Among the less favourable criticisms of her work, the Only one which gave Madame d’Arblay serious pain was an attack (in a periodical publication) upon her veracity — a quality which, in her, Dr. Johnson repeatedly said “he had never found failing,” and for which she had been through life trusted, honoured, and emulated.
DEATHS OF HESTER BURNEY AND MRS. LOCKE. (1835 to 1838.)
Madame d’Arblay’s letters were now very few. - A complaint in one of her eyes, which was expected to terminate in a cataract, made both reading and writing difficult to her. The number of her correspondents had also been painfully lessened by the death of her eldest sister, Mrs. Burney, and that of her beloved friend, Mrs. Locke; and she had sympathised with other branches of her family in many similar afflictions, for she retained in a peculiar degree not only her intellectual powers, but the warn) and generous affections of her youth.
“Though now her eightieth year was past,” she took her wonted and
vivid interest in the concerns, the joys, and sorrows of those
she loved.
DEATH OF THE REV. A. D’ARBLAY.
At this time her son formed an attachment which promised to secure his happiness, and to gild his mother’s remaining days with affection and peace : and at the close of the year 1836 he was nominated minister of Ely chapel, which afforded her considerable satisfaction. But her joy was mournfully short-lived. That building, having been shut for some years, was damp and ill-aired. The Rev. Mr. d’Arblay began officiating there in winter, and during the first days of his ministry he caught the influenza, which became so serious an illness as to require the attendance of two physicians. Dr. Holland and Dr. Kingston exerted their united skill with the kindest interest; but their patient, never robust, was unable to cope with the malady, and on the 19th of January, 1837, in three weeks from his first seizure, the death of this beloved son threw Madame d’Arblay again into the depths of affliction. Yet she bore this desolating stroke with religious submission, receiving kindly every effort made to console her, and confining chiefly to her own private memoranda the most poignant expressions of her anguish and regret, as also of the deeply religious trust by which she was supported.
The following paragraph is taken from her private notebook: —
“1837.-On the opening of this most mournful — most earthly hopeless, of any and of all the years yet commenced of my long career! Yet, humbly I bless my God and Saviour, not hopeless; but full of gently-beaming hopes, countless and fraught with aspirations of the time that may succeed to the dread infliction of this last irreparable privation, and bereavement of my darling loved, and most touchingly loving, dear, soul — dear Alex.”
DEATH OF MADAME D’ARBLAY’S SISTER CHARLOTTE.
Much as Madame d’Arblay had been tried by the severest penalty of lengthened days, the loss of those who were dearest to her, *one more such sorrow remained in her cup of life. Her gentle and tender sister Charlotte, many years younger than herself, was to precede her in that eternal world for which they were both preparing; and in the autumn of the year 1838, a short illness terminated in the removal of that beloved sister. Page 457
ILLNESS AND DEATH OF MADAME D’ARBLAY. (1839-40.)
Madame d’Arblay’s long and exemplary life was now drawing to a close; her debility increased, her sight and hearing nearly failed her; but in these afflictions she was enabled to look upwards with increasing faith and resignation. In a letter on the 5th of March, 1839, she wrote the following paragraph,(340) which was perhaps the last ever traced by her pen : —
“March 5, 1839. “Ah, my dearest! how changed, changed I am, since the irreparable loss of your beloved mother! that last original tie to native original affections! . . .
“Wednesday.-I broke off, and an incapable unwillingness seized my pen; but I hear you are not well, and I hasten — if that be a word I can ever use again — to make personal Inquiry how you are.
“I have been very ill, very little apparently, but with nights of consuming restlessness and tears. I have now called in Dr. Holland, who understands me marvellously, and I am now much as usual; no, not that — still tormented by nights without repose — but better.
“My spirits have been dreadfully saddened of late by whole days- -nay weeks — of helplessness for any employment. They have but just revived. How merciful a reprieve! How merciful IS ALL we know! The ways of Heaven are not dark and intricate, but unknown and unimagined till the great teacher, Death, develops them.”
