Miss Cholmondeley I saw too little of to mention.
Miss Fanny Cholmondeley is a rather pretty, pale girl; very young and inartificial, and though tall and grown up, treated by her family as a child, and seemingly well content to really think herself such. She followed me whichever way I turned, and though she was too modest to stare, never ceased watching me the whole evening.
Miss Forrest is an immensely tall and not handsome young woman. Further I know not.
Next came my father, all gaiety and spirits. Then Mr. William Burke.
Soon after, Sir Joshua returned home. He paid his compliments to everybody, and then brought a chair next mine, and said,
“So you were afraid to come among us?”
I don’t know if I wrote to you a speech to that purpose, which I made to the Miss Palmers? and which, I suppose, they had repeated to him. He went on, saying I might as well fear hobgoblins, and that I had only to hold up my head to be above them all.
After this address, his behaviour was exactly what my wishes would have dictated to him, for my own ease and quietness; for he never once even alluded to my book, but conversed rationally, gaily, and serenely: and so I became more comfortable than I had been ever since the first entrance of company. Our confab was interrupted by the entrance of Mr. King; a gentleman who is, it seems, for ever with the Burkes; — and presently Lord Palmerston was announced.
Well, while this was going forward, a violent rapping bespoke, I was sure, Mrs. Cholmondeley, and I ran from the standers, and turning my back against the door, looked over Miss Palmer’s cards; for you may well imagine, I was really in a tremor at a meeting which so long has been in agitation, and with the person who, of all persons, has been most warm and enthusiastic for my book.
She had not, however, been in the room half an instant, ere my father came up to me, and tapping me on the shoulder, said, “Fanny, here’s a lady who wishes to speak to you.”
I curtsied in silence, she too curtsied, and fixed her eyes full on my face: and then tapping me with her fan, she cried,
“Come, come, you must not look grave upon me.”
Upon this, I te-he’d; she now looked at me yet more earnestly, and, after an odd silence, said, abruptly —
“But is it true?”
“What, ma’am?”
“It can’t be! — tell me, though, is it true?”
I could only simper.
“Why don’t you tell me? — but it can’t be — I don’t believe it! — no, you are an impostor!”
Sir Joshua and Lord Palmerston were both at her side — oh, how notably silly must I look! She again repeated her question of “Is it true?” and I again affected not to understand her: and then Sir Joshua, taking hold on her arm, attempted to pull her away, saying
“Come, come, Mrs. Cholmondeley, I won’t have her overpowered here!”
I love Sir Joshua much for this. But Mrs. Cholmondeley, turning to him, said, with quickness and vehemence: —
“Why, I a’n’t going to kill her! don’t be afraid, I sha’n’t compliment her! — I can’t, indeed!”
Then, taking my hand, she led me through them all, to another part of the room, where again she examined my phiz, and viewed and reviewed my whole person.
“Now,” said she, “do tell me; is it true?”
“What, ma’am? — I don’t-I don’t know what—”
“Pho! what, — why you know what: in short, can you read? and can you write?”
“No, ma’am!”
“I thought so,” cried she, “I have suspected it was a trick, some time, and now I am sure of it. You are too young by half! — it can’t be!”
I laughed, and would have got away, but she would not let me.
“No,” cried she, “one thing you must, at least, tell me; — are you very conceited? Come, answer me,” continued she. “You won’t? Mrs. Burney, Dr. Burney, — come here, — tell me if she is not very conceited? — if she is not eat up with conceit by this time?”
They were both pleased to answer “Not half enough.”
“Well,” exclaimed she, “that is the most wonderful part of all! Why, that is yet more extraordinary than writing the book.”
I then got away from her, and again looked over Miss Palmer’s cards: but she was after me in a minute,
“Pray, Miss Burney,” cried she, aloud, “do you know any thing of this game?”
“No, ma’am.”
“No?” repeated she, “ma foi, that’s pity!”
This raised such a laugh, I was forced to move on; yet everybody seemed to be afraid to laugh, too, and studying to be delicate, as if they had been cautioned; which, I have since found, was really the case, and by Sir Joshua himself.
