SUGGESTED HUSBANDS FOR FANNY BURNEY.
Sept. 26 — The present chief sport with Mrs. Thrale is disposing of me in the holy state of matrimony, and she offers me whoever comes to the house. This was begun by Mrs. Montagu, who, it seems, proposed a match for me in my absence, with Sir Joshua Reynolds! — no less a man, I assure you!
When I was dressing for dinner, Mrs. Thrale told me that Mr. Crutchley was expected.
“Who’s he?” quoth I.
“A young man of very large fortune, who was a ward of Mr. Thrale. Queeny, what do you say of him for Miss Burney?”
“Him?” cried she; “no, indeed; what has Miss Burney done to have him?”
“Nay, believe me, a man of his fortune may offer himself anywhere. However, I won’t recommend him.”
“Why then, ma’am,” cried I, with dignity, “I reject him!”
This Mr. Crutchley stayed till after breakfast the next morning. I can’t tell you anything, of him, because I neither like nor dislike him. Mr. Crutchley was scarce gone, ere Mr. Smith arrived. Mr. Smith is a second cousin to Mr. Thrale, and a modest pretty sort of young man. He stayed till Friday morning. When he was gone.
“What say you to him, Miss Burney?” cried Mrs. Thrale; “I’m sure I offer you variety.”
“Why I like him better than Mr. Crutchley, but I don’t think I shall pine for either of them.”
“Dr. Johnson,” said Mrs. Thrale, “don’t you think Jerry Crutchley very much improved?”
Dr. J.-Yes, madam, I think he is.
Mrs. T.-Shall he have Miss Burney?
Dr. J.-Why, I think not; at least I must know more about him; I Must inquire into his connections, his recreations, his employments, and his character, from his intimates, before I trust Miss Burney with him. And he must come down very handsomely with a settlement. I will not have him left to his generosity; for as he will marry her for her wit, and she him for his fortune, he ought to bid well, and let him come down with what he will, his price will never be equal to her worth.
Mrs. T.-She says she likes Mr. Smith better.
Dr. J.-Yes, but I won’t have her like Mr. Smith without money, better than Mr. Crutchley with it. Besides, if she has Crutchley, he will use her well, to vindicate his choice. The world, madam, has a reasonable claim upon all mankind to account for their conduct; therefore, if with his great wealth, he marries a woman who has but little, he will be more attentive to display her merit, than if she was equally rich, — in order to show that the woman he has chosen deserves from the world all the respect and admiration it can bestow, or that else she would not have been his choice.
Mrs. T.-I believe young Smith is the better man.
F.B.-Well, I won’t be rash in thinking of either; I will take some time for consideration before I fix.
Dr. J.-Why, I don’t hold it to be delicate to offer marriage to ladies, even in jest, nor do I approve such sort of jocularity; yet for once I must break through the rules of decorum, and Propose a match myself for Miss Burney. I therefore nominate Sir J —— L —— .
Mrs. T.-I’ll give you my word, sir, you are not the first to say that, for my master the other morning, when we were alone, said ‘What would I give that Sir J —— L —— was married to Miss Burney; it might restore him to our family.’ So spoke his Uncle and guardian.
F.B.-He, he! Ha, ha! He, he! Ha, ha!
Dr. J.-That was elegantly said of my master, and nobly said, and not in the vulgar way we have been saying it. And madam, where will you find another man in trade who will make such a speech — who will be capable of making such a speech? Well, I am glad my master takes so to Miss Burney; I would have everybody take to Miss Burney, so as they allow me to take to her most! Yet I don’t know whether Sir J —— L —— should have her, neither; I should be afraid for her; I don’t think I would hand her to him.
F.B.-Why, now, what a fine match is here broken off!
Some time after, when we were in the library, he asked me very gravely if I loved reading?
“Yes,” quoth I.
“Why do you doubt it, sir?” cried Mrs. Thrale.
“Because,” answered he, “I never see her with a book in her hand. I have taken notice that she never has been reading whenever I have come into the room.”