In November, 1839, Madame d’Arblay was attacked by an illness which showed itself at first in sleepless nights and nervous imaginations. Spectral illusions, such as Dr. Abercrombie has described, formed part of her disorder; and though after a time Dr. Holland’s skill removed these nervous impressions, yet her debility and cough increased, accompanied by constant fever. For several weeks hopes of her recovery were entertained; her patience assisted the remedies of her kind physician , and the amiable young friend, “ who was to her as a daughter,” watched over her with unremitting care and attention but she became more and more feeble, and her mind wandered; though at times every day she was composed and collected, and then given up to silent prayer, with her hands clasped and eyes uplifted.
During the earlier part of her illness she had listened with comfort to some portions of St. John’s Gospel, but she now said to her niece, “I would ask you to read to me, but I could not understand one word — not a syllable! but I thank God my mind has not waited till this time.”
At another moment she charged the same person with affectionate farewells and blessings to several friends, and with thanks for all their kindness to her. Soon after she said, “I have had some sleep.” “That is well,” was the reply; “you wanted rest.” “I shall have it soon, my dear,” she answered emphatically: and thus, aware that death was approaching, in peace with all the world, and in holy trust and reliance on her Redeemer, she breathed her last on the 6th of January, 1840; the anniversary of that day she had long consecrated to prayer, and to the memory of her beloved sister Susanna.
(330) Her departure for Germany with her husband, the Prince of Hesse-Homburg, to whom she had been recently married.-ED.’
(331) From a Memorandum book of Madame d’Arblays.
(332) Queen Charlotte died at the palace at Kew, in the seventy-fifth year of her age, after an illness of six months.-ED. (133) At Windsor.-ED.
(134) The Princess Mary, who had married her cousin, the Duke of Gloucester.-ED.
(135) Queen Caroline. George IV. was now king, George III. having died January 29, 1820. A brief account of the life of Queen Caroline may be of assistance to the reader. Her father was the Duke of Brunswick: her mother a sister of George II. She was born in 1768, and married her cousin, the Prince of Wales, in April, 1795, A speedy estrangement followed, brought about by the prince’s intrigues, especially with Lady Jersey; and, after the birth of their daughter, the Princess Charlotte, a total separation took place. In 1806 a charge of adultery was brought against the Princess of Wales. The charge was declared disproved, but colour had been given to it by the undoubted levity and imprudence of her conduct. In 1813 she went abroad, and spent several years in travelling on the continent. Her behaviour during this period gave rise to fresh charges, from which she has never been entirely cleared. She returned to England, June 6, 1820, came to London, and took up her residence in South Audley-street, at the house of her friend, Alderman Wood, one of the members of Parliament for the city of London. Shortly before her return, the king’s ministers had proposed to settle upon her an annuity of -/’50,000 for life, subject to the conditions of her continuing to reside abroad, and refraining from assuming the title of queen. This proposal she instantly rejected. She was received in England by the people with unbounded enthusiasm, to which the general discontent then prevailing questionless contributed. A secret committee of the House of Lords, appointed to examine the charges against the queen, having made their report, the government brought in a bill to deprive her of t
he title of queen, and to dissolve the marriage. She was defended by counsel before the House of Lords, her leading advocate being Mr. (afterwards Lord) Brougham, The Motion for the third reading of the bill passed (November 10) by a small majority, but the bill was immediately afterwards abandoned by the government. This proceeding was generally considered as tantamount to an acquittal, and was celebrated by illuminations and the voting of congratulatory addresses in all parts of the country. Queen Caroline did not long enjoy her triumph. She presented herself at Westminster Abbey on the occasion of the king’s coronation, July 19, 1821, but was refused admission. Less than three weeks later she was dead.-ED.
(336) Lady Ann Hamilton, who had formerly belonged to Queen Caroline’s household, and had joined her in France, shortly before her return to England.-ED.
(337) Thursday, August 17, was the day on which the queen’s trial commenced before the House of Lords.-ED.
(338) Lord Byron, the poet.-ED.
(339) Mrs. Piozzi died at Clifton, May 2, 1821, having survived her second husband about twelve years.-ED.
(340) To her niece Mrs. Barrett.
