 Prior, Matthew (1664–1721) 391 ‘Venus Mistaken’ 391 and n. Prudom, Maria (d. 1783), singer 37 and n. Pugh, Revd Matthew (c.1739–1810), curate 243 and n., 244, 247 Purcell, John (d. 1852), M.D. 251 Queen of France see Marie-Antoinette (1755–93) Rabutin–Chantal, Marie de (1626–96), Marquise de Sévigné, letter writer 285 and n., 478 Ramsay, Allan (1713–84), painter 59 and n. Raphael (1483–1520), painter 233 and n.

505

Rauzzini, Venanzio, composer 36 and n., 37 Ray, Richard (d. 1795), woodmason, churchwarden 26 and n. Ray, Robert (c.1761–1837), barrister 300 and n. Ray, Sarah (1722–1814) 26 and n. receipts 188 Reni, Guido (1575–1642), painter 216 and n. Reynolds, Frances (1729–1807), painter 2, 77–8, 231 and n., 233–5 Reynolds, Sir Joshua (1723–92), painter 2, 33, 66–71, 77–8, 83, 125, 152, 159, 171–2, 186, 192, 195, 197–8, 204–8, 212–14, 216, 230–3, 265– 7, 355, 357, 361, 365, 375, 431 portrait of SJ 258 and n. Richardson, Samuel (1689–1761), writer xi, 132, 290, 481–2 Sir Charles Grandison 290, 481 Clarissa 290, 481 Richmond, Molly 187 and n. Rishton, Maria, née Allen (1751–1820), FB’s stepsister 73, 122 Rishton, Martin (c.1747–1820) 106 Robinson, Mary (1758–1800) 38 and n. Robinson, Thomas (1738–86), 2nd B. Grantham 354 and n. Robson, Bateman (c.1719–91), solicitor 48 and n. Romney, George (1734–1802), painter 425 and n. Rose, Elizabeth (c.1770–1802) 423 and n. Rose family 245 Rose, Harriet (living 1814) 423 and n. Rose, Samuel (1767–1804) 358 Rose, Sarah (‘Rosette’) see Burney, Sarah (‘Rosette’), née Rose, (1759– 1821) Rose, Sarah, née Clarke (c.1726–1805) 423 and n. Rose, Dr William (1719–86) 119–20, 180, 253, 258, 423 Ross, John (1719–92), Bishop of Exeter 290 and n., 482 Rothes, Lady see Pepys, Jane Elizabeth, née Leslie (c.1750–1810) Rousseau, Jean-Jacques (1712–78), philosopher and novelist 292 Sophie, character in Emile 293 and n.

506

Index

Télémaque, character in Emile et Sophie 293 and n. Rowe, Nicholas (1674–1718), poet laureate, playwright 21 Rutland, Duchess of see Manners, Mary Isabella, née Somerset (1756–1831) Sacchini, composer 23 and n., 239 Rinaldo 23 St Asaph, Bishop of see Shipley, Jonathan (1713–88) 67 and n., 68 Sales, Joseph (c.1738–1814) 112 and n. Salusbury, Hester Maria 167 and n. Salusbury, John (1707–62) 7 and n., 167 Salusbury, Sarah, née Burroughs, Lady (1721–1804) 7 and n., 101, 181 see also Thrale, Henry, estate litigation Salusbury, Sir Thomas (1708–73) 7 and n. Sandford, Sarah (‘Sally’), née Chapone (c.1732–93) 366 and n. Sandys, Anna Maria, née Colbrooke, Lady (1720–1806) Sandys, Edwin (1726–97), 2nd B. Sandys of Ombersley 33 and n. Sangro, Don Nicola de’, 2nd Duca di Sangro (1756–1833) 184 and n., 214 Sastres, Francesco (d. 1822), poet, teacher, translator 22, 102, 184, 240, 243, 247, 366, 369, 408 Saunders, Martha (1756–85) 127 and n. Saye and Sele, Lady see Twistleton, Elizabeth, née Turner (1741–1816) Saye and Sele, Lord see Twistleton, Thomas (c.1735–88) Sayer, John (c.1752–1831) 371 and n. Schaub, Amelia Henrietta (1731–1829) 389 and n. Schaub, Marguerite, née de Ligonier du Buisson, Lady (c.1713–93) 389 and n. Scotland 274, 295 Scott, Elizabeth, née Montagu (1743– 1827), Duchess of Buccleuch 5 and n. Scott, Susanna, née Thrale (d. 1789) 134 and n., 153, 184, 297, 449 Scrase, Charles (1709–92), solicitor 175 and n. Selwin, Charles (1715–94), banker 127 and n., 136–8, 151, 160, 163–4, 167, 170, 173, 186–7, 208, 213–14, 233, 254, 276, 297

