How conceitedly incurious!

‘Mais vous, monsieur,’ said she, ‘vous avez entendu la Gabriella? n’est-ce pas?’

My Father told her that Gabriella was in Sicily when he was in Italy, and therefore he could not hear her. ‘No?’ said she, ‘mais vraiment c’est dommage!’12

My Father then asked if she had heard her?

‘O no,’ she said, and Signor Colla added that they two could never be in the same place together.

‘Two suns,’ said Dr Maty, ‘never appear at once.’

‘O, ce n’est pas possible!’13 cried Agujari, composedly.

———

This singer is really a slave to her Voice; she fears the least Breath of air – she is equally apprehensive of Any heat – she seems to have a perpetual anxiety lest she should take Cold; and I do believe she niether Eats, Drinks, sleeps or Talks, without considering in what manner she may perform those vulgar duties of Life so as to be most beneficial to her Voice. However, there are so few who are gifted with eminent Talents, that it is better to cultivate them even labouriously, than to let them suffer Injury from Carelessness or Neglect.14

27. Journal 4 March 1775

I had Yesterday the Honour of Drinking Tea in Company with his Abyssinian majesty, for so Mrs Strange Calls Mr Bruce.1

My mother and I went to Mr Stranges, by Appointment to meet Mr and Mrs Turner of Lynn,2 who are lately become acquainted in that Family, and who are in Town for the Winter. And this majestic Personage Chanced to be there.

He has been Acquainted intimately with Mrs Strange all his Life, and is very much attached to her and her Family. He seldom passes a Day without Visiting her; but Miss Strange,3 who has told me of many of his singularities, says that he is generally put into a pet when they have any Company, as his excessive haughtiness prevents his being sociable with them, and makes him think them impertinant if they take the liberty to speak to him.

Indeed, she also told me, he has been really very ill used from the effects of curiosity, for many people gathered anecdotes and observations from him, and then printed them. This, as he intends to publish his Travels himself, was most abominably provoking.4

But it is not enough to say that this has put him upon his Gaurd, it has really made him shy of being asked how he does? or what’s o’clock? – Haughty by Nature, his extraordinary Travels, and perhaps his long Residence among savages, have contributed to render him one of the most imperious of men. He is, indeed, far the most so of any that I ever saw.

He is more than six foot high, is extremely well proportioned in shape, and has a handsome and expressive Face. If his vanity were half as great as his pride, he would certainly become more courteous if he knew how much smiles become him, for when he is pleased to soften the severity of his Countenance, and to suffer his Features to relax into smiling, he is quite another Creature.

Mr Bruce, as my Father did not accompany us, I doubt not wished himself alone with the Stranges, for he looked so important, that he awed almost into total silence Mr and Mrs Turner, who secretly wished the same for themselves. Mr Turner, who is a very Jocular man, could not bear to be deprived of his Laugh, and yet had not courage sufficient to venture at Joking before so terrible a personage, who looks as if Born to command the World! Besides, he had heard so much of his Character before they met, that he was prepared to fear him. And Mrs Turner is too little used to the Company of strangers, to be at her Ease when in it.

As to my little self, I sat next to Miss Strange, and was comfortable enough in Conversing with her: till my mother, finding herself little Noticed by the Great Man, quitted her seat, and went and placed herself next to Mrs Turner, saying ‘Well, I shall come and sit by you, and leave Mr Bruce to the young lassies.’

I do heartily hate these sort of speeches, which oblige one to be remarked; nothing can be more provoking. Mr Bruce, accordingly, turning towards me, said ‘Well, Miss Burney, I think you can do no less than take the seat your Mama has left.’

I did not half like it, but thought he would suppose me afraid of him, if I refused, so I changed Chairs; but made Miss Strange move next to me, and then renewed our Conversation, lest he should think himself obliged to take further Notice of me.

An Advertisement had been put in the Papers the Evening before, which said that Mr Bruce was Dying or Dead; my Father, who knew he was well, wafered the paragraph upon a sheet of paper, and sent to his Lodgings. My mother asked him if he had seen it? ‘I thought,’ answered he, ‘it had come from Brucey’ (for Miss Strange, who was Christianed Bruce, he always calls Brucey). ‘Yes, I saw it, and Read my Death with great Composure.’ Then turning himself to me, he added ‘Was not you sorry, Miss Burney, to Read of my Death?’

These immense sized men speak to young Women as if they were Children; I answered that as my Father had seen him the Day before, I was not much alarmed. Mr Turner, then, gathering Courage, said ‘Well, Sir, I think as Times go, it is very well that when they killed you, they said no ill of you.’