Again, however, she was at my side.
“What game do you like, Miss Burney?” cried she.
“I play at none, ma’am.”
“No? Pardie, I wonder at that! Did you ever know such a toad?”
Again I moved on, and got behind Mr. W. Burke, who, turning round to me, said, —
“This is not very politic in us, Miss Burney, to play at cards, and have you listen to our follies.”
There’s for you! I am to pass for a censoress now.
Mrs. Cholmondeley hunted me quite round the card-table, from chair to chair, repeating various speeches of Madame Duval; and when, at last, I got behind a sofa, out of her reach, she called out aloud, “Polly, Polly! only think! Miss has danced with a Lord.”
Some time after, contriving to again get near me, she began flirting her fan, and exclaiming, “Well, miss, I have had a beau, I assure you! ay, and a very pretty beau too, though I don’t know if his lodgings were so prettily furnished, and everything, as Mr. Smith’s.”
Then, applying to Mr. Cholmondeley, she said, “Pray, sir, what is become of my lottery ticket?”
“I don’t know,” answered he.
“Pardie” cried she, “you don’t know nothing.”
I had now again made off, and, after much rambling, I at last seated myself near the card-table: but Mrs. Cholmondeley was after me in a minute, and drew a chair next mine. I now found it impossible to escape, and therefore forced myself to sit still. Lord Palmerston and Sir Joshua, in a few moments, seated themselves by us.
I must now write dialogue-fashion, to avoid the enormous length of Mrs. C.’s name.
Mrs. C.-I have been very ill; monstrous ill indeed or else I should have been at your house long ago. Sir Joshua, pray how do you do? you know, I suppose, that I don’t come, to see you?
Sir Joshua could only laugh, though this was her first address to him.
Mrs. C.-Pray, miss, what’s your name?
F.B.-Frances, ma’am.
Mrs. C.-Fanny? Well, all the Fanny’s are excellent and yet, my name is Mary! Pray, Miss Palmers, how are you? — though I hardly know if I shall speak to you to-night, I thought I should have never got here! I have been so out of humour with the people for keeping me. If you but knew, cried I, to whom I am going to-night, and who I shall see to-night, you would not dare keep me muzzing here!
During all these pointed speeches, her penetrating eyes were fixed upon me; and what could I do? — what, indeed, could anybody do, but colour and simper? — all the company watching us, though all, very delicately, avoided joining the confab.
Mrs. C.-My Lord Palmerston, I was told to-night that nobody could see your lordship for me, for that you supped at my house every night. Dear, bless me, no! cried I, not every night! and I looked as confused as I was able; but I am afraid I did not blush, though I tried hard for it.
Then, again, turning to me,
That Mr. What-d’ye-call-him, in Fleet-street, is a mighty silly fellow; — perhaps you don’t know who I mean? — one T. Lowndes, — but maybe you don’t know such a person?
FB.-No, indeed, I do not! — that I can safely say.
Mrs. C.-I could get nothing from him: but I told him I hoped he gave a good price; and he answered me that he always did things genteel.
What trouble and tagging we had! Mr. [I cannot recollect the name she mentioned] laid a wager the writer was a man: — I said I was sure it was a woman: but now we are both out; for it’s a girl!
In this comical, queer, flighty, whimsical manner she ran on, till we were summoned to supper; for we were not allowed to break up before: and then, when Sir Joshua and almost everybody was gone down stairs, she changed her tone, and, with a face and voice both grave, said:
“Well, Miss Burney, you must give me leave to say one thing to you; yet, perhaps you won’t, neither, will you?”
“What is it, ma’am?”
“Why it is, that I admire you more than any human being and that I can’t help!”
Then suddenly rising, she hurried down stairs.
While we were upon the stairs, I heard Miss Palmer say to Miss Fanny Cholmondeley, “Well, you don’t find Miss Burney quite so tremendous as you expected?”