“Sir,” quoth I, courageously, “I’m always afraid of being caught reading, lest I should pass for being studious or affected, and therefore instead of making a display of books, I always try to hide them, as is the case at this very time, for I have now your ‘Life of Waller’ under my gloves behind me. However, since I am piqued to it, I’ll boldly produce my voucher.”
And so saying, I put the book on the table, and opened it with a flourishing air. And then the laugh was on my side, for he could not help making a droll face; and if he had known Kitty Cooke, I would have called out, “There I had you, my lad!”
A STREATHAM DINNER PARTY.
Monday was the day for our great party; and the Doctor came home, at Mrs. Thrale’s request, to meet them. The party consisted of Mr. C — , who was formerly a timber-merchant, but having amassed a fortune of one million of pounds, he has left off business. He is a good-natured busy sort of man.
Mrs. C — , his lady, a sort of Mrs. Nobody.
Mr. N — , another rich business leaver-off.
Mrs. N — , his lady; a pretty sort of woman, who was formerly a pupil of Dr. Hawkesworth. I had a great deal of talk with her about him, and about my favourite miss Kinnaird, whom she knew very well.
Mr. George and Mr. Thomas N — , her sons-in-law.
Mr. R — , of whom I know nothing but that he married into Mr. Thrale’s family.
Lady Ladd; I ought to have begun with her. I beg her ladyship a thousand pardons — though if she knew my offence, I am sure I should not obtain one. She is own sister to Mr. Thrale. She is a tall and stout woman, has an air of mingled dignity and haughtiness, both of which wear off in conversation. She dresses very youthful and gaily, and attends to her person with no little complacency. She appears to me uncultivated in knowledge, though an adept in the manners of the world, and all that. She chooses to be much more lively than her brother; but liveliness sits as awkwardly upon her as her pink ribbons. In talking her over with Mrs. Thrale who has a very proper regard for her, but who, I am sure, cannot be blind to her faults, she gave me another proof to those I have already of the uncontrolled freedom of speech which Dr. Johnson exercised to everybody, and which everybody receives quietly from him. Lady Ladd has been very handsome, but is now, I think, quite ugly — at least she has the sort of face I like not. She was a little while ago dressed in so showy a manner as to attract the doctor’s notice, and when he had looked at her some time, he broke out aloud into this quotation:
“With patches, paint, and jewels on,
Sure Phillis is not twenty-one
But if at night you Phillis see,
The dame at least is forty-three!”
I don’t recollect the verses exactly, but such was their purport.
“However,” said Mrs. Thrale, “Lady Ladd took it very good-naturedly, and only said, ‘I know enough of that forty-three — I don’t desire to hear any more of it.’”
Miss Moss, a pretty girl, who played and sung, to the great fatigue of Mrs. Thrale; Mr. Rose Fuller, Mr. Embry, Mr. Seward, Dr. Johnson, the three Thrales, and myself, close the party.
In the evening the company divided pretty much into parties, and almost everybody walked upon the gravel-walk before the windows. I was going to have joined some of them, when Dr. Johnson stopped me, and asked how I did.
“I was afraid, sir,” cried I “you did not intend to know me again, for you have not spoken to me before since your return from town.”
“My dear,” cried he, taking both my hands, “I was not of you, I am so near sighted, and I apprehended making some Mistake.” Then drawing me very unexpectedly towards him, he actually kissed me!
To be sure, I was a little surprised, having no idea of such facetio
usness from him, However, I was glad nobody was in the room but Mrs. Thrale, who stood close to us, and Mr. Embry, who was lounging on a sofa at the furthest end of the room. Mrs. Thrale laughed heartily, and said she hoped I was contented with his amends for not knowing me sooner.
A little after she said she would go and walk with the rest, if she did not fear for my reputation in being “left with the doctor.”
“However, as Mr. Embry is yonder, I think he’ll take some care of you,” she added.
“Ay, madam,” said the doctor, “we shall do very well; but I assure you I sha’n’t part with Miss Burney!”