Sévigné, Madame de see RabutinChantal, Marie de (1626–96) Seward, William (1747–99) 247, 257, 320–1, 336–7, 356, 366, 393–4, 398, 449, 464–5, 467–8 recommends death over marriage for HLT 398–9 Seymour-Conway, Hon. Capt. Hugh (1759–1801) 9 and n. Sharp, William (c.1729–1810), surgeon 327 and n. Shelburne, Lady see Petty, Louisa, née Fitzpatrick (1755–89) Shelburne, Lord see Petty, William (1737–1805) Shelley, Elizabeth, née Woodcock, Lady (1748–1808) 134 and n., 137–8, 141, 144, 160, 175 Shelley, Henry (1727–1805) 213 Shelley, Sir John (c.1730–83), 5th Bt 145–6, 160, 175 Shipley, Georgiana see Hare-Naylor, Georgiana Shenstone, William (1714–63), poet ‘A Pastoral Ballad’ 396–7 Shirley, Henrietta-Maria, née Phillips (1741/2–92) 1–2 and n., 3, 10, 29, 65 Shirley, Revd Walter (1725–86) 1 and n., 3, 29, 35 Siddons, Sarah, née Kemble (1755– 1831), actress 195–7, 206–9, 211, 246–7, 255, 289, 326, 469, 481 in Belvidera 254 and n. benefit night 201 print of 260 and n., 269, 270, 283 Sidney, Lady Dorothy (‘Sacharissa’) (1617–84) 284 and n. Shipley, Georgiana (c.1756–1806), painter 33 and n., 68–9, 323, 375, 380 Simon 128 Sleepe, Frances, née Dubois, FB’s maternal grandmother xi, 284, 390, 477 Smith, Charlotte Elizabeth, née Gideon (d. 1826) 216 and n. Smith, Henry (1756–89), barrister 400 Smith (or Smythe) Stafford, Edward (1747–1802) 327 and n. Solander, Dr Daniel Carl, botanist 22 and n. Southwark 248

Index Spencer, Caroline, née Russell (1743– 1811), Dss of Marlborough 329 and n. Spencer, John (1734–83), 2nd E. 432 and n. Spencer, Lavinia, née Bingham, Lady (1762–1831) 431–2 and n., 434 Stanhope, Edwin Francis (c.1728– 1807), Gentleman Usher 58 and n. Stanhope, Philip Dormer (1694–1773), 4th E. of Chesterfield 304 The Art of Pleasing 304 and n. Stewart, Miss M., painter 309 and n. Stewart, Thomas (1766–c.1801), portrait painter 309 and n. Stormont, David Murray (1727–96), 7th Visc. 426 and n. Strange family 18, 295 Strange, Isabella, née Lumisden (1719– 1806) 295 Strange, James Charles Stuart (1753– 1840) 326 and n., 369 Strange, Mary Bruce (1748–84) 274 and n., 295 Strange, Robert (1721–92), engraver 369 Strange, Thomas Andrew Lumisden (1756–1841) 187 and n. Streatfeild, Sophia (1755–1835) 1 and n., 3, 10, 32, 34, 36, 39, 55–7, 127, 199, 212, 218, 255–6, 261, 323, 325, 364–5, 380, 452–3 Aurelia, mentioned in 371 Streatham Park 29, 116, 124–5, 343, 349, 356, 401, 437, 439, 476 Swinnerton, Thomas (c.1755–1836) 133 and n., 136, 138, 140–1, 145–51, 160, 183–4, 187, 195, 208, 213 Texier, Anthony A., Le, (c.1737–1814), actor and theatre manager 372 and n. L’Avocat Patelin 372 and n. Jerome Pointu 372 and n. La Partie de Chasse 372 and n. Thames Ditton 364 Thames, River 385, 388 Thornton, Henry (1760–1815), M.P., merchant 184 and n., 185, 208 Thrale, Cecilia Margaretta (1777–1857) 26 n., 327 and n., 343, 349, 395, 446 Thrale, Henrietta Sophia (1778–83) 327 and n., 343, 349