Sir Joshua made me sit next him at supper; Mr. William Burke was at my other side; though, afterwards, I lost the knight of Plimton, who, as he eats no suppers, made way for Mr. Gwatkin, and, as the table was crowded, himself stood at the fire. He was extremely polite and flattering in his manners to me, and entirely avoided all mention or hint at “Evelina” the whole evening: indeed, I think I have met more scrupulous delicacy from Sir Joshua than from anybody, although I have heard more of his approbation than of almost any other person’s.
Mr. W. Burke was immensely attentive at table; but, lest he should be thought a Mr. Smith for his pains, he took care, whoever he helped, to add, “You know I am all for the ladies!”
I was glad I was not next Mrs. Cholmondeley; but she frequently, and very provokingly, addressed herself to me; once she called out aloud, “Pray, Miss Burney, is there anything new coming out?” And another time, “Well, I wish people who can entertain me would entertain me!”
These sort of pointed speeches are almost worse than direct attacks, for there is no knowing how to look, or what to say, especially where the eyes of a whole company mark the object for Whom they are meant. To the last of these speeches I made no sort of answer but Sir Joshua very good-naturedly turned it from me, by saying,
“Well, let everyone do what they can in their different ways; do you begin yourself.”
“Oh, I can’t!” cried she; “I have tried, but I can’t.”
“Oh, so you think, then,” answered he, “that all the world is made only to entertain you?”
A very lively dialogue ensued. But I grow tired of writing. One thing, however, I must mention, which, at the time, frightened me wofully.
“Pray, Sir Joshua,” asked Lord Palmerston, “what is this ‘Warley’ that is just come out?”
Was not this a cruel question? I felt in such a twitter!
“Why, I don’t know,” answered he; “but the reviewers, my lord, speak very well of it.”
Mrs. C.-Who wrote it?
Sir Joshua.-Mr. Huddisford.
Mrs. C.-O! I don’t like it at all, then! Huddisford what a name! Miss Burney, pray can you conceive anything of such a name as Huddisford?
I could not speak a word, and I dare say I looked no-how. But was it not an unlucky reference to me? Sir Joshua attempted a kind of vindication of him; but Lord Palmerston said, drily,
“I think, Sir Joshua, it is dedicated to you?”
“Yes, my lord,” answered he.
“Oh, your servant! Is it so?” cried Mrs. Cholmondeley; “then you need say no more!”
Sir Joshua laughed, and the subject, to my great relief, was dropped.
When we broke up to depart, which was not till near two in the morning, Mrs. Cholmondeley went up to my mother, and begged her permission to visit in St. Martin’s-street. Then, as she left the room, she said to me, with a droll sort of threatening look,
“You have not got rid of me yet, I have been forcing myself into your house.”
I must own I was not at all displeased at this, as I had very much and very reasonably feared that she would have been by then as sick of me from disappointment, as she was before eager for me from curiosity.
When we came away, Offy Palmer, laughing, said to me,
“I think this will be a breaking-in to you!”
“Ah,” cried I, “if I had known of your party!”
“You would have been sick in bed, I suppose?”
I would not answer “No,” yet I was glad it was over. And so concludeth this memorable evening.
FANNY BURNEY’S INTRODUCTION TO SHERIDAN.
On Monday last, my father sent a note to Mrs. Cholmondeley, to propose our waiting on her the Wednesday following; she accepted the proposal, and accordingly on Wednesday evening, my father, mother, and self went to Hertford-street. I should have told you that Mrs. Cholmondeley, when my father some time ago called on her, sent me a message, that if I would go to see her, I should not again be stared at or worried; and she acknowledged that my visit at Sir Joshua’s had been a formidable one, and that I was watched the whole evening; but that upon the whole, the company behaved extremely well, for they only ogled!
Well, we were received by Mrs. Cholmondeley with great politeness, and in a manner that showed she intended to throw aside Madame Duval, and to conduct herself towards me in a new style.
Mr. and Misses Cholmondeley and Miss Forrest were with her; but who else think you? — why Mrs. Sheridan! I was absolutely charmed at the sight of her. I think her quite as beautiful as ever, and even more captivating; for she has now a look of ease and happiness that animates her whole face.