And he held me by both hands; and when Mrs. Thrale went, he drew me a chair himself facing the window, close to his own; and thus tete-a-tete we continued almost all the evening. I say tete-a-tete, because Mr, Embry kept at an humble distance, and offered us no interruption And though Mr. Seward soon after came in, he also seated himself at a distant corner, not presuming, he said, to break in upon us! Everybody, he added, gave way to the doctor.
Our conversation chiefly was upon the Hebrides, for he always talks to me of Scotland, out of sport; and he wished I had been of that tour — quite gravely, I assure you!
The P — family came in to tea. When they were gone Mrs. Thrale complained that she was quite worn out with that tiresome silly woman Mrs. P — , who had talked of her family and affairs till she was sick to death of hearing her.
“Madam,” said Dr. Johnson, “why do you blame the woman for the only sensible thing she could do — talking of her family and her affairs? For how should a woman who is as empty as a drum, talk upon any other subject? If you speak to her of the sun, she does not know it rises in the east; — if you speak to her of the moon, she does not know it changes at the full; — if you speak to her of the queen, she does not know she is the king’s wife. — how, then, can you blame her for talking of her family and affairs?”
SECT. 2 (1779)
THE AUTHOR OF “EVELINA” IN SOCIETY:
SHE VISITS BRIGHTON AND TUNBRIDGE WELLS.
[Fanny’s circle of acquaintance was largely extended in
1779, in which year she was introduced to Mrs. Horneck and
her daughter Mary (Goldsmith’s “Jessamy Bride”), to Mr. and
Mrs. Cholmondeley, to Arthur Murphy, the dramatist, and best
of all, Richard Brinsley Sheridan and his beautiful wife.
The Hornecks and the Cholmondeleys she met at one of those
delightful parties at Sir Joshua Reynolds’s house in
Leicester Square, — parties composed of the wisest and
wittiest in English society of the day, though nowhere among
the guests could there be found a man of more genuine worth
or more brilliant genius than the mild-mannered host. Mrs.
Horneck had been a noted beauty in her younger days, and
she, as well as her two lovely daughters, had been painted
by Sir Joshua. The elder daughter, Catherine (Goldsmith’s
“Little Comedy”), was now (1779) Mrs. Bunbury, wife of Henry
Bunbury the caricaturist. Mary, the younger, was at this
time about twenty-six years of age, and was subsequently
married to Colonel Gwynn, whom we shall meet with in Fanny’s
Diary of her Life at Court. Goldsmith, it is said, had
loved Mary Horneck, though the ugly little man never
ventured to tell his love; but when he died, five years
before her meeting with Fanny, the Jessamy Bride caused his
coffin to be reopened, and a lock of hair to be cut from the
dead poet’s head. This lock she treasured until her own
death, nearly seventy years afterwards.
Mrs. Sheridan’s maiden name was Eliza Anne Linley. There is
an interesting notice of her in Fanny’s “Early Diary” for
the month of April, 1773. “Can I speak of music, and not
mention Miss Linley? The town has rung of no other name
this month. Miss Linley is daughter to a musician of Bath, a
very sour, ill-bred, severe, and selfish man. She is
believed to be very romantic; she has long been very
celebrated for her singing, though never, till within this
month, has she been in London.
“She has long been attached to a Mr. Sheridan, a young man
of great talents, and very well spoken of, whom it is
expected she will speedily marry. She has performed this
Lent at the Oratorio of Drury-lane, under Mr. Stanley’s
direction. The applause and admiration she has met with,
can only be compared to what is given Mr. Garrick. The
whole town seems distracted about her. Every other diversion
is forsaken. Miss Linley alone engrosses all eyes, ears,
hearts.”
The “young man of great talents” was, when Fanny first met
him, already renowned as the author of “The Rivals” and “The
School for Scandal.” His wife’s extraordinary beauty has
been perpetuated in one of Reynolds’s masterpieces, in which
she is represented as St. Cecilia, sitting at an organ. Her
father seems to have fully deserved the character which
Fanny gives him. In 1772 Eliza, then only nineteen, ran away
to France with young Sheridan, who was just of age, and, it
is reported, was privately married to him at the time. They
were pursued, however, by old Linley, and Eliza was brought
back, to become the rage of the town as a singer. Her lover
married her openly in April, 1773, and thenceforward she
sang no more in public.