‘I know of no reason they had to do otherwise,’ answered Mr Bruce, so haughtily, that Mr Turner, failing in his first attempt, never afterwards spoke to him. – Or indeed again dared to open his mouth.

Soon after, a servant came in with General Melville’s5 Compliments, and a desire to know if it was true that Mr Bruce was Dangerously ill? Mr Bruce answered drily, ‘Yes, – tell him I am Dead.’

‘Ah poor soul!’ cried Mrs Strange, ‘I dare say he has been vexed enough! Honest man! I don’t think that man ever wronged or deceived a human Being!’

‘Don’t you, faith?’ cried Mr Bruce: ‘that’s saying more than I would! Can you really suppose he has risen to the Rank of General with so little trouble?’

‘O, you know, it’s only the Women that are ever deceived; and for my part, I never allowed that the best among you could deceive me, for whenever you say pretty Things to me, I make it a Rule to believe them to be true!’

Bell Strange6 then carried him his Tea; she is about 12 years old. Mr Bruce turning to me, said ‘Do you know, Miss Burney, that I intend to run away with Bell? We are to go to Scotland together. She won’t let me rest till I take her.’

‘How can you say so, Sir?’ cried Bell, ‘pray, Ma’am, don’t believe it,’ colouring, and much fidgetted.

‘Why, how now, Bell,’ returned he, ‘what! won’t you go?’

‘No, Sir.’

‘This is the first lady,’ said Mr Bruce, rising, ‘who ever refused me!’ Then addressing Mrs Strange, he asked her if she had heard of Lord Rosemary lately? They then joined in drawing a most odious character of him, especially for avarice; after which, Mr Bruce walking up to me, said ‘And yet this man is my Rival!’ ‘Really?’ cried I, ‘I am sure I wonder that he should venture –’ (I meant upon account of his prodigious Figure) ‘O,’ answered he, thinking I meant a compliment, ‘it’s really true! Mrs Strange, is it not that he is my Rival?’ ‘O yes, they say so.’ said she.7

‘I am surprised that he dares,’ said my mother, ‘be Rival to Mr Bruce, for I wonder he does not apprehend that his long residence in Egypt made him so acquainted with magic, that –’

‘O!’ cried Mr Bruce, ‘I shall not poison him! – but I believe that I shall Bribe his servant to fasten a string across his stair Case, by which, as I dare say the miser never uses a Candle to Light him, he may fall down and Break his Neck.’8

He then asked Miss Strange how she could let her Harpsichord be so much out of order? ‘I went down,’ said he, ‘to try it, but upon my Word it is too bad to be touched: However, while I was at it, in comes Bell, and seats herself quietly behind me; but no sooner did I rise, then away she flew down a flight of stairs, quite to the Cellar, I suppose; expecting, no doubt, that I should follow! but,’ added he drily, ‘I did not. Well, Bell, what do you Glowr at? (I don’t know if I spell the word right) do you understand Scotch, Miss Burney?’

‘I Believe I can go so far as that word, Sir.’

‘But, Brucey, why are you so negligent of your music? – you play, Miss Burney?’

‘Very little, Sir.’

‘O I hope I shall hear you; I am to come to your House some Day, with Mrs Strange, and then –’

‘When we have the Honour of seeing you, Sir,’ cried I, ‘I hope you will hear a much better player than me.’

‘O as to that,’ answered he, ‘I would not give a fig to hear a man play, comparatively.’

‘Well,’ said Mrs Strange, ‘I knew a young lady who was at a Concert for the first Time, and she sat and sighed, and groaned, and groaned and sighed, and at last she said Well, I can’t help it! and burst into Tears!’

‘There’s a Woman,’ cried Mr Bruce with some emotion, ‘who could never make a man unhappy! Her soul must be all Harmony!’

We then joined in recommending it to Miss Strange to Practice; and Mr Bruce took it into his Head to affect to speak to me in a Whisper, bending his Head, not without difficulty, to a level with mine; what he said I have forgot, though I know it was something of no manner of consequence; but every body’s Eyes, struck with his attitude, were fixed upon us in total silence, so that I really wished him safe back to the mouth of the Nile.

Except what I have Written, every Word that he said was either addressed en badinage to plague Bell, or in diverting himself with Miss Strange’s Parrot. He seemed determined not to Enter into Conversation with the Company in general, nor to speak upon any but trifling Topics.

It is pity that a man who seems to have some generous feelings, that break out by starts, and who certainly is a man of both Learning and Humour, should be thus run away with by Pride and self-conceit.

28. From Journal 10 March 1775

The Conversation during supper turned upon madness, a subject which the Stranges are very full of, as a lady of their intimate acquaintance left their House but on Friday in that terrible disorder. We asked how she happened to be with them? They answered that she had seemed recovered. Mr Bruce, who had seen her, was very inquisitive about her. Mrs Strange said that the beginning of her Wandering that Evening, was, by coming up to her, and asking her if she could make Faces?

