“Well? and is it not a very pretty book — and a very clever book — and a very comical book?”
“Why — it’s well enough — but I have something to tell you about it.”
“Well, what?”
“Has Mrs. Cholmley found out the author?”
“No — not that I know of—”
“Because I believe I have — tho’ but very lately—”
“Well, pray — let’s hear,” said she eagerly—” I want to know him of all things.”
“And so then,” continued my father — but I could get no more particulars—” I told her ’twas our Fanny’s—”
“And did she know who our Fanny was?”
“Oh, yes, immediately—”
“And wasn’t she monstrously surprised?—”
“Why, she expressed less surprise than I expected — perhaps she thought ’twould not have been so civil — nor is she aware of the few opportunities Fanny has had of seeing the world and different scenes of life — But she is mortal fond of the book, and has got it by heart — and yesterday she read a great deal of it to Johnson and Thrale, and whoever came near her.”
“And what did Johnson say?”
“Oh, he laughed as much as I did.”
“What part did she read?”
“Oh, some of her favorites, the Branghtons’ dialogues — and the Captain and Mad Duval’s — she is vastly pleased at their being pitted against one another — and she has taken vastly to the verses at the beginning — she told me that when she read ’em first, by the tenderness with which they were dictated, she had taken it in her head they were writ to a mother — she said a hundred handsome things — said Fanny had looked round her with a penetrating eye, and paid me the comp to say she must not wonder at the language, as she had been brought up in so good a school” — Adieu.
[Under the seal.]
If you don’t write to me soon I shall —
[SUSAN TO FRANCES BURNEY, AT CHESINGTON.]
[“Evelina.”]
Thursday Night, July 16th.
* * * * *
Tuesday my father and mother came home. I had no opportunity till evening of speaking to the former alone — and before that was attacked by the latter — (we were “tit a tit”) —
“And so, Evelina!” said she, and made a full stop. — I said nothing and she continued— “Well I confess,” said she—” I did not think it the production of one—”
“I am sure, ma’am, you did me an honour I did not deserve if you thought I had a share in it—”
She said civil things to justify her suspicions, and added that the variety of character and situations in it had indeed surprised her —
“As to the style and language, that did not at all surprise me —
By the emphasis she laid on the me, I conjectured, and I doubt not reasonably — that Mrs. Thrale had express’d some admiration on this head. — She said no more, nor has she since mention’d it — but I hear she has, or designs to write to you about it. My father introduced the subject when we were alone by saying—” I suppose Fanny’ll give me leave to tell her secret to Lady Hales—”
I tried to dissuade him — but don’t know whether I succeeded — because I should like to be on the spot when it comes out. I then asked him about Mrs. Thrale and he told me what I wrote you in my last letter — but says she has promised inviolable secrecy —
Sunday July 19th
* * * * * *
You will be sorry to hear that Rousseau has follow’d Voltaire to the tomb and that a period of a few weeks has terminated the existence of two such great and eminent writers. Mr. Cutler brought us the intelligence — but I was not in the way, and did not hear it from him.
Saturday Morning we spent extremely well at Mr. L — Sir Ashton Lever’s, Museum I mean. — Mr. Anson call’d here with Miss Clayton and carried my mother, Charlotte, and myself there. I wish I was a good Natural Historian that I might give you some idea of our entertainment in seeing birds, beasts, shells, fossils, etc — but I can scarce remember a dozen names of the thousand I heard that were new to me. — The birds of paradise, and the humming birds, were I think among the most beautiful — There are several pelicans — flamingos — peacocks (one quite white) — a penguin. Among the beasts a hippopotamus (sea-horse) of an immense size, an elephant, a tyger from the Tower — a Greenland bear and its cub — a wolf — two or three leopards — an Otaheite dog, a very coarse ugly looking creature — a camelion — a young crocodile — a room full of monkeys — one of which presents the company with an Italian Song — another is reading a book — another, the most horrid of all, is put in the attitude of Venus de Medicis, and is scarce fit to be look’d at. Lizards, bats, toads, frogs, scorpions and other filthy creatures in abundance. There were a great many things from Otaheite — the compleat dress of a Chinese Mandarine, made of blue and brown sattin — of an African Prince — A suit of armour that they say belonged to Oliver Cromwel — the Dress worn in Charles Ist’s time — etc — etc — etc — In one of the back rooms we found ourselves within hearing of a delightful Concert — but I dared not stop to listen to it — the ciceroni (Sir Ashton was not in town) told us it was at Giardini’s house — which overlooks the gardens of Leicester House —
He and others were playing quartettos charmingly —
S. E. BURNEY.
[SUSAN TO FRANCES BURNEY, AT CHESINGTON.]
