Fanny Burney - Diary and Letters

We had at breakfast a scene, of its sort, the most curious I ever saw.

The persons were Sir Philip, Mr. Seward, Dr. Delap, Miss Streatfield, Mrs. and Miss Thrale, and I. The discourse turning I know not how, upon Miss Streatfield, Mrs. Thrale said,

“Ay I made her cry once for Miss Burney as pretty as could be, but nobody does cry so pretty as the S. S. I’m sure, when she cried for Seward, I never saw her look half so lovely.”

“For Seward?” cried Sir Philip; “did she cry for Seward? What a happy dog! I hope she’ll never cry for me, for if she does, I won’t answer for the consequences!”

“Seward,” said Mrs. Thrale, “had affronted Johnson, and then Johnson affronted Seward, and then the S. S. cried.”

“OH,” cried Sir Philip, “that I had but been here!”

“Nay,” answered Mrs. Thrale, “you’d only have seen how like three fools three sensible persons behaved: for my part, I was quite sick of it, and of them too.”

Sir P.- But what did Seward do? was he not melted?

Mrs. T.-Not he; he was thinking only of his own affront, and taking fire at that.

Mr. S.-Why, yes, I did take fire, for I went and planted my back to it.

S.S.-And Mrs. Thrale kept stuffing me with toast-and-water.

Sir P.-But what did Seward do with himself? Was not he in extacy? What did he do or say?

Mr. S.-Oh, I said pho, pho, don’t let’s have any more of this,– it’s making it of too much consequence: no more piping, pray.

Sir P.-Well, I have heard so much of these tears, that I would give the universe to have a sight of them.

Mrs. T.-Well, she shall cry again if you like it.

S.S.-No, pray, Mrs. Thrale.

Sir P.- Oh, pray, do ! pray let me see a little of it.

Mrs. T.-Yes, do cry a little, Sopby [in a wheedling voice], pray do! Consider, now, you are going to-day, and it’s very hard if you won’t cry a little: indeed, S. S., you ought to cry.

Now for the wonder of wonders. When Mrs, Thrale, in a coaxing voice, suited to a nurse soothing a baby, had run on for some time,–while all the rest of us, in laughter, joined in the request,–two crystal tears came into the soft eyes of the S. S., and rolled gently down her cheeks! Such a sight I never saw before, nor could I have believed. She offered not to conceal ordissipate them: on the contrary, she really contrived to have them seen by everybody. She looked, indeed, uncommonly handsome; for her pretty face was not, like Chloe’s, blubbered; it was smooth and elegant, and neither her features nor complexion were at all ruffled; nay, indeed, she was smiling all the time.

“Look, look!” cried Mrs. Thrale; “see if the tears are not come already.”

Loud and rude bursts of laughter broke from us all at once. How, indeed, could they be restrained? Yet we all stared, and looked and re-looked again and again, twenty times, ere we could believe our eyes. Sir Philip, I thought, would have died in convulsions; for his laughter and his politeness, struggling furiously with one another, made him almost black in the face. Mr. Seward looked half vexed that her crying for him was now so much lowered in its flattery, yet grinned incessantly; Miss Thrale laughed as much as contempt would allow her: but Dr. Delap seemed petrified with astonishment.

When our mirth abated, Sir Philip, colouring violently with his efforts to speak, said,

“I thank you, ma’am, I’m much obliged to you.”

But I really believe he spoke without knowing what he was saying.

“What a wonderful command,” said Dr. Delap, very gravely, “that lady must have over herself!”

She now took out a handkerchief, and wiped her eyes.

“Sir Philip,” cried Mr. Seward, “how can you suffer her to dry her own eyes?–you, who sit next her?”

“I dare not dry them for her,” answered he, “because I am not the right man.”

“But if I sat next her,” returned he, “she would not dry them herself.”

“I wish,” cried Dr. Delap, “I had a bottle to put them in; ’tis a thousand’pities they should be wasted.”

“There, now,” said Mrs. Thrale, “she looks for all the world as if nothing had happened; for, you know, nothing has happened!”

“Would you cry, Miss Burney,” said Sir Philip, “if we asked you?”

“She can cry, I doubt not,” said Mr. Seward, “on any Proper occasion.”

