Fanny continued to find Dick “speaking of all the characters” [of her novel] “as if they were acquaintance; and praising different parts perpetually: both he and Miss Humphries seem to have it by heart, for it is always apropos to whatever is the subject of discourse.” The third volume is never out of Richard’s hands. He is on the eve of going home, so Aunt Anne presses Fanny to tell him of her authorship before he leaves London. Fanny refuses; but on hearing her aunt say, in a low voice to Susan, that if Fanny won’t, she will! begins to think that she had better be the first to tell her own secret, making her own conditions. “I seated myself at a table to finish a letter to Betsy [Burney], Susanna took up ‘Evelina,’ — which is always at hand.” Richard said to her, “‘I like that book better and better; I have read nothing like it since Fielding’s novels.’ Susan laughed, — so did I, but I wrote on. He asked, with some surprise, what was the joke? but as he obtained no answer, he continued his favourite topic—’ I think I can’t read it too often, — for you are to know that I think it very edifying. The two principal characters, Lord Orville and Mr. Villars, are so excellent! — and there is something in the character and manners of Lord Orville so refined, and so polite, that I never saw the like in any book before: and all his compliments are so new — as well as so elegant.’” Fanny hints that she knows who wrote the book. Richard declares that he is “quite lost: — such amazing knowledge of characters, — such an acquaintance with high and low life, — such universal and extensive knowledge of the world, — I declare, I know not a man breathing who is likely to be the author, — unless it is my uncle” [Dr. Burney]. “No man is capable.” Such praise makes it harder for Fanny to tell him, but Richard leaves her no rest. He follows her about the room “until she fears Miss Humphries will hear what is the subject of his importunity. At last, he brings a pen and paper, and begs her to write the name, promising not to read it until she has left him. “I only wrote on this paper, ‘No Man,’ — and then folded it up.” He is “extremely eager” to see it, but Fanny demands that he shall, first, give a solemn pledge of secrecy. He puts his hand on his heart, and promises, by his honour, to be faithful. This is not enough, he must kneel down, and make a vow that he “‘will never tell any body in the world.’
‘What, not a sister?”No, not a human being.’
‘What, not Betsy? O, pray let me tell her!” No, no, — not a soul.’” Dick’s curiosity must be satisfied. “‘I must vow then.’
‘Kneel, then!’ cried I. He laughed,.... Miss Humphries looked round;” so that mock-heroic detail could not be exacted. He took his vow, Fanny gave him the paper, and ran from him to the window. “He read it with the utmost eagerness, — but still did not seem to comprehend how the affair stood, till he came to the window, — and then, I believe, my countenance cleared up his doubts. His surprise was too great for speech; Susan says he coloured violently, — but I could hardly look at him. Indeed, I believe it utterly impossible for astonishment to be greater than his was at that moment. When he recovered somewhat from it, he came again to me, and taking my hand, said, I believe I must now kneel indeed!’ — and drawing me to the fire, he actually knelt to me, — but I made him rise almost instantly.” Dick, in his amazement and admiration, kneeling to his cousin, in whose journals lay hidden at the very time sketches of his coxcombries, and of the coquetries of Mrs. S. of Bewdley and Mrs. Wall of Gloucester, might have suggested a subject for the pencil of his brother Edward. His “partiality” was known to Fanny to be “so great, that had he ever suspected me, I am sure that he would have offered me nothing short of adulation.”
“As if he had forgot all the flattering speeches he had made about the book, or as if he thought them all inadequate to what he should have said, he implored my forgiveness for what he called his criticisms, and seemed ready to kill himself for having made them.” Yet, they were but censures of “Evelina’s” bashfulness towards “his favourite Lord, whose character he studies every day of his life; with whom he seemed so struck, that we all fancied that he meant to make him his model, as far as his situation would allow. Indeed, not only during his illness he penetrated us by his patient and most amiable behaviour, but since his recovery, he has more than kept his ground, by having wholly discarded all the foibles that formerly tinged his manners, though they never, I believe, affected his heart.” —
We part with Dick as with the hero of some sparkling little comedy, whose lively “foibles” scarce merit any greater chastisement than the loss in illness of his “two curls” (then indispensable to a gentleman’s toupet); and who is reclaimed from following Maccaronis, and members of the “Savoir-vivre” Club, by a new type of virtuous elegance, created by his cousin in the character of “Lord Orville.”]
