April 12, 1783.
My dearest--dearest daddy,
I am more grieved at the long and most disappointing continuation of
your illness than I know how to tell _you_; and though my last account,
I thank heaven, is better, I find you still suffer so much, that
my congratulations in my letter to Susan, upon what I thought your
recovery, must have appeared quite crazy, if you did not know me as well
as you do, and were not sure what affliction the discovery of my mistake
would bring to myself. I think I never yet so much wished to be at
Chesington, as at this time, that I might see how you go on, and not be
kept in such painful suspense from post to post.
Why did you tell me of the Deladys, Portlands, Cambridges, etc., as if
any of them came into competition with yourself? When you are better, I
shall send you a most fierce and sharp remonstrance upon this subject.
At present I must be content with saying, I will undoubtedly accept your
most kind invitation as soon as I possibly can. Meantime, if my letters
will give you any amusement, I will write oftener than ever, and supply
you with all the prog I get myself.
Susan, who is my reader, must be your writer, and let me know if such
tittle-tattle as I can collect serves to divert some of those many
moments of languor and weariness that creep between pain and ease, and
that call more for mental food than for bodily medicine. Your love to
your Fannikin, I well know, makes all trash interesting to you that
seems to concern her; and I have no greater pleasure, when absent, than
in letting you and my dear Susan be acquainted with my proceedings. I
don't mean by this to exclude the rest of the dear Chesington set--far
from it--but a sister and a daddy must come first.
God bless and restore you, my most dear daddy! You know not how kindly
I take your thinking of me, and inquiring about me, in an illness that
might so well make you forget us all; but Susan assures me your heart is
as affectionate as ever to your ever and ever faithful and loving child,
F. B.
[Mr. Crisp's illness became so alarming, that Miss Burney
hastened to Chesington, where she had been only a few days
when her valued friend breathed his last. In reply to a
letter, in which she had given Dr. Burney an account of Mr.
Crisp's increasing sufferings, the doctor wrote:
“Ah! my dear Fanny, your last letter has broke all our
hearts! your former accounts kept off despair; but this
brings it back in all its horrors. I wish, if it were
possible, that you would let him know how much I loved him,
and how heavily I shall feel his loss when all this hurry
subsides, and lets me have time to brood over my sorrows. I
have always thought that, in many particulars, his equal was
not to be found. His wit, learning, taste, penetration,
and, when well, his conviviality, pleasantry, and kindness
of heart to me and mine, will ever be thought of with the
most profound and desponding regret.”
After the last mournful duties had been performed at
Chesington,[177] Miss Burney returned to her father's house
in St. Martin's Street; but some time elapsed ere she
recovered composure sufficient to resume her journal.]