Miss Linley was with her; she is very handsome, but nothing near her sister: the elegance of Mrs. Sheridan’s beauty is unequalled by any I ever saw, except Mrs. Crewe. I was pleased with her in all respects. She is much more lively and agreeable than I had any idea of finding her; she was very gay, and very unaffected, and totally free from airs of any kind. Miss Linley was very much out of spirits; she did not speak three words the whole evening, and looked wholly unmoved at all that passed. Indeed, she appeared to be heavy and inanimate.
Mrs. Cholmondeley sat next me. She is determined, I believe, to make me like her: and she will, I believe, have full success; for she is very clever, very entertaining, and very much unlike anybody else.
The first subject started was the Opera, and all joined in the praise of Pacchierotti. Mrs. Sheridan declared she could not hear him without tears, and that he was the first Italian singer who ever affected her to such a degree.
Then they talked of the intended marriage of the Duke of Dorset, to Miss Cumberland, and many ridiculous anecdotes were related. The conversation naturally fell upon Mr. Cumberland, and he was finely cut up!
“What a man is that!” said Mrs. Cholmondeley: “I cannot bear him — so querulous, so dissatisfied, so determined to like nobody, and nothing but himself!”
After this, Miss More was mentioned and I was asked what I thought of her?
“Don’t be formal with me if you are, I sha’n’t like you!”
“I have no hope that you will any way!”
“Oh, fie! fie! but as to Miss More — I don’t like her at all: that is, I detest her! She does nothing but flatter and fawn; and then she thinks ill of nobody. Oh, there’s no supporting the company of professed flatterers. She gives me such doses of it, that I cannot endure her; but I always sit still and make no answer, but receive it as if I thought it my due: that is the only way to quiet her. She is really detestable. I hope, Miss Burney, you don’t think I admire all geniuses? The only person I flatter,” continued she, “is Garrick; and he likes it so much, that it pays one by the spirits it gives him. Other people that I like, I dare not flatter.”
A rat-tat-tat-tat ensued, and the Earl of Harcourt was announced. When he had paid his compliments to Mrs. Cholmondeley, speaking of the lady from whose house he was just come, he said,
“Mrs. Vesey Is vastly agreeable, but her fear of ceremony is really troublesome; for her eagerness to break a circle is such, that she insists upon
everybody’s sitting with their backs one to another; that is, the chairs are drawn into little parties of three together, in a confused manner, all over the room.”
“Why, then,” said my father, “they may have the pleasure of caballing and cutting up one another, even in the same room.”
“Oh, I like the notion of all things,” cried Mrs. Cholmondeley, “I shall certainly adopt it.”
Then she drew her chair into the middle of our circle. Lord Harcourt turned his round, and his back to most of us, and my father did the same. You can’t imagine a more absurd sight.
Just then the door opened, and Mr. Sheridan entered.
Was I not in luck? Not that I believe the meeting was accidental; but I had more wished to meet him and his wife than any people I know not.
I could not endure my ridiculous situation, but replaced myself in an orderly manner immediately. Mr. Sheridan stared at the mall, and Mrs. Cholmondeley said she intended it as a hint for a comedy.
Mr. Sheridan has a very fine figure, and a good though I don’t think a handsome face. He is tall, and very upright, and his appearance and address are at once manly and fashionable, without the smallest tincture of foppery or modish graces. In short, I like him vastly, and think him every way worthy his beautiful companion.
And let me tell you what I know will give you as much pleasure as it gave me, — that, by all I Could observe in the course of the evening, and we stayed very late, they are extremly happy in each other: he evidently adores her, and she as evidently idolises him. The world has by no means done him justice.
When he had paid his compliments to all his acquaintance, he went behind the sofa on which Mrs. Sheridan and Miss Offy Cholmondeley were seated, and entered into earnest conversation with them.
Upon Lord Harcourt’s again paying Mrs. Cholmondeley some compliment, she said,
“Well, my lord, after this I shall be quite sublime for some days! I shan’t descend into common life till — till Saturday. And then I shall drop into the vulgar style — I shall be in the ma foi way.”
I do really believe she could not resist this, for she had seemed determined to be quiet.
Complete Works of Frances Burney Page 526