The Diary and Collected Letters of Madame D'Arblay, Frances Burney. Frances Burney
exhibition— caused to the party, was momentary; for Dr. Burney, shocked lest the poor signor should observe, and be hurt by this mimicry, glided gently round to Mrs. Thrale, and, with something between pleasantry and severity, whispered to her, ‘Because, madam, you have no ear yourself for music, will you destroy the attention of all who, in that one point, are otherwise gifted?’”122
This deserved rebuke the lively lady took in perfectly good part, and the incident passed without further notice. She does not appear to have met with Piozzi again, Until, in July, 1780, she picked him up at Brighton. She now finds him “amazingly like her father,” and insists that he shall teach Hester music. From this point the fever gradually increased. In August, 1781, little more than four months after her husband’s death, Piozzi has become “a prodigious favourite” with her; she has even developed a taste for his music, which “fills the mind with emotions one would not be without, though inconvenient enough sometimes.” In the spring Of 1783, soon after her arrival at Bath, they were formally engaged, but the urgent remonstrances of her friends and family caused the engagement to be broken off, and Piozzi went to Italy. Her infatuation, however, was too strong to be overcome. Under the struggle, long protracted, her health gave way, and at length, by the advice of her doctor, and with the sullen consent of Miss Thrale, Piozzi was summoned to Bath. He, too, had been faithful, and he lost no time in obeying the summons. They were married, according to the Roman Catholic rites, in London, and again, on the 25th of July, 1784, in a Protestant church at Bath, her three elder daughters, of whom the eldest, Hester (“Queeny”), was not yet twenty years of age, having quitted Bath before his arrival.
Mrs. Piozzi left England with her husband and her youngest daughter, Cecilia, and lived for some years in Italy, where she compiled her well known “Anecdotes of Dr. Johnson.” Her wedded life with Piozzi was certainly happy, and he gave her no reason to repent the step she had taken. The indignation of her former friends, especially of Dr. Johnson, was carried to a length which, the cause being considered, appears little short of ridiculous. Mrs. Thrale’s second marriage may have been ill-advised, but it was neither criminal nor disgraceful. Piozzi was incontestably a respectable man and a constant lover; but that an Italian musician, who depended upon his talents for his livelihood, should become the husband of the celebrated Mrs. Thrale, and the stepfather of four young ladies of fashion, the daughters of a brewer, and the heiresses to his large fortune,—there was the rub! The dislike of Dr. Johnson and his friends to the marriage was, from a worldly point of view, justifiable enough, but it argues ill for their generosity of mind that they should have attached such overwhelming importance to such petty considerations. Mrs. Piozzi has been blamed for deserting her three elder daughters; but the fact is, it was her daughters who deserted her, and refused to recognise her husband. Her only fault, if fault it can be called, was in declining to sacrifice the whole happiness of her life to the supposed requirements of their rank in society. In condemning her friends for their severity and illiberality, we must, however, make an exception in favour of Fanny. She, like the rest, had been averse to the match, but her cordiality to Mrs. Piozzi remained undiminished; and when, soon after the marriage, their correspondence was discontinued, to be renewed only after the lapse of many years, it was not Fanny, but Mrs. Piozzi, who broke it off, instigated, Fanny always believed, by her husband.
Her separation from Mrs. Thrale was not the only event which brought sorrow to Fanny during the years to which the following section of the Diary relates. Mr. Crisp, the person dearest to her of all human beings outside her own family, died at Chesington, of an attack of his old malady, the gout, on the 24th of April, 1783, aged seventy-five. Fanny and Susan were with him at the last, and Fanny’s love was rewarded, her anguish soothed yet deepened, when, almost with his dying breath, her Daddy Crisp called her “the dearest thing to him on earth.”
Towards the end of 1784 another heavy blow fell upon Fanny, in the loss of Dr. Johnson, who died on the 13th of December. The touching references in the Diary to his last illness form an interesting supplement to Boswell’s narrative.
But the picture of Fanny’s life during these years is not without bright touches. As such we may reckon the great, and deserved success of her novel, “Cecilia”; the commencement of her acquaintance with two ladies who were hereafter to be numbered among her dearest friends—the venerable Mrs. Delany, and Mrs. Locke, of Norbury Park, Surrey; and last, not least, the growing intimacy between Edmund Burke and the family of Dr. Burney.
At Brighton again, the “Famous Miss Burney”
Brighthelmstone, Oct. 26.
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, and therefore I dismounted, and 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 and welcome.
Dr. Johnson received me, too, with his usual goodness, and with a salute so loud, that the two young beaus, Cotton and Swinerton, have never done laughing about it.
Mrs. Thrale spent two or three hours in my room, talking over all her affairs, and then we wished each other bon repos, and—retired. Grandissima conclusion!
Oh, but let me not forget that a fine note came from Mr. Pepys, who is here with his family, saying he was pressde de vivre, and entreating to see Mrs. and Miss T., Dr. Johnson, and 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.
Oct. 27—The Pepyses came to visit me in form, but I was dressing; in the evening, however, Mrs. and Miss T. took me to them. Dr. Johnson would not go; he told me it was my day, and I should be crowned, for Mr. Pepys was wild about “Cecilia.” We found at Mr. Pepys’ nobody but his wife, his brother, Dr. Pepys,123 and Dr. Pepys’ lady, Countess of Rothes. Mr. Pepys received me with such distinction, that it was very evident how much the book, with the most flattering opinion of it, was in his head; however, he behaved very prettily, and only mentioned it by allusions; most particularly 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. We did not stay with them long, but called upon Miss Benson, and proceeded to the rooms. Mr. Pepys was very unwilling to part with us, and wanted to frighten me from going, by saying,—
“And has Miss Burney the 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 and whispering as I passed and repassed! insomuch that I shall by no means be in any haste to go again to them. Susan and Sophy Thrale, who were with their aunt, Mrs. Scott, told Queeny upon our return that they heard nothing said, whichever 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.
Monday, Oct. 28.—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.
“Oh, 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; and the woman, whose eyes almost looked ready to eat me, eagerly came up to me, exclaiming,—
“Oh, 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. Oh, ma’am, how clever you must be! All the ladies I deal with are quite distracted about ‘Cecilia,’—and I got it myself. Oh, ma’am, how sensible you must be! It does my heart good to see you.”
Dr. Johnson Dogmatises
Oct. 29.—We had a large party at home in the evening. I was presently engaged by Mr. Pepys, and he was joined by Mr. Coxe, and he by Miss Benson. Mr. Pepys led the conversation, and it was all upon criticism and