[This is headed by Mme. D’Arblay, “Dr. Johnson upon Evelina, No. 13-1, 1778. Mrs. Thrale to Dr. Burney.”
This is the letter which set Fanny dancing with delight round the mulberry tree in the garden at Chesington, as she lived to tell Sir Walter Scott nearly fifty years afterwards. She writes, in her diary for 1778, “Dr. Johnson’s approbation! — it almost crazed me with agreeable surprise — it gave me such a flight of spirits, that I danced a jigg to Mr. Crisp, without any preparation, music, or explanation, — to his no small amazement, and diversion.”]
At dinner yesterday my father had a letter from that sweet woman, Mrs. Thrale, whom I love better than ever. He said it was a charming one, but mention’d no particulars. A novel of Madme Riccoboni’s was returned at the same time to my mother. This morning, after having made enquiries about Chesington, which I thought you would all want to hear by the baker to-morrow, I ventured to hint at the above mentioned letter—” I shall have all your heads turned, girls,” said he, and at first refused to shew it me, but after a little coquettry between us, he gave me Mrs. Thrale’s letter and leave to communicate its contents to you “to comfort poor Fan’s Bowels.” I will copy it verbatim.
MRS. THRALE TO DR. BURNEY.
Wednesday, 22 [July, 1778.] Streatham.
Dear Sir,
I forgot to give you the novels home in your carriage which..., by Mr. Abingdon’s. —
Evelina certainly excels them far enough both in probability of story, elegance of sentiment, and general power over the mind, whether exerted in humour or pathos. Add to this that Riccoboni is a veteran author, and all she ever can be, but I cannot tell what might not be expected from Evelina was she to try her genius at Comedy. So far had I written of my letter when Mr. Johnson returned home full of praises of the book I had lent him, and protesting there were passages in it which might do honour to Richardson. We talk of it for ever, and he feels ardent after the denouement; he could not get rid of the rogue, he said! I lent him the second volume, and he is now busy with the other. You must be more a philosopher, and less a father than I wish you, not to be pleased with this letter; and the giving such pleasure yields to nothing but receiving it. Long, my Dear Sir, may you live to enjoy the just praises of your children! and long may they live to deserve and delight such a parent! These are things you would say in verse, but Poetry implies Fiction, and all this is naked truth.
My Compliments to Mrs. Burney, and the kindest wishes to all your flock. When is your visit to Chesington? Remember that, in Mannucci’s phrase, I hope to be Prior. My Master sends love to Dr. Burney, an
d I am ever with the truest esteem, dear Sir, your faithful and obedient servant,
H. L. THRALE.
I could make no comments when I had read this letter but by jumping, and laughing, and almost crying. But indeed I had thought before that you had reached the summit of grandeur in Mrs. Thrale’s, Mrs. Cholmondeley’s and my fathers warm approbation; — but Johnson’s raises you so many degrees higher, that you may now certainly rest secure on your literary throne, for no one can ever shake it. I will not pray that “the height of Fame to which you are rising may not render you giddy, but that the purity of your mind may form the brightest splendour of your prosperity,” because such prayer would imply a doubt, which I have not, nor knowing you as I do, ever can have —
God bless you, my dearest girl! Do send me some of the comments of the Congress employed in reading your book. I long for Kitty’s as much as anybody’s. My love to my sister, Mr. B, &c &c Yours ever & aye. S. E. B.
[SUSAN TO FRANCES BURNEY, AT CHESINGTON.]
[Dr. Johnson on Evelina.]
* * * * *
But indeed my dear girl if that and my father’s wishes and expectations from you had no effect [as to producing something else] I should be very much vexed and disappointed and should even think you made an ill use of the gifts of Dame Nature, to neglect using them as soon as their worth was pointed out to you — for I will do you the justice to say that hitherto nobody has been so insensible to your merit (of which, in Mr. Mattocks phrase, I wish you joy) as yourself — shy as you have ever been of shewing it — Before I went to bed my Father called me into the study to read your letter which diverted him not a few, but, as I thought you might wish to have no expectations raised concerning futurity I omitted the passages I have cited above and the same to Charlotte — I know your muse to be so bashful that I am terribly afraid of allarming her. My father was much pleased when I came to the end, to find the secret had been kept and seems to enjoy the idea of being himself the discoverer of it to Mr. Crisp — yet perhaps it may be too late and Hetty may have been the Informer.