Fanny’s account of her visits to Tunbridge Wells and
Brighton will recall, to readers of her novels, the
delightfully humorous descriptions of the society at those
fashionable resorts, in “Camilla” and “The Wanderer.” Mount
Ephraim, at Tunbridge Wells, where Sophy Streatfield
resided, will be recognized as the scene of the accident in
which Camilla’s life is saved by Sir Sedley Clarendel. — ED.]
A QUEER ADVENTURE.
St. Martin’s Street, January.
On Thursday, I had another adventure, and one that has made me grin ever since. A gentleman inquiring for my father, was asked into the parlour. The then inhabitants were only my mother and me. In entered a square old gentleman, well-wigged, formal, grave and important. He seated himself. My mother asked if he had any message for my father? “No, none.”
Then he regarded me with a certain dry kind of attention for some time; after which, turning suddenly to my mother, he demanded,
“Pray, ma’am, is this your daughter?”
“Yes, sir.”
“O! this is Evelina, is it?”
“No, sir,” cried I, staring at him, and glad none of you were in the way to say “Yes.”
“No?” repeated he, incredulous; “is not your name Evelina, ma’am?”
“Dear, no, sir,” again quoth I, staring harder.
“Ma’am,” cried he, drily; “I beg your pardon! I had understood your name was Evelina.”
Soon: after, he went away.
And when he put down his card, who should it prove but Dr. Franklin. Was it not queer?
AN EVENING AT SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS’S
A DEMONSTRATIVE “EVELINA” ENTHUSIAST.
Now to this grand visit, which was become more tremendous than ever because of the pamphlet business, and I felt almost ashamed to see Sir Joshua, and could not but conclude he would think of it too.
My mother, who changed her mind, came with me. My father promised to come before the Opera was half over.
We found the Miss Palmers alone. We were, for near an hour, quite easy, chatty, and comfortable; no pointed speech was mad
e, and no starer entered. But when I asked the elder Miss Palmer if she would allow me to look at some of her drawings, she said,
“Not unless you will let me see something of yours.”
“Of mine?” quoth I. “Oh! I have nothing to show.”
“I am sure you have; you must have.”
“No, indeed; I don’t draw at all.”
“Draw? No, but I mean some of your writing.”
“Oh, I never write — except letters.”
“Letters? those are the very things I want to see.”
“Oh, not such as you mean.”
“Oh now, don’t say so; I am sure you are about something and if you would but show me—”
“No, no, I am about nothing — I am quite out of conceit with writing.” I had my thoughts full of the vile Warley.
“You out of conceit?” exclaimed she; “nay, then, if you are, who should be otherwise!”
Just then, Mrs. and Miss Horneck were announced. You may suppose I thought directly of the one hundred and sixty miles — and may take it for granted I looked them very boldly in the face! Mrs. Horneck seated herself by my mother. Miss Palmer introduced me to her and her daughter, who seated herself next me; but not one word passed between us!
Mrs. Horneck, as I found in the course of the evening, is an exceedingly sensible, well-bred woman. Her daughter is very beautiful; but was low-spirited and silent during the whole visit. She was, indeed, very unhappy, as Miss Palmer informed me, upon account of some ill news she had lately heard of the affairs of a gentleman to whom she is shortly to be married.
Not long after came a whole troop, consisting of Mr. Cholmondeley! — perilous name! — Miss Cholmondeley, and Miss Fanny Cholmondeley, his daughters, and Miss Forrest. Mrs. Cholmondeley, I found, was engaged elsewhere, but soon expected. Now here was a trick of Sir Joshua, to make me meet all these people.
Mr. Cholmondeley is a clergyman; nothing shining either in person or manners, but rather somewhat grim in the first, and glum in the last. Yet he appears to have humour himself, and to enjoy it much in others.
Complete Works of Frances Burney Page 525