‘I wish,’ said Mr Bruce, ‘she had asked me! – I believe I could have satisfied her that way!’

‘O,’ said Miss Strange, ‘she had a great desire to speak to you, Sir; she said that she had much to say to you.’

‘If,’ said Mr Bruce, ‘without any preface, she had Entered the Room, and come up to me making Faces; I confess I should have been rather surprised!’

‘I am sure,’ cried I, ‘I should have made a Face without much difficulty! I am amazed at Miss Strange’s Courage in staying in the room with her!’

‘I have been a great deal with her,’ answered Miss Strange, ‘and she particularly minds whatever I say.’

‘But how are you to answer for your life a moment,’ added Mr Bruce, ‘in Company with a mad Woman? When she seems most quiet, may she not snatch up a pair of scissars, or whatever is near her, and destroy you,? or at least run them into your Eyes, and blind or maim you for life?’

‘While I tried to hold her from going into the street,’ said Mrs Strange, ‘she scratched my arm, as you see. –’

‘Did she fetch Blood?’ cried Mr Bruce; ‘if she did you will surely go mad too: you may depend upon that! Nay, I would Advise you to go directly to the sea, and be dipt! I assure you I would not be in your situation!’

He said this so drily, that I stared at him, and could not forbear beginning to Expostulate, when turning round to me, I saw he was Laughing.

‘If you are bit by a mad Cat,’ continued he, ‘will you not go mad? and how much more by a mad Woman?’

‘But I was not bit,’ answered Mrs Strange, ‘I only felt her Nail, and where there Enters no slaver, there is no Danger.’

‘I hope,’ said my mother, ‘that her friends will not place her in a private mad House; there is so much iniquity practiced at those places, that in order to keep them captives they will not let their friends know when they are really recovered.’

‘Ay, indeed?’ cried Mr Bruce, ‘why this is very bad Encouragement to go mad!’

And now I must have done with this Evening, unless I were to Write horrid Tales of madness; for that shocking subject being started, every body had something terrible to say upon it.

29. Journal 26 March 1775

Early in the morning, the most entertaining of mortals, Mr Garrick, came.

He marched upstairs immediately into the study where my Father was having his Hair Dressed, surrounded by Books and Papers innumerable; Charlotte1 was Reading the News paper, and I was making Breakfast. The rest of the Family had not quitted their Downy Pillows.

My Father was beginning a laughing sort of Apology for his letters and so forth, – but Mr Garrick interrupted him with – ‘Ay, now, do be in a little Confusion, – it will make things comfortable!’

He then began to look very gravely at the Hair Dresser; He was himself in a most odious scratch Wig, which Nobody but himself could dare be seen in: He put on a look, in the Abel Drugger style,2 of envy and sadness as he examined the Hair Dresser’s progress; – and when he had done, he turned to him with a dejected Face, and said ‘ – pray Sir, – could you touch up This a little?’ taking hold of his frightful scratch.

The man only Grinned, and left the Room.

He shook Hands with me, and told my Father that he had almost run away with me a Day or two before.

He then Enquired after some Books which he had lent my Father, and how many he had?

‘I have 10 of the Memoirs of the French academy.’ said my Father.

‘And what others?’ Cried Mr Garrick.

‘I don’t know. Do you, Fanny?’

‘O – what –’ cried Mr Garrick, archly, ‘I suppose you don’t chuse to know of any others? – O very well! – pray Sir make free with me! – pray keep them, if you chuse it. But pray, Doctor, when shall we have the History out?3 Do let me know in Time, that I may prepare to Blow the Trumpet of Fame’ –

He then put his stick to his mouth, and in a raree show man’s Voice, cried – ‘Here is the only true History – Gentlemen, please to Buy – Sir, I shall Blow it in the very Ear of yon scurvy magistrate (meaning Sir John Hawkins, who is writing the same History).’4

He then ran on with great humour upon twenty subjects, but so much of his drollery belongs to his Voice, looks and manner, that Writing loses it almost all.

My Father asked him to Breakfast; but he said he was Engaged at Home with Mr Boswell and Mr Twiss. He then took the latter off, as he did also Dr Arne,5 very comically; and afterwards Dr Johnson, in a little Conversation concerning his borrowing a Book of him; – ‘David – will you lend me Petraca?’6 ‘Yes, Sir.’ ‘David, – you sigh?’ – ‘Sir, you shall have it!’ Accordingly, the Book – finely bound! – was sent; but scarse had he received it, when uttering a Latin Ejaculation, (which Mr G.