“But I must know,” said I, “what for.” I did not say this loud enough for the S. S. to hear me, but if I
had, she would not have taken it for the reflection it meant. She seemed, the whole time, totally insensible to the numerous strange and, indeed, impertinent speeches which were made and to be very well satisfied that she was only manifesting a tenderness of disposition, that increased her beauty of countenance. At least, I can put no other construction upon her conduct which was, without exception, the strangest I ever saw. Without any pretence of affliction,-to weep merely because she was bid, though bid in a manner to forbid any one else,–to be in good spirits all the time,–to see the whole company expiring of laughter at her tears, without being at all offended, and, at last, to dry them up, and go on with the same sort of conversation she held before they started!

At dinner we had three persons added to our company,–my dear father, Miss Streatfield, and Miss Brown.

Miss Brown, as I foresaw, proved the queen of the day. Miss Streatfield requires longer time to make conquests. She is, indeed, much more really beautiful than Fanny Brown; but Fanny Brown is much more showy, and her open, goodhumoured, gay, laughing face inspires an almost immediate wish of conversing and merry-making with her. Indeed, the two days she spent here have raised her greatly in my regard. She is a charming girl, and so natural, and easy, and sweet-tempered, that there is no being half an hour in her company without ardently wishing her well.

Next day at breakfast, our party was Sir Philip, Mr. Fuller, Miss Streatfield, Miss Brown, the Thrales, and I.

The first office performed was dressing Miss Brown. She had put on bright, jonquil ribbons. Mrs. Thrale exclaimed against them immediately; Mr. Fuller half joined her, and away she went, and brought green ribbons of her own, which she made Miss Brown run up stairs with to put on. This she did with the utmost good humour; but dress is the last thing in which she excels; for she has lived so much abroad, and so much with foreigners at home, that she never appears habited as an Englishwoman, nor as a high-bred foreigner, but rather as an Italian Opera-dancer; and her wild, careless, giddy manner, her loud hearty laugh, and general negligence of appearance, contribute to give her that air and look. I like her so much, that I am quite sorry she is not better advised, either by her own or some friend’s judgment.

Miss Brown, however, was queen of the breakfast: for though her giddiness made everybody take liberties with her, her goodhumour made everybody love her, and her gaiety made everybody desirous to associate with her. Sir Philip played with her as with a young and sportive kitten; Mr. Fuller laughed and chatted with her; and Mr. Seward, when here, teases and torments her. The truth is, he cannot bear her, and she, in return, equally fears and dislikes him, but still she cannot help attracting his notice.

Streatham, Sunday, June 13. After church we all strolled the grounds, and the topic of our discourse was Miss Streatfield. Mrs. Thrale asserted that she had a power of captivation that was irresistible; that her beauty, joined to her softness, her caressing manners, her tearful eyes, and alluring looks, would insinuate her into the heart of any man she thought worth attacking.

Sir Philip declared himself of a totally different opinion,?,:’and quoted Dr. Johnson against her, who had told him that, taking away her Greek, she was as ignorant as a butterfly.

Mr. Seward declared her Greek was all against her, with him, for that, instead of reading Pope, Swift, or “The Spectator”– books from which she might derive useful knowledge and improvement–it had led her to devote all her reading time to the first eight books of Homer.

“But,” said Mrs. Thrale, “her Greek, you must own, has made all her celebrity:–you would have heard no more of her than of any other pretty girl, but for that.”

“What I object to,” said Sir Philip, “is her avowed Preference for this parson. Surely it is very indelicate in any lady to let all the world know with whom she is in love ! ”

“The parson,” said the severe Mr. Seward, “I suppose, spoke first,–or she would as soon have been in love with you, or with me!”

You will easily believe I gave him no pleasant look. He wanted me to slacken my pace, and tell him, in confidence, my private opinion of her : but I told him, very truly, that as I knew her chiefly by account, not by acquaintance, I had not absolutely formed my opinion.

“Were I to live with her four days,” said this odd man, “I believe the fifth I should want to take her to church.”

“You’d be devilish tired of her, though,” said Sir Philip, “in half a year. A crying wife will never do!”

“Oh, yes,” cried he, “the pleasure of soothing her would make amends.”

“Ah,” cried Mrs. Thrale, “I would insure her power of crying herself into any of your hearts she pleased. I made her cry to Miss Burney, to show how beautiful she looked in tears.” ”

“If I had been her,” said Mr. Seward, “I would never have visited you again.”