507

Thrale, Henry (c.1729–81), brewer, M.P. ix–x, 248 estate litigation 48, 60, 101, 104, 115, 180–1 Thrale, Hester Lynch, née Salusbury (1741–1821) ix–x, xii, 10, 17–18, 29, 33–4, 36–7, 39, 65, 72, 74, 95, 115, 132–6, 141–4, 148–59, 164, 166–70, 175–6, 182, 186–7, 188– 91, 201, 206, 212–13, 218, 226–7, 254, 271–2, 298, 304–5, 310, 325, 328–9, 339, 342, 344, 392, 412– 13, 423, 438–9, 457, 467 assemblies 183–5, 208, 272, 296–305 at Bath 355 attends gathering at Mrs Ord’s 276– 80 catches a cold 264, 312, 315, 318 on Cecilia x, 32, 48, 50–4, 72–3, 161 FB attends opera with 258, 260, 263, 313 illness 123, 128–9, 412–14 letters to FB 1 and n., 2, 7, 12–14, 15, 21, 40, 48–52, 80, 409 offers FB her opera box 254 plans to move to Italy 115–16, 121, 211, 416–17 relationship with Piozzi ix–x, 121 and n., 123, 127–9, 238, 305–7, 393–6, 398–400, 404–7, 412–20 rents house on Harley Street 3 and n. sufferings 399–400, 446–8 suspects Richard Owen Cambridge’s attentions to FB 333 visits FB 29, 72–3, 95, 97–8, 338 Thrale, Hester Maria (‘Queeney’) (1764– 1857) x, 8, 12, 13, 28, 51, 133–4, 140–5, 148–51, 153, 158, 175–6, 185, 188–91, 206, 212–13, 218, 297, 305–7, 321, 325, 342–4, 393– 6, 399, 466 attends gathering at Mrs Ord’s 276– 80 calls with FB upon Lady Hales 268 FB attends opera with 258, 263 FB counsels discretion 448 presentation at Court 318, 322 rumours of relationship with GOC 317–18, 320 sings 299, 301, 304 Thrale, Sophia (‘Sophy’) (1771–1824) 14 and n., 133–4, 153, 158, 409, 415, 417–18, 423

508

Index

Thrale, Susanna Arabella (‘Susan’) (1770–1858) 133–4, 136, 226–7 Thynne, Thomas (1734–96), 3rd Visc. Weymouth 290–1, 482–3 Torriano, Hillary (1713–86) 112 and n. Torriano, Honoria (1763–1831) 112 and n. Townshend, Anne, née Montgomery, Lady (d. 1819) Townshend, Charlotte, née Ellerker (1754–1802), Lady Ferrers of Chartley 147 and n., 148–50, 158–9, 160– 2, 164–7, 168–70, 172–5, 208 Townshend, Charlotte Barbara (1781– 1807) 173 and n. Townshend, George (1753–1811), B. Ferrers of Chartley 147 and n., 148– 50, 160–2, 166–7, 168–9, 172–3, 297 Townshend, George Ferrars (1778– 1855) 173–4 and n. Townshend, Harriet Anne (1782– 1845) 173 and n. Townshend, Thomas Compton (1780– 7) 173 and n. Trenchard, George (c.1684–1758), M.P. 308 and n. Trenchard, John (d. 1819) 309 and n., 353 Trenchard, Thomas (b. 1723) 309 and n., 353 Trevelyan, George (1764–1827) 369 and n. Trevelyan, John (1761–1846) 369 and n. Trevelyan, Walter (1763–1830) 369 and n. Trevelyan, Willoughby (c.1768–85) 369 and n. Trinity College, Cambridge 367 Turner, Catherine, née Allen (d. 1796) 452 and n. Turner, Sir Gregory Page (1748–1805), 3rd Bt 27 and n. Twickenham Meadows 224 and n., 244, 256, 271, 273, 297–8, 309, 311–2, 314–6, 319, 325, 333, 353, 358, 365, 370, 410, 412, 424, 426–7, 439, 443, 445, 453–4, 456–7, 461, 464, 468, 471 Brown Room 445, 458 Burneys visit 374–89 Edward Gibbon’s ducking in River Thames 388 and n. FB and SBP return from 307–10

