The Diary and Letters of Madame D'Arblay Volume I Part 42

At which Lady Say and Sele, In fresh transport, again rose, and rapturously again repeated--

"Yes, she's auth.o.r.ess of 'Evelina'! Have you read it?"

"No; is it to be had?"

"Oh dear, yes! it's been printed these two years! 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? everywhere, I suppose?"

"Oh, nowhere, I hope," cried I, wishing at that moment it had been never in human ken.

My square friend, Lord Say and Sele, then putting his head forward, said, very solemnly, "I'll purchase it!"

His lady then mentioned to me a hundred novels that I had never heard of, asking my opinion of them, and whether I knew the authors? Lady Hawke only occasionally and languidly joining in the discourse: and then Lady S. and S., suddenly rising, begged me not to move, for she should be back again in a minute, and flew to the next room.

I took, however, the first opportunity of Lady Hawke's casting down her eyes, and reclining her delicate head, to make away from this terrible set; and, just as I was got by the pianoforte, where I hoped Pacchierotti would soon present himself, Mrs. Paradise again came to me, and said,--

"Miss Burney, Lady Say and Sele wishes vastly to cultivate your acquaintance, and begs to know if she may have the honour of your company to an a.s.sembly 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 I could command.

A DINNER AT SIR JOSHUA'S, WITH BURKE AND GIBBON.

_June._--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 three weeks ago, my father had a note from Sir Joshua Reynolds, to ask him to dine at Richmond, and meet the Bishop of St. Asaph,[148] and, 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 proverb,

'Those who will not when they may, When they will, they shall have nay?'--F.B."

This was graciously received; and the next morning Sir Joshua and Miss Palmer called for my father and me, accompanied by Lord Cork. We had a mighty pleasant ride, Miss Palmer and I "made up," though she scolded most violently about my long absence, and attacked me about the book without mercy. The book, in short, to my great consternation, I find is talked of and expected all the town over. My dear father himself, I do verily believe, mentions it to everybody; he is fond of it to enthusiasm, and does not foresee the danger of raising such general expectation, which fills me with the horrors every time I am tormented with the thought.

Sir Joshua's house is delightfully situated, almost at the top of Richmond Hill. We walked till near dinner-time upon the terrace, and there met Mr. Richard Burke, 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 and Garter."

"How did you come--with Mrs. Burke, or alone?"

"Alone."

"What, on horseback?"

"Ay, sure!" cried he, laughing; "up and ride! Now's the time."

And he made a fine flourish with his hand, and pa.s.sed us. He is just made under-secretary at the Treasury. He is a tall and handsome man, and seems to have much dry drollery; but we saw no more of him.

After our return to the house, and while Sir Joshua and I were tete-a-tete, Lord Cork and my father being still walking, and 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, and comparing it with Mr. Burke's, as he told me after I had spoken it,--when the Bishop of St. Asaph and his daughter, Miss Georgiana Shipley, 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, and seemed grave, quiet, and sensible. I have heard much more of him, but nothing more appeared. Miss Georgiana, however, was showy enough for two. She is a very tall and rather handsome girl; but the expression of her face is, to me, disagreeable. She has almost a constant smile, not of softness, nor of insipidity, but of self-sufficiency and internal satisfaction. She is very much accomplished, and her fame for painting and for scholarship, I know you are well acquainted with. I believe her to have very good parts and much quickness, but she is so full of herself, so earnest to obtain notice, and so happy in her confidence of deserving it, that I have been not less 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.

Miss Palmer soon joined us; and, in a short time, entered more company,--three gentlemen and one lady; but there was no more ceremony used of introductions. The lady, I concluded was Mrs. Burke, wife of the Mr. Burke, and 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, and another of them I knew for Mr.

Gibbon: but the third I had never seen before. I had been told that the Burke was not expected yet I could conclude this gentleman to be no other; he had just the air, the manner, the appearance, I had prepared myself to look for in him, and 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, and we were soon called downstairs to dinner. Sir Joshua and the "unknown" stopped to speak with one another upon the stairs; and, when they followed us, Sir Joshua, in taking his place at the table, asked me to sit next to him; I willingly complied. "And then," he added, "Mr. Burke shall sit on the other side of you."

"Oh, 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 and sit down quiet, Mr. Burke."

Mr. Burke,--for him it was,--smiled and 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!"

We both half rose, and 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."

"Oh dear, 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[149] 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 herewith shall follow.

He is tall, his figure is n.o.ble, his air commanding, his address graceful, his voice is clear, penetrating, sonorous, and powerful, his language is copious, various, and eloquent; his manners are attractive, his conversation is delightful.

What says Captain 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 n.o.body so enchanting.

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 window of the dining-parlour, Sir Joshua directed us to look at a 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. It was really enlivening to behold her placed in that sweet house, released from all her cares, a thousand pounds a-year at her own disposal, and--her husband was dead! Oh, it was pleasant, it was delightful to see her enjoyment of her situation!"

"But, without considering the circ.u.mstances," said Mr. Gibbon, "this may appear very strange, though, when they are fairly stated, it is perfectly rational and unavoidable."

"Very true," said Mr. Burke, "if the circ.u.mstances 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 and marked expressions, describing the misery he gave his wife, his singular ill-treatment of her, and the necessary relief the death of such a man must give.[150]

He then reminded Sir Joshua of a day in which they had dined at Mr.