“Oh, but she liked it,” answered Mrs. T., “for she knows how well she does it. Miss Burney would have run away, but she came forward on purpose to show herself. I would have done so by nobody else – but Sophy Streatfield is never happier than when the tears trickle from her fine eyes in company.”

“Suppose, Miss Burney,” said Mr. Seward, “we make her the heroine of our comedy? and call it “Hearts have at ye all?”

“Excellent,” cried I, “it can’t be better.”

Streatham, February.-I have been here so long, MY dearest Susan, Without writing a word, that now I hardly know where or how to begin, But I will try to draw up a concise account of what has passed for this last fortnight, and then endeavour to be more minute.

Mrs. Thrale and Dr. Johnson vied with each other in the kindness of their reception of me.  Mr. Thrale was, as usual at first, cold and quiet, but soon, as usual also, warmed into sociality,

The next day Sir Philip Jennings Clerke came.  He is not at all a man of letters, but extremely well-bred, nay, elegant, in his manners, and sensible and agreeable in his conversation, He is a professed minority man, and very active and zealous in the opposition.  He had, when I came, a bill in agitation concerning contractors–too long a matter to explain upon paper–but which was levelled against bribery and corruption in the ministry, and which he was to make a motion upon in __the House of Commons the next week.

Men of such different principles as Dr. Johnson and Sir Philip you may imagine, can not have much sympathy or cordiality in their political debates; however, the very superior abilities of the former, and the remarkable good breeding of the latter have kept both upon good terms; though they have had several arguments, in which each has exerted his utmost force for conquest.

The heads of one of their debates I must try to remember, because I should be sorry to forget.  Sir Philip explained his bill; Dr. Johnson at first scoffed at it; Mr. Thrale betted a guinea the motion would not pass, and Sir Philip, that he should divide a hundred and fifty upon it.

Sir Philip, addressing himself to Mrs. Thrale, hoped she would not suffer the Tories to warp her judgment, and told me he hoped my father had not tainted my principles; and then he further explained his bill, and indeed made it appear so
equitable, that Mrs. Thrale gave in to it, and wished her husband to vote for it.  He still bung back ; but, to our general
surprise, Dr. Johnson having made more particular inquiries into its merits, first softened towards it, and then declared it a very rational and fair bill, and joined with Mrs, Thrale in soliciting Mr. Thrale’s vote.

Sir Philip was, and with very good reason, quite delighted.  He opened upon politics more amply, and freely declared his opinions, which were so strongly against the government, and so much bordering upon the republican principles, that Dr. Johnson suddenly took fire; he called back his recantation begged Mr. Thrale not to vote for Sir Philip’s bill, and grew’ very animated against his antagonist.

“The bill,” said he, “ought to be opposed by all honest men! in itself, and considered simply it is equitable, and I would
forward it; but when we find what a faction it is to support and encourage, it ought not to be listened to.  All men should oppose it who do not wish well to sedition!”

These, and several other expressions yet more strong, he made use of; and had Sir Philip had less unalterable politeness, I believe they would have had a vehement quarrel.  He maintained his ground, however, with calmness and steadiness, though he had neither argument nor wit at all equal to such an opponent.

Dr. Johnson pursued him with unabating vigour and dexterity, and at length, though he could not convince, he so entirely baffled him, that Sir Philip was self-compelled to be quiet-which, with a very good grace, he confessed.

Dr. Johnson then, recollecting himself, and thinking, as he owned afterwards, that the dispute grew too serious, with a skill all his own, suddenly and unexpectedly turned it to burlesque; and taking Sir Philip by the hand at the moment we arose after supper, and were separating for the night,

“Sir Philip,” said he, “you are too liberal a man for the party to which you belong; I shall have much pride in the honour of converting you; for I really believe, if you were not spoiled by bad company, the spirit of faction would not have possessed you. Go, then, sir, to the House, but make not your motion!  Give up your bill, and surprise the world by turning to the side of truth and reason.  Rise, sir, when they least expect you, and address your fellow-patriots to this Purpose:–Gentlemen, I have, for many a weary day, been deceived and seduced by you.  I have now opened my eyes; I see that you are all scoundrels–the subversion of all government is your aim.  Gentlemen, I will no longer herd among rascals in whose infamy my name and character must be included.  I therefore renounce you all, gentlemen, as you deserve to be renounced.’ ”

Then, shaking his hand heartily, he added,

“Go, sir, go to bed; meditate upon this recantation, and rise in the morning a more honest man than you laid down.”