DR. JOHNSON & FANNY BURNEY
CONTENTS
PREFACE
INTRODUCTORY ESSAY
Extract from the Early Diary
28th March.
Extracts from the Diary and Letters
July. . . .
August 3. ——
Wednesday, 22 (July), 1778,
July 25,
Place: London, August. ——
Place: Streatham, Sunday, Aug. 23. ——
Saturday Morning. ——
Place: Streatham, August 26. ——
Place: Streatham, September. ——
Wednesday. ——
Monday, September 21. ——
Place: Streatham, September 26. ——
Place: Streatham, February. ——
Place: Streatham, July 5. —
July 10 . —
July 20. —
Thursday morning, April 13th. —
Place: Bath, May 28. . . .
Place: Streatham, June. —
Wednesday. —
Thursday morning. —
Wednesday, June 26. —
Friday . —
Place: Streatham. —
Oct. 15, 1782.
Place: Brighthelmstone, October 26.
Oct. 27. —
Thursday, Oct. 31. —
Saturday, Nov. 2. ——
Monday, Nov. 4. —
Thursday . —
Monday and Tuesday . —
Dec. 8. —
Friday. —
Friday, 4th Jan. —
Thursday, Feb. 23 . . .
Thursday, June 19. —
Wednesday, July 1. —
Thursday, Oct, 29. —
Wednesday, Nov. 19. —
Tuesday . —
Tuesday, Dec. 30 . —
Tuesday Jan. 6. —
Monday, April 19. —
Place: Norbury Park, Sunday, Nov. 28. ——
Place: St. Martin’s Street, Wednesday, Dec. 10. ——
Thursday morning . —
Dec. 11. —
Dec. 20. —
Tuesday Dec. 20 . —— 1st summons; 2ndly, entree.
Wednesday, January 9. —
June 5. —
Extracts from the Memoirs of Dr. Burney”
Appendix: Extracts from the Journals of Susan and Charlotte Burney
The original frontispiece
PREFACE
THIS book represents the first complete collection of the Johnsonian material in the works of Miss Burney. It is remarkable that no such volume has appeared before; for, apart from Boswell, there is no account of Samuel Johnson more lifelike and picturesque than Miss Burney’s. Yet, although practically all the other Johnsonian material has been edited with scrupulous care, Miss Burney’s account has been allowed to remain scattered through the pages of two voluminous diaries and hidden in the now-forgotten Memoirs of Doctor Burney.
I have included in this work all the reminiscences of Johnson in Miss Burney’s various works, with the exception of repetitions and of a few passages in which his name is only casually mentioned — passages in which he does not actually appear at all. The present extracts are, therefore, within the limits of their subject, not a volume of selections, in the strict sense of that term; they form, rather, a complete treatise. In my endeavor after completeness, I have even transcended the avowed subject and included also some passages dealing with such intimate friends of Johnson as Boswell and Reynolds.
The text followed in the body of the work is that of the earlier impression of Mrs. Barrett’s edition of the Diary and Letters (London, 1842); but minor changes in spelling and punctuation have been made in the interests of consistency. In the extracts from the Early Diary and the Memoirs of Dr. Burney, the text is, in each case, that of the first edition of the work. To this statement there is exception to be made of one selection from the Memoirs which has been somewhat condensed; this change is duly mentioned in the proper note. I have done what I could to supply dates, but my attempts have often failed. Miss Burney was confessedly careless respecting dates, so that the utmost ingenuity (which the present editor certainly does not possess) can hardly hope to do more than correct some few, and to supply some few that are wanting.
My thanks are due to Messrs. George Bell and Sons, who have kindly permitted the use of the selections from the Early Diary. When I have used a note from that work, or from any other edition of Miss Burney’s works, I have, I believe, acknowledged the source. Many of the illustrations are from the invaluable collection of Johnsoniana in the possession of R. B. Adam, Esq., of Buffalo, New York, to whose kindness the editor has been so frequently and so deeply indebted that he can make no adequate acknowledgment of it here.