LETTERS AND FRAGMENTS OF LETTERS FROM SUSAN TO FRANCES BURNEY.
[These letters begin when Fanny was sent to Chesington in the beginning of May, 1778, to regain strength after a severe attack of illness, which left her unable to walk more than two or three yards at a time. She has written on their wrapper, “Some fragments, chiefly on Evelina, of the letters of Susanna Elizabeth Burney, to F. B., before the fatal marriage of the first, or the happy marriage of the second. The Correspondence at large has been committed to the flames, from family reasons, resulting from its unbounded openness of Confidence.”
On letter No. 1 there is a later heading, “Early narratives relating to the first appearance of Evelina, recorded to F. B. by her beloved sister Phillips.” In the left corner at the head of the fragment Mme. D’Arblay has written, “ On Eliz. B’s suspicion of the author of Evelina.”
“Cousin Bessy” of Worcester will be remembered as acting with Fanny in “The Way to Keep Him,” and in “Tom Thumb.”]
[Post-mark, May 9, 1778.]
* * * * *
I will transcribe for you Bessy’s last letter on one head.[Copied from Eliz. Burney by my Susanna.]
“I have just finished reading Evelina — and I believe I should thank you, or some of your family for the great pleasure I have received from it. It is by far the most bewitching novel I ever read. — I could not leave it till I came to the conclusion of it; — and now I can’t help regretting that I made such short work of it — I wish it was as long again — however I shall not content myself with once reading; — for ‘twill bear a second and third, and still delight one I am sure. Indeed, I am quite charm’d with it— ’tis so interesting! The characters are so well drawn, — so contrasted, — so striking, that I can’t help fancying myself perfectly well acquainted with them all. — There is so much elegance in it too! I know not how to say enough of it. — But now, as you are a friend, an honest friend too, and I hope will not go to deceive me, I’ll tell you a conjecture of mine, when I had read about three of the letters, and which has gained through every letter since. — I think I know a person not one hundred miles from Leicester Square very capable of writing such a novel — Indeed ’tis so clever and so much in her style, that I cannot persuade myself to think she is not the authoress. Any one else would be proud of putting their name to it — I have but one doubt about it, which is that I never knew her allow any but her most particular and intimate friends to be the better for her uncommon abilities in this way — She is so divident (sic) of her own performances. However you must tell me, and tell me truly, whether I am or am not mistaken — and if I am not mistaken you must pay me the compliment of owning that I have some penetration — But don’t tell Fanny that I smoke her if you think she will be displeased, for I know her to be extremely delicate in these matters — and probably she may not like that any of our family should suspect her tho’ she cannot or at least has no reason to be in the smallest degree afraid of any of us. I have been very snug and quiet ever since I had this notion about Fanny, and shall not mention it, till I have heard from you, and not even then, unless you give me leave.”
She then speaks of other subjects — says Richard continues very well, “but has lost both his curls! — Monstrous provoking!—”
But my dear love — what shall I say to this long-headed girl — It is evident that Richard has dealt very honourably by you, yet such suspicions as hers will not easily be laid asleep — especially as she ventures to declare them, and make so open an attack about them. Let me know when you can without hurry or fatigue what I shall say — the poor girl is distracted to know how you do, which makes me want much to write soon — Shall I take no notice of this passage in her letter? — She assures me that I may write her anything in the world by post if I send my letters off on Mondays —
If you write, I shall expect as yet only two or three lines from you my sweet Fanny at a time — So don’t worry yourself by writing more — not this fortnight — I hope in God you mind where you are, and have had no fit of faintness. Remember me properly and particularly to Mr. Crisp and Kitty — and take great care of yourself —
Adieu I am more than ever yours
— S. E. BURNEY.