* * * * *
But my dear Fanny I have something to tell you which I am afraid you wont like, yet, “as the wig is wet” it must be submitted to.
My father has not the strictest notion of your being [unknown as authoress of a work so much and so universally admired as Evelina — The other day speaking of the Howlett folks — I urged that if he would wait only till he and I were there it would be a great deal more funny— “Yes,” said he, “and then they will have heard of it by some other means and there will be no civility in telling them.” I was confounded at the term other means as I thought the secret pretty much in our family, however I am afraid there may be a little danger now.
My father went to Streatham Saturday morning.... Dr. Johnson was just gone to town. Mrs. Thrale told him that the first word he said to her when he returned to Streatham after having read the 1st Vol of Evelina was, “why, Madam, why what a charming book you lent me,” and that he eagerly asked for the rest of it, and said other things [in its praises, some of] which she mentioned in her letter — he was particularly pleased with the Snow Hill scenes — but most with those in which Sir Clement is joined to the Branghton party. Mr. Smith delighted him — the vulgar gentility, he said, was admirably pourtrayed, but when Sir Clement appeared he remarked that there was a shade of character which was prodigiously well marked — Smith, low as he was, so superiour to the Branghtons, and yet so lost even in his own eyes on the appearance of Sir Clement. He went to town quite full of the book, but my father did not hear from Mrs. Thrale that she had acquainted him with the writer’s name, mais patience! What’s done cannot be undone.
A note, sealed up, was delivered my father as soon as he came in from Streatham, which had been sent from Dr. Johnson’s, tho’ it was not in his hand, at 5 in the afternoon. I will copy it for you.
“Mrs. Williams sends compliments to Dr. Burney, and begs he will intercede with Miss Burney to do her the favour to lend her the reading of Evelina — July 25.”
We were confounded by this billet, which proved Dr. Johnson’s knowledge of the writer, and his having communicated it to Mrs. Williams, yet to have the book recommended by Dr. Johnson must make you some amends for his indiscretion ——
I would not produce your beauties, and it appeared that there was not a set in the house; — and so my Father desired William to get a set at Lowndes, (which he intends keeping for himself,) and sent them on with his compliments to Mrs. Williams — William when he came back told us he was obliged to pay 9s. 6d for it, but added “them that I have got now are the handsomest of them there books they have given me yet.” I then found that besides the set my father had, and disposed of to Lady Hales, my mother, before she was told who was the writer, bought a set to send over to Mrs. Strange by Mr. Strange, so your work is on the Continent! — William said they had none of the common 9s ones bound — I hope you will be ready with your emendations for the second edition. God bless — and a merry Christmas to you. If you wish any hint to be sent Mrs. Williams to silence her and Dr. Johnson, write to my father about it. Mrs. Thrale has wrote to Miss Stretfield, who is now at Tunbridge, to desire her to read it immediately and if the booksellers there have it not, that she will make them send to London for it. Addio, my dear girl, give my duty to Mr. Crisp, and best love to... and to Kitty. Yrs ever & ever. S. E. B.
[Here end Susan’s letters on “Evelina.” One of Fanny’s, in answer to that which tells of the approbation of Mrs. Cholmondeley, as reported by Dr. Johnson, is headed by herself, in old age, “Rapturous and most innocent happiness during anony-
mous success.” So might well be named those that tell of the happiness of Susan and Charlotte, of Doctor and Mrs. Burney. Out of many letters from Susan to Fanny, we have chosen two which bring us near to Mr. Crisp, with the purpose of showing him just as he was. To explain Susan’s letters we give the greater part of one of Mr. Crisp’s own. It was written five days after the King of Spain had declared war against England, as the King of France had done about a year before; both taking base advantage of the war going on in America.
French and Spanish ships were parading in the Channel, doing some damage here and there, besides depressing Mr. Crisp, and making Lady Mount Edgecumbe (who was not forgetful of the Armada and the Spanish Admiral’s design to seize for himself the pleasant and convenient island and mansion of Mount Edgecumbe) “fall ill with fright,” so Pacchierotti’s promised visit to Mount Edgecumbe was put off until she recovered.]
[SUSAN BURNEY to “Miss BURNEY,
St. Martin’s Street,
Leicester Fields.”]
[Chesington, Sunday, Aug. I, 1779.]
