MR. FAIRLY READS “AKENSIDE” TO MISS BURNEY.
Hearing now the barking of the dogs, I knew the royals must be going forth to their promenade; but I found Mr. Fairly either did not hear or did not heed them. While I expected him every moment to recollect himself, and hasten to the walks, he quietly said, “They are all gone but me. I shall venture, to-night, to shirk;—though the king will soon miss me. But what will follow? He will say—‘Fairly is tired! How shabby!’ Well! let him say so; I am tired!” Miss Planta went off, soon after, to her walk. He then said, “Have you done with my little book?”
“O yes!” I cried, “and this morning I have sent home the map of Gloucester you were so good as to send us. Though, I believe, I have kept both so long, You will not again be in any haste to lend me either a map of the land, or a poem of the sea.” I then gave him back “The Shipwreck.”
“Shall I tell you,” cried I, “a design I have been forming upon you?”
“A design upon me?”
“Yes; and I may as well own it, for I shall be quite as near success as if I disguise it.” I then went to my little drawer and took out Akenside.
“Here,” I cried, “I intended to have had this fall in your way, by pure accident, on the evening you were called to the conjurer, and I have planned the same ingenious project every evening since, but it has never taken, and so now I produce it fairly!”
“That,” cried he, taking it, with a very pleased smile, “is the only way in all things!” He then began reading “The Pleasures of the Imagination,” and I took some work, for which I was much in haste, and my imagination was amply gratified. He only looked out for favourite passages, as he has the poem almost by heart, and he read them with a feeling and energy that showed his whole soul penetrated with their force and merit.
After the first hour, however, he grew uneasy’; he asked me when I expected the king and queen from their walk, and whether they were likely to come into my room?
“All,” I said, “was uncertain.”
“Can nobody,” he cried, “let you know when they are coming?”
“Nobody,” I answered, “would know till they were actually arrived.”
“But,” cried he, “can you not bid somebody watch?”
‘Twas rather an awkward commission, but I felt it would be an awkwardness still less pleasant to me to decline it, and therefore I called Columb, and desired he would let me know when the queen returned.
He was then easier, and laughed a little, while he explained himself, “Should they come in and find me reading here before I could put away my book, they would say we were two blue stockings!”
At tea Miss Planta again joined us, and instantly behind him went the book. He was very right; for nobody would have thought it more odd—or more blue.
During this repast they returned home, but all went straight upstairs, the duke wholly occupying the king—and Mr. Bunbury went to the play. When Miss Planta, therefore, took her evening stroll, “Akenside” again came forth, and with more security.
“There is one ode here,” he cried, “that I wish to read to you, and now I think I can.”
I told him I did not in general like Akenside’s odes, at least what I had chanced to read, for I thought they were too inflated, and filled with “liberty cant.”
“But this, however,” cried he, “I must read to you, it is so pretty, though it is upon love!”
‘Tis addressed to Olympia: I dare say my dearest Fredy recollects it.[289] It is, indeed, most feelingly written; but we had only got through the first stanza when the door Suddenly opened, and enter Mr. Bunbury.
After all the precautions taken, to have him thus appear at the very worst moment! Vexed as I was, I could really have laughed; but Mr. Fairly was ill disposed to take it so merrily. He started, threw the book forcibly behind him, and instantly took up his hat, as if decamping. I really believe he was afraid Mr. Bunbury would caricature us “The sentimental readers!” or what would he have called us? Luckily this confusion passed unnoticed. Mr. Bunbury had run away from the play to see after the horses, etc., for his duke, and was fearful of coming too late.
Plays and players now took up all the discourse, with Miss W———, till the duke was ready to go. They then left me together, Mr. Fairly smiling drolly enough in departing, and looking at “Akenside” with a very arch shrug, as who should say “What a scrape you had nearly drawn me into, Mr. Akenside!”