[SUSAN TO FRANCES BURNEY, AT CHESINGTON.]
[Original account of my dear Father’s first Reading Evelina. F. B.]
[Post-mark June 4, 1778.]
* * * * * *
But, my dear Fanny, my father has at last got Evelina! —
.. Charlotte — has written you all the account — I have been monstrously vexed that I was not at home when he first got it — I am sure I should have cried I think had I been present upon his opening the Ode [to himself] — for the idea of it never occurs to me without bringing tears into my eyes — However he has never mentioned it to me, tho’ it affected him so much at the time — but Yesterday morning when I was alone with him a few minutes while he dress’d —
“Why Susan” said he to me— “I have got Fan’s book.” —
“Lord sir! have you?”
“Yes — but I suppose you must not tell her — Poor Fan’s such a prude.”
“Oh! I don’t know sir, she knows you know of it— ’tis only others.”
“Oh”, said he, quick—” I shall keep it locked up in my Sanctum Sanctorum,” pointing to his bureau—” I would not betray the poor girl for the world — but upon my soul I like it vastly — Do you know I began to read it with Lady Hales and Miss Coussmaker yesterday.”
“Lord!” cried I, a little alarm’d, “you did not tell them—”
“‘Tell them,’ no certainly — I said ’twas a book had been recommended to me — they’ll never know, and they like it vastly, but upon my soul there’s something in the preface and dedication vastly strong and well written — better than I could have expected — and yet I did not think ’twould be trash when I began it, — and there are two or three letters of Mr. — the old—”
“Mr. Villars?”
“Aye, Mr. Villars, which are indeed extremely well — really — pathetic.”
“And how far have you got?”
“Oh! — beyond where Madame French appears — but shan’t we have a little too much of her?”
“Nay, that’s according to your taste — besides you read with fine ladies and....”
“Oh! they like it of all things — tho”tis pure vulgar to be sure — but the girl’s account of public places is very animated and natural, and not common — it really appears to me that Lowndes has had a devilish good bargain of it — for the book will sell — it has real merit, and the Review alone would sell it.”
“What the Monthly?”
“Yes — and it’s in Kenrick’s too.”
Here we were interrupted by Mr. Davis, and I have not since heard any more remarks. As I do, you may depend upon having them, and just in the words they are made to me, as you will believe by what I have already written — Adieu my sweetest girl, I have no room for comments —
Yours ever. S. B.
[SUSAN TO FRANCES BURNEY, AT CHESINGTON.]
* * * * * *
[June 1778.]
Yesterday I spent in Brook Street— ’twas a visite de congé, as they leave town Saturday. — At dinner Lady H[ales] and Miss Coussmaker were set terribly on the titter. Mad® de Ferre’s saying “Vel, I protest I never saw noting so pritty as Miss Burney’s choice of cloaths” — presently she said something to Mr. Coussmaker of when he should be married, and he laughing about it as a ridiculous thing. Miss C. said to him— “I hope you are not of Mr. Smith’s opinion however” —
“What opinion is that,” said I, “bonnement?”
“Oh! — that it is very well to say fine, gallant things to the Ladies but that marriage is quite out of the question — and he says this to that sweet, elegant, beautiful girl Evelina, — who is so sick of him, and detests him so much she can, scarce bear to be in his company—”
“What, it’s in the novel is it?”
“Lord, yes — you haven’t read that yet?”
“Why ’tis but two or three days since you mention’d it to me — and I shall get my father to lend it me when you have done with it—”
“That you won’t, indeed, my dear” said Lady Hales “for I’ve bought the book of him — tho’ indeed he may perhaps get another.”
“Oh! I am sure,” said Miss Coussmaker, “he’ll never live without it. — He is so fond of it. — Do you know, mama, Lady Radnor says, she’ll have it too?”
“Well it will entertain her I dare say, but Lizzy, — or Jane I believe it was you, put me almost out of countenance.. when Mrs. Hales was here this morning, a formal old maid, you know her” (to me) “who would think it destruction for a girl to read a novel. But Jane suddenly turned to me, while she was here— ‘Lord, Mama,’ said she, ‘don’t you pity poor; Mr. Macartney?’”