We arrived at Streatham at a very little past eleven. As a place, it surpassed all my expectations. The avenue to the house, plantations, &c are beautiful; worthy of the charming inhabitants. It is a little Paradise, I think. Cattle, poultry, dogs, all running freely about, without annoying each other. Sam opened the chaise-door, and told my father breakfast was not quite over, and I had no sooner got out than Mr. Thrale appeared at a window close to the door, — and, indeed, my dear Fanny, you did not tell me anything about him which I did not find entirely just. With regard to his reception of me, it was particularly polite. I followed my father into the library, which was much such a room as I expected; — a most charming one. There sat Mrs. Thrale and Dr. Johnson, the latter finishing his breakfast upon peaches. Mrs. Thrale immediately rose to meet me very sweetly, and to welcome me to Streatham. Dr. Johnson, too, rose. “How do, dear lady?” My father told him it was not his Miss, — but another of his own bantlings. Dr. Johnson, however, looked at me with great kindness, and not at all in a discouraging manner — Dr. Johnson interrupted Mrs.
Thrale by telling my father Mrs. Thrale had desired Mr. Potter to translate some verses for him, which he, (Dr. J.) had before undertaken to do. “How so?” said my father. “Why Mr, Potter?”
“Nay, Sir, I don’t know. It was Mrs. Thrale’
s fancy.” Mrs. Thrale said she would go and fetch them. As soon as she was gone, Dr. Johnson invited me to take her seat, which was next to him. “Come, come here, my little dear,” said he, with great kindness, and took my hand as I sat down, I took then courage to deliver your respects. “Aye. — Why don’t she come among us?” said he. I said you were confined by a sick sister, but that you were very sorry to be away. “A rogue!” said he, laughing. “She don’t mind me!” And then I up and spoke vast fine about you, for Dr. Johnson looked so kind, and so good-humour’d I was not afraid of the sound of my voice. Mr. Thrale then came in, — and, by the way, during my whole visit look’d at me with so much curiosity, tho’ he behaved with the utmost politeness, that I could not help thinking all the time of his having said he had not had fair play about that Miss Susan. I am sorry he had heard me puff’d; however, kinder and more flattering attention could not be paid me from all quarters than I received. Dr. Johnson insisted upon my Heating one of his peaches, and, when I had eat it, took a great deal of pains to persuade me to take another. “No,” said Mr. Thrale, “they’re good for nothing. Miss Burney must have some better than them.” However, I was humble. They did for me. Miss Thrale came in: coldly civil as usual, — but was very chatty with me, for her, before I went away. Then came back Mrs. Thrale, with the verses, which she had been copying out. I rose, and took a seat next Miss Thrale. However, she made me return to that next Dr. Johnson, that he might hear what I had to say. “But, if I have nothing to say, Ma’am?” said I— “Oh, never fear,” said she, laughing, “I’ll warrant you’ll find something to talk about.” The verses were then given to my father. After he had read the first stanza, “Why, these are none of Potter’s!” said he, “these are worse than Potter. They beat him at his own weapons.” Dr. Johnson and Mrs. Thrale laugh’d very much, and the verses proved to be the formers, and were composed, in a comical humour, the evening before, in derision of Potter. They are admirable, you will see them at Streatham, and perhaps procure a copy, which my father could not do. Dr. Johnson is afraid of having them spread about as some other verses were he wrote in the same way to redicule poor Dr. Percy; but Mrs. Thrale advised my father to make you attack Dr. Johnson about them, “for she can do what she pleases with him.” After a little while my father and Miss Thrale went off after their business, and Mrs. Thrale said she must shew me the Lions of Streatham. I followed her after due apologies, and she took me into your room, shewed me your desk; then her own dressing-room, and Miss Streatfield, Miss Thrale, and Miss Burney over the chimney-piece. “They are three pretty Misses, that they are,” said she. I then went into her bedroom, and into the other which is next yours. “You see we live together,” said she, “and Streatham is not like Streatham without her. We do miss her sadly; that’s the truth on’t.” When we return’d down stairs, [into] a room where my father was tuning, “Now,” says she, “this is the dining-parlour, — and that’s the harpsichord, — but they won’t let us stay here, I suppose, so we’ll go and walk.” She lent me a calash, and we stroll’d about the sweet plantations, and saw the summer-house, and Dick’s island, &c. A servant brought her your letter while we were walking. “Aye, here it comes at last.” She shew’d me what you said. “Nobody need be stifled now.”
Complete Works of Frances Burney Page 504