Twining, Thomas (1734–1804), divine, linguist, classicist 107, 240, 246, 326, 338, 344 aversion to EAB 337 residence at Colchester 247 and n. Twistleton, Elizabeth, née Turner (1741– 1816), Lady Saye and Sele 23 and n., 24–7, 319 Twistleton, Thomas (c.1735–88), 13th B. Saye and Sele 23 and n., 26–7 Upton, Mr 350 Van Dyck, Sir Anthony (1599–1641), painter 284 and n. Sacharissa, painting 284 and n., 478 Vernon, George Venables (1735– 1813), 2nd B. Vernon of Kinderton 350 n., 354 Vesey, Agmondesham (1718–85), M.P. 325, 375 Vesey, Elizabeth, née Vesey (Handcock) (c.1715–91) 164, 325, 329, 357, 360, 365, 374–5, 409, 424, 429–30, 432–5, 441, 455, 457–8, 473 ear trumpet and artificial ears 361, 474 Vyse, Revd Dr William (1741–1816) 255 and n., 263, 452–3 Wade, William, Master of Ceremonies 153 and n. Waldegrave, Lady Anna Horatia (1762– 1801) 377 and n., 378–9 Waldegrave, Lady Charlotte Maria (1761–1808) 377 and n., 378 Waldegrave, Lady Elizabeth Laura (1760–1816) 377 and n., 378 Walker, Adam (1730/1–1821), itinerant lecturer and writer 265–7 and n. Wallace, James (1729–83), M.P., attorney-general 435 and n. Walpole, Horace (1717–97), wit, connoisseur, and writer 352 and n., 357, 360–1, 365–6, 474 Castle of Otranto 352 and n. Walsingham, Charlotte see BoyleWalsingham, Charlotte, née HanburyWilliams (d. 1790) Walsingham, Lord see Grey, Thomas de (1748–1818) Waller family 478

Index Warren, Caroline, née Clavering, Lady (c.1763–1839) 141 and n., 142–4, 146 Warren, Charles (1764–1829) 371 and n. Warren, Elizabeth, née Shaw 371 and n. Warren, George John Borlase (c.1782– 1801) 143–4 and n. Warren, Sir John Borlase (1753–1822), 1st Bt, naval officer 144 and n. Warren, Richard (1731–97), M.D. 347 and n., 348, 371 Warren, Richard (1763–1820) 371 and n. Warton, Joseph (1722–1800), D.D., poet and literary critic 181 and n., 265–7 Warton, Thomas (1728–90), poet and literary historian 181 and n., 265–7 Warville, M. de see Brissot, JacquesPierre, called Brissot de Warville (1754–93) Watson, Richard (1737–1816), D.D., Bishop of Llandaff 325 wax chandler 380 weather 96, 100, 140, 182, 408 Welch, Anne (‘Nancy’) (d. 1810) 237 and n. West, Benjamin (1738–1820), painter 230–2 and n. Westcote, Lord see Lyttelton, William Henry (1724–1808) Weymouth, Lord see Thynne, Thomas (1734–96) Whitbread, Harriot (1758–1832) 297 and n. Whitbread, Samuel (1720–96), brewer 128 n., 297 and n. Whitton, Mary (c.1746–1809) 107 and n. Wilkinson, Harriet Ann, née Ford (b. c.1754) 10 and n., 219, 250 Williams, Anna (1706–83), poet 220 and n., 356, 401, 439, 473 Williams, Sir Charles Hanbury (1708– 59), K.B., M.P., diplomat, wit, poet 203 and n. Willoughby, Dorothy, née Cartwright (c.1733–1808), Lady Middleton 216 and n.

509

Wilmot, Elizabeth (1746–1826) 213 and n. Wilmot, Sarah, nee Morris (c.1724–93) 354 and n., 355 Winchester, Bishop of see North, Brownlow (1741–1820) Winchester House, Chelsea 365, 369 Windham, William (1750–1810) M.P., scholar, Secretary at War 221 and n., 377, 378 Windsor Castle 114–15, 216 Wingfield, Sir Anthony (d. 1552) 90 and n. Worsley, Seymour Dorothy, née Fleming, Lady (d. post 1805), 38 and n. Wraxall, Nathaniel William (1751– 1831), traveller and memoirist 33 and n., 218, 297, 325, 339 Wright, Patience, née Lovell (1725– 86), wax modeller 471 Wyndham, Hon. Charles William (1760–1828) 377 and n., 378, 455 Wynn, Catherine, née Percival (1746– 82), Lady Newborough 12 and n. Wynn, Charlotte, née Grenville, Lady (1754–1832) 354 and n. Wynn, Thomas (1736–1807), B. Newborough, M.P. 12 and n. Wynn, Sir Watkins Williams (1748–89), 4th Bt 354 and n. York 455 York, Archbishop of see Markham, Rt Revd William (1719–1807) Young, Arthur (1741–1820), agriculturalist, brother-in-law of EAB 92 and n., 231 Young, Dorothy (‘Dolly’) (c.1721– 1805) 103, 105 Young, Martha, née Allen (1741–1815), EAB’s sister 11 and n. Zenobia (Zenobio), Count, Prince in the Venetian Republic, Prince in the  House of Austria 22 and n., 50, 61