“Mr. Macartney — who’s that?” cries Mrs. Hales.
“‘ Oh! only a poor man’ said I—’ I have been hearing a sad story about’ — and so luckily she asked me no more questions.”
“Oh” said Miss Coussmaker, “Jane is distracted about Mr. Macartney — Poor man — Oh Lord! ’tis so shocking — those butchers, the Branghtons! Well, I must not tell you the story tho’.”
When Mad de Ferre left the room after dinner Mr. Coussmaker ask’d Lady Hales who she laugh’d at so at the table with Kitty.
“Gracious me!” cried Lady Hales, “Kitty, that book will certainly get us into a scrape! — for I never can hear poor Mad de Ferre open her mouth now without its putting me so in mind of that Mad de Duval, so that I am ready to die with laughing.”
“No,” said Mr. Coussmaker, “I don’t think so — Mad® de Ferre is very different — Mad® Duval is described to be very much painted and dressed out — and besides you know she is supposed to be a very fine woman.”
“Why that’s very true — but her never noting, and her blunders in conversation, are so ridiculously like, that they always remind me of each other.”
“But indeed, Susan, you must read it — for ’tis very well worth your reading.”
“Nay, you may think it must be something above the common things,” said Miss Coussmaker, “for Dr. Burney to recommend a novel.” —
Lady Hales. I declare, the Preface and Address, there, what is it — Dedication — to the Reviewers are as fine pieces of writing as ever I heard in my life — and Dr. Burney thinks so too; doesn’t he Kitty? —
Miss Coussmaker. Yes, indeed — I assure you this writer is a great acquisition.
Lady Hales. Oh! it’s a writer of great abilities, whoever he be.
Miss Coussmaker. He says it will never be known — but if the book circulates, which I think, considering its merit, it certainly must, I hope he will be tempted to discover himself — or she indeed for you’re to know I think it’s a woman.
Susan. Do you indeed? Why pray?
Miss Coussmaker. Why I don’t know — I believe I dreamt it first, for I thought it was said so in the preface or dedication — but I have read ’em since and find it is not — but there is such a remarkable delicacy in all the descriptions and conversations, that I can’t think it can be anybody’s writing but a woman’s — tho’ there are very gross vulgar characters int
roduced.
Lady Hales. Lord, aye — that nasty person, Captain —
Miss Coussmakcr. Yet there never is an indelicate word, nor an oath throughout the book — indeed Evelina says after giving an account of a violent quarrel that has pass’d between the Captain and Mad Duval—” this conversation had the addition of an oath at every two or three words, but I have not repeated them because I am sure they would be as disagreable to you to read as to me to write” — which is so delicately avoiding it, you know, without anything unnatural. Lady Hales. It certainly must be some person very much us’d to high life — the language is quite elegant too, of all Mr. Villars’ letters particularly — and of Evelina’s which he I writes from herself.
Miss Coussmaker. A great deal of it is conversation — such a variety of Characters ’tis amazing I declare.
Lady Hales. And so wonderfully well sustained they are — so mark’d — indeed there is great genius in it.
Lady Hales had a millener to call upon — and walk’d to the shop with Miss Coussmaker and me. One cap which was remarkably showy and full of pink ribbon they said should be sent to poor Mad Duval, to make her amends for the loss of her most becomingest cap.
“No, a set of curls would be better to lend her” said Miss Coussmaker. And tho’ they were eternally saying they would not forestall anything of the pleasure I should have in reading the book, I saw they long’d to give me the whole account of poor Mad Duval’s misfortune, and laugh’d themselves sick at the recollection of it, tho’ they declared ’twas very inhuman of the Captain, and tho’ they detested her they could not help pitying her.
“But as to the Captain” said Miss Coussmaker “as poor Mad Duval says, he has no compassion nor nothing at all.”
Lady Hales declared they should get Mad Duval’s expressions so pat she was afraid they would grow into use with them even when they did not intend it —
Complete Works of Frances Burney Page 501