LONDON, July, 1911
INTRODUCTORY ESSAY
“HARRY FIELDING, too, would have been afraid of her; there is nothing so delicately finished in all Harry Fielding’s works as Evelina!” So spoke Samuel Johnson, not ex cathedra, to be sure, in the Mitre Tavern, but from his easy-chair in the library at Streatham. And although the pronouncement may, appear casual on the face of it, yet it cannot be regarded as other than a serious literary opinion of the Great Dictator; for it is true of Johnson’s critical dicta that, unlike those of some of his successors, they invariably emanate from general principles and settled convictions. In other words, Johnson certainly meant what he said. The remark represents an established opinion, not a sudden enthusiasm for the achievement of a dear friend. Indeed, it would hardly be fair to say that Miss Burney was a friend of Johnson’s when she wrote Evelina. Johnson had, it is true, been more or less intimate with Dr. Burney and his children ever since the days of the Dictionary, but all this time Fanny had been to him nothing more than an undistinguished detail in the family background. It was Evelina who introduced Miss Fanny Burney to Dr. Johnson. Chance had thrown them together once before, as the reader of the following pages may see for himself, but the meeting had apparently not left upon the mind of Johnson the vaguest impression. Even after he had come to know her through Evelina, he saluted her rather as a new-found literary acquaintance than as the daughter of an old and loving friend. He, like the rest of the world, had been ignorant of the author when he had read the novel: “Why, madam, why, what a charming book you lent me!” he had said to Mrs. Thrale, who knew the secret of the authorship, and he had presently extracted the whole story from that lady; whereupon he, again like the rest of the world, fell into a passion of curiosity concerning the maiden- author. It is clear that it was enthusiasm for the book that produced the acquaintance, and not friendship that produced the enthusiasm. There was something puzzling in the existence side by side in one person of the timorous maiden and the keen-sighted observer of manners that very naturally fascinated the intellect and challenged the emotions of Johnson, producing, though late in his life, a friendship as deep an
d true as any in that long life of ardent friendships. But had Evelina appeared a decade later, the introduction just described could never have taken place, and Samuel Johnson would never have known “little Burney.”
It is certainly a misfortune of the following reminiscences that they have so much to say of Evelina. We may tell ourselves again and again that in recording the compliments, delicate and coarse, bestowed upon her book, the young author intended them only “for the eyes of two or three persons who had loved her from her infancy,” and yet it is probable that, even in pardoning her, a majority of us will smile at her unrivaled diligence in this kind of work; or when Dr. Johnson insists upon comparisons with Fielding (to Fielding’s utter confusion), we may be permitted to take them cum grano salis. Evelina, in truth, still possesses distinction, a certain prim attractiveness which time will probably only enhance; the book has always had numerous readers and even more numerous admirers (admiration and perusal sometimes existing quite independently), but it has not yet eclipsed Tom Jones or even Amelia. It is perhaps a little difficult to account for the rank which one instinctively gives the novel. In respect of plot, though distinguished by a unity and a movement uncommon in eighteenth-century fiction, it is yet both crude and conventional in structure. The modern reader whom scores of novelists have trained into an intuitive respect for the demands of probability cannot but be amused at the happy ubiquity of a character like Lord Orville; whenever there is need — or excuse — for his presence on the scene, the reader may be sure that he will not be wanting: at Ranelagh, at Vauxhall, at the ball, in the playhouse, in city and in country alike, lo! there is Lord Orville in their midst. Other work in life he appears not to have than to meet Evelina at the right — or the wrong — time, and to advance the plot. A similarly unskilful manipulation may be found in the general working out of the story; in its larger aspects the plot is a somewhat mitigated form of the ancient story of the missing heir and of his restoration to long-lost parents. But, as in Joseph Andrews, the mystery of the birth is doubled by the introduction of a second heir (also missing), a Mr. Macartney, who is made to fall in love with a woman whom the reader is for a time allowed to suppose his sister. By a careful readjustment of brothers and sisters at the end, each Jack is permitted to have his Jill; wealth and high rank, as a result of marriage or sonship, are bestowed on each, and the delighted reader exclaims with Sheridan,
Complete Works of Frances Burney Page 674